Miss Bingley Requests Page 11

  A memory came to Caroline then, that of the man whose wife and mistress had been at the same party. Caroline hadn’t realised at the time why the two women meeting had been so awkward, but Eleanor had explained later, her enjoyment of the situation so great that Caroline had felt amused also. It seemed to her now that none of the three, man, wife, mistress, had appeared to enjoy the party from that moment on. Could Eleanor have brought them together on purpose, solely for her own amusement?

  She pushed aside the curtain over the window beside her. ‘Here we are in Meryton,’ she said gaily. ‘All the amusement we could wish for is just outside our carriage.’

  Eleanor thrust her head out. ‘My dear Caroline, you are right as always. Look at what has been laid out for us—Redcoats aplenty and Bennet sisters galore.’

  Caroline looked out, although she wasn’t comfortable moving her head out nearly as far as Eleanor was doing. She could see well enough though, to note the festive air the officers gave the little town, the bright red coats dotted about, sometimes singly, sometimes in a group. The local people almost faded into the background, wearing mostly brown or grey homespun, no colourful ribbon or fabric to offer delight to the eye.

  The sound of laughter reached her, but instead of the gentle sounds of Eleanor’s silver peals, this was overly loud. Looking about, she spotted the two younger Miss Bennets, standing shamefully close to three officers who clearly did not mind such proximity. The youngest, Miss Lydia, reached out to one officer standing across from her and clasped his forearm with both hands, the act bringing her close enough to him that, oh could she be seeing correctly, the side of her chest brushed his upper arm. The other sister, Miss Catherine, not to be outdone by her sister, wasted no time in seizing the arm of the officer closest to her, and the two sisters laughed, paused when one officer spoke, then laughed again, even louder.

  ‘Lydia! Kitty!’ Caroline heard, and saw Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth hurrying across the street towards their sisters.

  ‘I do pity the two eldest Miss Bennets,’ Eleanor said, ‘for they are forced to do what their mother should be doing: attempt to demonstrate some manners to their younger sisters.’

  ‘An impossible task, I would think,’ Mr Tryphon murmured.

  ‘At least,’ Caroline said, ‘Mrs Bennet does not appear to have come into town with her daughters. We are spared that much.’

  ‘But we will not be spared tomorrow evening, I fear,’ Louisa said, ‘for I am certain I heard Miss Lucas tell Miss Elizabeth, when we saw them last, that both the Bennets and the Bingley party are to come to dinner.’

  Caroline sighed, suddenly wishing to see no more of Meryton. The carriage was slowing though, and would soon stop by the milliners so everyone could get out and look at ribbon. ‘I truly do not dislike spending time with Miss Bennet,’ she said, and Louisa nodded her agreement. ‘The mother and the three youngest are simply impossible though, and even Miss Elizabeth, of whom I thought quite highly at first, has revealed herself as being impertinent.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Eleanor suggested, ‘we can find a way to avoid the invitation for tomorrow—a touch of a fever perhaps? A cold coming on? Surely that would be excuse enough.’

  ‘I fear we cannot do that,’ Caroline said, ‘much though I wish we could. Charles does not believe in subterfuge, and Mr Darcy would be horrified to know we even considered such a thing.’

  Eleanor laughed and waved a hand. ‘Oh, Mr Darcy. His ideas of proper society are out of date now. There is no need to be so disapproving, so unhappy. Perhaps I can persuade him to find at least some pleasure in the foibles of others.’

  Mr Tryphon sent Eleanor a look that Caroline couldn’t read, but she was more concerned about Mr Darcy. ‘He suffers greatly, Eleanor, you mustn’t admonish him. For one of his standing to be forced to attend events with the likes of Mrs Bennet is too much to bear. His attendance at these entertainments is noble, for he does so to honour his friendship with Charles.’

  ‘Have you not considered,’ Eleanor said acidly, ‘that if Mr Bingley was a truer friend, he would not subject Mr Darcy to situations that are clearly painful to him?’

  Caroline’s jaw dropped. How could her friend speak so unkindly of Caroline’s brother, especially since he was Eleanor and Mr Tryphon’s host? Before she could gather her wits to say anything, though, the carriage came to a stop and Mr Tryphon leapt outside, reappearing to open the door on the other side and hand out the ladies.

