by Zoë Burton
Mrs. Bennet happily greeted her, certain that Bingley’s introduction of his sister to her meant that a proposal of marriage was soon to be made to Jane. It never occurred to the Bennet matriarch that most of the rest of her family had already met the lady.
Upon the arrival of her guests, Mrs. Bennet was all that Mrs. Bennet usually was—excitable, loud, and inquisitive. Bingley had learned to take the lady in stride. Caroline, on the other hand, had never before met with such a creature.
Upon first exposure to Mrs. Bennet’s effusions, Caroline had been so shocked, she had taken a step back, eyes open wide and a look of horror spreading over her countenance. Though she masked it swiftly enough, it had not gone unnoticed by the majority of the Bennets.
Mr. Bennet, who had happened to enter the room just before the guests, chuckled aloud to see it. Mary had missed it, but Kitty and Lydia burst into laughter, pointing their fingers at the newcomer before hiding their mirth behind their fans. Only Jane appeared to have any sympathy for her beloved’s sister. She quickly moved to Mrs. Bennet’s side, catching her mother’s attention and moving her away with a murmured reminder of the tea service.
Finally free of the exuberant Mrs. Bennet’s attention, Bingley and Caroline found seats and settled in. To his sister’s displeasure, the gentleman chose to sit next to Jane, leaving Caroline at the mercy of the Bennet family. Though appalled at the laughter of the youngest girls and the impertinence of the mother’s enquiries, and supremely uncomfortable to be in such a ghastly situation, Caroline used it to her advantage. As she sat, stiff and unbending, and answering questions through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, she added to her mental catalog of the deficiencies of Mrs. Darcy and her family.
With Caroline’s desire to cause problems between Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, she had paid close attention to everyone who might have had some information that she could use. She was greatly satisfied when, on the way to Longbourn, her brother had stopped in Meryton briefly to conduct some business with one of the shopkeepers. Caroline had accompanied him into the store and then eavesdropped on a conversation between that man’s wife and a woman having the look of a servant. Caroline was delighted to learn that Jane and her next eldest sister were very close, to the point that Jane appeared a bit melancholy, or at least enough so that the servant thought she was pining for her sister. Hearing that, Caroline thought she might be able to hurt Darcy’s wife by hurting the sister.
Having decided over the course of the visit that Charles was too much involved with Jane Bennet, Caroline wasted no time, on the return trip to Netherfield, informing her brother of it.
“Really, Charles, what were you thinking, giving Miss Bennet so much attention? You will raise her hopes, and you know she is totally inappropriate. You cannot marry her, so you should not let her or anyone else think you might.”
Bingley had stopped listening to his sister about three words into her speech. He knew from her tone of voice what she intended to say. He disagreed with her and had no intentions of following whatever advice she might give, and so he turned his mind back to the lovely Jane. For the entirety of the ride to Netherfield, Bingley ignored his sister.
The next afternoon was spent in great frustration for many of the Netherfield party. Caroline did her best, every time she was in the room with her brother, to sway him away from Jane Bennet. Bingley did his best to remain in any other room than the one in which his sister was present. The two played this game all day.
The Darcys at first thought it was amusing. Elizabeth, in particular, hid a laugh behind her hand every time Caroline entered a room and Bingley escaped it. Soon enough, though, the game was no longer amusing.
“I swear, they are giving me the headache,” complained Elizabeth. “I like a good joke as much as the next person, but this is ridiculous. Why does Bingley not simply sit her down and tell her to keep her opinions to herself? For that matter, why is she airing them before me? This is my sister she is talking about.”
Seeing in her increasingly red face and clenched fists that his wife was becoming angered, Darcy tried to calm her. “Caroline is a disappointed woman, and that disappointment has made her bitter. She has never been known for kindness, to be honest. I am sorry that she has no better judgement than to speak so before you. As for my friend, Caroline has always been a trial to him. In the past, he has given in to her complaints and manipulation. His love for your sister is strong, I think, but he fears giving in again just to shut Caroline’s mouth.”
