Miss Bingley Requests Read online

  He nodded and gave her a short sharp bow. ‘Of course, I am pleased to offer you any assistance you require.’

  Soon, you will offer me much more, she thought, and followed him to the cabinet where the playing cards were kept.

  * * *

  The date for the removal to Netherfield Park was set for three weeks hence, which would provide the time needed to hire servants and for them to prepare the house for its new master, and to purchase new clothing.

  ‘Because, of course,’ Louisa said, ‘the dressmakers in an area so isolated from London cannot possibly have the understanding nor the ability to meet our needs.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ Caroline agreed. ‘And we won’t be able to return here for fittings. Although, maybe the local ladies in Hertfordshire are in the habit of bringing dressmakers to their area on a regular basis.’ She shuddered. ‘Surely they must, because how else would they become aware of the latest fashions?’

  Louisa nodded, but the sisters decided that it would save much time and bother for them to simply have their new clothes made while they were still in town.

  That afternoon Charles suggested an evening at the theatre to celebrate his new estate. The play was the latest thing, filled with many long soliloquies and much swordplay, protestations of love and loyalty, and some small comedic bits that satirised the well-known among London politicians and nobility. It was also overly long, but that didn’t matter because everyone came to the theatre to observe who else was there, comment on their clothing and how ill they looked, and gossip about who had attended with whose wife, mistress, or husband. Long plays simply provided more time to see and be seen.

  Mr Darcy’s box was one of the better ones: close enough to the stage that one could watch the play but, more importantly, situated so it provided a good view into the other better boxes. Immediately across from her, Caroline saw Lady Amesbury, with her current favourite lover, the Duke of E—. Lady Amesbury! Her family was related to royalty, third, or possibly even second, cousins!

  With them was someone Caroline hadn’t seen before; a youngish man who wore a blue frock coat. Caroline trained her opera glasses on his person, noticing that both cut and fabric of the coat were of the highest quality. He had high cheekbones, a long aquiline nose, and a chin that, if it had only been a trifle shorter, would not have been out of place on a statue of a Greek god. She couldn’t quite make out the colour of his eyes, but they were well situated, not set too deep, and shadowed only faintly by a high brow and arresting slashes of black eyebrows that were suitably masculine without being too bristly. His hair, also the dark of midnight, was a trifle overly long, and she suspected that it brushed the high collar of his coat at the back of his neck, but many young men were seeing long hair as fashionably daring, and his was not wild or unkempt.

  As she watched, he leaned over to Lady Amesbury and spoke, tilting his head to indicate across the theatre at … Caroline. She immediately dropped her glasses into her lap, but kept her spine erect and her chin at its most elegant elevation. She tipped her head to the left, showing her best profile, and pretended to be listening to Charles and Mr Darcy discussing what Charles should do with Netherfield Park’s gardens, but she kept her eye on the young man, knowing that of course he was asking Lady Amesbury about the intriguing creature who was the personal friend of Mr Darcy of Pemberley.

  Lady Amesbury sent a sharp glance towards the Darcy box, and then nodded, clearly acquiescing to the young man’s request. They both stood and left their box.

  Caroline continued watching the Duke, now left alone, as he pulled out a voluminous handkerchief, mopped his forehead and then draped it over his face, leaning back to have a rest. On stage someone suddenly screeched and fell dramatically to the floor, but it caught Caroline’s attention only for a moment before she moved her interest to another box where a very young lady, her hand clutched by an equally young man, pretended to try to pull it away as he raised it to his lips.

  There came a polite cough from behind the curtain that closed off Mr Darcy’s box, and Caroline turned to see Lady Amesbury, followed by the young man. His eyes immediately went to her, and so she looked away, pretending intense interest in the play.

  ‘Stephen demanded an introduction,’ Lady Amesbury said in her distinctive husky voice.

  Caroline risked a glance back, and Lady Amesbury gave her a gracious smile, which surprised Caroline very much, as Lady Amesbury had never been very friendly.

  ‘Of course,’ Mr Darcy said to the request for an introduction. ‘I would be honoured.’

