by Leenie Brown
And they did but to no avail. As first one and then the other sister drifted off into a less than restful sleep, the question of what was to be done about Mr. Bingley remained unanswered — that is to say, no answer was spoken aloud, but in the breast of each lady a heart pled in his favour.
Chapter 2
“What has you looking like you ate a piece of bad fish?” asked Richard as he took a seat in Pemberley’s game room next to Bingley.
Bingley shrugged and gulped the last of his drink. “You did not stay at Matlock?”
Richard sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “My sister is the center of a house party, and although her friends seem to enjoy my company, I do not enjoy theirs. The last of the guests should leave by week’s end. I shall visit for a longer period of time after that. As it was, yesterday and this morning were long enough for my mother to begin speaking of my marrying.”
“It is a sad lot for us men,” muttered Bingley.
“You mean marriage?” Richard unbuttoned his waistcoat.
Bingley’s head bobbed up and down slowly. “I suppose it is not only a sad business for men.” He rose on shaky legs to refill his glass. “It is only a happy business if you can persuade the lady you love to accept you, but if you cannot.” He made a slashing motion in front of his throat. “All the pleasures of life are at an end, for there is little joy in a marriage of convenience.” Port sloshed back and forth, nearly spilling over the rim of the glass that Bingley handed to Richard.
“You have seen it. I have seen it. All those sad men drinking and gambling in the clubs or trotting off in closed carriages and entertaining who knows what disease in an attempt to feel some joy.” Bingley huffed and shook his head. “It never works. Have you ever met one that was happy?” He sloshed another glass of port to the table next to his chair before taking a seat. “And the ladies — not any happier. It’s a sorry business, marriage is.” He heaved a great sigh and rested his head against the back of the chair. “And yet, we must do our duty.”
As he drank, Richard studied Bingley. “Miss Bennet is still not warming to your presence?”
Bingley scowled and huffed. “As warm as a pond in January.” He turned angry eyes toward Richard. “Not that you would know: she is all that is pleasant around you and that blasted Harris.”
“I have only meant to be civil,” retorted Richard.
Bingley grunted.
“Harris, however, seems enamoured,” Richard admitted, “although, I do not see Miss Bennet returning his affections in equal measure.”
Bingley laughed bitterly. “Yes, but that does not mean they are not returned.” He shook his head. Why had he listened to his sister and Darcy? He had been nearly certain Jane favoured him. He sighed. That was why he had listened. He had been nearly but not completely certain, and he had been wrong before. “What of your prospects for marriage? Besides the debutantes at your parent’s estate, that is. Are there any of your sister’s friends who might settle for an almost gentleman such as myself?”
“I admit to having no particular prospects in mind,” said Richard, rising to refill his glass. “My lot is not all that much rosier than yours. I am a second son, after all.”
“Of an earl,” Bingley scoffed. “That alone makes you valuable. Your brother could die.”
“A pleasant thought,” Richard said dryly. “I have no desire to claim the title.”
“Your inheritance cannot be nothing,” said Bingley. “What will you have on the completion of your career? A small estate? A piece of land?”
“Aye,” said Richard. “A small estate. Are you not going to purchase an estate?”
Bingley shrugged. “Perhaps, once Caroline is married, so I can guarantee it is not too close to her.” He held his glass a few inches from his lips. “She has twenty thousand pounds you know.”
“I have met her, Bingley, and as much as I like you, I do not wish to be tied to you by marrying her.”
Bingley nodded. “Wise choice. She is disagreeable and spoiled. I blame our aunt for it — filling her head with impossible dreams of grandeur.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You know she does not wish to marry for love?” His voice was filled with incredulity. “She only wishes to marry for money and position.”
Richard shrugged. “That is not an uncommon desire.”
