by Leenie Brown
Bingley groaned. “It is worse than your mother. That is Caroline.” He rose. “It would be best if we were all in a more populated area if we are to be accosted by her and her friend.”
Richard’s brows rose. “You do not trust them?”
“If you had seen the way Miss Clark licked her lips and nearly purred in my drawing room when I entered today, you would not trust them either. My sister is scheming.”
Darcy and Richard joined Bingley in crossing the room to the door.
“Just stumble on the carpet or catch your toe on the heel of your other slipper. He will not let you fall, and then, when you are in his arms, I will make sure that someone sees it or hears about it.”
Bingley stood with the doorknob within arm’s length of him and could clearly hear his sister’s instructions. He motioned for Richard to open the door. “Open it quickly. Just do not catch her if she falls,” he hissed.
And fall Caroline did. Right at her brother’s feet and with a rather loud plop when Richard yanked the door open.
“Caroline!” Bingley cried in surprise, extending a hand to help her to her feet. “How many times have you been told not to be listening at doors?”
Caroline allowed him to help her from the floor. Her cheeks burned a brilliant red. “I was not listening at the door. I was looking for you.”
“At least, you are somewhat honest. However, you have left out the part that you were scheming. You should know that if Miss Clark or any of your other friends flings herself at me, I will allow them to fall just as you did, and I will not marry her, no matter what it does to either her reputation or mine. I will not be trapped, Caroline.” He gave a small bow and began to move around his fuming sister and her stunned friend.
“You must forget her,” Caroline whispered as her brother brushed past her.
Bingley stopped mid-stride. “I shall only forget her when my heart stops beating.”
“Charles, do be reasonable. She was a pretty plaything. Someone to pass the time. She is not who you need. You will soon come to know I am right.” Caroline shrugged under her brother’s glare as if not affected by it in the least. “And I am certain I can find the perfect lady for you.”
“No,” Bingley snapped. “You will not find any lady for me. You will not even suggest any lady to me. If I have not found that for what I wish within a month’s time, I am returning to Netherfield and attempting to persuade the lady who holds my heart to have me.”
“You cannot,” Caroline cried, her eyes darting to Darcy.
Darcy shrugged. “He seems determined,” he said nonchalantly. He knew it was not the reply Caroline expected. She likely expected him to support her in her claims that Miss Bennet was not a wise choice. However, having come to understand what it was to have one’s heart completely engaged by a lady and to not wish for any other, Darcy would not support any scheme of hers to interfere between Bingley and Miss Bennet. In fact, he would do all he could to ensure that nothing came between them.
Caroline gasped. “I will not allow it!”
“You cannot stop me,” Bingley growled.
“I believe I can,” Caroline replied with a flick of her head.
“Hurst will see you home. We are through. Darcy, if you do not mind, I should very much appreciate a ride home.”
“Certainly. Richard, if you wish to join us, you may.”
Richard nodded. “As soon as I find my mother and tell her I am leaving.”
“I will wait ten minutes,” Darcy said before turning to hurry after Bingley.
Richard waved his acceptance, then turned to Caroline and Miss Clark. “Ladies, I do hope your evening improves,” he said with a bow as he took his leave.
Chapter 8
Bingley made certain not to be available when his sister arrived home later that night, and in the morning, he took his breakfast in his study with strict orders to Jenkins that he was not to be disturbed by his sister. Then, after a few moments of clearing up some accounts and writing instructions to a particular milliner that credit was not to be extended to his sister beyond a certain point, he went in search of her.
He found her at the piano forte, attempting to master a new piece of music.
Standing at the door, he listened for a moment or two before entering. She was not a proficient, but she was every bit as good as the two ladies he had heard last night at the Johnsons’ home. Caroline was not without accomplishments, nor was she lacking in beauty. What his sister lacked was sense enough to realize that her ambitions were not to be fulfilled. Even if Miss Elizabeth refused the position, Caroline would never be the mistress of Pemberley. Darcy was not inclined to tie himself to a lady like Caroline for the simple fact that Caroline was grasping, and she lacked the sort of wit that would challenge Darcy. In fact, Bingley was quite certain that Caroline would never dispute with Darcy on much, and no matter how much Darcy liked to be right and in charge of every detail, Bingley knew that his friend craved stimulating conversation and having his opinions questioned — at least, at times. He chuckled to himself. There were moments when challenging an opinion would rile Darcy into a fit of temper. Richard was proficient at marching directly up to that point of breaking and then, with a laugh and a tease, retreating to a safer position. Bingley had witnessed it on several occasions.
At the instrument, Caroline moved the new piece of music to the side and pulled out another.
“I am off. Do not hold dinner for me, for I do not know when I will return,” he said as he crossed to where his sister sat. “I have had the knocker removed from the door and have given instructions that it not be returned until I return or Louisa arrives to be a chaperone for any callers.”
“Where are you going?” Caroline asked in surprise.
“Anywhere that is not here,” Bingley replied with a small shrug. “I find I do not wish for your company at present.”
