Charles and Jane stayed briefly, leaving for the Bingley townhouse to rest and regroup before dinner.
The Bingley townhouse was four streets south of Darcy House, on Hill Street. Although located in the Mayfair District and near Grosvenor Square, the house itself abutted Berkley Square, despite Caroline Bingley's preferred assertions that they lived at Grosvenor Square. Bingley's great-grandfather had purchased the house when acquiring his fortune, moving his wife and baby daughter from Cheapside. Half the size of Darcy House, it nonetheless was plush and beautiful, constructed of red bricks with large windows and an ornately landscaped garden with a small pond nearly equal to the Darcy's garden in size.
As with Lizzy, Jane had viewed her future home during her engagement. Thankfully, the Hursts and Caroline had been vacationing at Bath for that week, so the soon-to-be Mrs. Bingley had been free to become acquainted with the manor and make tentative plans for changes. Charles had previously tolerated his younger sister, within reason, decorating as she wished, with the consequence being rooms overstuffed with furniture, gaudy wall coverings, and a plethora of overly ornate knickknacks. Jane was blessed with the gift of innately excellent taste and instinctively recognized where the alterations needed to be. A battle was fated to ensue between she and Caroline, who would require months of steady and frequently heated reminding by Charles before she finally accepted that she was no longer the Mistress. Jane would display a surprisingly stern backbone belied by her naturally serene and unassuming character. In the end, she would revamp the house as she wished, creating an atmosphere of welcome splendor so perfected that the Bingleys would discover themselves residing there for months out of each year.
Tonight, however, the conflicts were yet to come. Word had been sent ahead, so the staff was awaiting the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley with instructions to prepare for a small dinner party that night. Caroline had readily transferred from the Hurst townhouse on the fringes of Mayfair at Bedford Square as soon as she knew her brother was expected, the past six months of living with her sister and brother-in-law having been a torture of boredom and exile to her way of thinking.
Caroline's dismay at losing Mr. Darcy had been acute. Until the very moment the actual vows had been recited, Caroline had harbored a frantic hope that the bewitched Darcy would come to his senses. She had so endlessly badgered Charles to talk sense to “the poor man” that even her infectiously amiable brother had snapped impatiently, begging her to desist at threat of strangulation. Mr. Darcy had not been safe from her barbs and embarrassingly forward advances either. The situation had become increasingly awkward, culminating with a horrid episode three weeks after the engagements had been declared.
Within days of the joint Bingley and Darcy betrothals, Caroline had arrived unannounced to Netherfield, ostensibly to congratulate her brother. However, it rapidly became clear that her true intent was to sway Darcy away from his “horrible mistake.” The fact that an honorable gentleman could not withdraw an offer of marriage once rendered did not seem to penetrate her consciousness. Mr. Bingley was distressed and Darcy extremely uncomfortable, but mostly they were both angry at her thinly veiled insults directed to both Bennet women.
Darcy's patience was at its end on the day Caroline accosted him in the library. On the day in question, he stood beside a bookcase picking a volume of poems he conjectured Elizabeth would appreciate, when Caroline entered.
He looked up and frowned slightly but bowed properly. “Miss Bingley.” He took a step toward the exit, but she swiftly crossed to block his path, drawing near.
“Mr. Darcy, I was wondering if you could assist me. I was searching for a copy of Shakespeare's
Darcy strongly suspected she was fabricating an excuse to detain him, as she was not much of a reader, but he indicated the shelf of Shakespeare's works. “I believe there is a copy in the collection.” He walked to the case primarily to place distance rather than any desire to serve. He retrieved the book she asked for, turning to hand it to her, only to discover she had trailed and was less than a foot away from his body. He flinched and stepped back, encountering the impenetrable bookcase. “Pardon me, Miss Bingley.”
She moved even closer and reached for the proffered volume, fingers firmly caressing over his. Leaning forward until her bosom brushed his hand and gazing upward through her lashes, she said in a throaty voice, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You are the soul of kindness. Is there any way I can express my thanks?”
