by Jann Rowland
“In truth, Miss Lydia, you are not old enough, you do not have the appropriate experience as to the consequences of your actions, and you have never, I dare say, been taught how to moderate your behavior. I now wish that my invitation to this ball had excluded you. I do not wish the evening to be ruined by the actions of an ill-mannered child.”
Lydia gasped, and tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. But Mr. Bingley was merciless, and Jane dared to think that he was masterful. This was a man who, being fully cognizant of the mores of society, took action to correct a situation which was getting out of hand. If only her father had the same kind of character!
“Be that as it may, you are here, and you may stay as long as you conduct yourself properly. We will now return to the ballroom, where you will speak quietly and not run about with every officer in attendance. And I assure you that I will be speaking with Colonel Forster about his officers’ behavior, if he has not already noticed himself.
“Am I very clear about what we expect of you?”
A sullen nod met Mr. Bingley’s demand, and though Jane thought that Lydia might be cowed for the time being, she highly doubted that her ways were to be so easily changed.
“Very good,” said Mr. Bingley. “Now, let us return before we are missed. Miss Bennet, if you will?”
Jane took Mr. Bingley’s extended arm, noting that Lydia reluctantly grasped his other arm, and allowed herself to be led back to the ballroom. Their entrance, though it did not go unnoticed, did not create as much of a stir as Jane had feared. She did notice Miss Bingley’s glare, and she could not fault the woman for it; after all, Lydia’s behavior must be of concern for her as well, given the attention that her brother had been paying to Jane since his arrival.
“Miss Lydia, are you engaged for the supper set?” queried Mr. Bingley as they entered the room.
“With Captain Carter,” said Lydia, her sullenness giving way slightly to anticipation.
“Carter is a good man,” replied Mr. Bingley with a nod of approval. “You may wait until he approaches you for the set. But remember: behave yourself, or you shall be removed from the ballroom in disgrace.”
A resentful glare met his directive, but it soon withered in the face of Mr. Bingley’s fixed and pointed look. She subsided with a nod.
Having noticed them entering the room, Mary approached, her posture screaming her uncertainty. “Will you please stand with Lydia until her partner for the supper set comes to claim her?” asked Jane.
Apparently, Mary’s question was answered, and she sighed with relief and agreed to their request. Jane was led away by Mr. Bingley as the first strains of music for the supper set were floating out over the ballroom. Taking the opportunity of their close proximity, Jane leaned toward her companions and said:
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. She would never have listened to my demands alone.”
“It is quite all right, Miss Bennet,” replied Mr. Bingley. He directed a soft smile at her which melted her heart. “I would not have you discomfited when it is within my power to prevent it. I dare say that your sister is not beyond redemption. All she needs is a little guidance.”
Jane grimaced. “Unfortunately, she is not likely to receive it from my parents.”
Mr. Bingley grimaced in sympathy, but there was not much he could say.
The other event to mar the beauty of the ball happened later that evening, near the end of supper. Jane had, as per convention, partnered with Mr. Bingley for supper, and much of her equilibrium had returned. As Mrs. Bennet was sitting in a completely different part of the room, her words had no power to bring shame to Jane, who made the decision to focus on her dinner partner and not whatever mortifying words were issuing forth from her mother’s mouth.
It was as the supper hour was coming to a close when Mr. Bingley excused himself to see to some matter of the musicians, leaving Jane by herself for a moment. She stood and went to the table on which the punch sat, taking a cup for herself and reflecting on the evening. It was then that Miss Bingley approached her and greeted her as if she were a close friend.
“Miss Bennet, I hope that you are enjoying yourself this evening?”
“I am indeed, Miss Bingley,” replied Jane, who had already complimented the woman on her arrangements. “You have created a wonderful evening for your guests and should take pride in that fact.”
Miss Bingley fairly preened, though her words were a deflection of praise. “It is nothing, I assure you. In a country town such as this, the demands which would prevail in London society may be relaxed for a more informal evening. I have not done anything extraordinary.”
Jane inclined her head, determined to take the woman’s words at face value, though they could just as easily have been construed as being critical of country society.
“I understand that your sister was lately married to your cousin,” said Miss Bingley. “How is she adjusting to life as a married woman?”
Feeling somewhat uneasy, Jane demurred. “I have not yet had a chance to hear from my sister.” Jane did not think the events surrounding her sister’s marriage had been much talked about in the area as of yet. Mrs. Bennet did not speak of it, and though Elizabeth’s absence that evening had been noted, not much had been made of it. Miss Bingley must have heard it from her brother.
Miss Bingley nodded in a commiserating fashion. “Married women do not necessarily possess the time required to write to their single siblings. I know when Mrs. Hurst was married, I hardly heard from her for a sixmonth!”
“I have every expectation of hearing from Elizabeth before long.”
“Then that is well indeed,” said Miss Bingley. “I suppose she was not in residence for the past ten years, so you must be very well able to do without her.”
“On the contrary, Miss Bingley, I miss her exceedingly so.”
Miss Bingley took no notice of her comment. “It must be of great comfort to your mother for your sister to marry her husband’s heir. You will all continue to have a home once your father departs to meet his maker.”
