The Lady's Jewels

by Perpetua Langley

  Elizabeth suppressed a smile, thinking of how unlikely it was that Jane Bennet, or Mr. Bingley for that matter, should set out to overpower anybody.

  As if Mrs. Marshon, Netherfield’s housekeeper, had heard herself discussed, she bustled into the room at alarming speed. She curtsied to Lady Castlereagh and said, “A letter’s just come and the rider says you must have it this very moment and he will wait for an answer.”

  Lady Castlereagh took the letter in all haste and tore it open. She began to read and a smile emerged. “It is not Warpole after all. He and the grooms have been found in the cellar and they are alive and in good health. Goodness, I am relieved. Miss Bennet, you are to be congratulated.”

  Elizabeth clasped her hands together. What good news indeed!

  Lady Castlereagh went back to the letter and her smile disappeared. It took some minutes for her to read through the entire missive, then she laid it down. “Goodness,” she said. “It was Mr. Cratchet, my lord’s secretary who appears not to have been a secretary at all. He locked Warpole and the grooms in the cellar and it was he that drove me that morning. Worse, he left a note that claims he is not done with me yet and will attempt to take from me my most precious possession. Darcy has sent word to my lord and sent a force of guards to Eton to collect my Freddie.”

  Elizabeth felt a small shudder pass through her. Who was this mysterious Cratchet and why was he so intent on wreaking havoc?

  “Is there anything else Mr. Cratchet might be after?” Elizabeth said. “Any other precious possession?”

  Lady Castlereagh thought, and then said, “Certainly not any inanimate objects. I miss my jewels of course, but they do not compare to living things. I suppose I must contact the other ladies of Almacks and ensure that the premises are secured. I would not like to think of there being a fire or some other calamity that might injure a person. Of course, there are Monday and Tuesday to think about.”

  The dogs, hearing their names, got up from their heap in front of the fire and ambled over to the lady.

  She patted them each on the head and said, “But they are safe here with me. So then there is only my menagerie at Loring Hall. Though anybody attempting to take Rajah from me would likely find their throats ripped open. His claws are sizable.”

  Elizabeth presumed the lady referred to her tiger, who was known to be fearsome.

  “I wonder,” Elizabeth said, “why Mr. Cratchet would be so determined to cause you injury?”

  “I cannot say,” Lady Castlereagh said, “though Mr. Quinn relays that it might be political. I shouldn’t wonder if it is, Lord Castlereagh has often warned me to be cautious of any new person coming into my circle. I really had not heeded him until now. And goodness, my lord has so many secretaries coming and going, how would I imagine one was not who he said he was?”

  Before Elizabeth could press Lady Castlereagh for further details on the letter, they heard the clatter of a carriage at the front of the house.

  “Can they be returning so soon?” Lady Castlereagh said. “If it is them, strange that they would have sent a letter ahead to precede them by only minutes. Miss Bennet, do go to the window and see who it is.”

  Elizabeth leapt up and went to the window and Mrs. Marshon hurried out of the room as quickly as she had entered it. A carriage she did not recognize had stopped in front of the house. A stout, middle-aged lady descended, and then turned to help down a very elegantly dressed female.

  The well-dressed lady was tall and arrayed in the latest fashion from London. Elizabeth had seen such designs in the circulars. Rather than a practical spencer, the lady wore a long silk cape tied with ribbon at the neck and revealing a fur liner. Her dress peeked out, it being a silk in a bold blue with a neckline rather lower than Elizabeth would have dared while the sun was still up. Most impressive was the lady’s demeanor. She took in the exterior of the house and appeared at her ease, as if she were its mistress.

  Elizabeth returned and relayed the news to Lady Castlereagh. The lady said, “I cannot imagine who it might be. Perhaps some lady of the neighborhood that has recently returned and wishes to leave her card. Well, we will know soon enough, though I do not feel up to receiving persons unknown to me just now.”

  A lady wishing to leave her card sounded very likely to Elizabeth, but for the fact that she had never seen such a lady in the neighborhood. She had certainly not seen the lady at the ball the night before. Her curiosity, however, would not go long unanswered.

