That fortune hunter was nice enough, and, if it were not her brother Jane was angling after, Caroline thought she might have been able to respect the girl. Her performance of sweet naivety was a better ploy than that which most of the girls Caroline knew used to attract men. Unfortunately, she was after her brother, and, as Jane’s relatives would not only remind the ton that the Bingleys were connected to trade, but were also vulgar and ill-mannered, Caroline had no intention of allowing such a tragedy to befall Charles. The ton would eviscerate him, and all those lovely invitations Caroline had worked so hard for, both in finishing school and ever since, would evaporate.
Not to mention that the girls from her finishing school would call in droves to “condole”—or rather to exult over her decline and to “remind her of her place.” Her lips curled in a sneer as she recalled her time at school and all the obnoxious young women who had made her life a misery, proclaiming over and over that her low birth would prevent her from moving in the upper circles. Only her dearest friend from those days, a Miss Regina Samuels, would feel any real sorrow over her defeat, at least, Caroline supposed she would—she had not kept in touch with Regina beyond an occasional note. Her tender-hearted friend had left the school, unable to stand the stress of the constant bullying and the necessary scheming to gain even a step on the school’s social ladder. Regina had decided that she would rather be happy as a tradesman’s daughter than endure the anguish required to move forward in the world.
Though her friend would most probably mourn Caroline’s defeat, Regina would not have understood the lengths necessary to advance in the ton. Caroline pushed away a twinge of shame as she considered Regina’s censure should she ever become aware of Caroline’s behaviour. Fortunately, Caroline was made of sterner stuff, able to do what was necessary—even when it was distasteful, something she had learned in finishing school.
A thought struck her, and she almost giggled. If only her tormentors knew that all their finishing school “lessons” had led her to this place—on the verge of securing one of the richest and most respected (not to mention most sought after) bachelors in England. Even the many times they had “accidentally” locked her out of her own room had given her the lock-picking skills she had used to great benefit tonight.
Her brother Charles was so enthralled with Miss Bennet that he had locked Caroline in her room in a misguided attempt to prevent her from saving him and his friend from the Bennet temptresses. Caroline had tried every last trick in the book to rescue Charles and Mr. Darcy, including stooping so low as to hire a soldier to ruin the Bennets. It hadn’t been her first choice, but when neither Mr. Darcy nor Charles were willing to see the dangers those little wretches posed to them . . . well, she had done what was necessary. Desperate times called for desperate measures. But it had been for naught. Mr. Wickham had failed spectacularly and had implicated her in the process. And now she was kept locked in her room, her brother intending to exile her to her aunt’s in the north.
Fortunately, reinforcements had arrived two days ago in the persons of Lord and Lady Matlock. They would certainly object to their dearest nephew allying himself with a family like the Bennets—at least they would once they knew the reality of the situation. Even if Mr. Wickham had been paid to initiate the event, Miss Lydia had eloped with him of her own free will. It was not Caroline’s fault that the Bennet girls were so liberal with their favours. Caroline was sure that once Lady Matlock understood the situation, she would prevent the tragedy that was even now unfolding.
With bated breath, Caroline slipped into the drawing-room and slid behind a curtain. Now all she had to do was wait until the separation of the sexes, and she would be able to speak to Lady Matlock without her brother or Mr. Darcy about. Though Caroline was certain that Lady Matlock would be appalled at the idea of her nephew marrying into a family of fortune hunters with horrendous behaviour, she was equally certain that Mr. Darcy, Charles, and Colonel Fitzwilliam would do their level best to keep Lady Matlock from learning the truth as they had all fallen under the Bennets’ spell.
Men rarely knew what was best for them. It was something her deportment teacher had said a thousand times—you had to lead them gently, or, failing that, involve a woman who had the power to fix the situation. Charles had certainly proven that adage a hundred times over. And now it was up to her to rescue them all from social suicide.
