Her sister was not pleased with her either, saying that Caroline had drawn her into this scheme, and that now she regretted it, seeing what had been wrought in its wake. It was altogether a displeasing business, she said, and she hated that she had been part of it. She spent more time with her husband, who had never paid any mind to Caroline before and now continued to ignore her.
So, yes, Caroline longed for some small bit of merriment or happiness. She was engaged, and to the man she had long pined for, so she should be happy.
Instead, she was disgraced and disliked.
She found, however, that she could not go so far as to say that she regretted what she had done to snare Darcy. If she did so, she thought, she would have to take it all back, and then everything would be ruined. So, instead, she made excuses when she felt pangs of guilt. She told herself that she had done a favor to Darcy, in all actuality. She had saved him from a union with that dreadful Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and so it had really been an errand of good will. She had sacrificed her brother’s opinion of her to rescue Darcy, but it was all to be worth it in the end.
And that, of course, was why she deserved merriment.
But there was no merriment to be had at the ball. She had no one to dance with, not that she would stoop so low as to dance with the sort of people in attendance, because she would not. Well, if she were asked, she might be willing to make an exception for the sake of politeness. But no one was asking, and she couldn’t see why that was.
From time to time, though, she did see Elizabeth twirling about the dance floor with a devastatingly good looking red coat. She wasn’t the least bit interested in officers herself, but that man was very handsome. Caroline’s insides twisted up.
It wasn’t fair, she thought.
Mr. Darcy had wanted Elizabeth, and then she had somehow wormed her way into that room that Caroline had set up for her and Darcy and ruined everything, making it all so much worse. If Caroline had simply made it to the first trap with Darcy, she was sure it would have gone more smoothly. Caroline still wasn’t sure what had passed between them in that room.
For all she knew, Elizabeth had surrendered her virtue to Mr. Darcy like some kind of common doxy. And now, here she was, using her charms on that officer.
Well, why should Elizabeth be allowed to have the attention of every attractive man in the world? Why should she get to dance when Caroline had to stand on the sidelines?
Her brother and the eldest Miss Bennet came off the dance floor after the last dance they had danced together, both staring into each other’s eyes as if their brains were addled. Oh, dear, that wasn’t good. But what could Caroline do about it? She did like Jane, but she knew that the woman was no match for her brother. Caroline, however, had squandered whatever influence she had over Bingley, and there was nothing to be done for it now.
She approached the two of them, smiling. “Miss Bennet, your sister seems to be having a lovely time.”
Jane looked up at Caroline, still beaming from gazing at Bingley. “I think so, yes.”
“Who is that man she is dancing with?” said Caroline.
“Oh,” said Jane, “that is Mr. Wickham. Actually, I meant to ask Mr. Bingley about that.” She turned to Bingley. “I have heard a dreadful story about Mr. Darcy, involving Mr. Wickham. I cannot help but think there is some confusion over what it really means. It paints Mr. Darcy in a most unfavorable light.”
Bingley grimaced. “I’m afraid that we have all been deceived when it comes to the character of Mr. Darcy. He is not nearly the man he appears to be.”
Caroline furrowed her brow. Why must her brother insist on insulting her fiancé? Lord knew, they’d had a devil of a time doing what they could to ensure the servants’ silence on the matter. They didn’t need anything else to throw a pall over her marriage.
“But surely, he is your friend,” said Jane. “I cannot but think that there must be some confusion in the story.”
“I would not be surprised by anything Mr. Darcy did,” said Bingley, his expression sour. “Not anymore.”
* * *
Elizabeth sipped at the drink and laughed. She was in high spirits. The evening was going very well, and she was enjoying dancing with Wickham, even if he did tend to clutch her tighter than was strictly proper. Maybe because he clutched her too tight, even. She must truly be wicked, after all. One near kiss with Mr. Darcy and she wanted to kiss everyone.
Well, no, not everyone. But she found herself contemplating a kiss with Mr. Wickham.
“Miss Bennet,” said a voice.
Elizabeth turned, surprised to see Caroline there. “Miss Bingley,” she said, nodding. “I trust you are well.”
“Quite,” said Caroline, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And you?”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I must congratulate you on your engagement.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Caroline. “Very kind of you.”
“It must be such a hardship to have your fiancé gone from you,” said Elizabeth, unable to resist.
“Not at all.” Caroline narrowed her eyes. “We will be spending the rest of our lives together, after all.” She turned then, making full eye contact with Wickham. “And won’t you introduce me to your companion?”
Dutifully, Elizabeth did so, unsure why Caroline much cared about a lowly red coat. Elizabeth would have assumed the other woman was above his social sphere.
But Caroline kept her eyes on Wickham. “You are quite a fine dancer, sir. I could not help but observe you from across the room.”
Wickham smiled at her, and Elizabeth found that his smile was quite as open and charming as ever, which annoyed her. She wished that Wickham would be rude to Caroline. But, of course, Wickham was charming to everyone. “Quite nice of you to say,” he said. “Is it true then, that you are Mr. Darcy’s promised?”
