A Nudge in the Right Direction: A Pride and Prejudice Variation - Novella

by Nicky Roth

  As the thought crossed Caroline’s mind she realised that of all people the Bennets were actually late, though she had expected them to be one of their earliest guests, and for a split moment she almost hoped they would not attend at all. Which of course was in vain. There they arrived as one of the last parties and no sooner had they done so, that her brother stepped forward to take Miss Bennet’s hand in an atrociously affectionate manner.

  Glancing at her own sister with some irritation, she saw that Mrs. Hurst was most cordial to Jane and even the other members of this horrible, misbehaved family. But to her astonishment even Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia, though clearly awed by her arrangements, curtsied and nodded and smiled, all the while managing to keep their voices low and temperament at bay. How unusual! How unexpected!

  Miss Eliza came over to her, smiled charmingly, one could almost take it for a real smile, curtsied and thanked her for welcoming them with so much splendour and grace. Had it been any other lady, Caroline would have been most gratified by this compliment, but what irked her in this instance was, that Elizabeth Bennet did not seem in the slightest intimidated by her arrangements as she should have been. There was not the smallest sign of discomfort about the grandeur of the ball, her ball after all. The one ball, as unwelcome it had been at the beginning, that would make her Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  Oh, how surprised they all would be when they announced their engagement later on over supper. - By which time she would have changed into another dress of course, already carefully prepared to be changed into quickly, as the fate of the one she was wearing was sealed and Caroline all but counted the hours till she could rip it off herself.

  But before she could surprise anybody, it was her brother who did so when, in opening the dance, he announced his own engagement to Jane Bennet. This hussy! Caroline knew it! This nobody had reeled her brother in and was now to marry most advantageously. This was not to be born!

  Yet for the moment her mind was too occupied with her own marital felicity to separate the two of them, and to do so would have to be postponed to another day, some time in the near future. There were, after all, a few weeks time, as the banns needed to be read and the preparations to be made. So hurry she needed not. She smiled sweetly, though it did not reach her eyes, which instead glistened in malicious self-importance and arrogance. Oh, if only they knew!

  At least Mr. Wickham was true to his word and quickly engaged Miss Elizabeth in a conversation and oh indeed, he was a very alluring man. She almost wished one would pay her as much attention and smile at her so charmingly. But as the hostess of a ball she was left to stand by and watch, as did her sister.

  “Are you still determined to go through with your plan?” Louisa whispered into her ear, flapping her fan.

  “What a question to ask! Now even more so than before.” Caroline hissed back, seeing Mr. Hurst turn around and walk towards the table with the punch. So, no surprise from that quarter.

  The music began playing and the dancing couples assembled. Why on earth was Wickham not dancing with Miss Eliza? Instead she stood up with a clumsy looking man wearing a most pompous demeanour and greasy, mouse coloured hair. If that was her choice of partner it certainly did not speak for the chit’s taste. And how he danced! She counted the number of times he stepped on his partner’s toes, but was quickly interrupted by Lieutenant Wickham and lost count after the eighth time.

  “I fear, Miss Bingley, I encounter difficulties.” he bowed, looking as if he were merely exchanging pleasantries. But she could not help noticing that his eyes ever so often darted towards her chest in apparent appreciation.

  “Whatever do you mean?” she wondered, irritation rising already.

  “If I could put a finger on it I could act accordingly, but it seems the Bennet ladies have turned shy all of a sudden.”

  Caroline Bingley turned to look for the other members of the family and was astonished to find they behaved with perfect amiability, neither too boisterous nor morose. This was unexpected. Having seen them at the ball in Meryton and the various other parties they had attended together, she had had no doubt they would misbehave, would shriek and laugh aloud and flirt wildly - but indeed they did not.

