Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

by Jennifer Becton

  Mr. Rushton and Mrs. Pickersgill appeared interested by the tale, but everyone else at the table seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Except Caroline.

  Caroline turned to look at her brother, who kept his eyes resolutely on the table. He would offer her no help.

  Here she was reliving the entire sordid tale, which she had been endeavoring for the past months to forget. And more, she had hoped that the very occupants of the table had forgotten it as well. But now, her mother was demanding a retelling that would certainly only serve to make her goals more difficult to attain without an advantageous marriage.

  Then, Mrs. Newton made matters far worse. She turned to Caroline and said, “My dear, you know I have never been a mother who intervenes in the romantic entanglements of her children. I have never attempted to make matches or encourage my daughters to marry before their hearts were ready.”

  This was certainly true. Mrs. Newton was not like many other mothers, and for that, Caroline had always been grateful. Caroline was just the sort of woman who pressed herself well enough for those things. She did not require a push from her mother as well.

  But her mother issued that push, and much without her knowledge.

  “I do so long for you to experience the joys of a happy marriage, Caroline, for the love between a gentleman and a lady is incomparable to anything I can fathom in this world.” She offered a guileless smile. “Perhaps, you shall one day meet a gentleman who will make you as happy as Mr. Darcy makes his bride.”

  Caroline came shockingly near to crying out at her mother’s pronunciation of that sentence in just that manner. Had she but omitted Mr. Darcy’s name from her proclamation, she might have weathered it well. But hearing it as it was, warm, salty tears leapt to her eyes.

  She blinked twice and realized she was looking directly at Mr. Rushton. His expression was composed of a strange mixture of shock, pity, and confusion. He had seen her unshed tears, she feared.

  She could not bear it if he had.

  She had to look away, and almost without her conscious decision, her eyes sought her companion’s. She could not say why, but she found in Mrs. Pickersgill’s expression a surprising amount of encouragement, as if the woman might comprehend something that was being said, something of her situation.

  But perhaps Caroline was only inventing support, allowing hope to cause her to see things that could not possibly exist.

  Then, she heard Rosemary say, “Tell me, Mrs. Newton, for I find myself quite curious, about your first meetings with Mr. Newton. How did she persuade you to fall in love with him?”

  As her mother recounted her romance with Mr. Newton, Caroline looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, nails biting into her palms, and realized that she was no longer on the verge of tears.

  Mr. Darcy Explains It All

  ~**~

  In the first draft of Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth, Jane, Charles, and Mr. Darcy visited Newton House. During the course of their stay, Caroline was just as attentive to Mr. Darcy as ever. In this deleted scene, Caroline chances upon Mr. and Mrs. Darcy alone in the sitting room after dinner.

  ~**~

  It occurred innocently.

  Caroline Bingley had no intention of eavesdropping, but that is precisely the situation in which she found herself one evening after supper. She had planned simply to enter the sitting room and join the rest of the party in conversation, but as she approached the entrance to the chamber, she heard the following words: “Poor Miss Bingley. She has gotten herself into quite a quandary, has she not, my dear husband?”

  When one hears such words about oneself, one has no option but to stop and await the rest. And Caroline, being naturally curious, did just exactly that.

  “I am sure I do not take your meaning, Lizzy,” Mr. Darcy replied.

  “At dinner, the pitiful creature could not decide whether to lavish more attention upon Mr. Charlton or upon your dear self,” said Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for that was how Caroline would always think of her. “I must admit that I was excessively diverted all evening wondering which one of you was to receive the next compliment.”

  Mr. Darcy laughed, and outside the door, Caroline could well imagine the look of humor in Elizabeth’s fine eyes as she spoke.

  “And I must admit that I did not realize my skills with cutlery were so commendable.”

  There was another moment of laughter inside, while outside, Miss Bingley began to experience a peculiar ache in her breast. Had she complimented his use of cutlery? She had been in such a state of confusion over Mr. Charlton that she hardly knew what she had said all day. She thought back.

