by J P Christy
“Delightful,” Caroline repeated before following the others.
His sister was scarcely out of sight when Bingley gave Jane a dubious look. “You didn’t think she would change, did you?”
“Hope springs eternal.” Jane leaned affectionately against her husband. “I do not want you to be estranged from your family because of your marriage to me. And it is only for a few days. What could go amiss?”
“You are an angel!” Bingley kissed her cheek.
≈≈≈
A short while later during tea with Jane, Bingley, and the Hursts, it was Caroline who was the first to finish. With surprisingly little fuss, she excused herself. “I am most anxious to see the progress the ladies have made with the decorations.”
As Caroline entered the ballroom, Charlotte was leaving to consult with Norris. Caroline acknowledged Charlotte and Elizabeth with murmured salutations before lavishing an effusive greeting upon Georgiana. Then she walked around the room, offering remarks that alternated between compliments and suggestions of change, sometimes about the same decorative element. However, Elizabeth and Georgiana, who had instinctively gravitated toward each other for mutual support, stood firm. They said that as Jane and Bingley had approved the decorations, Caroline’s suggestions could not be considered until the next ball.
Feeling thwarted at every turn, Caroline soon left to walk in the garden, indulging her temper with hissed mutterings. “Eliza Bennet has not improved with time! She is a country miss, ignorant of the ton’s standards of taste and decorum. She has none of the qualities of a true lady; her air, her manner of walking, and her expressions are all woefully lacking!”
Mr. Collins, who had been banished from the house for similar decorating interferences, was slouched on a bench in the garden, dozing in the choicest bit of shade. Caroline stared at his slumbering face, trying to recall who he was.
Abruptly, Collins’s eyes opened. He studied her for a moment, then said, “You are Miss Bingley.” Rising quickly, he bowed. “I have not had the pleasure of seeing you since the ball here last November.”
“Sir?”
“I am William Collins of Hunsford Parsonage at the exalted estate of Rosings, home to Lady Catherine De Bourgh. My cousin is Elizabeth Bennet, and my wife is the former Charlotte Lucas.”
At his reminder, the memories of Collins’s terrible manners and worse dancing abilities came flooding back to Caroline. “Ah, yes. What are you doing out here?”
“My dear wife insists my expertise in decorating a ballroom—expertise firmly rooted in what I have learnt from Lady Catherine —is not required for tomorrow’s event.”
“Does not Lady Catherine live in Kent? I had not thought there would be much demand there for elegant soirees in the Kentish countryside. Does she give balls often?”
“In truth, no. But if you could observe how her ladyship has created Rosings as a veritable monument to all that is tasteful and elegant, you would be awestruck by her artistic eye.”
Thinking this was highly unlikely, Caroline changed the subject. “It is quite hot, and you have the only shady seat. Would you be so kind as to make room for me?” she asked, hoping he would quit the bench altogether.
Recalling his manners, Collins bowed and gestured for her to sit. After she did, he resumed his seat. Perched at opposite ends of the marble bench, they were silent for a minute. Finally, Caroline said, “No one was interested in my suggestions either, and I have been to more balls in London than your wife, Miss Darcy, and Miss Eliza put together!”
Happy to finally have someone with whom to commiserate, Collins confided, “I am afraid something terrible will happen at the ball, Miss Bingley.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Do you know Lady Catherine’s nephew, Mr. Darcy?”
“I know the gentleman very well.”
“I fear he will propose to my cousin Elizabeth at the ball. That would be a disaster!”
“Indeed, it would!”
“Lady Catherine has said the engagement between Mr. Darcy and her daughter is broken, but their union is her fondest wish. If I could free Mr. Darcy from Elizabeth’s allurements, I believe he would return to Miss De Bourgh and beg her to take him back.”
Of all the many things Caroline Bingley did not know with certainty, she was sure Darcy would never marry his cousin. Letters received from her few friends in Bath had mentioned that Miss De Bourgh was there recently to find a husband. Even now, she was rumored to be in London continuing her hunt. Perhaps this Collins fool has a useful plan to separate Darcy from Eliza.
