Miss Bingley Requests Read online

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  During the weeks since the family had arrived at Netherfield Park, Charles and the gardeners had made many improvements to the gardens. Now, as Caroline and Mr Tryphon strolled over the manicured grass and along the paths that wound between topiary cut to the shapes of birds, she was proud to show them to him.

  ‘The flowers are particularly lovely,’ he said, ‘and I am very much enjoying their placement and the array of colours. May I presume that this represents your good taste and eye for beauty?’

  Caroline had had nothing to do with the gardens, not caring about the outdoors very much unless it offered an opportunity, as it did in town, to see and be seen. Lowering her eyes modestly, she murmured, ‘You are too kind.’

  He stopped at that and put a finger beneath her chin, raising her face until he could see her full on. His finger was warm and gentle and his countenance, as he gazed at her, held a sort of hidden joy that was unexpected. Not removing his finger, his eyes turning serious, he said, ‘I am not too kind. I can never be kind enough to one who is as generous as you have been to this young person so newly arrived in London.’

  Caroline knew not what to say, and she was unable to tear her eyes from his. ‘Please,’ she whispered, and was uncertain if she wished him to stop touching her and saying such things, or if she wanted to hear more.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he said, his finger rising to trace the curve of her cheek. ‘And so very elegant and accomplished. How can I not take the time and search for the words to tell you how I feel?’

  ‘How you feel?’ she asked, a flame of panic rising in her chest. She stepped back so that his hand fell to his side, and even though her cheek felt suddenly cold without his touch, she turned and pointed to the first thing she saw. ‘Charles ordered that bird bath especially from Hinton and Sons which is the finest emporium of monuments and statuary in the country. Observe how the carvings beneath the basin show the fine detail of the vines and flowers.’

  Mr Tryphon still looked at her, she noticed, and not at the bird bath, lovely though it was. He had a slight smile on his lips, as if he understood exactly what was on her mind and was enjoying her confusion. It was a gentle smile though, not malicious in any way. I understand, it seemed to say, but I stand by my words and soon you will recognise how ardently I mean them. Her breath caught in her throat and the garden was suddenly very still, no birds singing, no rustle of wind on leaf.

  Mustering all her willpower, more confused than ever, she walked on at her usual pace, unheeding of if he followed her or not.

  He did, of course, and maybe she had imagined all that had just happened. He strode beside her, slowing his steps to match hers, and made only inconsequential comments about the shrubbery and the view from her favourite gazebo. When they returned to the house, though, and he took his leave, he held her hand for a moment, and then bent low over it. His eyes, when he rose and released her, held such warmth, such hope, such fire, that she was flustered once again, and she hurried away into the house without expressing her polite gratitude for his company during the walk.

  * * *

  ‘A dinner at Lucas Lodge,’ Louisa intoned. ‘Of all things, it is what I most despise.’

  ‘You say that no matter where we are to dine in Meryton,’ Caroline said, but as she was very much in agreement with her sister’s opinion of Lucas Lodge and its inhabitants, although it was not as bad as the Phillips’ home, she reached over and clasped Louisa’s hand, where it dangled down the side of her wing-backed chair.

  Mr Hurst apparently agreed, also, for he lifted his head from its recumbent position on the back of the settee, and nodded, before again lying back.

  Charles and Mr Darcy entered the room, the former rubbing his hands together briskly. ‘Are we all set?’ Charles asked. ‘I just know this will be a most delightful evening.’

  Caroline lifted her eyes just enough to look at him, unable to find the energy to refute his assertion. There was no sense in saying anything to her brother that implied she, or any of the others, was not expecting a delightful experience. Charles would simply list all the reasons he was correct, or pretend he had not heard her.

  But surely he had winced at one point during Miss Mary Bennet’s performance at the pianoforte during the last visit to the Lucases? Had he not noticed the spectacle the younger Bennet sisters had made of themselves, dancing during that same visit? And how could he have not been discomfited when the family had dined with the Longs, and the conversation had turned to the benefits of raising goats?

  Unable to repress a shudder, Caroline remembered a discussion, during a call from Mrs Bennet’s sister, Mrs Phillips, about her disdain for long sleeves, clearly unaware that they had been all the rage in London.

  Lady Amesbury and Mr Tryphon had not yet come downstairs, and Caroline thought that maybe it would be best to convince them to plead headaches so they could avoid the impending visit. She heard the sound of their steps in the hall, though, and unable to come up with a reason why they should avoid the evening’s entertainment without putting herself in a bad light for having accepted the invitation, roused herself enough to stand up.

  The family party moved into the front hall, where Caroline permitted her maid to wrap a shawl about her. Lady Amesbury moved to take Mr Darcy’s arm, leaving Caroline to take Mr Tryphon’s. Caroline was a trifle surprised that the lady had shown such preference for Mr Darcy, since he gave her no indication he welcomed her presence, but as Mr Tryphon was always ready to give his arm to her, she decided that Lady Amesbury must be assisting her in making Mr Darcy jealous.

  There were several carriages already standing empty on Lucas Lodge’s white stone drive, their coachmen huddling together around a fire inside a barrel.