  Yes, curse it! She did recall saying something about his knife skills when he had been called upon to carve the ham.

  Oh! What was the matter with her? Everything she did and said, all her plans, seemed to turn against her!

  And hearing this from Mr. Darcy’s lips was harsh indeed.

  Caroline and Mr. Darcy had been friends, had they not? How could he allow his wife to thus abuse her? How could he join her in laughter? She had paid him a compliment after all! Was that a thing of humor?

  Certainly not!

  Then, Mr. Darcy spoke again. “I pity Miss Bingley.”

  Caroline stepped back upon hearing these words and her chest became tight with shock.

  Pity her?

  How dare he pity her?

  Elizabeth echoed her thoughts, albeit with a much different inflection. “Pity her?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Indeed I do,” affirmed Darcy. “If you will recall, my dear, I was once a bit like her. In fact, I do not believe it a stretch to admit that we were once very much alike.”

  “Oh?” Elizabeth laughed. “Did you often compliment the young ladies of your acquaintance on their use of knife and fork?”

  Mr. Darcy’s responding chuckle was an infuriating sound to Caroline’s ears, and then she heard him say, “No, indeed. I refer to our similarity in viewpoint, attitude, and perspective on the world. In that, you must admit, that Miss Bingley and I were once united in thought.”

  Caroline could attest that they had been. She smiled at the thought.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said, “but you have since altered your opinion, have you not?”

  “Under your guidance,” Mr. Darcy said. “I fancy that I have come to a more complete understanding of certain matters, but, my dear, the rest of the world has not seen fit to agree with you.”

  “Then, that is a great failing of the world.”

  “Much as I may agree with you, I cannot help but admit that I also comprehend Miss Bingley.”

  “Do you indeed?” Elizabeth asked. “Then, please explain her to me so that we might become fast friends.”

  There was a pause, and Caroline could imagine Mr. Darcy situating himself so that he could more comfortably continue his assault against her.

  His next words were somewhat surprising.

  “Have you never wondered why I prefer my sister Georgiana to remain at home under your care than to send her for a season to town like the other girls her age?”

  Elizabeth must have given great thought to her response, for there was a long pause. “I had assumed it was because you desire to be careful with her.”

  “Indeed, you are correct, but not for the reasons you may be thinking.” Caroline did not quite comprehend Mr. Darcy’s meaning, but she fully understood his next words. “I find it more beneficial for girls to be under the influence of proper ladies who may provide the best examples to follow and not to be unduly influenced by foolish young children their own age.”

  “There is nothing as vicious as an unconfident female,” Elizabeth agreed. “But what has this to do with Miss Bingley?”

  “Miss Bingley is a fine example of what becomes of an ambitious young girl when thrown into the company of other silly young society girls. She has learned all that was required of her, but never has she questioned any of it,” Mr. Darcy said. He paused a moment and then spoke again. “Miss Bingley
labors under the same false impressions that plagued me not so long ago, but she cannot overcome them. She has become puffed with pride, arrogance, and conceit. In her defense, she cannot help herself, for she only does that which she was taught. I cannot say precisely what takes place at a seminary, but I can say with extreme certainty that it has the capability of causing a young lady to transform her thinking.”

  “But you once proclaimed that a lady ought to be educated and accomplished in the arts,” Elizabeth protested.

  “In certain arts, yes, but not in artfulness and cunning. It is reprehensible to think that an organization with the aims of education and accomplishments of the mind would deliver into society young women bathed in jealousy and spite. I knew the Misses Bingleys before they entered the seminary, and they were much more like Charles—guileless and sweet.”

  Elizabeth sniffed. “I cannot imagine it.”

  “Well, it was so. In the past, I quite enjoyed Miss Bingley’s company, and in truth, when I was still in the throes of my pride, I enjoyed her still. She is often amusing and full of witty conversation, and for a time, we were united in purpose.” He sighed. “Much as I hate to admit it, we did act together to remove Charles from your sister.”

