Miss Bingley Requests Read online

  Caroline was confused by their laughter, but something else in the conversation held first place in her head. How could anyone forget he was rich? Her family’s attaining of wealth was recent enough that Caroline never forgot it, not for a moment. All through her life she had behaved in a manner accepted in those circles where wealth was assumed, spoken of casually, as much a part of a person as was her hair or her feet. Even now, when she was rich, she never forgot the risks of revealing her family’s ignominious past, in trade. That knowledge would be enough to cause her downfall, for she would be shunned by all the people she most wanted to impress.

  ‘Yes,’ Stephen said. ‘And soon I shall be truly rich, shall I not?’

  Perhaps he has a business deal about to come to fruition. Or a wealthy relative who is elderly and who, when he or she passes on, will leave everything to this much-beloved descendant.

  The clinks of knife and fork placed on plate, and cup on saucer, were suddenly more definitive, and Caroline realised her friends were finishing their meal. Smoothing her gown to ensure that her pause to listen had not wrinkled it, she placed a delighted smile on her face and entered the room, where equally delighted smiles greeted her.

  * * *

  The next several days flowed one into the next, the rhythm of life in the country passing by as a stream gurgles past the trees that grow along its banks, their leaves rustling with the wind but staying attached to their branches, remaining in place. Drives about the countryside, overseeing the servants, receiving callers, making as few calls as possible, hosting a dinner for the Lucases, games of cards during the evenings.

  Caroline observed Mr Darcy when she could, for he often was absent from the house or closeted in the library with Charles. She looked for the clues Eleanor had used to know he pursued Caroline, but he seemed much the same as always, polite, reserved, and gentlemanlike.

  She went for no more walks with Mr Tryphon, but he often sought out her company, holding a skein of silk when she needed to make it into a neat ball, offering to be her partner at cards, holding out his arm to escort her in to dinner. Mr Darcy, who had been accustomed to being her escort before Eleanor and Mr Tryphon’s arrival, was very well-mannered about this, stepping aside each time Mr Tryphon drew near as dinner was announced. Caroline was impressed to see how nobly Mr Darcy treated both her guests, even though she knew he did not respect them. He hadn’t said anything, he would never be so rude, but to one who knew him as well as she, the signs were clear. He stood further away when the whole party was assembled after dinner, and spent more time looking out of the window, even though it was dark and so nothing could be seen. He preferred to read or write letters, instead of playing cards, and even when an evening of music was the selected entertainment, he listened but without his usual intensity.

  This evening was typical. Louisa and Mr Hurst, Caroline and Mr Tryphon made up a table for cards. Mr Darcy had been reading, sitting in a chair by the fire, but after a time he set his book aside, rose, and moved to the window.

  Caroline rose also, suddenly weary of the game. Mr Tryphon leapt to his feet. ‘Miss Bingley, please sit. Whatever you desire, I will bring it to you.’

  She waved him off. ‘Thank you, but there is nothing I require. I merely thought that perhaps Eleanor would like to participate in the game for a time.’

  ‘Then allow me to relinquish my place. Everyone’s enjoyment will increase when two such accomplished women take part.’

  Caroline looked to where Eleanor sat, reading the letters that had arrived for her earlier that day. Eleanor received many letters, as she’d explained to Caroline, so she could keep up with all the latest news from town. Caroline loved to watch her friend when she read a letter for the first time. Eleanor’s features were fluidly expressive as she absorbed the details her friends sent her. Her brow might furrow, her beautifully curved eyebrows lower, she might go so far as to nibble on her lower lip. The next moment she would throw back her head and let out a silvery peal of laughter, before her mood would change again and her fingers would tighten on the paper.

  Now, stepping away from the card table enough to prove to Mr Tryphon that she was determined, she caught Eleanor’s eye. Surely her friend would recognise Caroline’s desire to have an opportunity to speak to Mr Darcy. Caroline had never mentioned her expectations for him and Pemberley, but she knew a woman as observant as her friend could not have helped but notice the attraction between Caroline and Mr Darcy. To her surprise, Eleanor looked from Caroline to Mr Tryphon and back to Caroline, but then returned her attention to her letter. Caroline turned back to Mr Tryphon, astonished to realise that Eleanor had responded to his request, presumably to keep Caroline with him, instead of to Caroline’s. When she turned, she saw him looking straight at her, his face solemn, and something in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. As soon as she moved towards the table, she realised she must have imagined this, for his smile was as broad, his eyes as warm, as they always were.