  The Lodge was full of light and sound when she entered and handed her wrap to the waiting maid. Candles and lamps glowed throughout the front hall and around the large rooms the Lucases used for entertaining. Voices rose and fell, laughter bubbled, the noise loud enough to grate on her ears. Sir William approached, his lady on his arm, his bloodhound face split wide with his customary smile.

  ‘Welcome, you are most welcome indeed.’ He bowed to the ladies. ‘And come in good time.’ He rubbed his hands together and bobbed on his heels, a habit of his that always made Caroline think of a pigeon that walked towards one, hoping for a dropped crumb. Lady Lucas smiled at Caroline and Louisa and made her curtsey, which they returned. Lady Amesbury and Mr Tryphon moved towards the pianoforte, which Sir William wanted to show them.

  Once the pleasantries and introductions were completed, everyone was free to do whatever and go wherever they pleased. The problem, Caroline thought, smiling at Mrs Long as she passed by, was that there was nothing anyone wanted to do and nowhere anyone wanted to go. Except, of course, for Charles, who crossed the room to where Miss Bennet stood with her mother. Caroline watched him go, and then searched for Mr Darcy, to encourage him in his observations of her brother.

  He was nowhere close to Charles. Looking about the crowded room, she finally spotted him hovering near the drinks table. Moving closer to him, smiling distantly at those who approached her but not stopping, she assumed he’d sought fortification before he moved to where Charles and Miss Bennet stood. Mrs Bennet had relieved them of her presence, for she was on the other side of the room, laughing at something her youngest daughter said.

  As she neared Mr Darcy, Caroline observed that while he held a glass of punch in his hand, his attention was not on it or on Charles and Miss Bennet. Instead, she was astounded to see, he was gazing at Miss Elizabeth, who conversed with Colonel Forster, the highest-ranking officer of the militia company, recently stationed near by.

  Whatever could Darcy be thinking, she wondered, but then realised what he was up to. He was listening to Elizabeth so he could recount some foolish thing she’d said, to entertain Caroline and the others after they returned to Netherfield Park.

  Colonel Forster bowed to Miss Elizabeth and moved to speak to some of his men. The soldiers ad
ded a festive air to the room, in their red coats and white breeches. Several of them, Caroline noticed, were clustered around Mrs Bennet and her two youngest.

  Miss Elizabeth’s friend, one of the Miss Lucases, joined her friend, who looked over her shoulder at Mr Darcy, and then with a sly smile, asked her friend, ‘What does Mr Darcy mean, by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?’

  Miss Lucas glanced at Mr Darcy, but at least tried to be circumspect about it. ‘That is a question which Mr Darcy only can answer.’

  Miss Elizabeth, oh, the impudence, turned to face Mr Darcy full on. He, for some unfathomable reason, did not turn on his heel and stalk away.

  Miss Elizabeth turned her back on him, and said to Miss Lucas, ‘But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about.’

  More curious than ever, Caroline moved to the side to where she had a view of Mr Darcy’s profile.

  ‘He has a very satirical eye,’ Miss Elizabeth continued, ‘and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall grow afraid of him.’

  Caroline stifled a gasp. How dare that chit speak so of Mr Darcy? Had she no sense of what was owed to one of his rank? Glancing at him, expecting to see his brow lowered, she gasped again, this time unable to keep quiet. He was looking at Miss Elizabeth full on, and he was smiling!

  On hearing her gasp, though, he turned away from the two and moved to Caroline’s side. ‘Are you quite well, Miss Bingley?’

  ‘I know not,’ she said, ‘but I must ask the same question of you. How is it that you stand by when one such as she speaks of you with such lack of respect?’

  His eyes moved again to Miss Elizabeth, who with Miss Lucas had moved some little distance further and was speaking to a couple of the red-coated officers. ‘I am quite well,’ he said.

  Convinced now that Mr Darcy was suffering from some dreadful ailment, Caroline coaxed him into bringing them both a glass of punch by pretending to feel a little faint. He absently handed her the glass he’d obtained earlier, but she insisted she needed a fresh drink. He then led her to a chair, gazing at her in concern, and stood beside her as she sipped. It was dreadful, much too sweet. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for your kind attentions. Oh, how I long for the entertainments of town. Do you not also, Mr Darcy?’

  Mr Tryphon, whom she’d quite forgotten about because she was so taken with observing Mr Darcy observe Miss Elizabeth when he was supposed to be observing Charles and Miss Bennet, appeared and took the chair beside Caroline.

  ‘I saw that you looked a trifle pale,’ Mr Tryphon said. ‘Even though I knew Mr Darcy would take good care of you, I had to approach to ensure that all is well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Caroline said. ‘I was a little dizzy, no doubt from the closeness of the room. So many people in such a small space. Is it not unfortunate that the Lucases think they can entertain everyone in Meryton all at once?’

  Mr Tryphon nodded and smiled at her witticism. Mr Darcy, though, said, ‘I am much relieved to see that you are recovered, Miss Bingley.’ He bowed and moved away. She stood, needing to ascertain if he was finally going to check on Charles. Instead, with a growing sense of unreality, she saw him move towards Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas.