  Kitty and Lydia were dancing with some officers for sure, but they acted most serenely and only once in a while giggled, and Mrs. Bennet spoke to Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas but kept her voice suspiciously low. Miss Mary Bennet sat demurely with one of the younger Lucas’, once in a while remarking on the dance it seemed, as on occasion they would point in the direction of the set. This was not promising. Not promising at all! And anyhow, where was Mr. Darcy?

  “Wickham, a word with you if you please!” a deep voice suddenly spoke up.

  Well at least that answered for Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts.

  The young and handsome officer did look weary at being addressed thus, but as there was little choice other than to cause trouble, he complied. Walking outside, both men spoke animatedly and after a conversation of a mere five minutes the red coat left without further ado. None of this bode well for her scheme, but Caroline Bingley again chose to ignore it. There was no use crying over spilled milk, was there?

  She had hoped that then Mr. Darcy would stand a little by her side as it was beginning to be fairly boring, but no such luck. The first set was over and she could see Miss Elizabeth stand aside with her friend Miss Lucas, laughing and talking animatedly. To Miss Bingley’s great mortification, it was them Darcy approached, and she had to contain herself not to cry out in exasperation when he actually asked the chit to dance with him.

  Why oh why did men never know what was good for them!?

  Chapter 10

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  Seeing Caroline irked was kind of satisfying. Other than her sister in her conceited self-importance, Louisa Hurst played her part of secondary hostess with great civility and grace, speaking to the various people in attendance, laughing with them, offering refreshments and making sure the musicians were well catered for. And even Mr. Hurst was not so dull as not to speak a word with their guests once in a while. But this Miss Bingley did not notice, as her brother in law had managed to escape to a room where the gentlemen of the party could smoke and drink in peace, undisturbed by any female. A place where he could be himself, much to the astonishment of many who only knew him as being boring and morose.

  As such, Mrs. Hurst was most pleased to have overheard Mr. Darcy asking Elizabeth for two dances, and as the only ones available were the upcoming one and the supper set, this was most convenient for her and her own plans to cross the intrigue of her sister. It was quite despiteous to be sure, but it could not be helped. Her sister needed a set down and a thorough one at that, and with her attitude there was little chance for her to find real happiness anyway. Mr. Darcy on the other hand deserved better than to be trapped in a marriage he had never desired in the first place. He was a good man after all, if not the most alluring one.

  Sometimes Louisa wondered, how the sweet little girl from days past, with her large dark eyes and soft curls, could have turned so vile. Mrs. Hurst knew not what had gone so horribly wrong as to turn little Caroline Bingley into this ruthless, machinating woman she now was, but one part of it might have come from the over-indulgence of her being the youngest child. She had been spoiled rotten, and it seemed in her case this phrase could be used in the literal sense. Not only her parents had given in to her every whim, but also her siblings, as Charles and herself had doted on her. It clearly had done nothing good for Caroline to be the centre of attention to such an extent. Everything she received was taken for granted, everything she wanted had to be delivered promptly no matter the cost or the inconvenience. Only this afternoon she had sent one of her maids out and into the stables to get a mare’s milk for her, something that could not be supplied as there were no mares in the stables in the first place. Crying the young girl had come back into the kitchen, just as Mrs. Hurst had checked on the progress of the cooking and to help herself to a cup of tea, as sh
e knew the servants were busy enough already to take much care of her. Once she had found out what the trouble was, Louisa had swiftly taken a pail of cows milk and had handed it to the startled girl, who had quickly dried her tears and with a grateful curtsy had taken off and up to her mistress’s room.

  Rounding a corner Louisa met with the two youngest Bennet girls and enquired in a friendly tone of voice: “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

  After all they soon would be family. There was no use in being disagreeable.

  “Oh, mightily so!” exclaimed the younger with a broad and conspiratorial smile. “We were just looking for the refreshment table. It is mightily hot, is it not?”

  “Warm it certainly is, but you have been dancing so I dare say you feel the heat even more so than I.”