  “And I shall never forgive her,” Elizabeth said, and Caroline could imagine her crossing her arms and setting her jaw.

  “Ah,” Mr. Darcy’s voice had become quieter, and Caroline had to strain to hear him say, “but you forgave me.”

  “But you are different. You changed, and Miss Bingley has not.”

  “Yes, I changed, and the alteration was difficult indeed. I fear I still have not overcome the full measure of my pride, but you must allow Miss Bingley to have had an additional obstacle.”

  “What obstacle might that be, for I can imagine none big enough to warrant her behavior.”

  “Miss Bingley is of the female sex—”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth fairly shouted. “You cannot possibly be insinuating that a woman’s understanding of the world is meaner than a gentleman’s!”

  “No, indeed. I only speak a truth of the world: women are in a much more precarious situation.”

  “But Miss Bingley is rich.”

  “Certainly, that may not be argued. But has she control of her fortune? Had she truly any say in leaving Netherfield for Kendal? Can she set up her own household? Choose her own course in life?”

  “What woman may do these things?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Exactly, my dear. No unmarried woman experiences true freedom, and marriage to a wealthy, indulgent gentleman is seen to be her only recourse. Her only chance at liberty, and that only if the husband allows it.”

  There was a long silence as Elizabeth seemed to ponder Mr. Darcy’s words. “Even I must admit to being not insensible of the benefits of your wealth.”

  Mr. Darcy laughed. “It is honest of you to admit it.”

  “But may Miss Bingley not remain unmarried and enjoy the benefits of her mother’s home? She is hardly a burden upon the household as wealthy as she is.”

  “But upon her mother’s death, what will become of Miss Bingley? She will not inherit Newton House. She will be forced upon her siblings’ kindness, and they will have families of their own to care for. She is yet in a precarious position.”

  Caroline was surprised at Mr. Darcy’s degree of comprehension. He spoke exactly the message that she wished to scream at the top of her voice. Then, he continued, “Miss Bingley is perhaps even more desperate than the season’s most adroit social climber, for she is well aware of that which she has to lose.”

  “Well,” Elizabeth said, “if your assessment is correct, then I am sorry for Miss Bingley and wish her well.”

  Caroline smiled. This bade well. Perhaps her invitation to Pemberley would no longer be revoked, and one thorn would be removed from her side.

  “Still,” said Darcy with a serious tone, “until she makes amends for her behavior to all parties, I cannot welcome her into our home. After all, I was forced to admit my failings, and my sense of justice cannot allow anything less for her.”

  Caroline stepped back from the doorway. Her face felt as if she had stood too long near a hot fire, and she preferred to think that the change in her temperature resulted from anger and not shame.

  So Mr. Darcy comprehended her. She had known he would. She had not been so wrong in her estimation of him, but still, he would ostracize her.

  Caroline suddenly had the most startling urge to flee. She had never experienced such an urge before, and it quite undid her. She turned to run and bumped into a body in the hallway.

  Looking up, she found that the body in her path was Rosemary Pickersgill. “What do you do here?” she whispered.

  “I am watching you eavesdrop on the Darcys,” Rosemary said flatly.

  Caroline grabbed her companion’s arm and attempted to pull her down the hallway away from the sitting room door. “I most certainly was not eavesdropping!”

  Rosemary dug in and refused to be moved. “Do stop trying to drag me elsewhere, Miss Bingley, for if you were not listening to their conversation, then the only other reason to be in that precise location is that you were preparing to enter. So let us enter.”

  Rosemary then proceeded forward with Miss Bingley in tow.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Darcy,” she said to the room upon entering it. “Miss Bingley and I have just been discussing subversive tactics, and we find ourselves quite in the mood for a game of strategy. Whist, perhaps? Will you play?”