Collins had no useful plan at the moment, but an or so hour later when Charlotte came to collect him for their return to Lucas Lodge, Caroline and Collins did have a scheme for achieving their shared goal. Before Charlotte’s arrival, Caroline summarized it succinctly: “Your part is to make certain Miss Darcy is out of sight when I raise the alarm about the rumored presence of Mr. Wickham. My part is to entice Miss Eliza and the colonel into the music room and then lock them in together. While I am not certain what to do to ensure they enter the room, I am a resourceful woman; I will devise some stratagem.”
36
“The goat had Lizzy’s sash around its neck.”
July 19, 1811
On the morning of the ball, Mr. Collins rambled through the fields surrounding Lucas Lodge, mentally refining his role in the scheme. If Charlotte were with me when, say, I spilled punch on Miss Darcy’s dress, I could direct her to accompany the young lady to change her gown … or better yet, I could cause Charlotte to spill punch on Miss Darcy!
Suddenly, a sound—specifically, a bleat—interrupted his musings. When Collins looked around for the source, he saw that a small black goat had tried to climb a nearby stile and slipped, trapping one of its legs in a gap. “Aren’t you a noisy little thing,” the parson said, coming nearer. For all his foolish, venal qualities, William Collins had at least one redeeming virtue: his great fondness for animals. Thus, he did not hesitate to free the young goat.
As it fidgeted in his arms, he had an idea; putting this creature in the music room was certain to result in noises which would inspire Elizabeth and the colonel to investigate. After imagining Miss Bingley’s praise of his brilliant solution, Collins looked around for someone who might lay claim to the goat. Happily, no one was in sight, so he thanked Providence and took the goat to the grove of beeches behind Netherfield’s9 stables, where he tethered it to a tree and supplied it with food and water.
≈≈≈
As Clive Hurst entered the drawing room that afternoon, he heard Caroline assure Louisa, “… and Eliza Bennet will be forced to marry the colonel. It is the perfect plan!”
Crossing to a decanter of fine brandy, Clive filled a glass for himself and asked jovially, “Are you now trapping husbands for other unmarried ladies, Caroline? Very sporting, considering you’ve not managed to catch one for yourself.” With a dismissive sniff, Caroline left the library. Only when Clive was satisfied that she was out of hearing range did he turn to his wife, all joviality gone. “What was that about, Louisa?”
Playing absently with her bracelets, she sighed. “She believes Darcy will be hers if Elizabeth is not free to accept his proposal.”
“Darcy doesn’t like your sister. For pity’s sake, I don’t like her, as you well know.”
“But if Caroline does not marry, she will insist on spending half her time with us and the other half with Charles and Jane. None of us would be happy.”
“So, we should allow her to ruin the lives of the colonel, Miss Elizabeth, and Darcy?”
“‘Ruin’ is such a harsh word, Clive. Miss Eliza and the colonel are friends.”
“Hear me well. After Caroline’s ridiculous plot fails—as it surely will—she will be on the wrong side of Darcy, the wrong side of your brother, and the wrong side of me. When that occurs, I will not have her in our home for more than two consecutive nights.”
“But she is my sister!”
“Th
en be a better sister to her than she has been to you. Stop her before she makes the Bingleys and the Hursts into a joke for all of society to savor.”
≈≈≈
In terms of decorations, music, and food, the ball at Netherfield to celebrate the marriage of Jane Bennet to Charles Bingley was equal to the one organized the previous November by Caroline and Louisa. However, in terms of the atmosphere, this event exuded an air of congeniality that, in the opinion of most guests, had not been present at the previous ball.
After Darcy danced the first set with Georgiana, he partnered with Elizabeth, but their dance was ultimately unsatisfying. She was uncharacteristically quiet as she matched her steps to his, and she scarcely met his gaze. Darcy missed her banter and feared she was still angry about his idea of sending Georgiana to London.
When he led her from the dance floor, he could no longer bear the suspense. “Is something wrong, Miss Elizabeth? We have not spoken since the night before last.”
“I do wish for us to speak,” she said, her voice subdued, “but it is not an appropriate conversation for a dance. Perhaps after the dinner set, we can linger in the ballroom while others go in to eat.”