  ‘Mr Darcy,’ Lady Amesbury said, ‘may I present a recent but already dear, dear friend, Stephen Tryphon? Stephen, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.’

  Caroline, curious enough to no longer pretend a lack of interest, turned to see the two men bow, Mr Tryphon’s bow, as was correct, deeper and lasting longer than Mr Darcy’s. Mr Tryphon’s eyes then turned to Caroline. He was older than she’d first thought, about her own age or a little greater, and his eyes were green.

  ‘My friends,’ Mr Darcy said. ‘Charles Bingley and his sisters Mrs Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley. Mr Bingley’s brother-in-law, Mr Hurst.’

  Caroline didn’t rise, of course, but she did incline her head as Mr Tryphon made his bow to her.

  There was a momentary silence and then Charles asked the visitors how they were enjoying the play.

  ‘Very much,’ said Lady Amesbury, and entered into a discussion with Charles about the new settee and dining table she had recently acquired and how she hoped he and Mr Darcy would do her the honour of calling so they could admire them. Mr Tryphon took a step away from them and approached Caroline, pointing to the empty chair beside her. ‘May I?’ he asked.

  She nodded in a distant fashion, and he sat, twisting to face her.

  ‘I have seen you before,’ he said, and then apologised when she leaned back and raised her chin. ‘I didn’t mean to be so forward. I hope you can forgive me.’

  She lowered her chin a fraction and, encouraged, he continued. ‘It was at Lord C—’s soiree. We sat near each other during supper, and I wanted to ask you for the honour of a dance, but we hadn’t been introduced. When I recognised you tonight and learned that Lady Amesbury was acquainted with you and your party, I jumped at the chance of an introduction.’

  The man was simply too forward and eager for her taste, but something about his openness flattered her, and the green fire in his eyes promised that there was more beyond this boyish façade. She granted him a smile. ‘I am most embarrassed that I do not recall you, Mr Tryphon, but it is a pleasure to meet you now.’

  On stage, there was much clashing of metal and the pounding of feet on the wooden floor, as two young men in hose and tunics began to fence. Caroline let her eyes be drawn to the play and as she expected, Mr Tryphon immediately spoke to draw her attention back to him.

  ‘I can see that you appreciate the theatre, Miss Bingley. Do you also care for art?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, his voice warming. ‘A woman as accomplished as I can tell you are must be very talented at drawing and painting.’

  She lowered her eyes, feeling warm blood add a rosy glow to her cheeks. ‘You are too kind.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  She raised her eyes to his, and his smile caused her to blush again.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘you can be of assistance to me. Can you recommend a museum where I can see paintings of quality? I am but recently come to London, and do not know my way around. I do truly enjoy visiting scenes of great beauty.’

  His eyes were fastened on her face, dropping to linger on her lips before a slow smile grew on his mouth as he again gazed into her eyes. His intensity imbued his words with a rather shocking forwardness, but as the words themselves were innocent, she glanced back at the stage while mentioning one or two of her favourite museums.

  He thanked her, and then looked up as Lady Amesbury told him she wished to return to her box so as to enjoy the next act o
f the play. He stood, but then hesitated even as Lady Amesbury exited the box, clearly expecting him to follow.

  ‘Would you,’ he said to Caroline. ‘No, it is too much to ask.’

  ‘You can but ask,’ she said, smiling. ‘And I can but refuse your request. Surely that is too small a danger for you to fear?’

  He looked at her full on and laughed. ‘You are right. I could never be afraid of anything you might do or say. You are too good to wish harm on anyone.’

  Mr Darcy, Caroline noticed, sent a sharp glance at Mr Tryphon.

  ‘I was merely wondering,’ he said, ‘if you would be willing to show Lady Amesbury and myself around the Broughton museum tomorrow? Beauty is always best appreciated when one is in good company. Wouldn’t you agree? And I know no one else who would understand beauty as well as you.’

  She was shocked again, but something about his fervour intrigued her. She glanced at Mr Darcy. He was looking at the stage and not at her, but something in the set of his chin suggested he was listening to her conversation. Could he be jealous? She gave Mr Tryphon a smile much wider than she’d normally grant a man to whom she had so recently been introduced, and agreed to join him at the museum the following day.

