Miss Bingley Requests Page 4

  ‘Where did you say you and Miss Allen met, my dear?’ the countess continued, placing a possessive hand on her husband’s arm.

  ‘Oh,’ he mumbled, still not looking up, ‘I’m afraid I don’t recall.’

  ‘I’m indeed sorry to hear that,’ Miss Allen said, ‘for I recall every circumstance perfectly.’

  ‘Do you indeed?’ The countess turned an assessing gaze on the younger woman. ‘Pray do enlighten us. I’m afraid my lord is often forgetting events that he considers unimportant.’

  He looked up at that, sending a beseeching look at Miss Allen. A flicker of a smile played on her lips and she returned his gaze, before she spoke again to the countess.

  ‘Why, it was here, in this very room.’ She paused to survey the room, her eyes stopping for a moment with shock on Lady Amesbury. Recovering herself, Miss Allen pointed to a corner of the room that the chandelier’s light reached only weakly, so that the area was deeply shadowed. ‘Right there, in fact. I confess, my lord, I am quite puzzled that you don’t recall our first meeting. It appeared at the time to settle deeply on your consciousness. I trust you have not forgotten our other meetings?’ Her voice was light, but Caroline was certain she saw the man’s face grow pale.

  ‘Beg pardon,’ he said, stumbling over the words as he gave a jerky bow. ‘I will fetch us all some punch.’ He scuttled away, leaving the two women facing each other.

  Beside Caroline, Lady Amesbury gave a little sigh of satisfaction. Caroline watched as Miss Allen made a frosty curtsey to the countess, and the two women parted. As the countess passed by, though, Caroline saw that a red patch stood on each of her cheeks, and her eyes were unusually moist.

  Uncertain of what she had just witnessed, and why Lady Amesbury seemed so satisfied with the observed encounter, she turned to her two companions, but before she could say anything, a warm presence appeared beside her. ‘Miss Bingley,’ Mr Darcy said, ‘may I escort you to the supper room?’

  He did not acknowledge either Lady Amesbury or Mr Tryphon, other than with the briefest of nods. Surprised, Caroline dumbly took his offered arm and they walked away.

  Glancing up, she saw that Mr Darcy’s jaw was set and his brows were lowered darkly, shading his eyes. ‘I declare, Mr Darcy,’ she said, ‘you must be hungry indeed, to sweep me away so quickly from my companions.’

  He stopped at that, and turned to face her. ‘I trust, Miss Bingley, that they are not close nor constant companions.’

  Whatever can you mean? she wanted to ask, but something in his dark eyes and the haughty thrust of his chin kept her silent. They resumed walking and he led her into the supper room and to a place at the table where her brother and sister sat. Pulling out her chair, he waited until she was comfortably situated, then gave a sharp bow and departed.

  ‘What did you say to Mr Darcy?’ Louisa asked, leaning in close so that Charles, speaking to the gentleman on his other side, could not hear. ‘He seems most disapproving.’

  ‘Nothing.’ Caroline watched as he left the room. ‘Louisa, it was the strangest thing. He cut Lady Amesbury, I am certain. Spoke not a word, simply lowered his head in the briefest nod, and swept me away.’

  ‘Cut Lady Amesbury?’ Louisa studied her sister. ‘Why would he do such a thing? Especially since becoming a part of her set will enhance his political career?’

  ‘I know not. And I was having such a delightful time, conversing with the lady and—’ she paused for a moment, ‘and Mr Tryphon.’

  Louisa’s gaze became even more searching. ‘Caroline, is that colour I see on your countenance? Could it be that you are forming an attachment for that young man? Is that not unwise? After all, we know nothing of him. And what of Mr Darcy?’

  ‘Hush.’ Caroline turned partly away, as if searching the room, but in reality she wanted to hide from her sister’s searching eyes. Louisa knew her too well. ‘Of course I am not forming an attachment, especially not for a young man who has little to recommend him. Although, I would think that any association with a person so favoured by Lady Amesbury must be completely above board. She is discerning; she would not introduce me to anyone whose background was questionable.’