“I will gladly close it for him, if he will allow it.”
“He may, but I will not. You are Mrs. Darcy now, and as much as the sight of your bosom heaving in anger attracts me, you must not give in to those feelings. You are better than that.”
“Hmph. If you say so.”
“Oh, I do.” With those words, Darcy leaned in and kissed his wife, thereby distracting her from all thoughts of the Bingleys for quite some time.
Chapter 4
Caroline paced her bedroom from one wall to the other, considering her options. She wished to use Jane to hurt Elizabeth, but that was not enough. She wanted to see a division between Darcy and Elizabeth, as well.
Having already begun speaking to Charles about Jane, and doing so in front of Elizabeth, Caroline knew the foundation was being laid for that part of her plan. She would expand her comments to those she met in the area. She knew that gossips abounded in every community. She would locate Meryton’s wags and subtly turn them against Jane Bennet. They have known her all her life. What if they refuse to believe me? They are country bumpkins; will they even consider that a girl they have known since infancy would behave so? Caroline knew this was a concern, but was confident in her ability to spread believable tales. The Netherfield party had been invited to a dinner in a nearby home this evening; she could begin then. However, the longer she thought about it, the less certain of success she felt.
Additionally, she was uncomfortable hurting her brother, and she suspected that would happen. Charles had been a good and generous brother, faithful to take care of her in the absence of their parents and quick to do whatever it took to make her happy. She did love him and want the best for him, and did not wish for their relationship to be any more strained than it currently was. Caroline might not want him marrying below himself, but she did not want his heart broken, either, and he might just decide to marry Jane to save her reputation. In the end, she discarded any thoughts of using Jane in such a manner.
Now turning her mind to Darcy, Caroline contemplated several plans of action, discarding most as too impractical or unlikely to succeed. After mentally putting herself into the shoes of each, and reviewing what she had seen of the Darcys’ interactions, it was clear to Caroline that they were deeply in love. Elizabeth’s gaze was usually on her husband. It was clear she was besotted. Darcy was equally so. Caroline soon came to realize that the best way to hurt that couple was the use of another woman. After a little more thought, she sat at the writing desk in her room and composed a letter, which she sealed and gave to her maid to post express.
Days later, she received a reply. A smile overspread her face as she read the missive. Reaching the end, she folded it up, tucked it into her reticule, and set out to locate her brother.
~~~***~~~
“Enter,” Bingley called when a knock sounded on his study door. Expecting it to be Darcy, who was supposed to meet him here so they could ride out to inspect a recently-repaired fence, he was surprised to see Caroline, instead. He stood, gesturing her to a chair and helping her into it.
“Charles, I have a favor to ask you. It is a rather large one, but I hope that you are favorably inclined to help me.”
“I guess that depends on the favor. What would you have me do?”
“I wish to purchase something—a gift, if you will—for Mr. Darcy and his bride. I would like to keep it a secret, however. I want it to be a surprise.”
Bingley sat back in his chair, eyeing his sister speculatively. Her request was spect
acularly out of character. She had not behaved, in her days at Netherfield, as someone who had changed their opinions. “What might this gift be?”
“I cannot tell you. You know you are a terrible secret keeper. You would forget and tell Mr. Darcy about it and then it would not be a surprise.”
Bingley had to allow that she was correct. Far too often, he had let secrets slip. Not even his parents, when they were alive, had trusted him with privileged information. He shrugged and replied, “Very well, do not tell me, but I confess that I am wary of your reasons. The letter I had from my aunt indicated that you denied Darcy’s marriage was possible, yet here you are, wanting money to purchase them a gift. I do not understand you.”
“Mr. Darcy is no longer available, and I am an engaged woman. The possibility of a match between us disappeared long ago. I have accepted this and now wish to add to the Darcys’ joy. What can be wrong about that?”
“I do not know, but I am certain something is.” Bingley narrowed his eyes at his sister. “However, I can find no reason to deny your request. Do not make me regret it.”
