Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

In proper form, Fossett, the forbearing foyer footman, forged ahead and formally announced, “Miss Bingley has returned, sir. However, she is unwell and wanted you to know she is indisposed and regrets being unable to take dinner or meet with you this evening.”

“Oh, really? Well, we shall just see about that.” Bingley jumped up from his chair, donned his discarded coat, stomped out of the study, marched upstairs, and pounded on the door to his sister’s apartments. “Caroline, open this door, right now. I need to speak with you.”

“Go away, Charles.”

His sister’s voice had an unusual quality to it, so he asked, “Caroline, are you truly unwell? Open the door, please.” Bingley had seen his sister disgusted, angry, disappointed, aggressive, contemptuous, and even, on occasion, frightened and sad. However, he had only once before, in their adult life, seen her cry; and that was years previously, at the death of their parents from scarlet fever. Therefore, when the key turned in the lock, the door opened, and he saw her red, blotchy, tear-stained face, he was truly alarmed. “Good God! What is the matter?” Caroline hesitated, but her knees trembled under her; and she sat down, unable to support herself. She looked so miserably ill it was impossible for Bingley to leave her. In a tone of gentleness and commiseration, he said, “Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine? Shall I get you one? You are very ill, sister.”

She burst into tears and for a few minutes could not utter a word. Bingley, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern and observe her in compassionate silence. He passed Caroline a pristine handkerchief and considered how else he might comfort her. They had never embraced, and he felt awkward even considering such contact.

At length, she got up, paced, and spoke. “Oh, Charles, my humiliation cannot be concealed from anyone; and I know very well that nothing can be done. I have not the smallest hope. It is in every way horrible; and I am so very, very sorry, brother.”

When his sister began to weep again, Bingley became increasingly worried. Fiend seize convention! Caroline needs me. He disregarded their past differences and indifferences, wrapped his arms around her bony shoulders, gathered her against his chest, and let her tears soak through his waistcoat and shirtfront. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body; she whimpered and repeated, “I am so sorry. I am so very sorry, Charles.” He murmured and stroked her hair and felt tears sting his own eyes in empathy with such overwhelming sorrow.

When she had cried herself out, she withdrew from his embrace and plopped down on the bench at her vanity table; one glimpse at her reflection in the mirror was enough to make her swivel around and face the other way. It was not her swollen, blotchy features that disgusted her so much but rather the evidence of her own miserable existence. She shook her head, took gulps of air, and yet would not look her brother in the eye.

“It is over, Charles. It is all over. I tried so very hard to fit in, but now it does not matter. I have ruined everything, and I am so, so sorry for you. I do not care about myself, but I would do anything to protect you from what is about to happen. Perhaps you should send me away somewhere … far away from here. I hate it, Charles! I hate this place and this society. They never accepted me, not really. I truly did try, though. Perhaps that is the problem. I tried too hard. Oh, how could I have been such a bird-brained goose?”

“Caroline, please tell me. Whatever it is, we will get through this together. I am here for you. Allow me to help.”

“I do not deserve your kindness, brother. Nonetheless, you would certainly find out soon enough anyway; so I will confess before the gossip reaches you. If you wish to be rid of me afterward, I will write to our relatives in Staffordshire and see if they will have me.”

“Good God, Caroline! Has some man … Have you been compromised in any way? Is that the cause of your dolour? Are you … are you with child?”

“Charles! Most certainly not! My goodness, I was beginning to think my problem could not be more wretched. That said, I suppose there are others in worse situations.”

Her brother crouched down in front of her and held her hands. “Tell me then, you silly goose. I promise not to be angry. Regardless, I need to know what has happened so we can start to work on a solution.”

Caroline took a deep breath through her mouth, released it, and said, “I gave someone of our acquaintance the cut indirect and was dealt what I deserved, the cut direct.”

She hung her head in shame but quickly raised it when Charles snorted and said, “Is that all?”

“Charles, you do not understand. I was, quite rightly, given the cut direct by the Lady Matlock and the Darcy family.”

“Darcy renounced you?”

“No, it was the ladies of his family … Lady Anne, Miss Darcy, and Miss Anna, in company with Lady Matlock, at Harding, Howell & Co. this afternoon. The store was crowded with members of the ton. I am ruined, Charles; and you will surely be shunned as well.”

“Darcy will not allow that to occur, Caroline. He is a true friend; in fact, he warned me this might happen. I should have spoken to you sooner. When I consider I might have prevented this if I had but explained some of his concerns to you, I am grieved, indeed, by my procrastination. Wretched, wretched mistake.”

“You are certainly not to blame for my foolhardiness, brother. Be that as it may, I do not understand. About what did Mr. Darcy warn you? He could not possibly have known I would give the cut indirect to those Bennet women.”

“Caroline, no! Do you mean to tell me you cut the angelic Miss Jane Bennet? How could you?”

“It was not Miss Bennet I was trying to insult but her insufferab … her sister, Miss Eliza - beth. They are merely countrified yokels who are on close terms with servants, Charles. I know you met them at Pemberley, but are you actually acquainted with the family?”

“Not as well as I would care to be. The Bennets are not yokels, Caroline. They are wealthy, fashionable, respected members of the gentry, who own a townhouse here as well as an estate in Hertfordshire. They and the Darcy family have been on quite friendly terms lately. Now, tell me exactly what happened earlier today when you were shopping.”

His sister described what occurred outside and inside the department store. Charles suggested they should together visit the three families involved and apologize to the ladies. “However, Caroline, we shall not grovel. We still have enough self respect not to stoop that low.”

When Caroline became agitated and protested she could not possibly face them again, her brother tried to soothe and comfort her. “I will be right beside you; and I will do most of the talking, if you wish. Even so, I insist you give an honest and heartfelt apology to Lady Matlock, the Darcy ladies, and both Bennet sisters. I still do not understand your antagonism toward Miss Elizabeth, though.”

“I am embarrassed to admit it; however, Mr. Darcy seemed to be paying such an undue amount of attention to her that I became rather … He was never mine, was he?” When Charles sadly shook his head, she continued, “Then the correct word would be envious rather than jealous. She seemed to be a nobody from nowhere who immediately had his admiration, whereas I had been trying for so long for even just a crumb of regard from the man.”

“Caroline, are you truly in love with Darcy?”

“Love? What has love to do with it? He is a handsome, respected, eligible young man who happens to be heir to a vast fortune. I admit, without hesitation, I am more in love with the idea of being Mistress of Pemberley than with the man who comes along with it. I very much regret losing whatever connection we may have had with that grand estate. I miss the north. Perhaps it would be best for me to go live in Staffordshire. We do not belong in this society, Charles. Why have I been trying so hard to fit in? Oh, why did our wealth have to come from shoes of all things? How low and shoddy!”

“Caroline! Was that a pun?”

“Whatever do you mean? I most certainly would never stoop to that insufferable form of so-called humour. I have some dignity remaining after all, brother. As I was saying, although I knew we were low-born, I thought if I emulated the attitudes I observed in our betters, I might gain their acceptance. Foolish, foolish girl!”

“Ah, but Caroline, are they really our betters? They may have vast amounts of wealth, distinguished bloodlines, noble lineage and titles, and be more fashionable. For all that, are they truly better people? Some of the young ladies with whom you have been associating are vile, vain, and vacuous. I wish you could be friends with