  ‘I agree.’ Louisa nodded, setting the ringlets that hung over her forehead dancing. ‘Forgive me. I should not have slighted Mr Tryphon. I simply wished to—’

  ‘My friendship with Mr Darcy is unchanged,’ Caroline said, now searching the room for his imposing figure and not finding it. Then, remembering the way Mr Tryphon and Lady Amesbury spoke to each other, a small flame of daring ignited in her breast. ‘But if Mr Tryphon’s attentions should come to Mr Darcy’s notice …’

  Louisa brought her hand in front of her mouth to hide the surprised ‘o’ her lips formed, and then something of Caroline’s daring leapt to her. ‘I do understand. Sometimes, in order to make a horse run his fastest, it is necessary that there be another horse he intends to outrun.’

  Caroline laughed. Louisa, after a moment, joined in. Their brother turned away from the person he’d been conversing with and demanded to know what had so caught their fancy. Caroline and Louisa could not answer, of course, and to their surprised brother’s further confusion, laughed even harder.

  * * *

  According to Charles, the removal to Netherfield Park went delightfully smoothly. According to Caroline, it was a nightmare. Even though all the furniture, clothing, and other necessities that had to be purchased in London had already been taken to the estate, there were still countless details that someone had to take care of. The someone, of course, was Caroline.

  Louisa’s favourite nightdress had gone missing. The cook’s spice chest was too large to fit in the trunk assigned to it. Charles’ valet had mislaid the only shaving razor that his master was willing to submit to. And on and on it went, one calamity after another, until Caroline was ready to give up on the estate and spend all of her future life right here, in Mr Darcy’s townhouse. Here, where everything unfolded exactly according to schedule, where footsteps were always measured and voices never raised; where no one expected her, Caroline, to solve all the ills of the world.

  The day though, passed through its requisite number of hours, as days always did, and by the end of it, Caroline and Louisa, in Mr Hurst’s carriage, beheld for the first time the family’s new home. The sun hovered on the horizon, a necklace of clouds below its chin, leaving just enough light to warm the tan bricks of Netherfield Park. Windows glinted as the sun set, and then glowed with inner light as the servants within lit candles to prepare for the family’s arrival. The grand stairways that swept up from the drive on either side of the double-doored entrance shone white, the marble gleaming from frequent scrubbing. As the carriage wheels crunched on gravel that appeared to be properly raked, Caroline, despite her fatigue, felt her heart lift.

  The actual arrival passed in a merciful blur of servants’ faces, the bumping of trunks unloaded and carried on footmen’s backs up the even whiter staircase that led off the grand entry hall, and the chatter of excited voices as Charles, his sisters, Mr Hurst, and Mr Darcy milled about, while orders were given by the housekeeper, and white-capped maids assisted with the removal of outer wear and offered tea and biscuits to tide the weary travellers over until dinner.

  Caroline tried to observe it all, to learn if, amid the chaos, the staff were performing their duties to the standard on which she insisted, but all she truly wanted was to be shown to her room where she could unlace her boots and sink into a soft warm bed.

  When at last she was escorted to the rooms that were to be hers, Genney had already prepared a soothing bath for her mistress. By the time Caroline emerged, swathed in her own thick bathrobe, Genney had arranged all her toiletries on the dressing table, unpacked the last of her clothes, and was waiting to assist her into her gown for dinner. Revitalised by the bath and her maid’s attentions, Caroline checked her appearance in the dressing table’s large mirror. She looked, she thought, exactly as the mistress of a country estate ought to look, regal, co
mposed, and yet open to the new experiences that could be found in the country: picnics in a gazebo pleasantly situated in a rustic bower, carriage rides to explore the countryside, and, of course, greeting one’s guests as they arrived for a ball. The neighbours would be fashionable and charming, sophisticated and yet not quite so sophisticated that they wouldn’t gaze about with envy and exclaim about the taste and fashion sense demonstrated by the owners of the house, knowing this spoke volumes about the superior aspects of the family so newly arrived in the area.

  Her head filled with visions of the people she would meet, Caroline left her rooms, ready for her new life to begin.