  The game was set up, and the four played for some time. Rosemary and Caroline came away with a victory though the younger lady could not seem to decipher how it had happened, for she was still quite out of sorts from hearing the Darcys’ conversation.

  Fortunately, card playing required little extraneous conversation, so she was not forced to make a great deal of polite chitchat. She seethed in relative silence until the Darcys excused themselves for the evening.

  They had hardly quitted the chamber when Caroline said, “Upstairs, if you please, Mrs. Pickersgill. I have one or two words I must speak to you.”

  “And that is fortuitous, Miss Bingley, for I must speak with you as well.” Rosemary said these words with no hint of ire, but her calm demeanor only served to inflame Caroline further.

  Once in the privacy of her chamber, Caroline could hardly choose where to begin. “I have had quite enough of your poking and prodding at me. I had no desire to play whist. I despise the game!”

  “At that very moment, I cared not what you wanted to do. You might have wanted to run away and hide or burst in and engage in a shouting match with the Darcys. I know—or care—not. But I do know very well that you overheard every word that was spoken in that chamber tonight, for I was standing right behind you.”

  Caroline wheeled on her. “How dare you eavesdrop on our guests!”

  Rosemary laughed.

  “You are but a servant,” Caroline continued. “It was only out of courtesy that I allowed my mother’s fancy to treat you as a family member. And I had even begun to view you as a friend, but I see now that it was a poor decision on my part. From this moment forward, you will be treated as you deserve.”

  Rosemary laughed outright, and the tone of it was so haughty that Caroline stepped back unconsciously.

  Before her, Rosemary seemed to transform, to grow ever larger and more confident. Her back became straighter, her face more regal in expression, and her bearing more determined.

  Why, she appeared to be a noble lady, and Caroline felt as small as a pebble underfoot. She did not care for this sensation at all.

  “You, my dear Miss Bingley, have no notion of the proper way to treat either a lady or a servant.”

  “And I suppose you do?”

  Rosemary gave her enigmatic look. “Mr. Darcy may pity you, but I shall not. You have had all the benefits of society and education, yet you continue to behave as willfully and stupidly as a girl of half your age and experience. Why?”
/>
  Caroline’s mouth opened, but not to offer an answer to such a rude question. No, she was preparing to address Rosemary’s insubordination.

  But Rosemary did not give her the chance to speak. She continued, saying, “Out of fear. Your every action and word is borne of your fear that some person might perceive some softness in you, some weakness to exploit, some emotion or feeling. You fear that someone will learn of your past, which is comprised of nothing more awful than a father—

  Caroline’s jaw clenched upon the mention of her dear father. “Do not speak of subjects you cannot comprehend.”

  “—who loved his family so much he gave his life so that they could prosper. Oh, the shame of it!”

  Caroline winced at the mockery in Rosemary’s voice.

  “It is shameful,” Caroline said. Her voice was high and sharp, but she cared not. She only continued, “Such a designation was not of my own creation. No one finds favor in common labor, and as long as society remains what it is, my feelings on the subject shall not change.”

  “Of all people, you ought to understand the wish to raise oneself through trade, as your father did. Instead, you belittle everyone for no other reason than to raise yourself in your own esteem, and you do not comprehend how it lowers you in the eyes of those whom you seek to impress. But that is not the worst of it, Miss Bingley.”

  Caroline had gone from experience rage to becoming very still, and now she felt eerily calm. “Pray, continue.”

  “The worst of it, Miss Bingley, is that you do not know your own heart. I perceive quite well that there is some feeling in you, but you persist in quashing every good sentiment and cheerful thought. And should that continue, my dear, you shall be one of the unhappiest ladies in the world.”

  Caroline blinked. “Who are you to say such things? Your existence is made possible only through my brother’s charity and—”

  “Charity! You are mistaken. This is not charity. I have labored harder for you than I have worked in my life. I have endeavored to make you appear to be the lady you are not. That is a difficult task indeed.”