  Rather than returning with a card, Mrs. Marshon led the visitors in. The elegant lady curtsied and said, “Lady Castlereagh, I am Caroline Bingley, Mr. Bingley’s sister. This is my companion, Mrs. Lawsdon.”

  Elizabeth, Jane and Miss Darcy had risen. Elizabeth could not help but note that Miss Darcy appeared distressed and could not fathom why. Jane appeared even more distressed and Elizabeth had no trouble ascertaining that particular situation. This formidable female was to be Janes’ sister-in-law. This lady no doubt had not yet been apprised of the engagement. What a muddle! Who was to tell her?

  Lady Castlereagh graciously rose and said, “Miss Bingley, your brother has spoken of you to me. Heavens, here you find us ruling the roost without him. He’s gone to London and I cannot be certain when he shall return. May I present to you Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I believe you already are acquainted with Miss Darcy. Do sit down.”

  Miss Bingley arranged herself on the edge of a chair, her back as ramrod straight as any soldier. “I did not know he was to travel to town,” Miss Bingley said. “I only received a letter from him indicating that he’d taken Netherfield.”

  “Of course, he would wish you here at your earliest convenience,” Elizabeth said.

  Miss Bingley delivered Elizabeth a tight smile, but otherwise did not answer. She said, “Miss Darcy. How do you do? It feels far too long since I have had the pleasure of seeing you.”

  “I am well, Miss Bingley. And yourself?”

  “Very well,” Miss Bingley said. “Though I am afraid I am exceedingly puzzled that Charles should have settled in…this place. And so suddenly. I cannot at all account for it.”

  “This is awkward,” Lady Castlereagh said, seeming to realize what needed to be done. “I find that when faced with such a situation, one must meet it head on.”

  Miss Bingley appeared taken aback. “You do not mean to say you would rather I not visit my brother?”

  “Dear me, no,” Lady Castlereagh said. “It is only that your brother would not have had time to deliver you welcome news, as he is out and about on business of mine. He is recently engaged—”

  “Engaged!” Miss Bingley said, interrupting Lady Castlereagh. “Can it be true? I have so often longed for it. Oh, Miss Darcy!”

  Miss Darcy appeared to wish herself swallowed up by the floor. Lady Castlereagh laid a hand on Miss Bingley’s arm. “No, Miss Bingley,” she said, “you make a mistake. Mr. Bingley is engaged to Miss Jane Bennet.”

  Miss Bingley appeared staggered by this news. Her companion handed her a cup of tea. She set it down without drinking it. “I see,” she said. “Indeed, he did not send me such news. Well. It is known then? It has been announced?”

  Elizabeth did not think Jane could possibly answer such rudeness, so she said, “It only occurred last evening at the ball, before Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Quinn set off for London.”

  “So quickly, then,” Miss Bingley said softly. “I am very surprised. Very surprised indeed. It is not what I had expected…”

  Jane rose. “I fear we have taken up too much of Lady Castlereagh’s time, especially as a horse and rider wait for her letter.”

  “Heavens,” Lady Castlereagh said, “the letter. I had best proceed with it. The Miss Bennets, do come and see me on the morrow. I find Miss Elizabeth Bennet particularly able to make sense where I cannot. This evening, I will apprise Miss Bingley of the mystery and perhaps she might care to join our war room.”

  “War room?” Miss Bingley said, in a disapproving tone.r />
  “I shall tell you of it later,” Lady Castlereagh said.

  Elizabeth and Jane curtsied. Jane said, “It has been a pleasure to meet you both, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Lawsdon. We will take our leave.”

  Miss Bingley nodded but did not otherwise answer. Jane hurried from the room and Elizabeth followed.

  Darcy had dispatched letters going in all directions. The first to Freddie, who he knew well and to whom he included a reference to an incident with a horse so the boy would know a letter containing the surprising directive to put himself in the custody of six armed men was truly from him. To Lord Castlereagh in Vienna, and to Lady Castlereagh at Netherfield. Mr. Quinn was off looking into whether they might be able to discover anything further about Cratchet. Bingley had retrieved one of Lord Castlereagh’s better bottles from the wine cellar and they sat in front of the fire drinking it.