“Charles,” Caroline’s voice was soothing, “surely you cannot be angry with me for wishing to see you well-matched.”
Bingley’s smile was tight as he willed himself to remain calm. He knew that the disagreement they had broached last night in the Johnsons’ library needed to be revisited and that he needed to make his position regarding whom he married clear, but he had hoped to delay it a bit longer. However, knowing what the note in his hand said, a delay was not actually feasible but merely a wish that was not destined to be granted.
“I am certain I should not be put out in the least if you showed even one ounce of concern about whether I was happy with such a match,” he said, taking up the argument of his happiness and wielding it in front of his sister.
“But I do wish for you to be happy,” she parried. “Happy and well-matched. If we are to rise above our beginnings and pass that new standing on to our children, we must align ourselves to best advantage.” She smoothed the pages of her next musical selection on the top of the instrument. “Do you not wish for your son to be more readily accepted in society than either of us were?”
There had been and still were, at times, sticking points when mixing with some in society. It was why Bingley was actively pursuing the purchase of land. For with the purchase of an estate with its fields and tenants came entrance to that group on the edge of which he could now only circulate because of his wealth and connection to Darcy but to which he could not become a member.
Land. Land was needed to become what his father had wished him to be — a gentleman in every sense of the word — educated, noble in character, and an owner of land. He knew, however, that even with his purchase of an estate, there would still be those who would think him inferior simply because his father had been a tradesman. That would not change. Though he were to marry the daughter of a king, there would still be those who would remind him of his heritage, for such is the way of some people, people who were only able to feel superior when making others appear and feel less important.
“We cannot erase who our father was,” he said to his sister. “And I do not wish to remove his
memory from our family. My children will know of their grandfather. He was a great man and an excellent father, Caroline.” His words must have struck a chord with her, for she turned her head away, but not before he saw the glint of tears in her eyes.
“He was a tradesman,” she whispered.
“Yes, he was, and he always will be. However, he has provided well enough for me to purchase my standing as a gentleman and for you to have a generous dowry that will make it easier for you to marry a gentleman, thereby, raising your standing.” He placed the note he held in his hand on the piano. “I would not be lowering myself by marrying a gentleman’s daughter such as Miss Bennet. You know this.”
“But her uncles are not gentlemen.” Caroline lifted her chin, unwilling to admit that he was correct.
Bingley shook his head. Caroline was stubborn, foolishly stubborn. She had been all her life, and he knew that reasoning with her when her mind was set on something was nigh onto impossible. He tapped the note he had placed on the instrument. “Last night you attempted to arrange a compromise and force me into a marriage not of my choosing. This is a copy of a message that has been sent. It is the first of many which I will write limiting your spending at all your favourite shops. Should I even catch a whisper of you scheming in such a fashion again, another merchant will be made aware of your lack of funds.”
Caroline’s eyes grew wide as she read the missive her brother had written. “But there will be talk of us being poor.”
“Perhaps,” Bingley replied, “but that is your choice. Act wisely, and you shall retain your privilege to shop as you wish. Behave as you did last night and prepare to be the object of gossip and disdain.”
Her eyes narrowed, her cheeks grew red, and she set her jaw firmly.
“I will marry as I choose.”
“You will ruin us both,” she hissed.
“Have you so little faith in me?”
“You would marry …” She waved her hand toward the window in a circular motion as she sought for the right word. “A country miss of no standing. No! Less than no standing,” she rose from the stool on which she sat. “Jane Bennet is a nobody, Charles, a nobody with an uncle in trade!” She paced to the window and back, her anger evident in the measured and heavy steps she took. “I suppose you would have Darcy marry her sister as well. I saw how she flirted with him. Pretending not to like him and drawing him along. Why! That is just what Jane did with you. Batting her eyes and smiling demurely! They are fortune hunters, Charles. Nothing more than fortune hunters, trained by their mother to snare the wealthiest man that enters the neighbourhood!”
“Darcy will also marry whom he chooses, and it will not be you.” Bingley kept his voice calm, not because he knew it would do little good to raise it, but because he knew that keeping his voice placid would provoke his sister much more effectively. And after hearing such statements about Jane and Elizabeth as his sister had just spewed, he found he wished to provoke her.
“He would marry me if you would promote me to him,” Caroline snapped.
“Darcy would not marry you if I offered him twice your dowry.” He captured her wrist just before her hand made contact with his face. “You are a tradesman’s daughter, but that is not what keeps him from offering for you. You have not caught his interest. You are not what he seeks, and it is time you look for a match elsewhere.”
“Pemberley will be mine,” she sputtered.
Bingley held her wrist a moment longer. “I will not force him to do his duty to you no matter what position you might arrange for him to be discovered in with you. I would send you to our aunt and refuse to sign any papers or allow for a marriage. Do I make myself clear?” He released her hand only after she had given a small nod of her head.
“It might be best,” he continued as he moved toward the door, “if you were to remove to Louisa’s home. I will call on Hurst and see if he is amenable. I do not trust you and your friends not to arrange some folly that will end in some poor lady’s ruin and retreat from society along with yours.”