  “Oh, for sure.” Lydia Bennet laughed lightly, but otherwise kept her voice down and her manners, if not impeccable, were still more than acceptable for such an event as a ball.

  The letter she had written to the girl seemed to have made an impact. All the better! Louisa was quite impressed by the pair of them, only wondering how they had managed to get their mother to behave likewise. But this presumably would stay their secret. Anyhow, if they carried on like this she could well see them visiting her in London for a few weeks during the Season. If one looked closer they were such dear girls, and certainly quite charming in their youthful boisterousness.

  Mrs. Hurst was so busy with conversing with their guests that the supper set arrived surprisingly quickly. Walking swiftly past her and casting her a conspiratorial glance, Caroline walked through the opened doors and towards the maze, where in the darkness she quickly disappeared, unaware that Mr. Darcy at this very moment was happily dancing with her rival.

  Only now it occurred to Louisa, that what she was about to do, was not exactly fair on the poor fellow likewise involved, and she would have made use of the dubious Lieutenant Wickham had he not already left. For him she had little enough concern, blackguard that he was. But at any rate, one of the officers would do perfectly. They could always use a wife and surely would know how to handle one as difficult and little complying as her sister. Seeing them live so comfortably in their quarters she supposed they could do with a bit of battle experience.

  But for now it was time to get her act together and pretend to look for Caroline, and so, with an expression of mock concern, Louisa Hurst strolled through the many rooms and at last outside, wise enough to take a lantern. She had no intention to stumble around in the darkness and soil her new gown.

  Chapter 11

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  In the meantime Caroline found to her dismay that, with all her calculations and planning, she had underestimated how dark the maze would be at this time of night. And the well lit Netherfield House kept her eyes from getting used to the gloom which enveloped her. She could hardly see her hand in front of her eyes, and it was quite difficult to find the little bench onto which she intended to plant herself, feigning injury. It was also much colder than she had expected, despite the shrug she had been clever enough to take with her as an afterthought. But as it was a very thin one made from silk and lace, it did nothing to keep her from shivering. Yet there was no way in the world she would back out of this intrigue now. She was too close to success to even give it a second thought.

  Walking slowly and placing each step carefully lest she should sprain an ankle for real, Miss Bingley edged forward and at last her shins made somewhat painful contact with the pretty little stone bench in the maze’s middle. With a sigh of relief she plunked down on it, for once in her life ungraciously, but who was there to see anyway?

  So far, so good. Now she only needed to prepare herself for Mr. Darcy’s arrival. She needed to look thoroughly kissed and compromised, so much so that it would not matter that the man who was supposed to have done that to her, looked impeccably dressed and all buttoned up.

  She started with dishevelling her hair, going through it with her hands in a way she imagined a man would in pulling her closer for a passionate kiss. Pinching her cheeks to make them look flushed was her second step towards becoming Mrs. Darcy, before she bit her lips quite painfully till she almost thought she could taste her own blood.

  The next step was tearing the bodice of her dress. This again took more of an effort than she had anticipated, but where there is a will there certainly is a way, and at last the silk gave in, ripping even further down than she had intended. However this was not the time to think of false modesty. Pulling her assets out of her stays and hitching up her skirt was all it needed to finish her

  preparations.

  After little more than ten minutes it was getting extremely frosty, as the cool air of the November night touched her where soon she hoped she would feel her husband - and Caroline Bingley prayed she would not need to wait much longer to catch said husband. In her fraught state of mind however time passed but slowly, till at last she heard her sister cry out urgently and a man’s voice answer soothingly in return, his voice kept low and indistinguishable. Not that it could be any other man than Fitzwilliam, as to her soon Fitzwilliam he would be.

  At the thought she could not help smiling and pinching her cheeks again, she leaned back expectantly. The stumbling footsteps and the faint glow of a lantern, surely the one her sister was supposed to carry as she ‘discovered’ them, bore testimony that her time was near. A mere minutes and she had trapped Mr. Darcy, the most eligible man around.