“I am,” said Caroline.
Wickham’s mouth curved into a wider smile. “And do you dance?”
“When I am in the mood,” she said.
Wickham arched an eyebrow. “How is your mood now?”
“Quite agreeable,” she said.
“In that case, would you do me the honor of this next dance?” said Wickham.
Elizabeth was shocked. Why was Wickham be asking Caroline to dance? He had promised not to take his eyes off Elizabeth all night. But he was only being polite. And Caroline would find some excuse to turn him down. She wouldn’t be caught dead dancing with the likes of Mr. Wickham.
“But of course,” said Caroline instead.
And the two walked off from Elizabeth without even taking their leave.
Elizabeth gaped after them, astonished. That wasn’t at all what she had expected to have happened.
She consoled herself that Wickham would only dance one dance with Caroline and then he would be back to her, but he didn’t come back. He didn’t even speak to her for the rest of the evening. He disappeared at some point, probably when she was being talked at by Mr. Collins, who could not keep his mouth shut.
And then it was a long night, because her mother had contrived that they be the last people to leave the ball, so as to give Jane and Bingley as much time as possible together.
When it came to that, Elizabeth supposed that her sister was quite happy, and she should be focusing on Jane instead of her own slights, but she could not help but feel as if Wickham had treated her ill.
Wickham had appeared to be so smitten with her. Why would he abandon her in that manner? Why wouldn’t he even come to say goodbye? Elizabeth felt sure that Mr. Darcy would never do such a thing.
Of course, Mr. Darcy had become engaged to Caroline less than two days after asking Elizabeth herself to marry him.
And you turned him down, she reminded herself. Twice.
If she had but said yes, everything would be different now.
Oh, what did it matter? Perhaps they were both despicable men, when it came down to it. Perhaps all men were despicable.
CHAPTER ELEVEN<
br />
The morning had brought no indication to Elizabeth that her notion on the nature of all men in general was at all faulty. For Mr. Collins had ambushed her before she was yet finished with breakfast to propose marriage.
Elizabeth had refused him.
Of course she had refused him. She could not bear the idea of being joined to Mr. Collins, who was quite possibly the most hateful man in existence. He was embarrassing. She could not stand to listen to him talk for five minutes, let alone to spend her life with him.
But the whole of it had upset her greatly, and she had run out of the house and spent the rest of the morning avoiding everyone, looking out over a small lake that was part of her family’s property.
She was beginning to wonder if she was too particular when it came to marriage.
Not because she was having any second thoughts about Mr. Collins. She was not. But because she had denied Mr. Darcy, who—in comparison to Collins—was like light to shadow. He was infinitely superior, and she had deemed him not good enough. Was she being unrealistic in her estimation of what kind of marriage she could have?
And she felt a heaviness descend on her, because she knew that if she married Collins, she would be mistress of this house and would be able to take care of her mother. There was a responsibility she was running from in her denial.
She didn’t know how she felt about any of it.
Eventually, her father came for her. In his characteristic way, he managed to let her know she was under no obligation to marry Mr. Collins, much to the chagrin of her mother, who would likely work herself into a fervor over all of it.
Suddenly, Elizabeth couldn’t bear any of it anymore. She had to get away from all of this.
She didn’t want to see Wickham or Caroline or Collins or anyone.
She went back inside and composed a letter to her aunt and uncle in town, asking if they might allow her to come and stay with them. She would obviously have to get permission to go away, but she didn’t suppose that would be a problem, as she and Jane were often guests with her aunt and uncle. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were quite pleasant people and they would counter any time spent with her younger sisters and mother. They were probably the most sensible of Elizabeth’s relations.
Now that she had set upon the idea, she longed for it rather acutely. She supposed that she could stay until Christmas, even, perhaps longer, though she didn’t quite dare hope for that.
As she predicted, no barrier was given to her for her absence, although her mother was quite cross with her for refusing Mr. Collins and said that she would rather that Elizabeth have nothing that gave her pleasure that she might feel the pain her mother felt. However, her mother also allowed that she was in fact so cross with Elizabeth that having her out of sight might do well for the both of them, and so she was pleased with the prospect of Elizabeth’s leaving.
Only Jane was not so pleased, saying that she would miss her sister.
More than once, Elizabeth considered confiding in Jane what had occurred in Netherfield, when she had been locked in the room with Darcy. But she kept it to herself because she was not sure she knew how to speak of it. She had no worry that Jane would spread rumors or think badly of her. Jane was quite adept at thinking the best of everyone, in point of fact, and she would make excuses for everything that Elizabeth told her.
But Elizabeth didn’t know how to explain to Jane the strange heat and fire that stole over her when she thought of the incident, and she was ashamed of it. No matter what her sister might say, Elizabeth was frightened that she was indeed wicked. She did not wish to be excused for her inclinations. She would rather do her best not to think of them.
That was why she did not share the incident with Jane. She wished to put it from her mind as if it had never happened.
Her letter went off to her aunt and uncle, and Elizabeth waited for a reply.