Darcy was furious. He sidestepped so abruptly that Caroline pitched into the case. Drawing stiffly to his considerable height, he gifted Caroline with the full intensity of the Darcy glower and with a brusque bow excused himself, voice cold as ice. By the end of the day, Caroline was bundled off to London to join her sister on their trip to Bath. Jane and Elizabeth were not informed of the truth, as their private relief to have the troublesome Miss Bingley gone overrode any curiosity.
Bingley's sisters had come for the wedding, naturally, but they arrived only the day before, permitting Darcy to ignore Caroline. Now, after all the time which had passed, Darcy no longer fostered any residual anger but instead pitied Caroline. As with many issues these days, his happiness was so profound that his heart simply did not have space for ill feelings.
Darcy was in good humor when they appeared at the Bingley townhouse. Elizabeth was well, the past two days being very good ones for her, and the birthday plans were all set to his satisfaction. The girls, even Mary, were in high spirits at the prospect of shopping and adventures, and their giddiness infected the elder Darcys. None of them knew that Miss Bingley was joining them, but it would not have dampened their spirits.
Caroline stood regally on the staircase landing, having carefully dressed herself in a stunning gown that displayed her fine figure to its full advantage. It was too late to secure Mr. Darcy for herself, but she intended to show him what he had tossed over for the skinny country chit. Imagine her consternation, evidence by a blanched face and visible dropped jaw, when Lizzy breezed in on her husband's arm wearing a divine, fashionable gown of gold crepe, the bodice of which barely contained a far fuller bosom than Caroline recalled. Her hair was stupendous, with a set of fabulous pearl and diamond clips, the strand of Darcy pearls about her neck, and an exquisite shawl of Japanese silk. She positively glowed, as did Mr. Darcy in a way Caroline had never witnessed, and the casual, unconscious way his hands lingered and caressed Elizabeth's bare shoulders as he removed her shawl brought a flush to Caroline's pale cheeks.
None of them noticed her for a time, the greetings proceeding as if it had been months instead of three days. Finally, it was Georgiana who glanced upwards.
“Miss Bingley!”
All eyes immediately raised, a moment of silence descending. Caroline recovered her composure, gliding gracefully down the stairs. She delighted in the sensation of all eyes on her—as it should be, to her way of thinking. Then, with a stab of irritation, she noted that Darcy's gaze touched her for less than a second before moving away to the footman patiently waiting to take Elizabeth's shawl.
Elizabeth was smiling pleasantly. “Miss Bingley, what an unexpected delight. Mr. Darcy and I did not realize you would be joining us. Pray, how have you been?”
“I am quite well, Mrs. Darcy, thank you. You are the same I trust?”
Lizzy laughed. “I believe I am better than well, actually, at least for the moment. Let us pray it continues.”
Darcy was studying his wife with a small smile on his lips, a hand lightly resting on the small of her back. Jane laughed softly at Lizzy's words, although Caroline did not comprehend why. Not exerting the effort to puzzle it out, she turned her attention to Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy, it is a pleasure to see you. Are you ‘better than well’ also?”
He met her eyes and inclined his head. “Miss Bingley, I am excellent. I daresay the best I have been in my entire life.” Before finishing his earnest little speech, his eyes had returned to his wife, ignoring Caroline.
Mr. Bingley chimed in with a call to the parlor until dinner was served. The gentlemen stayed close to their wives, chatting casually. Caroline was reintroduced to Lizzy's sisters. Mary, as typical, stood apart, awed and intimidated by Bingley's sister. Kitty could not stop staring. Ever since the insertion of Bingley and Darcy to the Bennet household, Kitty had been inundated and captivated by finery and grandeur of all sorts. Caroline found herself near Georgiana, surreptitiously observing Darcy nearly as giddy as her ridiculous brother.
“Miss Bingley,” Georgiana began shyly, “your gown is lovely. I do not believe I would ever have the courage to wear that shade, but it so becomes you.”
“Thank you, Miss Darcy. Proper fashion is a fine art. You are young still and need not yet worry too greatly, although I daresay your debut is rapidly approaching. It is a shame that you have no one to assist with the necessary requirements of society. Men certainly do not apprehend the nuances of stylish dress and feminine