  They entered the shop but Caroline had no interest in ribbon, nor in the new bonnet Louisa showed her. She walked about, her booted feet tapping on the rough wooden floor, without seeing anything.

  Eleanor came up beside her, looking down at the floor. ‘I am so sorry. I simply do not know what came over me. Can you ever forgive me?’ She glanced up sideways, her eyes imploring.

  Caroline didn’t know how to respond. This was Eleanor, Lady Amesbury, her dearest friend. But what she’d said about Charles … Caroline had never thought about Mr Darcy’s presence before as anything other than something natural. Charles enjoyed his company, as did she and Louisa. She’d never considered how he felt about being here. Surely, if he was unhappy, he would leave? He’d never struck her as being the sort of man who permitted others to dictate to him. And he lived in the country, at Pemberley, so he knew before coming to Netherfield Park the sorts of entertainments a country estate would offer. No, surely there was no truer friend than was Charles to Mr Darcy. Eleanor could have no reason for saying what she had.

  Caroline looked now at her friend, still standing meekly beside her in the dingy shop. Eleanor didn’t belong here. She was made for bright lights and glistening crystal.

  When Eleanor saw Caroline looking at her, she made a little moue with her full lips and opened her eyes comically wide. What could Caroline do but laugh and take her friend’s hand?

  Seeing the two of them happy together, Mr Tryphon came to them, his fingers streaming with a multitude of coloured ribbons. ‘See what a bouquet I have plucked for you, Miss Bingley!’

  She smiled and reached to take a ribbon, a bright red one, from his hand. ‘This one is lovely, perfect for my hair.’

  ‘Oh no, my lady,’ he exclaimed, ‘you misunderstand. I do not offer you a single bloom. I have bought you an entire garden.’

  Again, she was helpless against the goodness of her friends. She curtseyed, saying, ‘Kind sir, I accept this bounty, and can only hope I can use it in such a way as to do justice to your kindness.’

  ‘If my offer can in any small way enhance your happiness and beauty, I will consider myself well repaid.’ He bowed deeply, then took her hand in his. ‘Well repaid,’ he repeated, looking deeply into her eyes.

  Louisa came over, her hands full of lace, wanting to know what all the gaiety was about. ‘I am happy,’ Caroline said, ‘that is all. I am happy being here with those who are most dear to me.’

  She put her arm around her sister, and smiled, and her happiness did not fade even when they left the shop and encountered Miss Lydia prancing down the street, each of her hands through an officer’s arm, her raucous laughter filling the air.

  * * *

  A few days later, the bubbly happiness had faded to ennui. It had been raining all day and now, in late afternoon, Charles had just told the ladies that he, Mr Darcy, and Mr Hurst, had been invited to dine with the officers in Meryton.

  ‘This is too cruel of you,’ Caroline complained. ‘How can you in good conscience abandon us on such a dreary day?’

  ‘Yes,’ Louisa said. ‘This is positively un-brotherly, Charles. I will not have it and would admonish you had I the energy.’

  Charles laughed, for indeed Louisa reclined on the sofa in almost the same position usually assumed by her husband. ‘You do appear sleepy, dear sister,’ he said. ‘Perhaps a quiet evening will suit you best, and so, in truth, I am doing you a favour by removing the noise and smoke that gentlemen always impose on the ladies.’ With a wave, he took himself off, leaving the ladies more de
spondent than ever.

  After some time during which neither spoke, Caroline bestirred herself enough to move to the window.

  ‘Tell me,’ Louisa moaned, ‘that you see something to give us hope. A touch of blue, perhaps, in the sky, or, dare I ask, a sunbeam chasing away the rain.’

  ‘Alas, I can offer you no comfort. It is not raining at present but looks likely to do so again very soon.’ Caroline returned to her chair and threw herself, in a ladylike way, of course, into it.

  To make matters worse, Eleanor and Mr Tryphon had departed as the end of their scheduled visit had arrived. Caroline had entreated her friend to stay a few days longer, but Eleanor had merely given her a hug, and talked about the responsibilities awaiting her in London.