“Well,” said Bingley, falling back in his chair, “I find it disturbing. Louisa wished for a fondness of affections, but Caroline does not even care for that! She follows Darcy around like a lost puppy only for his estate. It is so grand and well-situated, and the staff is impressive — or so she has said. But Darcy?” He shrugged. “She thought him handsome — she is not blind or entirely stupid — but,” he shook his head and frowned, “she thought him too grave. She cared for him little beyond the connections he possessed.” His chuckle was humourless. “The way she fawned over his every word and deed — empty, hollow praise. That’s all it was. I do not know how she can be so very shallow. It is not as if our parents did not instill good principles in us.” Once again he shrugged. “Again, I blame our aunt, and that school Caroline attended. She was too young to be left without a mother.”
Bingley lapsed into silence. It had been ten years since his mother had passed away and three since his father had joined her, but still, the thought of their departure left an unsettled feeling in his chest. It was a void that he had at one time thought Jane would fill.
Bingley sighed. His happiness would never be complete without Miss Bennet. “How do I do it?”
“Pardon?” asked Richard in surprise.
“See myself happily married to Miss Bennet,” Bingley clarified.
“I cannot say I have ever pursued any lady in particular, so I might not be the best person to ask for advice.”
Bingley rolled his head, which was resting on the back of his chair, so that he could see Richard. “But you are skilled in developing strategies to win a battle, are you not?”
Richard shrugged. “I know a thing or two, yes.”
“Then how do I win this battle?”
Richard steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them as he thought. “Ladies are unpredictable.”
Bingley nodded. “That they are.”
Richard took another drink of his port. “They often want what they cannot have, do they not? I mean my sister will whine more about some dress she cannot have and claim it is the latest in fashion and better than anything she already possesses.”
“True!” said Bingley. “Caroline is the same. So is Louisa.”
“Then, you must be the dress she cannot have,” said Richard with finality.
Bingley’s brows furrowed. “How am I to be a dress?”
“If my sister sees that dress — the one she was denied — on another lady — ” Richard rolled his eyes and let out a low whistle.
“Ah,” said Bingley, a smile curving his lips. “I must pay attention to another lady.”
Richard tapped his nose. “Precisely. But you must do it with care. You do not wish to be obligated to marry this other lady.”
Bingley nodded. A small amount of hope began to grow in his mind. “Who?” he asked, turning again to Richard. “I only know Miss Darcy and Miss Dobney.”
“Miss Darcy will not do,” said Richard sharply. “She is too young, and Wickham has left her heart fragile.”
“Then,” Bingley lifted his nearly empty glass in salute, “Miss Dobney it shall be.” He paused with the glass nearly at his lips. “Do we tell Miss Dobney of our scheme?”
“Only if necessary. Ladies tend to talk,” he drained the remaining liquid from his glass. The plan had seemed a good one as he spoke it, but now — his brows furrowed — he was not entirely certain.
~*~*~
When the sun crept its way over the horizon, Bingley slept in a chair in the game room at Pemberley, a stiff neck and headache would be the gift of his indulgence when he awoke. At Willow Hall, Jane was also awakening with a sore head. She had spent too long last nigh
t thinking about what to do in regard to Mr. Bingley to have slept well enough to rise refreshed. Elizabeth, from the wince she made when opening her eyes, was in no better shape.
Jane rose first and tended to her needs and was sitting at the dressing table when Elizabeth got out of bed. “He is quite perfect,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to where Elizabeth was splashing cold water on her face.
“Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth asked from behind a towel.
“Mmm hmm.” Jane unraveled the last of her braid and was about to begin brushing her hair. A maid could be called to assist, but as at home, she liked to do as much of her preparations for the day on her own. There was a peacefulness to starting the day without anyone to fawn over you or tell you to sit straight or look this way or that. “He is handsome and agreeable. I do not think a life with him would be dull.”
Elizabeth could only agree with such a statement. Mr. Bingley was, after all, all that a young man should be. Jane had declared such to be true shortly after meeting him.