Voices drifted in from up the hallway; it sounded as though her sister, Louisa, was speaking to Lady Matlock. Caroline moved to the sofa so that she could appropriately greet her guests. She had no idea what Charles had told them about her absence over the past two days—certainly not that he had locked her up.
Louisa started upon entering the room, but Caroline merely smiled at her and nodded regally, suppressing a smirk. Neither her sister nor the servants could send her back to her room without admitting that she had been locked up.
Caroline stood as Lady Matlock and Miss Darcy entered. She offered them a deep curtsey. “Good evening.”
Louisa’s hands fluttered nervously, but she introduced Caroline to Lady Matlock.
“I apologise for my absence the past two days. I have been confined to my rooms with a sick headache, and I did not wish to burden you with my ill-company.”
“Of course, Miss Bingley. Your brother and sister have extended your apologies,” Lady Matlock said politely, her gaze settling upon Caroline as though she were examining a piece of jewellery and not quite sure whether it was genuine or not.
“You are too gracious,” Caroline said with a simper. She had learned early on at finishing school that it was best to butter people up as much as possible—one never knew when one might need a favour, and a little obsequence never hurt anyone. She turned to Miss Darcy. “And dear Miss Darcy! I was desolate when I realised I would not be able to greet you.”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley. I hope you are feeling better,” Miss Darcy murmured, her gaze fixed on Caroline’s skirt.
Caroline suppressed a flicker of irritation. Miss Darcy never seemed to appreciate her overtures of friendship. She often wondered if all members of the ton were taught to despise those outside their circle from birth, inculcated in the belief of their superiority even as they were nourished by their mother’s milk. Well, once she married into the ton (or Charles did), they would have to accept that she was just as good as anyone else. She couldn’t wait until the day when all those spoiled brats she had spent countless hours being mocked by or toadying to would have to ask her for favours.
“Shall I pour?” Louisa asked breathlessly, gesturing to the tea tray that was even now being set up.
Caroline considered claiming the right to pour but decided against it. Louisa would not gainsay her, but she had shown a heretofore-unthought-of tendency to side against Caroline in the past two days. Better to keep her occupied with tea. Louisa, poor soul, lacked the ability to think and complete simple tasks.
She waited until Louisa began serving and then introduced the topic she was greatly concerned about. If the Bennets had hoodwinked the Matlocks, she did not know how she would rescue Charles and Mr. Darcy. “Now, you must tell me all about how you have spent your time over the past few days. I hope that Charles and Louisa have kept you sufficiently entertained.”
“Indeed. We have visited with your neighbours the Bennets several times—I suppose your brother cannot stay away, given his courtship with Miss Bennet,” Lady Matlock said with a tinkling laugh.
Caroline turned a carefully structured frown upon Lady Matlock. “The Bennets you say? I had not thought you would wish to allow your niece to keep company with them.”
“Oh?” Lady Matlock asked.
Caroline suppressed a grin. This was going perfectly. “I really ought not to say.”
“If it is a question of confidences, by all means, keep them. However, I desire to know what dangers you believe I ought to be aware of.”
“I am afraid that the Bennets are just as they seem. I am certain that a woman of your impec
cable discernment immediately noticed their lack of social graces.”
Lady Matlock merely raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
“Mrs. Bennet, I am sorry to say, is nothing more than a fortune hunter, scheming to snare rich husbands for her daughters. I am certain that she set her sights on my brother and Mr. Darcy the moment she became aware of their presence.”
“And you believe my nephew to be unaware of her schemes?” Lady Matlock asked frostily.
Caroline arranged her features in a semblance of sorrow. “I have reason to believe even your nephew has been taken in. If you have met them, then you are aware that Miss Bennet and Miss Eliza are capable of”—she swallowed her distaste at their apparent amiability and Miss Eliza’s ability to charm Mr. Darcy where she had failed—“taking on the appearance of all that is good. Unfortunately, they too are mere fortune hunters.”