  ‘I would love to stay, of course I would, but I cannot delay my appearance in town any longer.’ Eleanor kissed her on both cheeks, and vanished out of the front door, following the footmen bearing her trunks to the carriage.

  Mr Tryphon stood before her then, bowing to say goodbye. He took her hand in his and, as he had done so often, kissed it while he still bent low, his eyes burning a path up to hers. ‘I will not laugh,’ he said as he stood up and released her hand, ‘I will not dance, until you are once again with me.’

  Mr Darcy stood nearby, next to Charles, as they bid the guests farewell. He had not yet proposed, and Caroline wondered if his silence made Mr Tryphon’s words even more seductive. Caroline knew that he watched this encounter, even though she could not see him from where she stood. She smiled warmly at Mr Tryphon, and even reached her hand towards him, as if to caress his cheek. ‘I will miss you also, dear friend.’

  He leaned forward, as if into her caress, and stopped only a hair’s breadth away from her fingers. ‘Be well,’ he whispered, ‘and if you think of me at least half as often as I will think of you, I will be a happy man.’

  She smiled again, took her hand away, and he left. She did not go outside to watch the carriage leave, fearing that the dust from the drive would dirty her gown. To her surprise she missed him, missed his smiles and the illicit thrill that came from some of the things he said, so forward but also so lovely to hear.

  She missed Eleanor too, of course; her absence was unbearable. ‘I do so wish,’ she said now to Louisa, ‘that Eleanor was still here. She could always add a gaiety to even the dreariest of days.’

  ‘Yes, someone else to converse with would be most agreeable.’ Louisa sat up from her recumbent position. ‘That gives me an idea. The gentlemen have been invited out this evening, and we have not. But why should we not invite someone to join us? Miss Bennet, perhaps.’

  They looked at each other. ‘Why not indeed?’ Caroline murmured. ‘She is the sole creature in this area I can see spending an evening with. Miss Bennet is charming.’

  Louisa clapped her hands. ‘It is settled, then?’

  Caroline nodded and rose to go to the writing desk. ‘I will send her a note immediately.’

  ‘My Dear Friend,’ she wrote. ‘If you are not so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day’s tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can upon receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.

  Yours ever,

  Caroline Bingley’

  The servant she sent to bear the note to Longbourn returned quickly with a positive response. ‘Delightful,’ Caroline said. ‘I so look forward to this evening.’

  Her hopes, and those of Louisa also, were dashed soon after Miss Bennet arrived, for Jane had come on horseback and her clothing, even through her travelling cloak, was very damp from the rain which had started again, just as Caroline had predicted.

  Caroline suggested that Jane might like to change out of her wet clothes, but Jane, never wanting to be a bother, said she hardly felt the damp. The three ladies sat together in the parlour, and Caroline made sure that Jane sat by the fire, even though she was concerned what the damp might do to the silken cushions on her chair. They chatted as ladies do, about the goings on of their neighbours, and embroidery and the loveliness of the grounds surrounding Netherfield. Although she didn’t ask, Jane was clearly very interested in any mention of Charles. Caroline told her about his comings and goings, but was careful to say nothing of how often Charles spoke of Jane.

  All seemed well, but once they sat down to dine, Jane began to sniffle, and by the time the soup was cleared away, she developed a most unpleasant cough. Even though she tried to muffle the sound, by bending her head down to cough and using her handkerchief to cover her mouth, it became apparent to Caroline and Louisa that their friend was ill. Against Jane’s protests that she was perfectly well, only a little tickle in her throat, Caroline sent servants to heat water for a bath and prepare a chamber, for it was clear Jane could not return home that evening.

  ‘Not in the rain,’ Caroline said to Louisa, once Jane had been bathed and put to bed with a warming pan, ‘and definitely not on horseback.’

  ‘I cannot imagine what her mother was thinking,’ Louisa said, with a little laugh of incredulity, ‘sending her daughter out on a day like today on horseback. I would never have so much as imagined such a thing could happen.’

  Caroline nodded, puzzled. ‘I know they have a carriage. Like you, I feel such a thing must be unthinkable, and yet it happened.’