“He affects me as no other man has — not even Captain Harris, and I am fond of the captain in a friendly sort of way,” reasoned Jane. It was the same reasoning she had used sometime in the early morning hours while the moon still shone in the sky. “I shall give him a second chance to win my affections.” She plunked the brush down on the table and gave a sharp nod of her head in agreement with her own determination. “I will stop avoiding him. I shall even be more than civil, and I shall no longer hide my smiles from him.”
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on her stockings. “Are you going to stop spending so much time with Captain Harris?”
Jane shook her head. “I shall not actively dissuade him, but I shall offer no encouragement either — unless I am unsuccessful with Mr. Bingley.”
“And you will encourage Mr. Bingley?”
Again, Jane shook her head. “I will not unless he is agreeable. I do not want to appear to be throwing myself at him, especially if he does not, in fact, still love me.”
Elizabeth reached around Jane for the brush. “You must not be so circumspect as to leave him in doubt.”
“I shall not be,” said Jane.
And she was not. Later that day, when callers came to Willow Hall, Jane made certain to smile and openly welcome each of them as warmly as she could. However, no matter the number of times she smiled at Mr. Bingley or asked his opinion on some topic, he merely answered courteously in return before turning his attention to Mary Ellen Dobney. By the end of the visit, Jane was growing quite cross and felt her lips forming a pout equal to those produced by her youngest sister.
“That did not go as planned.” Jane sat, arms crossed and looking very disgruntled on a bench in the garden at Willow Hall.
“No.” Mary Ellen, who had stayed after the others had left, so that she could spend time with Elizabeth and Jane, agreed with a sigh.
“You looked happy to be doted on.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose at the grumble from her sister. Jane was always pleasant — always, and she never grumbled — never.
“I was not,” Mary Ellen assured Jane. “I had hoped by appearing to be happy, someone would make more of an effort to claim my attention away from Mr. Bingley.” She slumped forward and, propping her elbows on her knees, rested her chin in her hands.
“Someone?” asked Elizabeth.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Mary Ellen said the name as if every frustration of the afternoon was summed up in it.
“You do not like Mr. Bingley?” asked Jane hopefully.
“He is pleasant, but no, he is not who I wish to marry,” answered Mary Ellen. “Colonel Fitzwilliam.” This time the name was spoken with a sigh, “He is just so…so…perfect. Strong, amiable, intelligent, entertaining. The only thing he lacks is the good sense to swoon at my feet.” She turned to Jane. “But what of my cousin?”
Jane’s face pinched slightly at the question. “He is pleasant, and I thought I had lost my chance with Mr. Bingley. So –”
“You were looking for a replacement,” said Mary Ellen with a knowing nod. “I have tried that. Mr. Jacobson was an excellent dancer and a fine conversationalist as well as possessing a great deal of manliness, but there was something he was missing.”
Jane nodded her understanding. “He was not Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Precisely!” cried Mary Ellen. “Oh, it is good to know there is another who understands. Lucy claims she does, but she fell into her marriage without much effort.”
“I understand,” said Elizabeth. “I thought I had lost Mr. Darcy.”
“True,” agreed Jane.
“But you did not have to struggle to gain his attention,” Mary Ellen said with a smirk. “Not that you were not fortunate to be reunited, of course.”
“How did you gain his acceptance after abusing him so abominably?” asked Jane.
“You abused him?” Mary Ellen’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“I was not very kind in my first refusal.” Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed. “And nearly everything I accused him of was not true. I prefer not to repeat any of that horrible scene.”
Mary Ellen shook her head. “I have not even been given a chance to make a refusal. Have you?” she asked Jane.
“No. Neither of us has been so fortunate.”
“I did not think it fortunate at the time,” countered Elizabeth. “The things I said were so wrong that at my first opportunity after meeting Mr. Darcy again, I apologized.”
Jane’s brows furrowed and her pout returned. That would not work for her. She had nothing for which to apologize. In fact, now that she was thinking about it, it was Mr. Bingley who owed her an apology. It was he who had played with her affections and then disappeared. “Perhaps, you should continue to be happy to receive Mr. Bingley’s attentions,” she suggested to Mary Ellen. “The colonel did seem a bit uneasy today. That may be the reason.”