Lady Matlock made a noise of polite interest, while Louisa’s cup clanged against her saucer as though she were startled by Caroline’s words.
“I am certain it is not maliciousness, but their estate is entailed and they will be virtually penniless the moment their father dies. Miss Eliza in particular has singled out your nephew as a likely benefactor.”
Both Lady Matlock’s eyebrows flew up.
Caroline rushed on, lest Lady Matlock take offense. “As Mr. Darcy is renowned for his good sense, I can only believe that Miss Eliza must have beguiled him into forgetting his place as he seems positively smitten with her.” She leaned forward. “I am so glad, Lady Matlock, that you have arrived and may be able to talk some sense into him. I must admit that I have been frantic with worry for both your nephew and my brother as the Bennets appear to have somehow bewitched them into forgetting their atrocious behaviour and non-existent status.”
“Atrocious behaviour?”
Caroline drew back as though in shock, one hand coming to rest delicately above her breasts. “They have not told you of Miss Lydia’s indiscretion?”
“Apparently not,” Lady Matlock said dryly.
Caroline looked down, her face a mask of confusion as though she were wrestling internally with what to share. “I—I do not wish to sully her good name as I am sure everyone involved has done their best to hush the matter up, but you of all people ought to be aware for the sake of your nephew and niece.” She closed her mouth, apparently dithering over what to say.
“If it concerns my nephew, then I would ask that you explain your words, Miss Bingley,” Lady Matlock said crisply.
Caroline cast a quick glance at Miss Darcy. “I would not wish to offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities.”
Lady Matlock set her teacup and saucer on the table. “Miss Bingley, I am almost the nearest relation my nephew has in the world and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”
“Yes, I shall tell you,” Caroline said, straightening as though filled with sudden resolve. “Miss Lydia attempted an elopement with none other than a common soldier, one that I am afraid you have a passing acquaintance with.”
“Oh?”
“A Mr. George Wickham.”
Miss Darcy shuddered, and Lady Matlock’s gaze flew to her niece before returning her attention to Caroline.
“I am afraid it came as no surprise to anyone who had seen the youngest two girls in company with soldiers. The Bennet girls have had no governess and, in addition to lacking all accomplishments, are rather wild. Though the elder two have chosen to chase after wealthier gentlemen, the youngest two appear to aim no higher than to attract any man wearing a red coat. They are positively profligate in their flirtations. It was only a matter of time before they attempted something as heinous as an elopement.”
Louisa cleared her throat. “May I offer you more tea, Lady Matlock?”
Lady Matlock cast her an annoyed glance. “No thank you, Mrs. Hurst.” She returned her attention to Caroline. “And how do you know of this reputed elopement?”
“Though it pains me, I shall not scruple to admit that my brother and your nephew, as well as Colonel Fitzwilliam, were involved in retrieving Miss Lydia and hushing the matter up. As I said, the Bennet ladies have managed to enchant them into fighting on their behalf.” Caroline took a sip of tea to hide the small smile that would not be suppressed as Lady Matlock’s frown grew.
Lady Matlock’s expression hardened. “Miss Bingley, I have heard from my friends that you are nothing more than an encroaching mushroom; I must admit that I was inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt due to your acquaintanceship with my nephew, but I see now that they were right: you are a mushroom of the worst sort with your false kindness and poisonous words, scheming to attain a station higher than that to which you were born into.”
Caroline’s breath caught as though the woman had just stolen all the air from her lungs.
“It is not the right of one such as yourself to censure a Fitzwilliam, and I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,” she continued.
“I—I only wish to assist your nephew, your Ladyship.”
Lady Matlock snorted delicately. “Assist him into marriage with yourself, perhaps. I have heard that you hang upon him dreadfully, though I have not seen it myself. After today, I have no difficulty believing it to be the truth.”