  They had been silent for some time, finally Bingley said, “I know it is not what you wished for me, Darcy. Though what you wished could never be. Even if one of the fine ladies you have pointed out to me on numerous occasions would agree to marry the son of a merchant, I should not agree. You and I are different sort of people. Those ladies all felt very cold to me, though I dare say they do not strike you as such. You are more used to their ways.”

  Darcy was somewhat amused by this idea, he having accepted that his friend would marry Jane Bennet with some amount of equanimity. “Your own sister is very like the females you describe, Bingley. She only misses having a title. She was raised in the same house you were, I do not see what can be so foreign about it.”

  “Though she is my sister,” Bingley said, “I sometimes do not admire how she goes on. She is so disapproving of so many people!”

  “And now you will tell her of Jane Bennet,” Darcy said, it for the first time occurring to him that it was not only he who would have counseled against the match. Miss Bingley was certain to be furious, as she looked to her brother to boost her rank through social connections. As suitable as Miss Bennet might be for Bingley, she would bring nothing of value to Miss Bingley.

  “I am afraid she will not like it,” Bingley said. “That will be too bad, as it would be pleasant for Miss Bennet, for Jane, to have her as a sister. Though, I will not allow my wife to be inconvenienced by it. Caroline must get on with her or Caroline must stay away.”

  “Bravo, Bingley,” Darcy said. “Exactly as it should be.” Darcy was rather cheered by Bingley’s sentiment, he would not at all mind never encountering Miss Bingley again.

  “I ought to write her and tell her of it. I’ve only told her I’ve taken Netherfield, to ease her into the idea that I will not be so much in London anymore. She is sure not to like that either, as she depends upon me to escort her around town. I shall give her a day or so to become used to that idea, then I will write of my engagement.”

  “Let us hope she does not arrive on your doorstep, now that you have told her where you are to be found.”

  “Caroline come to Netherfield without an invitation?” Bingley said with some surprise. “No, she would not do it.”

  Darcy did not believe there was much Caroline Bingley wouldn’t dare when she had a mind. Thinking of her, and how little he cared for anything about her, made him think of how different she was from Elizabeth Bennet. Further, there was some truth to Bingley’s sentiments regarding the ladies of London. He had not noted it particularly before, he had perhaps thought their reserve only elegance, but it was true—they were rather cold. At least, compared to Miss Bennet. She had none of the reserve nor made the calculated snubs nor feigned the shocked sensibilities that he had so often encountered.

  Darcy paused. It was becoming more and more clear to him that as much as he attempted to push his feelings one way, they were determinedly going the other way. Rather than distancing himself from all thoughts of Miss Bennet, thoughts of her appeared to be turning up with more rapidity. Could Georgiana be right? Should he have more of a care for his own happiness than what the world expected of him?

  He could no longer deny that he knew what he wanted. He must only decide if he ought to have it.

  “In any case, Darcy,” Bingley said, interrupting his thoughts, “I am determined to be happy and I hope you will be, too.”

  Darcy supposed that was what he’d need to decide.

  Once the carriage started for Longbourn, Elizabeth turned to her sister. “Now Jane,” she said, “I know you to be the sort of person who wishes to get on with everybody and we have seen a lady just now who is not of that temperament. You must not allow it to affect your spirits.”

  “She is not just anybody, Lizzy,” Jane said. “Miss Bingley is my future sister-in-law. You saw her displeasure!”

  “Indeed, I did,” Elizabeth said. “And her initial presumption that Mr. Bingley had engaged himself to Miss Darcy, which appeared to mortify poor Miss Darcy.”

  “It is all too evident,” Jane said. “She does not approve and likely will never approve. And what of his other relations? Will they be so disapproving? Can I allow myself to make Mr. Bingley so unhappy by their censure?”

  Elizabeth laid a hand on Jane’s arm. “I must stop you there, Jane. It is a dangerous and unnecessary path you allow your thoughts to travel. You are a gentlewoman and your conduct is impeccable, therefore you cannot be censured by anybody. You are engaged to Mr. Bingley and that is an end to it. If Miss Bingley chooses to be unhappy about it, that is her own choice.”

  “I do not know,” Jane said quietly. “I would not make Mr. Bingley unhappy for the world.”