  ‘I do apologise,’ she said to the three still at the table, ‘but I am unaccountably weary of cards.’ Gaining a sudden insight, she added, ‘Louisa, perhaps you would be so kind as to play us some music. I would so love to hear that new concerto you have been practising so beautifully.’

  ‘I would be happy to do so,’ her sister said, ‘if you truly believe my feeble efforts have reached a point where the music will not harm rather than enchant the present company. But I require a page turner.’

  Louisa turned to her husband but Caroline broke in quickly. ‘Mr Tryphon, I am certain, would be delighted to perform this service.’ She turned her brightest smile on him, took a step closer and rested her hand on his arm. He looked at her hand, moved as if to draw her closer, but then squared his shoulders. ‘Of course. I am honoured that I can take part, even in such a small way, in the creation of music as lovely as I know this will be.’ He followed Louisa to the pianoforte, leaving Mr Hurst to grumble about the unfinished game of cards.

  Caroline moved towards Mr Darcy, but Eleanor called her to sit beside her. Caroline sent a wistful glance towards Mr Darcy, but sat next to her friend, consoling herself that she might learn something amusing that was happening in London. Eleanor was usually very stingy with her letters. She showed them to Mr Tryphon, though. Caroline had once entered a room to see the two of them, heads bent, reading intently. When they’d looked up and seen her, the letter had instantly vanished and both had risen, expressing their joy in seeing their friend.

  Eleanor folded away the one she was reading, and asked, ‘Were you not enjoying Stephen’s company at cards? Was he perhaps not skilled enough? It was my impression that you were ahead in points.’

  ‘Mr Tryphon is an admirable partner,’ Caroline said, a little surprised at her friend’s query. ‘I was simply weary of playing. I am certain spending time with you will be much more amusing.’ Putting as much uninterest into her voice as possible, she asked, ‘What news from town?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ Eleanor said. ‘I am distressed, though, to learn that you are weary. Perhaps if Stephen, after he finishes assisting Mrs Hurst, were to take you for a brief turn outside, the fresh air will return to you the gaiety I so adore in you.’

  A warmth rose up in Caroline and she clasped Eleanor’s hands in hers. ‘All I need when I am weary is to hear you speak thusly. No one could have such a dear friend as you.’

  The two smiled at each other and then Eleanor disengaged her hands, gently, but she broke the connection. ‘Shall I let Stephen know that his service is once again required?’

  Caroline sighed. ‘I thank you but I have no wish to venture outside. Can you not tell me something of what takes place in London? Even without your presence, which must be difficult indeed to bear for those still there, some of our friends must have encountered something that will amuse we who languish here in the country.’

  ‘I’m afraid town life is very dull.’ Eleanor sat up straighter. ‘Oh look, Louisa has finished that lovely piece. Stephen will be free to att
end us. Whenever I am weary, his presence is the finest tonic in the world.’

  Caroline shot to her feet. It had clearly been a mistake to sit with Eleanor instead of moving to where Mr Darcy stood by the window, but she hadn’t wanted to be too obvious in her desire for a private moment. ‘Louisa,’ she said, moving towards the piano, ‘please, it would so delight me if you could play the other piece we were practising together. You play it so much better than I, and Mr Tryphon is clearly a very talented page turner, for you didn’t miss a single note.’

  Louisa looked a little surprised, for usually Caroline preferred to be the one sharing her accomplishments with the company, but she nodded and began to play. Mr Tryphon stared at Caroline a moment, his look unreadable, but she didn’t care. Wasting no more time, she moved on, never taking a straight course, but ensuring that she would end up beside Mr Darcy.

  At first he seemed not to notice her presence. After a moment, she spoke. ‘I wonder, Mr Darcy, what it is that is so engaging outside this window. It must be that you have eyes like a cat, to see so well in the dark.’