“Yes.”
Ainsworth approached. “May I claim the lady for our reel?”
Speaking with more cordiality than he felt, Darcy replied, “You may, sir”; still, he was reassured when Elizabeth squeezed his hand before accepting Ainsworth’s arm. Then, with a grim smile, Darcy looked around the room for his next partner, Caroline Bingley. Ah, there—tall green feathers bobbing in her coiffure as she tilted her head flirtatiously at him. “Oh, get it over with, man!” he muttered, crossing to meet her.
As Darcy led her to the floor, they briefly exchanged social niceties, and he waited for her to start a conversation. His wait was short. After a deep sigh, Caroline declared, “It seems all our efforts at the beginning of the year have come to naught. Miss Bennet is now Mrs. Bingley.”
So—not reconciled to your brother’s choice of wife. Darcy said, “For my part, I am glad we failed. They are well matched.”
In Darcy’s estimation, Caroline’s shocked look was worthy of the finest drama to grace the stage at Covent Garden. After all, when Bingley forbade his sister from coming to Netherfield, choosing Georgiana to be his hostess instead, she must have known of Darcy’s approval. But Caroline insisted, “I am astonished, sir. In January, you and I were of one mind on the subject. Now we seem to be miles apart.”
“Indeed,” he said stiffly at her reminder. Then he softened his tone. “Once, I believed a good match was simply a matter of reasonably compatible people having the right connections and a shared understanding of their place in society. In part, it was your brother who convinced me of the importance of a sincere attachment. Have you never loved someone, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline had not expected this question. I could imply that I loved you, but it would be a lie, and you would know that. The pattern of the steps separated them, but when she met Darcy again, she was ready. “Having watched Charles fall in and out of love with such frequency made me wary. I hope for Jane’s sake he has outgrown his fickle tendencies and that his love is true.”
“I have never seen him happier; he has inspired me. It was only recently that I experienced this delightful, unsettling, yet essential emotion,” Darcy said, surprising even himself with his forthrightness.
Recently? Tonight? Me? Caroline stifled a gasp at the notion, but her hopeful imaginings were interrupted by Elizabeth’s gentle laugh. At a glance, she knew the sound had snatched Darcy’s attention from her, and she watched as he gazed at Elizabeth with obvious affection while the lady danced with some ginger-haired bumpkin. Aniston? Ainsworth? No matter. It was at that moment, Caroline Bingley truly understood Darcy would never be hers. She realized there was still time to cancel the scheme to compromise Elizabeth, but as she stared at Darcy, her resolve hardened. No! If he will not choose me, I will make certain he cannot have her!
≈≈≈
For the next set, Darcy partnered with Kitty while the colonel partnered with Elizabeth, unaware he was the object of Collins’s watchful gaze. Then, during the last dance of the set, the parson took action. Interrupting Charlotte, who was chatting with several of the other married women, he said, “My dear, do you see Miss Darcy there? I am told she wishes to speak with us. Shall we?”
Charlotte excused herself and accompanied her husband. However, rather than taking the most direct route to where Georgiana stood with Mary, he detoured to the table bearing a large bowl of punch where he filled two glasses to the brim.
As Collins neared Georgiana and Mary, he announced, “Ah, Miss Darcy, here we are!”
The ladies looked at him blankly, uncertain how to respond to his less-than-welcome arrival. He pressed one glass of punch into Georgiana’s hand and gave the other to Charlotte, before guiding her to stand between himself and Georgiana. To Mary, he said, “I do not have a glass for you, Cousin, as I did not notice you.”
“No matter, sir,” Mary said. “How are you, Charlotte?”
“I am quite well, thank you. And you, Mary? I have seen so little of you this visit.”
“I am also well. Is this not a lovely evening?”
After waiting impatiently during this brief exchange, Collins asked, “Have you met Miss Darcy, Charlotte?”
Exchanging puzzled glances with Georgiana, Charlotte said, “We spent much of yesterday together preparing for the ball, sir.”
Georgiana said, “The evening seems to be going very well.”