Before it could come, however, Mr. Bingley arrived to call one afternoon. He had gone to town after the ball, and Elizabeth had wondered if he’d been with Mr. Darcy at that time. And then scolded herself for always and forever thinking of Mr. Darcy. It seemed impossible to put him from her mind, no matter how much she wished to do so.
Bingley was all nervousness and wished to speak to Jane, and it was quite clear what he was about, even though afterward, Jane expressed surprise at the intent of his visit, claiming never to have guessed such happiness was to be conferred on her.
Bingley and Jane were engaged.
Of course there were no objections to the union, and blessings were given from Elizabeth’s parents. Her mother was beside herself with joy, though she couldn’t seem to help herself to throw several pointed comments toward Elizabeth for the grief she had caused her over her refusal of Mr. Collins. Elizabeth was used to her mother’s way, however, and she was quite happy to ignore it all in happiness for Jane.
She did love her sister, and there was no one who deserved such good news more.
At any rate, there was no going to town, not until after the wedding, which was set for sometime in January. And now her father was somewhat bitterly set against her going, saying that if she left, what with Jane being married and gone, he would not hear a syllable of sense for all the time she was gone, and he asked her, for his sake, to stay.
She told him it was a matter of some weeks until then, and that she would give it thought.
However, there was no time for thinking at all, because there was Christmas, and then there were the wedding preparations, and the younger girls were quite caught up in Jane’s good fortune. For her part, Elizabeth was too.
But when Lydia or Kitty talked to Jane of her wedding or of being mistress of Netherfield, Elizabeth could see that the girls were thinking of their own future and spinning a dream that it would someday be their turn to experience such a romance. Elizabeth, however, knew that such things were not for her, and probably likely not for her sisters either. That Jane had been so fortunate was a rarity, not something to be counted upon.
She did see Wickham a time or two again, for her sisters were fond of making the trip to Meryton, and it was not yet too cold to forbid such a journey. She had expected an apology from Wickham for his abandonment of her at the Netherfield ball, but none was forthcoming. He was the same as always, charming and winking and blond.
She found that she didn’t find him as diverting as before.
It wasn’t simply because he had slighted her. She was hurt, but she wasn’t so vain as to think that she deserved the special attention of any man, including Wickham. No, it was more that she realized that she had been fooling herself, telling herself that Wickham’s pretty phrases and winks were enough to hang something on, and she realized that Wickham was insubstantial. He was pleasant enough, but there was nothing else to him.
She needed more than a man like that.
At night, she still dreamed of Mr. Darcy. Not every night, but nearly once a week, sometimes more. She dreamed of kissing him, and his lips branded her and left her gasping and yearning… but she wasn’t even quite sure what would satisfy her.
When Charlotte Lucas came to her to tell her that she was marrying Mr. Collins, that seemed to drive Elizabeth to a precipice. Not because she was the least bit slighted by what Charlotte had done, though her friend seemed concerned that she might feel supplanted. Elizabeth didn’t. She was confident that, as she had said, Mr. Collins couldn’t make her happy, and she was the last woman on earth who could make him so. She wished never to revisit that possibility.
But it was the ugliness of it all.
Yes, ugliness.
That Charlotte had to trade her dignity for her comfort. She had to secure her future, and this was the only path open to her. If she and Charlotte had been men, perhaps they could have done as her uncle Mr. Gardiner had done and become merchants, taken up a trade that would support them. But they had no such options.
Elizabeth was far too unbending to make the kind of sacrifice that Charlotte had made, and because of that, she could no
t be assured of her own future.
She imagined it was likely she would be imposing upon Jane in the future. She would live out her life as a burden on their household, a spinster who never had a household of her own or a husband. It wasn’t a pleasant future, but it was much more pleasant now that she knew that Jane would be in a position to be burdened, she thought wryly.
Now, if there was to be a trip to town at all, it was even further postponed, because she would stay also to see Charlotte’s wedding.
But her aunt wrote to Elizabeth to say that the invitation was open, and that Elizabeth should feel free to give them notice and come at any time that pleased her.
So time passed, and Elizabeth attended two weddings. Jane’s was a lovely, light affair, happy and free and good. Charlotte’s was stiff and formal, though there was joy in it as well, as everyone involved was quite pleased with the outcome.
Her sister Jane went off to live at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley, beginning her life as a married woman. Elizabeth watched her sister, happy for her. Jane seemed rather blissfully happy, and no one deserved it more than Jane.
* * *
“Now, Lizzy, you mustn’t repeat this, I hardly need to make that clear,” said Jane in a very quiet voice. The two were in a drawing room in Netherfield, quite alone for it was only Bingley and Caroline here in Netherfield these days, since Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had left after the wedding. Bingley was busy and Caroline had retired to her room.
“Of course I would not,” said Elizabeth. She had come to say goodbye to her sister before she left for London, and she hadn’t expected to be taken into this serious confidence. Jane apparently had some story or other to tell Elizabeth, and she was dreadfully serious about it. “What is this about? Has something befallen you? Are you quite whole?”
The Unraveling of Mr Darcy Page 8