  He came ever so much closer, while Louisa stayed somewhat behind, and just as she had hoped he stumbled right into her.

  “Oh?!” a faintly familiar voice cried out in surprise, as the man tried to stabilise himself, hands on her exposed breasts, face so close that had she wanted to kiss him she could have easily done so. But Caroline Bingley did not want to kiss this man.

  “Caroline!” she heard her sister exclaim in shock, a shock that was shared by the two other parties, and for real.

  And if this was not bad enough, other voices chimed up as a man cried out with undisguised glee: “Well, that is what I call a sprained ankle!”

  It was none other than Lieutenant Wickham, just when he was needed the least.

  Why had he stayed behind anyway? - Oh, of course he had wanted his pay even though he had not delivered, Caroline thought bitterly.

  But at his remark another man began to laugh heartily having just rounded the corner, and hardly able to utter a word her brother in law snorted out: “Who would have thought that these two of all people, are so intimately acquainted? Dear, dear! Caroline you have caught yourself a very handsome husband. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it. Would you have, Louisa? If I may say so, he certainly is a catch.”

  There the haughty Caroline sat, skirts hitched up to her knees, hair a mess, dress torn and exposing herself in a most inappropriate manner, while the man, who in his befuddlement still held her breasts, was not Mr. Darcy at all. And not knowing where her plan had gone so miserably wrong, all she could do was stare at the group in mortification wanting nothing but to scream at the top of her lungs, had it not been for the fear of drawing even more unwanted attention.

  Chapter 12

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  “It is not what it seems...” Mr. Collins stammered and at last let go of the chest of the woman before him. “I stumbled and fell.”

  Hurst snickered, while Wickham remarked chuckling: “That is also my usual excuse. I can tell you now, that it will not work.” And muttering under his breath he added: “Not with stuck up Darcy around anyway.”

  “But what are we supposed to do?” the bewildered parson carried on and then, as if an even more important thought had struck him he cried out: “Good grief, what will Lady Catherine say?!”

  This was too much for Caroline. Sitting up straight and covering her exposed bosom with her shawl she glared at the group before her and all but shrieked: “You think of Lady Catherine, whoever she is, and what about me? I had such prospects waiting for me and
you have ruined it all!”

  The rest of her rant was indistinguishable, as her voice went up so high she could have burst a window, or even a whole row of them.

  “Ruined? But I have done nothing...”

  “There will be no way out of this. With how you were discovered, you will have to marry Miss Bingley it seems.” George Hurst shrugged his broad shoulders, a glint in his eyes. “The way you were found and with how you appeared, there can be no doubt about it. I certainly saw more of you than I ever wished to, sister. Much more. Not that it was such a very bad sight.”

  “Louisa, please, you must tell them it is a ruse.” Caroline began to plead with her sister, who had been suspiciously quiet. “Can you not see that I will be trapped in a marriage that I do not want? Me, a parson’s wife? It must not be!”

  With a deep sigh Louisa calmly retorted: “You would not have hesitated to trap Mr. Darcy in a marriage he did not want, all for your own benefit, Caroline.”

  “Trap?” Collins piped up, astonishingly quick on the uptake for once in his life. “You sat this up as a trap?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Hurst replied decidedly. “This was indeed a trap.”

  “This is just brilliant! Most entertaining, too, I have to say.” Wickham laughed. “But Miss Bingley, it seems your sister has done you in. You might think you are a good schemer, but it seems you need a lot more practise.”

  “You set me up!” it dawned on Caroline Bingley, staring at Louisa. “You set me up you – you whore!”

  Mrs. Hurst’s expression, which before had shown some compassion, turned to stone.

  “You dare call me a whore? Look at yourself!” she spat, the compassion she had felt for a brief moment fading quickly, being replaced by ire. Her younger sister began to cry at this, looking thoroughly crestfallen, realising she would have to reap what she had sowed.