  * * *

  There was not time until the second day after they’d arrived for Caroline to arrange for the carriage to drive herself, Louisa, and Mr Hurst around Netherfield’s grounds and into the surrounding countryside. The park was beautiful; there were a couple of lovely vistas, and one very charming gazebo. The new staff were actually performing their duties adequately, and the food served in the breakfast room and in the dining parlour was more than adequate, so it wasn’t until the carriage rattled into Meryton, the closest town, that the first tingles of concern skittered across Caroline’s consciousness.

  The town was small. And dirty. There were pigs being driven across the main street, squealing and grunting, while all traffic had to pause and wait as the swineherd, a ratty-looking child, called to the animals and laid his staff across the rumps of the slower among his charges.

  Louisa clutched a handkerchief in front of her face. ‘That smell! I am hardly able to breathe.’

  Caroline, who’d closed the curtains so as not to be splashed by the mud thrown up by vehicles passing the carriage, opened it a twitch to look outside. ‘They are nearly past. Surely this cannot be a regular occurrence here? I don’t understand why livestock are permitted in this section of town.’

  ‘I think,’ said Mr Hurst, ‘this is the only section of town.’ He closed his eyes and slid down in his seat, as if hoping to avoid seeing anything of what was outside the security of the carriage.

  ‘That swineherd,’ said Louisa, ‘such a filthy person. I declare, I can hardly distinguish him from his charges.’ The mischievous smile that Caroline loved broke out on her face.

  Caroline laughed. ‘It’s a good thing he is slightly less pink than his charges, or no one would know which grunting thing was him and which was a pig.’

  ‘They’re not pink,’ Mr Hurst complained. ‘With all the mud covering them, the pigs are brown and grey.’

  What, Caroline wondered, will Lady Amesbury and Mr Tryphon think of this place? Caroline had enjoyed another two visits, in town, with them, before the necessity of last-minute packing made her regretfully refuse all invitations. They’d gone to the theatre one evening, for a play much bawdier than Caroline had ever imagined, but when she saw the others in the boxes, lords and ladies with their paramours, she’d laughed as loudly as any of them at the antics on the stage. Mr Tryphon had sat beside her, close enough for the warmth of his body to reach the bare skin on her upper arms. She’d become more aware of him as the play progressed, the moments when he’d catch his breath before respiring regularly again, the dark wave of his hair and the reddish glints it held in the candlelight, his straight nose, and the times he glanced at her. She’d quickly looked away, but somehow she was still aware of his person, and knew without seeing that he smiled, or looked questioningly at her to see if she was fully enjoying herself. His solicitude pleased her.

  Later he’d handed her down from Lady Amesbury’s carriage, arriving at her side before the coachman had a chance to descend from his box. He walked her to the door of Mr Darcy’s house, waving away the footman who’d come outside to escort her in. He took her hand in his as they reached the door and, without lowering his eyes from hers, he bowed low and brought it to his lips. A shiver passed through her; his eyes so intensely holding hers, his lips warm, even through the material of her glove. He straightened, gave her hand a little squeeze, and seemed about to speak, but the footman, still standing impassively by the open door, cleared his throat. Mr Tryphon bowed again and left, returning to the carriage, which moved smoothly away. Caroline looked after it before passing through the door, wondering if for a moment, she’d experienced a shortness of breath and a pain in the chest.

  I do hope I’m not catching a cold, she thought, but somehow the sensations were different from when she was ill. Still, she took a hot water bottle to bed that night.

  After an eternity, the pigs and the smell moved away and the carriage once again began to move. Caroline risked another glimpse outside and what she perceived made her eyes widen. ‘Louisa, you must look and come to my aid. I cannot see a single shop it would be worth our time to enter. Please tell me I am mistaken.’ But no, another glance showed her the same shabby row of shops, their windows grimy, their wares displayed with no eye for a pleasing arrangement.

  Louisa opened her curtain and spent a careful time perusing the row of shops. ‘Look! Is that a milliner’s? The lace is hanging in full sun and has faded as a result.’

  ‘I thought so.’ Caroline shuddered.

  Louisa shut her curtain with a decisive tug. ‘This is dreadful. Whatever can Charles have been thinking?’