He closed the door firmly behind him. He had no desire to stay and listen to her protests, and he knew there would be many. Caroline liked Louisa, but Hurst was not her favourite person with whom to spend time. But then, again, she did not like spending time with anyone who did not always agree with her, and Hurst did not always agree with anyone. His opinion often shifted with his mood, and his ability to recall what he had said before was inversely proportional to the amount of port that had accompanied a discussion. Caroline found it all very annoying. She had complained of it often enough to her brother, but only once to their sister.
Louisa, though having only married for the sake of a good match, had found she did not despise her husband or his odd ways. In fact, on the one occasion when Caroline had complained about Hurst to her, Louisa had made it clear that she not only respected her husband due to his position, but she also found his eccentricities to be endearing. Bingley smiled at the thought of his sister stumbling upon love in a relationship that she had entered as a marriage of convenience.
His horse was waiting for him when he exited the house, and with only one glance at the window to the music room and a small ache in his heart for the rift that had grown between him and his sister, he rode off to call first on Hurst and then to meet Darcy before calling at the Gardiners.
His plans, however, were to be upset in a most pleasant fashion, for when he arrived at Darcy House, he found Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet in the sitting room, conversing with Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, as well as Georgiana’s companion, Mrs. Annesley, and Richard while Darcy attempted now and again to add to the discourse.
Darcy pulled out his watch and looked at it and then Bingley as Bingley was announced. The others in the room might not have seen the slight rise of Darcy’s brow, but Bingley did not miss it. It was the same expression with which Bingley was always greeted when he was late for a meeting with Darcy. Arriving just on time for a social gathering was acceptable as was being several minutes early for a meeting; however, tardiness was always met with disapprobation.
“I have a very good reason for being late,” Bingley said to Darcy after he had made all the proper greetings. “However, I had expected to be on our way to Gracechurch Street rather than here.” He smiled broadly. “Not that I am disappointed.”
“We were just about to leave for a shopping excursion when Mr. Darcy’s note arrived inviting us to call on him here today,” Mrs. Gardiner explained, her lips puckering into a small smirk before continuing. “I believe he wished for his sister and cousin to meet me. I did attempt to lure my husband away from his work, but he was unable to be tempted, even for such a treat as this.” She waved her hand indicating the room and its occupants.
Darcy chuckled. “I admit it was so my sister and cousin could meet both Miss Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner.”
Mrs. Gardiner raised a teasing brow. “Do we pass? Are we acceptable despite our address?”
Richard guffawed. “You are refreshing, Mrs. Gardiner. I do not think I have met another who is so direct in broaching a subject. I quite like it.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, I assure you that I am not always so direct. I do know how to be demure. However, with friends — and I do hope we are friends — I find it much better to avoid any sort of equivocation.”
“We are friends,” Darcy assured her. “And I believe from my cousin’s response, you have gained his approval.”
Mrs. Gardiner gave a small nod of her head in acceptance and then looked at Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley. “I do hope I have not been a poor example.”
Mrs. Annesley shook her head. “I have found your manners to be noteworthy, and my charge knows there is a difference between how we act in our homes with our closest friends and family and how we comport ourselves when in a public setting. However, it is good to hear you reiterate what I have taught.”
“I find no fault in you,” Georgiana said with a smile.
“But it remains a
fact that some will, no matter my manners or words or dress. I am a tradesman’s wife. He is an honorable man of substantial wealth, but,” she held up a finger, “he is not a gentleman. He owns no land, nor does he desire to own any. He is very happy with his life and position. If he were to remove from town for longer than a month or two, he would grow restless and become bored. He was made for making deals and seeing things done. Oh, I know a landowner must possess such skills as well, but he would miss the excitement of seeing a new shipment arrive full of possibilities and promise of gain.”
“My father was the same,” Bingley said. “He enjoyed so much of what he did. It was not a trial for him to throw himself into his work.” He shook his head. “What would tire me just at the thought would invigorate him. That is why he did not seek to purchase land but left it to me to do. I do not have his motivation for such things. I find I would prefer the responsibilities of a landowner.”
“Just like our John,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a smile. “He will be the one to move his father’s fortune from a warehouse and stores to an estate.”
“I should like to meet your son sometime,” said Bingley.
“As long as there are biscuits?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
Bingley shrugged. “Perhaps even if there are not.”
Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “My husband would scold me for controlling the conversation.” She looked directly at Georgiana. “It is a fault with which I struggle.”
“I have enjoyed listening to you,” Georgiana admitted. “I have felt quite at ease.” She darted a look at her brother. “I do not always feel so.”
“You are like your brother,” Mrs. Gardiner whispered.
Georgiana returned the woman’s smile and nodded.
“I should like to hear Bingley’s reason for being late,” said Richard.
“Caroline,” Bingley replied and, with a small huff of frustration, shook his head. “I stopped at Hurst’s to inquire about her removing to his house for a time.”