Jane looked at the woman askance. Surely Miss Bingley must be in her brother’s confidence, knowing that he was on the point of making her an offer. Though uncomfortable with this conversation, Jane could only respond:
“I would hope to have my own home long ere that happens.”
“And so you shall,” said Miss Bingley. “But it is truly a shame that Mr. Darcy has departed from Netherfield. His presence is such a comfort for Charles.” Miss Bingley turned an excited, almost sly gaze on Jane and said, “I dare say that he . . . Well, perhaps it is best not to excite speculation. But I am certain that I shall not remain in my single state for much longer.”
Jane turned a disbelieving eye upon Miss Bingley, wondering if the woman had witnessed the same events that she had herself these past weeks. The insinuation that Mr. Darcy would soon be offering for her, after Jane already had confirmation that Mr. Darcy had asked Elizabeth for a courtship, showed a blindness to the facts of the situation which was shocking.
“It is particularly gratifying to be singled out by such a man,” continued Miss Bingley, blithely unaware of Jane’s consternation. “I believe that everything has passed as it was meant to. It is of paramount importance that people marry within their sphere, after all, and I am happy that everything has worked out so well.
“Now that events are proceeding in such a proper manner, I might soon be able to call another dear friend my sister.” Miss Bingley leaned toward Jane, and as if imparting a great secret, she whispered: “Charles and Miss Darcy are such dear friends. And though Charles often takes a fancy to a new acquaintance, his affections always return to his friend’s sister. I dare say we will be hearing wedding bells before long.”
An immense feeling of disdain welled up within Jane, and for the first time, she saw Miss Bingley for exactly what she was—a petty, insincere, social climber who did not care about who she stepped over to get what she wanted. Her insinuations about staying in the prop
er sphere were almost laughable considering the fact that she was nothing more than the daughter of a tradesman giving herself airs. In that moment, Jane wanted to put the woman in her place more than almost anything she had ever wanted in her whole life.
“I believe you should not put too much hope in your brother marrying Miss Darcy,” said Jane in a frosty tone. Miss Bingley started when she spoke, undoubtedly considering Jane far too modest and self-effacing to speak in such a manner. “Considering the fact that he has all but declared himself to me, your ambition will never be realized.
“And given how much Mr. Darcy avoids you, I seriously doubt he will ever offer for you, regardless of whether my sister is available or has, as you say, ‘married within her sphere.’ I am a gentleman’s daughter, as is my sister, and I am certain we must both be acceptable as a bride to any young man. And my sister is every bit Mr. Darcy’s equal, no matter what her social status or married state. Perhaps you should remember that.”
With that, Jane turned and walked away, leaving the woman to stare at her in stupefaction.
It was just as the dancing was beginning again that Caroline stalked up to Bingley with a fierce scowl and demanded his attention.
“Charles, I would speak with you immediately!”
Bingley turned to regard her with some amusement. He had not missed the fact that Caroline had just been speaking with the woman he loved, and he had also witnessed her smug self-satisfaction turn to befuddlement in the wake of that conversation. It seemed that Miss Bennet had finally shed her diffident manner and seen Caroline for what she was and had then put her in her place accordingly.
“You would speak with me about what?” replied Bingley mildly. “I am engaged with Miss Lucas for the next set.”
“She can wait,” said Caroline. Her shortness only served to amuse Bingley rather than to annoy him as it would have in the past.
Bingley was not unaware of Caroline’s shortcomings. But as one who did not in general like disputes, he had attempted to carefully inform his sister that Darcy was not interested. When she had angrily denied his words, he had left her to her own delusions. Darcy could take care of himself, after all.
He knew that Caroline would not take his intention to propose to Miss Bennet well, aspiring, as she did, for him to make a match with Miss Darcy, through the most convoluted bit of reasoning Bingley had ever come across. But Bingley was firm in his purpose. He would propose to Miss Bennet, and if he had his way, he would do so before the night was complete. He fancied he owed Darcy for his firmness of purpose, not only because Darcy had advised him to secure Miss Bennet as soon as may be, but also on account of his friend’s guidance over the years of their acquaintance.
A sidelong glance at his sister revealed that she would not give way. He would have to speak with her, lest she make a scene. It was just as well—now was as good a time as any to have this conversation.
“Very well, Caroline, but I will not leave Miss Lucas without informing her that I will not be able to dance with her. I shall meet you in the hall as soon as I have a word with her.”
Caroline’s demeanor told him what she thought of his intention, but she wisely bit her tongue and nodded in a distinctly impatient fashion. She then stalked away from him in high dudgeon.
After seeking Miss Lucas out, Bingley bowed to her and said with a smile: “I apologize, Miss Lucas, but my sister has brought a matter to me which demands my attention. Could I trouble you to reserve another dance for me this evening?”
Miss Lucas smiled and said, “It is no trouble at all, Mr. Bingley. I am free two dances hence.”
“Then it is settled,” replied Bingley, bowing and turning to leave the room. It was truly fortunate that Miss Lucas was such an agreeable young lady. Many with whom he was acquainted would have taken such an application as an insult.