“I would never do that, Charles.” Caroline smiled sweetly as she named her sum.
~~~***~~~
Four days later, Miss Imogene Millicent Moody stepped out of a coach to be greeted by Caroline Bingley. After settling the newcomer into the room she had been assigned, Caroline settled into a seldom-used parlor to await her return.
Once Miss Moody descended the stairs and joined her hostess, their interview was brief and to the point. Miss Moody had debts that needed to be paid, and Caroline had a job that needed to be done.
Imogene was very fond of gambling. Not the frivolous kind of small wagers people make playing Whist. No, Imogene bet on the kinds of card games gentlemen played in their clubs. She also liked to bet on the horses and on any other type of contest she could. Of course, gambling by women, particularly gentlewomen, was frowned on by the ton. It was a coarse endeavor of the kind that gently-bred females were supposed to find abhorrent. Except—Miss Imogene Millicent Moody did not, and now she had more gambling debts than pin money to pay them with. Her father being deceased, she could not go to him for more, and her mother was still deep in melancholy three years after her husband’s death. Asking her would be pointless. The cousin who had inherited her family’s estate was a cold, controlling man with a tight fist in regards to money. She could not ask him for help.
So now she found herself at the mercy of a woman whose tendency toward petty meanness she had witnessed and prayed never to experience. The two ladies had attended the same school, and though they had not been bosom-friends, they had been friendly. Imogene had purposed to be so, in order to avoid the harshness that Caroline and those in her group of friends doled out.
Imogene had met up with Caroline at the beginning of the last season, and had helped the other lady out of a sticky situation. Caroline’s relief had led her to draw Imogene into her confidence and Imogene, happy at that point in time to have her circle of friends expanded a bit, welcomed it. Eventually, Caroline had drawn out of her every secret she had ever held, including Imogene’s predilection for gambling. She supposed now that Caroline had been looking for someone to use in some way, and Imogene had fallen right into the trap.
Imogene, knowing what was required of her to earn the money Caroline had dangled in front of her, spent a day or two observing the Darcys. She also watched Miss Jane Bennet, who Caroline had said was very close to Mrs. Darcy and who spent much of her time at Netherfield with her sister.
After coming to know a bit of the Darcys’ habits, Imogene made a point of being in the presence of Mr. Darcy as often as she could. She dropped a few sly bits of flirtation his way, though he never took the bait. For three days, Imogene followed him around. On the fourth day, the opportunity she had been seeking opened up to her.
Having listened at the door of the Darcys’ sitting room and then the breakfast room, Imogene knew that the husband was going to the garden to wait on his wife. She also knew that Jane Bennet, who had arrived just as breakfast was ending, was going to arrive at his side before Mrs. Darcy did. Walking as swiftly as she could, Imogene tracked Darcy down as he wandered the hedges. Positioning herself so that she could see who was coming out of the house but Darcy could not, she engaged him in conversation. Just when she thought she would not be able to think of anything else to say to keep him there, Jane strolled out the door. Imogene threw herself at Darcy, pressing her lips to his and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
Unable to avoid the lady, Darcy tried to dislodge her, but Imogene clung to him like a limpet. Hearing a gasp behind him, Darcy gave up any pretense at gentleness, grabbing her arms and pulling them down with such force that Imogene cried out.
Rubbing his lips as though to wipe away the feel of hers, Darcy roared, “I do not know what you think you are doing, Miss Moody, but I want no part of it. I am a happily married man. I intend to speak to Mr. Bingley about this in the hopes of rescinding your invitation to visit.”
“I am so sorry, Mr. Darcy! I was forced into this action; it was not my choice. Please forgive me!” Fear surged through Imogene’s body. She had not given enough thought to how Darcy might react and now feared he might do her harm.
Darcy, anger clearly showing through his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, barked at her, “Forced how? Are you looking for a way to extort money from me? Perhaps blackmail me? Do your best. I dare you. You will get no funds from my purse. Instead, I will ruin you; your name will be passed about as one to avoid. Do I make myself clear?”