  When the gentlemen returned, Caroline told them of the unfortunate events. Charles didn’t even take a moment to wonder at Jane coming on horseback; his thoughts were all of her health and comfort. Caroline wondered for a moment if he would so break with propriety as to go up to see her, but was able to reassure him that all that could be done for Jane had indeed occurred.

  With all the upheaval, everyone stayed up discussing it until much later than usual. The next morning, Caroline dressed hastily, wanting to check on Jane. She appeared to be fast asleep, lying on her back, her face turned away from the door. Her breathing was audible, but not too loud and so Caroline, reassured that Jane had not worsened during the night, was about to leave when Jane turned her head, her eyes open.

  Caroline saw no option but to enter the room. ‘My dear one, how do you feel this morning?’

  ‘I am well,’ Jane said. ‘You have been so thoughtful but I need not trespass on your kindness any longer. I shall send a note to Longbourn and my father shall come for me in the carriage.’

  Jane’s face was flushed, and for the first time, Caroline felt a small frisson of concern. She heard a step behind her, and turned to see Charles, who was clearly torn between the fact he could not look into a lady’s bedchamber and his need to learn if Miss Bennet was better.

  He took one look at Caroline’s face and said, ‘I shall send for Mr Jones at once.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Caroline, and walked over to Jane in her bed. ‘You poor creature, we cannot even think of you leaving when you are in discomfort. You cannot travel until you are better, so please, give ease to our hearts, and stay at least until the apothecary has seen you and given you leave to rise from your bed.’

  Jane protested, but in truth she looked relieved, and asked only for paper to send a note home. Caroline had sent one the previous evening, saying only that Jane would spend the night at Netherfield, and that the Bennet family should not worry. She brought paper, pen, and a writing desk to the bed, aided Jane in sitting up, and then stepped back to give her some privacy while she wrote. Once the note was complete, Caroline gave it to a servant who bore it to Longbourn at once.

  Jane lay back, clearly fatigued by her efforts. Caroline suggested a tray be brought, but Jane refused any food, asking only for a cup of tea.

  Caroline returned to her rooms and called Genney to dress her hair. When she went downstairs, the whole family and Mr Darcy were present to breakfast together, a rare occurrence since usually Mr Darcy rose earlier than anyone and Mr Hurst much later. Caroline had barely sipped her first cup of tea, when t
he door to the breakfast-parlour was opened, and a footman entered and announced the arrival of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  Miss Elizabeth was close behind him, and when she entered the room Caroline gaped at her, looked at Louisa who appeared equally surprised, and then back at Miss Elizabeth. Was the entire Bennet family mad? Elizabeth had evidently walked, for her stockings and petticoats were filthy with mud, and her face was near as flushed as that of her sister.

  ‘You came by foot?’ Caroline asked. ‘Three miles?’ As soon as she spoke she felt embarrassed. Her question had been impolite, but surely Miss Elizabeth must have known how odd her arrival and appearance would seem to other people.

  ‘I did.’ Miss Elizabeth made a hasty curtsey. ‘Forgive me for my intrusion, but I must know. How does my sister?’

  All three gentlemen had risen to their feet when she entered the room. Mr Hurst now sat back down and bent his head over his plate of eggs and kippers. Charles, ever the gracious host, came forward to Miss Elizabeth. ‘There is nothing to forgive. Please, be welcome.’

  ‘I thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Miss Elizabeth,’ Mr Darcy spoke, and Elizabeth looked up, startled. ‘You are to be commended for your concern for your sister.’

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ Caroline asked, going into automatic hostess mode.

  Elizabeth didn’t respond for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Mr Darcy. With an apparent effort, she turned to Caroline. ‘Tea? No, I thank you.’ She stood awkwardly, looking more like a milkmaid than a lady.

  ‘You must be fatigued after your walk,’ Louisa said. ‘Would you care to sit down and rest?’

  Caroline knew her sister well enough to know that as she’d asked the polite question, she was hoping Elizabeth would refuse. No doubt Louisa was concerned about Miss Elizabeth’s muddy clothing getting dirt on the furniture.