  When the carriage returned to the house, Louisa wasted no time in asking that very question. Charles was sitting in his study, with Darcy and a man holding a wide-brimmed hat in his hands who was introduced as Dawkins, the steward. Louisa ignored the man, and placed both her hands on the desk across from where her brother sat. ‘Charles, this is insupportable. There is not a single dressmaker whose establishment I would even notice, never mind enter.’

  Charles ignored her, listening as Darcy finished speaking to the steward, before turning to face her. ‘You had no intention of having any clothing made here. I distinctly remember you saying you’d use only your town woman if you discovered you needed anything more.’

  ‘And what has that to do with anything?’ Louisa demanded.

  Charles and Darcy exchanged a glance before Charles turned back to face his irate sister. Seeing Darcy frown, Caroline stepped smoothly in. ‘Louisa, it will be fine. The house is lovely, and the grounds are charming. We all knew that moving to the country would require some adaptations on our part.’ Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Darcy give her a somewhat surprised but approving nod. Caroline put her arm around Louisa’s shoulders. ‘Come, we must allow the gentlemen to proceed with their business. And Louisa, I truly need your assistance as I unpack my objets d’art. Only your discerning eye can observe if I am setting them out in the most pleasing arrangement.’

  Louisa smoothed her face, no doubt remembering that unpleasant emotions went along with unpleasant lines upon one’s countenance. Smiling bravely, she allowed her sister to escort her from the room.

  * * *

  The callers, of course, wasted little time before presenting themselves at Netherfield Park. Sir William Lucas was the first to be received. He was a pleasant enough man, Caroline supposed, but his conversation was certainly nothing out of the ordinary, not what she would have expected from the premier man of the district. He spoke about the shooting, which Charles was happy to discuss, and then Caroline heard a word, as she was pouring another cup of tea, which made her pay attention.

  ‘A dance,’ Sir William said. ‘Oh, nothing fancy, but our assemblies are very pleasant all the same. May I hope that you will all honour us with your presence?’ His homely face, with its bulbous nose and heavy jowls, lit up with a smile.

  At least, Caroline thought, he used the correct word. It would be an honour for this community for the Bingleys and Mr Darcy to attend any of its little entertainments. Although, perhaps she might dare hope that some of the other callers would prove to be more diverting company.

  Sir William departed, with an invitation from Charles to return in the future with his family. He apparently had a wife and a couple of daughters still at home. Before he left, though, he in
quired whether Mr Bingley had yet had the pleasure of meeting Mr Bennet. When answered with a negative, Sir William clasped his hands together and said, ‘Oh, you will so enjoy the Bennet family. I am certain he will call very soon. He is a most well-read man,’ and the man looked at Darcy who, appearing startled to be addressed, nodded. Caroline had noticed that Mr Darcy seemed to find this visitor as dull as she did, for he’d spent most of the time staring into the fire or out of the window.

  Sir William then bowed to Caroline and Louisa. ‘And the Bennet daughters, five of them all told.’ He chuckled. ‘The elder two are delightful, and will be good friends for you ladies; and the younger, so energetic and with all the good humour of youth. I just know you will all get along capitally.’

  He beamed at them all, his jowls shaking, and finally, mercifully, departed.

  Mr Bennet appeared the next day. By then Caroline, after her drive into Meryton, and a visit to the milliner’s there to find lace to repair a bonnet, was beginning to realise that her images of people of accomplishment in the area were most likely flawed. She’d held on to hope, though, with the Bennet family. The other callers had sung their praises, of the two eldest daughters in particular, but they also mentioned Mr Bennet as one of the most well-read and witty in the whole county.

  When this paragon finally made his appearance, the Bingleys, Hursts, and Mr Darcy happened to be sitting by the fire in the largest parlour, the one that faced north. Louisa had set up an easel, claiming that with the light so perfect, how could she do anything but paint? Caroline stood at her side, to offer encouragement and note areas worthy of improvement.

  ‘Mr Bennet, of Longbourn,’ Stevens, the cadaverous butler, announced. Both Louisa and Caroline stepped out from behind the easel, to better view this new arrival.

  He was a small man, fine-boned, with a full head of white hair and a wispy beard, definitely not in fashion this year, clinging precariously to his pointed chin.