Caroline opened and closed her mouth, trying to come up with a rebuttal. “Your nephew has chosen to seek me out, and—”
Lady Matlock shook her head. “I doubt that. You are just the sort of woman that Darcy despises. Unless I am very much mistaken, he has shown you nothing more than common politeness and probably little enough of that. He is genuinely fond of your brother; he must put up with you for Mr. Bingley’s sake,” she mused.
“Lady Matlock—”
“Miss Bingley, do not forget who I am. You are treading perilously close to social extinction.”
“I would never—I did not intend—I have only shared the truth about the Bennets, your Ladyship, in hopes of enlisting your aid on behalf of your nephew and my brother. I assure you that my intentions were honourable,” Caroline spluttered.
“The Bennets at least have the virtue of being gentry with land that has been in their family for generations, unlike your family who has a legacy of being tradesmen for generations.”
Caroline’s jaw hardened. This was nothing more than what she had heard for most of her life. From the moment she had entered finishing school, the girls there had made it their mission to remind her of her place in life. Only by scratching and clawing her way up had she made it this far, and now this woman threatened to undo her work in a moment? She suppressed a snarl.
Lady Matlock took a sip of tea. “Another biscuit if you please, Mrs. Hurst.”
Louisa cast a frightened glance at Caroline but obliged by serving Lady Matlock.
Caroline took a deep breath, trying to rein in her temper. This woman was one of the social leaders of the ton and could certainly squash out any hopes of her entering the ton (or even the circles near it) as easily as one might squash a bug.
“I hope you will take my words to heart, Miss Bingley,” she said lightly, a hint of a threat edging her tone.
Caroline opened her mouth to retort, but a shudder from Miss Darcy caught her eye.
Miss Darcy sat hunched in on herself as though sheltering from a hailstorm, and the look on her face—Caroline’s breath caught as she was instantly transported back to her school days. Just so had Regina looked whenever the older girls picked on them for their poor breeding.
As Caroline looked on Miss Darcy’s shrinking figure, Lady Matlock’s harsh words echoing through her mind, she began to feel light-headed. Regina’s expression superimposed itself on the young woman in front of her and all the insults and scheming even now on the tip of her tongue burned as their likeness to her tormentors in school shone forth. If she had been here, Regina would have shrunk from Caroline just as Miss Darcy was doing even now.
But it was necessary! she argued with the imaginary version of Regina. She had to save Charles, whatever
the cost.
Even if the cost was his happiness? a small voice asked as she recalled Regina’s sacrifice.
Caroline blinked away the vision of Regina, determined not to regret that which could not be changed and had been a necessary evil.
The rest of the conversation ebbed and flowed around her as Caroline tried to regain her footing. How on earth could their tiny entailed estate make the Bennets worthy of respect? After all, they lacked everything that Caroline possessed in abundance: money, accomplishments, manners . . . she recalled Mr. Darcy’s stinging rebuke regarding her manners, but once more brushed it off—he was a man. He knew nothing of what was required to survive as a woman and, as a man, was of little importance in the social scheme of things, save as a husband.
Finally, she decided that retiring to her room before the gentlemen arrived would be the better part of valour. Clearly, she would not be able to accomplish anything of use here.
“I am afraid my sick headache is beginning to make itself known again,” Caroline interjected sweetly. “I believe I will retire now.”
Miss Darcy gave her a concerned glance before hunching back down as though afraid Caroline might attack her.
Caroline’s heart lurched, and she didn’t have to fake the crease in her eyebrows as a hint of pain began throbbing behind her eyes. “If you will excuse me. It was a pleasure to speak to you, Lady Matlock. You are indeed as witty and good as your reputation suggests,” Caroline added, trying to leave on a positive note.
“And you are just as your reputation suggests as well, Miss Bingley,” Lady Matlock returned.
A stab of pain shot through Caroline’s temples, but she managed to conceal it under a forced smile.
“Let me accompany you to your room, Caroline,” Louisa said firmly. “I will return shortly,” she added to Lady Matlock and Miss Darcy. With that she hurried Caroline out of the room—something Caroline would never have thought possible.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 59