“I cannot tell you, sir, how I was forced or by whom, but I promise you that I do not intend to blackmail you.” Imogene stood with shoulders bowed, wringing her hands. Though there were no tears on her face, her voice was thick with them. She feared that he might go through with his threats regardless of her promise, but she made it anyway.
Darcy did not deign to reply. He threw a contemptuous glance her way, then turned and stalked to the house, fists tightly clenched at his side and his spine rigid.
In the house, while Darcy was untangling himself from Miss Moody, Jane was sobbing into her sister’s lap. She could not believe what she had seen in the garden, and she dreaded telling Lizzy. However, if Elizabeth were in her shoes, and had seen her husband kissing another woman, she would gently break it to Jane.
Elizabeth, stunned by the intensity of her elder sister’s distress, could do nothing but smooth Jane’s hair and whisper words of comfort and encouragement to her. Eventually, Jane calmed enough to whisper out a response to Elizabeth’s inquiries.
“When I went into the garden to tell Mr. Darcy that you were delayed, I saw him … he was … he was … oh, Lizzy, he was kissing Miss Bingley’s friend!”
Elizabeth reared back. “What? Impossible! My husband would never betray me!”
“That is what I thought, as well, but I saw him with my own eyes. Miss Moody’s arms were around his neck, and his were circling her waist. I am so sorry, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth had, up to this point, been certain that her husband would always be faithful; that he loved her passionately and would never dally with another woman. Or would he? Despite her certainty, the doubts she had expressed to Jane prior to her marriage and had thought banished rose their ugly heads in her mind once more. Did he not love her anymore? Had he come to regret her and her country manners and poor connections? Was she doomed to a marriage like that of her parents?
What if he really had dallied with Miss Moody? What if he had come to regret her? What would she do? How could she bear the pain of it? Just as Elizabeth’s fear, hurt, and anger began to swell to a fevered pitch, helped on by her vivid imagination, the door to the sitting room swung open. There, framed in the opening, was her husband. She shot to her feet, knocking poor Jane off balance and onto her bum on the floor.
Chapter 5
As Darcy strode angrily away from Caroline’s guest, his mind and emotions were divided between rage at her actions
and worry over who he had heard gasp behind him. Just think, I spent all those years successfully avoiding compromising situations when I was unmarried, only to find myself in one when I have a wife. What was that woman thinking?
Darcy was certain Miss Moody was not acting at her own behest. The coincidences were too many and too significant to be random. Every time he had turned around since she arrived, the young lady had been beside him. He could not move outside of his chambers without running into her. Then, too, given Caroline’s behavior in the spring and the fact that she had apparently run away from a betrothal, Darcy would bet half of everything he owned that she was behind the scheme. For what purpose, he could not imagine. There was no possible way he would ever besmirch the Darcy name with a divorce, even if Elizabeth unfathomably turned into a replica of her mother.
Elizabeth. Darcy groaned and quickened his pace even more. No matter who had seen him, he knew his beloved wife would be hurt. She had shared with him the concerns she had had when he first began calling on her, many months ago. As a new bride, she could very well be feeling some uncertainty; this episode had the potential to bring those worries to the fore once again. Worse, it had the potential to destroy forever her trust in him. Of course, his Elizabeth had a temper, too; one that he liked to soothe. As long as she did not believe he was the instigator of the event, he was sure all would be well. Eventually.
Darcy’s first stop had to be Bingley’s study. Thankfully, his friend was within, and in a few short minutes, Darcy had relayed the events of the morning and his strong suspicion that Caroline was behind it.
“Oh,” Bingley drew the word out. “That explains why Jane was running through the hall with her hand over her mouth.”
“Jane? Running?”
“Well, walking quickly. She remained ladylike but was in an obvious hurry. Passed me as though she had not seen me.”
“So it must have been Jane who saw me. Not that it matters. Whoever it was, if they have not already described the incident to my wife, they soon will. Did you see where she went?”