Upon exiting the ballroom, Bingley made the short journey to the hall swiftly, eager that this tête-à-tête should not draw the attention of those in attendance. When he arrived, his first sight was of his sister pacing like a caged lion. She rounded on him as soon as he appeared.
“What are you thinking of, Charles?” spat she.
“Perhaps if you would be more explicit, then I might be able to answer you,” replied Bingley, unimpressed by her show of pique.
“You know very well of what I speak. This infatuation with Jane Bennet has gone too far. I cannot believe that you would disgrace our father’s memory with this . . . this . . . ill-advised dalliance with a young lady who is by no means suitable to be your wife.”
“And in what way is Miss Bennet unsuitable?” asked Bingley. He held control of his temper, displaying in his mind a Darcy-like iron control over his emotions, but it was a near thing.
Caroline threw up her arms in disgust. “She has no fortune, no connections, and the most insupportable, improper family I have ever had the misfortune to meet. In short, she has nothing to recommend her, and her mother will end up being a millstone around your neck should you continue in this fashion.” Caroline stopped pacing and her eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow, we shall return to town and leave this inconsequential speck behind us. You shall overcome this infatuation in due time, I have no doubt.”
“I will not,” said Bingley, standing up straight and refusing to bend to his sister’s machinations.
“Yes, you will!” snapped Caroline. “I insist. I will not put up with that insignificant little country miss as a sister.”
“Then you had best leave my house and go live with our relations in York, for I shall not be moved.”
“What is it about these Bennet sisters which causes men to lose themselves like rutting dogs?” cried Caroline. “I shall not accept this, I tell you. She shall be the ruin of our entire family!”
“What is the meaning of this?”
The third Bingley sibling stepped into the hallway and approached them. “I can almost hear you in the ballroom above even the sound of the music, Caroline. If you do not wish our guests to overhear you quarrelling like a pair of hyenas, then I suggest you desist immediately.”
Caroline appeared flustered at her sister’s words, so Bingley took advantage of her momentary speechlessness and turned to Louisa.
“I suppose that you are in agreement with Caroline?”
His hard, accusing tone was not lost on Louisa, and she paled slightly. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you.”
“Caroline is trying to convince me of the unsuitability of Jane Bennet to be my wife. I suppose that you are here to support our sister and try to dissuade me from my course?”
Louisa paled and glanced at Caroline—who was watching, her face almost chiseled from stone—before she turned back to Bingley with a conciliatory expression. “I will not lie to you, Charles. I am concerned, primarily with the . . . lack of decorum betrayed by some of her family members.”
“And her lack of dowry and connections?” said Bingley in an accusatory tone. “What of those?”
“Those facts are to be considered, of course,” said Louisa. “But if you feel strongly enough for Miss Bennet that they are not material, then I understand. It is not what I would wish for you, but you are your own man, able to make your own decisions.”
Though Caroline shot Louisa a poisonous look of the betrayed, Bingley focused on his elder sister, and he nodded, though it was with an uncharacteristic abruptness. “I appreciate you voicing your concerns in such a fashion, Louisa. They are noted. But you, of all people, must understand the very great benefit of marrying due to the desire to be with someone for whom you possess an affection rather than due to merely prudent concerns.”
His sister’s flush told Bingley that his barb had met his mark.
“I do indeed, Charles,” said Louisa. “You have my support if Miss Bennet is truly what you want.”
“Oh this is very touching indeed,” scoffed Caroline, “but it is immaterial to the matter at hand. Our father gave us the task of improving our family’s name in society, and I will e
nsure that his wishes are carried out.
“Your marriage to Hurst was regrettable,” continued she, “but ultimately necessary, as it allowed us to enter into higher society. With our marriages, Charles and I will ascend even higher. There is no more discussion to be had. Be prepared to depart on the morrow.”
“You have stated your directives; now hear mine,” hissed Bingley, stepping up to his sister and glaring down at her. Caroline was no small woman, but Bingley towered over her, and for a brief moment, he enjoyed that feeling of authority.
“I will not depart on the morrow or any other time in the near future. If you wish, you may depart yourself. But if you do stay, then you had best heed my words. I will brook no more interference in my relationship with Miss Bennet, and I will hear no more attacks against her. I intend to declare myself to her at the first opportunity and will not be dissuaded.”
“You will receive no support from me if you persist in this madness,” declared Caroline hatefully. Then she stalked off without a backward glance.
Bingley watched her go sadly. “What happened to the sweet, affectionate child she used to be?”
“That child was consumed by her ambition to ascend to the heights of society,” replied Louisa. “I will handle Caroline, Charles. You return to your lady and make your plea.”
Heartened by his sister’s encouragement, Bingley did something he had not done in many years—he leaned forward and embraced her, pouring his gratitude out in his actions. “Thank you, Louisa. I will.”
And with that, he turned and strode back to the ballroom, noting as he did so that the first dance after dinner was in its final stages before drawing to a close. Spying Jane Bennet where she stood by the side speaking with Miss Lucas, Bingley was gratified that she was not engaged in this set, and he was seized by the desire to stake his claim to her hand. With such thoughts in mind, he strode toward the two women and bowed before them.