“Such cheerful looks,” Charlotte said, glancing around with a pleased expression. “Mary, I have yet to be formally introduced to the redheaded gentleman you were dancing with earlier.”
Before Mary could respond, Collins said, “That is a beautiful dress, Miss Darcy.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied. To Mary, she said, “I believe you were going to tell Mrs. Collins about Mr. Ainsworth.”
Abruptly, Collins sneezed loudly and with such force that he bumped violently into Charlotte, who spilled her punch on Georgiana’s dress. “I beg your pardon, Wife!” he exclaimed. “Oh my, you have ruined Miss Darcy’s dress!”
“Indeed she has not!” Georgiana protested. What is wrong with this foolish fellow, and how dare he blame Charlotte?
“I am very sorry!” Charlotte exclaimed.
“Please do not worry. I brought another dress with me, for I could not decide which gown to wear.”
Charlotte, well aware the fault was not hers, was embarrassed nonetheless. “Allow me to assist you, and we will return before anyone notices we are gone.”
“I do not wish to take you away from the party, madam.”
“It would ease my discomfort if you would let me assist you.”
“Here, let me take your punch glasses,” Mary offered.
The ladies handed her their glasses, and Charlotte thanked her, adding, “We shall return shortly.” Giving her husband a scorching look, she followed Georgiana out of the ballroom.
Collins called after them, “Take your time, take your time.”
Utterly disgusted, Mary shoved the glasses into Collins’s stomach, and he grabbed them reflexively. “You’ve spilled some punch on me, Cousin!”
“Do not worry; no one pays you any mind,” Mary said in icy tones and walked away.
Collins searched the room for Caroline; when their eyes met, she gave a single nod. Then she swooped in like a bird of prey as Fitzwilliam escorted Elizabeth from the floor. “Colonel! Miss Eliza! Have you seen Miss Darcy? She seems to be missing!”
As Fitzwilliam scanned the ballroom for a glimpse of his cousin, Elizabeth asked, “Have you looked in the retiring room?”
“Of course! And perhaps it is nothing, but I overheard a servant say George Wickham was seen on the grounds. I do not know the particulars, but I know he has wronged the Darcys.”
“Wickham was seen here?” Fitzwilliam asked doubtfully.
“Possibly even
in the house! I hoped you would accompany me to the east wing, where several rooms have doors that open to the grounds; these would be the easiest point of access. If Mr. Wickham is here, I have not the courage to confront him alone.”
To Fitzwilliam, Caroline’s story did not ring true. Why did she not seek out Bingley or Darcy first, as she apparently received this intelligence while Elizabeth and I were dancing? However, Elizabeth was already hurrying out of the ballroom and into the east wing; thus, the colonel felt compelled to follow her. “Miss Bingley,” he said, for she was close on his heels, “kindly find Darcy and your brother and send them to Miss Elizabeth and me.”
Now in the corridor, Caroline assured him, “I shall not fail.” Stepping into the shadows between the sconces, she watched as they looked through the open doorways of room after room.
At the music room, which was near the end of the wing, the door was closed. When Elizabeth put a finger to her lips to signal for silence, Fitzwilliam stood beside her and listened. Although they heard no voices, they heard footsteps; suddenly, there was the sound of a large object breaking. Fearing the worst, Elizabeth flung open the door and rushed in, with the colonel behind her.
Smiling smugly, Caroline slipped off her shoes and raced down the corridor. Key in one hand and shoes in the other, she reached the music room when both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth were had their backs to her. Carefully pulling the door closed, she locked it.
≈≈≈
At first, the music room appeared unoccupied: no Wickham, no Georgiana, no source for the loud crash. Then hesitant steps sounded on the wood floor behind the furniture. A moment later, a young black goat emerged from behind a chair and stared at the two newcomers. It bleated, and a well-chewed page of sheet music fell from its mouth.
Laughing with surprise, Elizabeth cautiously approached the kid. Glancing at Fitzwilliam, she asked, “What is going on?”
The colonel, now standing by the closed door, said grimly, “I have a suspicion.” He rattled the door handle, demonstrating it was locked. “It seems someone wants to compromise us, although I cannot be certain which of us has inspired this … this .…”