  He turned at the sound of her voice, and studied her for a moment. ‘Sometimes,’ he said at length, ‘it is those things we cannot see that shine most brightly.’

  Nonsense, she wanted to say. Caroline disliked talk of things that made no sense even more than she disliked poetry. She put a playful note into her voice. ‘And is there something out there that neither of us can see but which shines brightly?’

  He did not answer, but turned once again towards the night.

  A frisson of fear sent a chill through Caroline. Mr Darcy, she knew, often preferred to stand alone, even when in the midst of a lively party. And he did seem to prefer looking outside to playing cards. As far as she knew there was nothing outside in the direction this window faced—a lot of muddy fields and meadows, crossed once by a curve of a road. ‘Can you share with me what you see?’ She truly was curious now, but in case he was joking, she did not want to appear gullible. ‘I would so dearly love to know.’

  He sighed, and turned towards her, away from the window. Reassured now that she had his full attention, that she had been able to tear him away from whatever it was that drew him to the darkness without, she laughed. ‘There is nothing at all shining outside, is there? I knew it! Perhaps it is only your own reflection that draws you to the glass.’

  He smiled a bit at that, and she continued. ‘I did not know that personal vanity was one of your faults, Mr Darcy.’ When he frowned, she rushed on. ‘In fact, I did not know you had any faults at all. I have never, until now, seen even one.’

  ‘I am not perfect by any means, Miss Bingley,’ he said, but his tone was light.

  ‘Indeed not. I did not expect you to be.’ She tilted her head to one side and pretended to study him in great detail. ‘Although when you were so determined to gaze out of this window, I did wonder if I observed a most alarming imperfection. For the next habitation this direction from Netherfield Park is Longbourn.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Tell me true, now, is it thoughts of Mrs Bennet that have you unable to look away from where she is at present? Or of Miss Elizabeth and her fine eyes?’

  His transformation was immediate. She didn’t see a single muscle in his face move, but even though he still stood before her he suddenly was many miles distant. He offered her a frosty smile, a brief bow, and left the room.

  All astonished, she stood without knowing for how long, when a faint warmth appeared at her side, and she blinked and saw Mr Tryphon.

  ‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘that perhaps country life begins to wear on you. You long for the lights and laughter of the city.’

  ‘I thank you for your concern,’ she said, lifting her chin, ‘but I am exceedingly content to be exactly where I am.’

  He gazed at her, his eyes moving over her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth, back to her eyes. ‘You, Caroline Bingley, are a woman created for the light. You deserve to have it shining on you always. I wish I …’

  ‘Yes?’ she said as he paused. How was it that Mr Tryphon’s words could so easily entwine her so that she felt, in his presence, as if a warm shawl had floated down to rest about her shoulders?

  ‘I wish you would allow me …’ His lips moved, he appeared to be struggling against something held within himself, then he turned abruptly away to gaze, as had Mr Darcy, out of the window, ‘It is too soon,’ she heard him whisper, and wondered what it was about this window that made men say such strange things.

  He shrugged then, and turned back, his countenance again what it always was, smiling, gentle. ‘You appear to be slightly chilled,’ he said, ‘standing so close to this window. I wish you would permit me to at least fetch you a wrap, and, if I may be so bold, allow me to escort you to a seat by the fire and to fetch you a cup of tea.’

  She gazed at him, feeling warmed already. He was kind, and always solicitous of her well-being. Even if sometimes his words, his nearness, his touch, suggested images and emotions she could not understand, he was her dear friend, Mr Tryphon. Unlike Mr Darcy, he never walked away from her without speaking. Mr Darcy was the man she would marry—she’d always known that; just as she knew Charles’ life was bound to that of Mr Darcy’s sister, Georgiana. But that was no reason she could not enjoy a friendship that had begun so easily she’d scarcely noticed when Mr Tryphon became a constant companion. There was no reason not to enjoy a mild flirtation, especially since she was sure Mr Darcy had noticed it and did not approve. They were not engaged yet; she was free to do as she pleased.