“But what of you?” Mary Ellen asked.
“I shall divide my attentions between your cousin and Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Jane replied. “If we both appear to be of interest to another gentleman, it may make them take notice.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “This sounds very much like a Lydia scheme. I cannot say I approve.”
Jane’s brows rose. “You do not have to approve. You are happily attached. We,” she waved a hand toward Mary Ellen and then back to herself, “are not.”
“But, Jane,” said Elizabeth, “you have already been in Mr. Bingley’s presence and welcomed Captain Harris’s and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s attention. Surely, if this scheme was to work, it would have already.”
“And it was working, although it was not my intention at the time. Mr. Bingley looked quite dejected the last time we were all together, but today when I was willing to welcome him, he was no longer interested in gaining my approval.”
Mary Ellen nodded. “I had noticed his gloom on other calls but not today’s.”
“So, we are agreed?” asked Jane.
Mary Ellen smiled and extended her hand to Jane to shake. “Yes. We shall make them jealous.”
Chapter 3
Jane placed her hand in Captain Harris’s hand and allowed him to help her from his carriage. Mary Ellen had invited Jane and Elizabeth to join her on a drive to Lambton. There was a particular shop that Mary Ellen wished her new friends to visit with her. According to Miss Dobney, this particular shop had the best trimmings, and a greater selection than could be found in Kympton.
As it happened, it was a shop that was well-known to both Elizabeth and Jane as their aunt’s brother was the proprietor. Although neither Bennet lady had been to the shop itself, they knew of the goods and had met their aunt’s brother and his wife several times when in London. Lydia had no knowledge of the shop and was intrigued when the outing was proposed a day ago during a dinner at Aldwood Abbey.
So, the entourage of patrons was not a small one. Not a lady from Willow Hall, Aldwood Abbey, Pemberley, the vicarage, or Aunt Tess’s hom
e was left behind. All, with gentlemen in tow, squished and squeezed into the several carriages and made the journey to visit this one shop, in particular, and others as time would allow.
Mary Ellen had arranged that Mr. Bingley might join her and Jane in Captain Harris’s carriage. Captain Harris had, on returning to Derbyshire and finding a lady worthy of driving about the countryside, inquired of his father for the use of the family’s barouche. Since Harris had not shown interest in any particular lady for nearly three years, the request was greeted with great enthusiasm.
“An estate must one day have an heir, after all,” his father had said while slapping his son on the back.
“Pris was a lovely thing, but it is time to move on,” agreed his mother.
And so it was that Jane found herself seated on the soft seats of the Harris’s well-sprung carriage. Had it not been for Jane’s need to pretend favour to Captain Harris while Mary Ellen smiled and laughed with Bingley, it might have been a pleasant trip. However, as it was, the trip had been frustrating, and not just for Jane. Bingley found his dislike for Harris growing with each syllable that passed through the man’s mouth. Consequently, both were thankful for the change of scenery and companions that disembarking in Lambton brought.
As they stood gathered in a rather large group on Lambton’s High Street, Mrs. Abbot suggested that the gentlemen find a means of amusing themselves while the ladies perused the goods in the shop. Mr. Abbot took up his wife’s cause, whether this was in support of her idea or just a means to escape the discussion of lace and frills, it cannot be said, but with a little persuasion, he found himself leading the men to a tavern just down the street and around the corner.
Jane wrapped her arm around Mary Ellen’s as they made their way into the shop. “I am uncertain I can continue this charade and not grow to dislike you.”
This was the third day of their scheme. First, there had been an afternoon of rambling about the countryside. Then, there had been a dinner at Aldwood Abbey, and now, there was this trip.
Mary Ellen sighed. “It is true. I have wished at least once to remove your dazzling smile from your face when you have turned it on Colonel Fitzwilliam. A sampling of your lace, if you will.” This last was said to the clerk before Mary Ellen turned back to Jane. “You have not discovered that you care for him, have you?”