  After he left the box, hurrying after Lady Amesbury, she sat in silence, heedless of the tragic death taking place on the stage. Had she been too forward in agreeing to spend the following afternoon in the company of this stranger? Since Lady Amesbury would accompany them, visiting the museum with him would be entirely proper. It offered great potential, too, since Caroline had as yet been unsuccessful in achieving acceptance in Lady Amesbury’s set, which often included members of the royal family who attended soirées and concerts given at her home.

  She’d agreed because she knew Mr Darcy did not want her to spend time in the company of other men. But if she was truly honest with herself, there was more to it. It was the young man. She knew she was acting most unlike herself, but doing something unexpected made everything around her different—the colours worn by those around her; her family’s murmured conversations; Mr Darcy’s deep voice from behind her. She drew in a deep breath and was suddenly overwhelmed with the joy of being alive.

  * * *

  The following day, when Caroline was driven in Mr Darcy’s carriage to the museum, she was accompanied by both of her siblings. Louisa had paid little attention, the previous evening, to the visitors, but now was curious to see this young man who had stirred Caroline’s interest, and Charles wanted to spend time with his sisters. Mr Hurst had preferred to remain in the house, and Mr Darcy had pleaded a previous engagement. Caroline suspected that it might be difficult for him to see her in the company of other men, and that was why he preferred not to join the party, but he was often engaged in his study with Pemberley’s steward or other important-looking gentlemen, and so he might have truly had a previous engagement.

  As the carriage arrived outside the museum and Matcher got down from his box to hand the ladies out, Caroline saw Lady Amesbury and Mr Tryphon sitting on a stone bench that graced the side of the small terrace at the museum’s entrance. Mr Tryphon stood to make his bow and Lady Amesbury graciously dropped her chin as Caroline and Louisa curtseyed.

  Mr Tryphon, Caroline noticed, was moving forward to walk at her side when Charles stepped between them, saying, ‘How good it is to see you again, Mr Tryphon. I hope you enjoyed the rest of the play last night?’ Charles spoke, as he so often did, in his loud jovial way, and Caroline knew it would be rude of Mr Tryphon to offer only a short reply. Mr Tryphon would be engaged for some time with her brother, discussing the play, others that Charles had seen, and then probably the conversation would move to shooting or dogs. Caroline tucked her arm through Louisa’s.

  ‘Charming day to view beauty of the sort to be found in this building,’ she said, making it clear, she hoped, that she had arrived here thinking only of art, and not of any particular person. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Amesbury?’

  ‘Any day is charming when spent in the company of art and beauty.’ Lady Amesbury rose from the bench, and moved to Caroline’s other side. ‘But you are correct, Miss Bingley; there is just the right amount of sunshine, not enough to coarsen one’s face, and the right amount of wind, not enough to blow off one’s bonnet.’

  Caroline smiled her appreciation of this witticism. Louisa had once remarked that witticisms were funnier the richer the person saying them. Mr Darcy had lifted his eyebrow at this, and wondered aloud if everything he said was witty. Louisa had been uncertain how to respond to this, but Caroline, understanding Mr Darcy as she did, had remarked that if he wished everything he said to be witty, she would make certain to laugh every time he spoke.

  Caroline’s smile widened now, remembering this, and she glanced at Lady Amesbury, hoping that lady did not take offence but, to her gratification, noted that the lady nodded approvingly at her.

  ‘I do,’ Lady Amesbury said, ‘so enjoy conversing with women of education and culture.’

  The ladies arrived at the imposing brass-studded double doors that led into the museum. Mr Tryphon took the opportunity to step away from Charles, Caroline noticed, so he could hold open the door for her. She ignored him and swept past, her head held high, her intriguing eyes flashing aside only once, to see if he was looking at her. He was, and so she instantly looked away and spoke to Lady Amesbury.

  ‘What would you most like to view first?’