  “The only thing that would truly make Mr. Bingley unhappy would be to lose his Jane. I know you are not of a mind to scheme, and so you cannot see it in others, but I suspect Miss Bingley to be a schemer of some sort. I suspect her so eager to see Miss Darcy engaged to her brother not for their happiness, but for her own. I suspect her of being one of those that looks on social connections with the cool eye of a gambler.”

  “Even if what you say is true,” Jane said, “and we have no knowledge that it is, she is sure to make Mr. Bingley aware of her unhappiness. How should he carry on in the face of such disapproval from a sister?”

  “How indeed,” Elizabeth said. “And I suppose if Lydia were to disapprove of your choice it would affect you greatly? Of course, it would not. You only give Miss Bingley more credit than our silly sister because she is more elegant. Clothes are only clothes, though. If Mr. Bingley is the man I believe him to be, he will dismiss his sister from the house if she persists in this nonsensical attitude.”

  Jane was silent and Elizabeth knew she fretted greatly over the encounter.

  “I would caution you to not speak of this to anybody. In case…” Elizabeth trailed off.

  “I understand you, Lizzy,” Jane said. “Mama would become upset and likely say something untoward to Miss Bingley.”

  “And there you say it so kindly, though you know the truth. Mama would become enraged and perhaps tear Miss Bingley’s hair out.”

  Jane nodded. “We will say nothing of it. We will wait to see what happens.”

  “Be happy, Jane,” Elizabeth said, squeezing her hand. “Be happy and do not allow that elegant female to cause you to be otherwise.

  Caroline Bingley had smiled through an interminable dinner. Lady Castlereagh had gone on for some time about Jane Bennet’s graces. Miss Darcy had of course agreed with every sentiment and added to it with compliments to the short sister. It was ridiculous! Who was Jane Bennet? A country girl with not much to recommend her but good looks, and even those were only passable. Of course, Caroline could not allow herself to engage in a dispute with Lady Castlereagh, the woman might prove helpful at some time or another.

  It grated on her that the biggest prize Lady Castlereagh might bestow would never be hers—those blasted vouchers to Almacks. Those were only given to simpering maids who had come down a long line of cossetted generations or had somehow proven themselves right in the patroness’s eyes. She supposed she should not ca
re, she’d heard the food was wretched. Still, what she would not give to walk through those doors as one of the anointed ones. As it was, that honor was given to girls who’d accomplished nothing more spectacular than being born in the right bed or perfecting a reputation for ever-correct dullness.

  Caroline despised the way society closed ranks against her, at the same time wishing to break into the ranks. Every slight was felt keenly. Every time she did not receive an invitation to a party, she screamed into her pillow. Every time she did receive an invitation to a well-regarded house, triumph filled her. She must have a place. An unassailable place in the ranks. A place where it would be Caroline that issued sought-after invitations. It would be Caroline who broke spirits or raised them, depending on her whim.

  Her brother was an idiot. He’d been well-situated by his friendship with Mr. Darcy and it would have been so easy. Marry Miss Darcy and secure their place in society. Then, with the close proximity that marriage would bring, Mr. Darcy would no doubt see that his own choice must be herself.

  In a fit of temper, Caroline grabbed a brush from her dressing table and threw it across the room. Charles had ruined everything.

  She paused. If she were to think on it, perhaps not absolutely everything was ruined. Darcy would return with her brother and they would live at Netherfield in close quarters with no other female to attract his notice. There could not be anybody of note in this God-forsaken neighborhood. Certainly, that Elizabeth Bennet was not of concern. She was far too short, dressed from the last century and of very average looks. Darcy expected elegance and there was none of that quality in the girl.

  Caroline had counted on a marriage between Charles and Miss Darcy, but perhaps that would not be necessary. Perhaps she could secure Darcy without her brother’s help. Then, she might reign as the mistress of Pemberley and Grosvenor Square while Charles could languish in this backwater with his silly country bride.

  She need only proceed carefully. Darcy had proved himself reserved and cautious. She must not frighten him off. She must make him feel as if it were his own idea. She must be clever, as she had always had an inkling that Darcy fancied himself someday married to a lady with a title. She could be many things, but she could not scare up a title for herself. Therefore, he must begin to believe that was not important. He must see that other qualities—elegance in manner and dress and a certain view of the world—were what mattered.