  She held out her hand to Mr Tryphon. He seized it instantly and held it in his, then raised it to his lips, for his broad shoulders and back shielded the action from the room. The warmth of his lips, the faint whisper of his breath on the back of her hand, and above all, the secrecy, brought a rush of heat to her head, and she swayed, suddenly dizzy. He instantly placed her hand on his arm, and touched her lightly on her back until she was again steady on her feet. Only then did she look out into the room, seeing Louisa now sitting with Eleanor, and Mr Hurst lying back in his chair. Not a one of them was paying any attention to her and Mr Tryphon.

  Smiling, she permitted him to escort her to a chair by the fire, find her wrap on the settee, and fetch her a cup of tea. The wrap was unnecessary, as indeed was the fire, for the warmth of his mouth on her hand filled her still.

  * * *

  The next afternoon Mr Tryphon approached her, and pretending great secrecy, sat beside her and said into her ear: ‘I still believe, Miss Bingley, that while country life may not be unpleasant for you, too much time spent indoors is. Would you not permit me to take you for a drive?—Your sister, also, of course. I thought that perhaps we could go into Meryton, so that I might purchase a length of ribbon to complement your beautiful new gown.’

  Caroline was surprised, for she was wearing a new gown, one she had not worn since he and Eleanor arrived. ‘I am shocked,’ she whispered back, enjoying the game of secrecy, ‘to learn that a man exists who is so observant about a woman’s attire. You do realise, sir, that stating such a thought is shockingly forward.’

  He grinned. ‘I am only forward with you, Miss Bingley, for with you I feel as if my entire future rests in your hands.’ Before she could think about this, or respond, he leaned back and spoke in his normal voice. ‘So it is agreed, then? We shall take a trip to Meryton to visit the milliner’s and witness the locals going about their business.’ He then leaned forward, and said softly, ‘Your gown yesterday was a gentle yellow, which flattered your skin tone and warmed the depth of your eyes.’ He winked at her, as she sat in stunned shock, and then stood up to arrange for the carriage.

  Eleanor and Louisa decided to accompany them. It was a pleasant day, sunny with a gentle breeze that wafted the curtains at the carriage windows and played with the errant lock of hair that fell across Mr Tryphon’s brow.

  As they crunched through the gravel on the drive and then rolled onto the road that led to Meryton, Eleanor smiled at C
aroline and said, ‘What a splendid treat this is, to get out among the local people. How much we will learn about life lived in a manner so different from our own!’

  Mr Tryphon nodded, but then said, ‘While improving one’s mind is never a wasted effort, I am not certain that learning about life so rustic as this can offer any improvement.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Eleanor tapped his arm with her fan. ‘If nothing else, it will greatly improve your appreciation for all the things your wealth and position in life bring you. Wouldn’t you agree, Caroline?’

  ‘Yes. These people can have nothing to offer to us.’

  ‘Except,’ Eleanor said, her eyes dancing, ‘amusement.’

  ‘I wish,’ Caroline said, ‘I could find pleasure in what we observe. For me, alas, I can recall only boredom when I look back on the times we have spent in company here.’

  ‘I, also,’ Louisa said. ‘When I think of having to listen to Mrs Bennet’s shrill voice, the only thing I can think of is how pained my ears become.’

  Caroline laughed at that, and Eleanor picked up on her humour, leaning forward to where Caroline sat across from her. ‘You see, you demonstrate my meaning perfectly, Caroline. Here you are, laughing, and you have Mrs Bennet to thank for your amusement.’

  Everyone laughed at that, and Caroline leaned back against the squabs, willing for a moment to forego proper decorum, and proper posture, in order to better enjoy her friend’s delightful company. Eleanor’s hair, that day, had been brought to the top of her head, but then permitted to fall in gentle ringlets down the sides of her face. Her blue eyes, so large and often so guileless, now shone with the glint of mischief that encouraged all those around her to join her in her amusements.

  Eleanor’s eyes, Caroline thought, and the way her mouth, the full lips creating a rosebud on her face when she was serious, could widen into an irrepressible smile, were why her parties were always so successful. Eleanor was a brilliant hostess; she knew exactly the correct blend of people to bring together, but it was her vivacity and the way she always shared her pleasure so that others could experience it, too. It was impossible to feel sad when Eleanor was happy.