  ‘How kind of you to inquire,’ the lady said. ‘But this visit is for Stephen’s edification. I’ve been here so many times I quite confess that I don’t need to view anything, because every item in the collection is stored in my memory. Stephen,’ she turned to him as he followed the ladies inside and let the door close behind himself and Charles. ‘What would delight you most at this moment? Paintings or sculpture?’

  He glanced at Caroline and she was sure she saw uncertainty in his eyes. Was he perhaps wondering what would most please her?

  ‘Any and all items of beauty will immeasurably improve me at this moment,’ he said. ‘I leave myself totally in your experienced hands.’

  Lady Amesbury smiled and turned to Caroline. ‘And what aspect of art do you most enjoy?’

  Caroline rarely visited a museum or gallery, and had not thought much about art since completing her education. She did paint, though, and thought of the pleasure she gained from using flowers as her subject. ‘I most delight in colour,’ she said. ‘The brighter the better. Although,’ thinking she perceived a slight frown on Lady Amesbury’s countenance, ‘any colour palette must blend with its surroundings and enhance the overall tone of the room in which it is displayed.’

  ‘Quite so,’ Lady Amesbury said. ‘Shall we begin, then, with the Dutch masters?’

  Everyone agreed Dutch paintings were the perfect beginning to an afternoon of culture, and they followed Lady Amesbury as she turned right and entered the first gallery.

  Some time later, Caroline wondered if she did indeed want to join Lady Amesbury’s set, if all her conversations were as dry as her discussion today of every single painting they saw. Mr Tryphon moved to stand beside her as she gazed at yet another seascape.

  ‘You must tell me what it is in this painting that so attracts you,’ he said. ‘I have much to learn and dare hope that you will share some of your vastly superior knowledge.’

  Caroline had been thinking that there was very little difference between one seascape and another, save, perhaps, the number of boats, but she turned to look at him, and said, ‘Of all things, I most enjoy the creations of those so much more talented than myself.’

  ‘You do paint, then?’ Mr Tryphon asked. ‘I am overwhelmed by your apparent bounty of talents.’

  Caroline couldn’t recall any other talents he would know about, but since she was very accomplished, she laughed and tapped him lightly on his arm. ‘You mustn’t flatter me so, sir, or I might begin to believe my accomplishments are greater than they deserve.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘
I am quite convinced your talents are very great indeed. Other than painting, what do you enjoy?’

  ‘Music,’ she answered. ‘A day is not complete unless I have my time at the pianoforte.’

  ‘Of course.’ He nodded. ‘I very much hope I might have the pleasure of forming an audience for you.’

  Uncertain if he meant he would like to be the sole member of an audience, which would be a most impolite suggestion, or form part of an audience, which was perfectly acceptable, she said something about often having the honour of playing during the little soirées Mr Darcy hosted at his house, and changed the subject. ‘And what of you, Mr Tryphon? What are your talents?’

  He stopped for a moment, gazing intently at a painting that portrayed a meadow with a small child, wearing a charming dress of yellow and white, intently studying a flower. ‘I dabble,’ he said at last. ‘There are so many fascinating endeavours that the modern gentleman can participate in. I find it difficult to settle on just one or two.’

  ‘I understand. Charles, too, has moved from passion to passion, although his current love of shooting and the dogs that accompany him has lasted rather longer than others.’ She moved on past the painting and he fell into step beside her.

  ‘You must have many opportunities to visit institutions such as this one,’ he said. ‘Do you often travel to the continent?’

  ‘Not at present,’ she said, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

  He seemed to perceive that he had overstepped his bounds. ‘Oh no, of course you wouldn’t venture out of the country now. England would not wish to risk one of its most beautiful roses.’

  Caroline’s head whirled. Conversing with this man was so unpredictable. She never knew if he would utter something outlandish or forward. And yet, tired as she was of viewing paintings, she was still engaged by his company. So many of town’s young men were very limited in their conversation; they’d speak of carriages and boot boys and tailors, and perhaps the latest scandal. Caroline accepted this, of course. Titled and wealthy young men were permitted their limitations, and the strictures of society affected them, too, although not as much as they did women. Mr Tryphon was not as polished as other wealthy young men, but he had not uttered anything that went beyond good taste, and she realised she was enjoying herself.