  Ignoring Mr Tryphon, who protested, ‘I am certain, Miss Bingley, that it would be much better if you sat a while longer,’ she followed Mr Darcy.

  She arrived just in time to hear Miss Lucas say to her friend, ‘Here he is again. Why do you not ask him yourself?’ She smiled and took Miss Elizabeth’s hand in her own. ‘Or, are you now afraid?’

  Miss Elizabeth’s eyes danced with mischief, something better suited to a person much younger than she. Really, Caroline thought, is there no end to the lack of manners one person can display?

  Apparently there was not, for Miss Elizabeth turned to Mr Darcy and, with utmost seriousness, asked, ‘Did you not think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?’

  He regarded her for a moment, and then replied, ‘With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.’

  She nodded, almost as if showing respect, but said, ‘You are severe on us.’

  ‘It will be her turn soon to be teased,’ said Miss Lucas to Mr Darcy.

  Caroline’s dizziness became real. Both these girls dared to speak so to him? And he, smiling, seemingly enjoying the conversation?

  ‘I am going to open the instrument, Eliza,’ Miss Lucas continued, ‘and you know what follows.’

  ‘You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody!’ Miss Elizabeth playfully tapped Miss Lucas on the arm. ‘If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.’

  At least, thought Caroline, she has that much sense in her head.

  Miss Lucas continued to entreat her friend, and at length Miss Elizabeth gave in, perhaps because Mr Darcy gazed at her with what appeared to be encouragement.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘if it must be so, it must.’

  They made their way to the pianoforte that stood in one corner, and others in the room, observing them, made pleased-sounding noises and moved to take seats from which they could observe the instrument and she who played it.

  Caroline stood quite unmoving, unable to stir, until she felt a warm arm about her waist and blinked before recognizing Lady Amesbury. Mr Tryphon stood at a little distance, clearly distressed.

  ‘You over-exert yourself, Miss Bingley,’ he said, his voice filled with concern. ‘Please allow me to escort you to a seat and bring you some refreshments.’

  Caroline turned to face him. She’d thought of him often since their walk together in Netherfield Park’s gardens, in fact, she sometimes found it difficult not to think of him. She could not understand why this would be. Why would she spend even a moment thinking of any man other than Mr Darcy? After all, he was the man she would wed. While she always thought about Mr Darcy when she was with him, somehow, when she was elsewhere, there were so many other things to fill her mind. It was the result of being an educated and accomplished woman, no doubt, but she felt a trifle guilty, as if she’d somehow done wrong to Mr Darcy, and resolved to do better in the future.

  Now, though, she looked at Mr Tryphon, at his handsome face, not as handsome as Mr Darcy’s, of course, but very pleasant all the same. The concern for her in his eyes, and the slight smile that formed on his lips when he saw that she looked at him; surely those were good reasons why, at times, he was in her mind? It would be rude, after all, to treat him as if he did not exist.

  So, for his sake, she smiled and protested that she felt in the best of health. ‘If I looked distressed at all, it was on Mr Darcy’s behalf,’ she said. ‘He suffers so greatly from having to show himself among people such as those present.’

  ‘He suffers?’ Lady Amesbury said, with such surprise in her voice that Caroline hastened to defend him.

  ‘Of course. He is unaccustomed to moving among circles that are so decidedly beneath him. Making conversation with one such as Lady Lucas or, heaven forbid, Mrs Bennet, causes him great grief.’

  ‘I am astonished,’ Lady Amesbury said. ‘I would have thought that any one with a cultured mind would find great amusement at such a gathering. Am I not right, Stephen?’

  He nodded. ‘It has indeed been a most interesting evening so far.’

  ‘Now it is I who is astonished,’ Caroline said. ‘Pray, enlighten me on the amusements to be found.’

  ‘Oh, where to begin?’ Lady Amesbury laughed and looked about the room. ‘There, that woman, the one in the hideous yellow gown. Does not the sight of her make you laugh? And the conversations! Two ladies were speaking of whether or not to buy a shoat, a baby pig, of all things! Why would anyone even consider bringing such a dirty, smelly thin
g anywhere near their property? A gentleman and a lady wondered whether they should continue to instruct their daughter in music, or engage a tutor. I can’t imagine anyone who has the time to spend instructing their offspring. And the wiles used by one young woman in particular. How she’d smile, so coyly, and flutter her lashes, and come close enough to several of the young men of the militia so that they moved closer in hopes of encountering the warmth of her touch. And how she’d move away, just before allowing this, and look at the unfortunate men, and laugh so gaily as if together they had just shared the greatest joke in the world. Poor young men, they had not the least chance of resisting her. Why, I could learn a thing or two about flirting from her, and I have been married more than once, so clearly I am well versed in that particular art.’ She laughed again at the memories, and then put a hand on Caroline’s arm. ‘But tell me of this Mrs Bennet and her daughters. I have heard much about them, but have yet to be introduced.’

  ‘You have encountered at least one,’ Caroline said dryly. ‘The youngest, Miss Lydia. And no doubt her sister, Miss Kitty, was not far away. They are attracted to anything in a red coat as a moth is to a flame.’

  ‘Without the risk of becoming burned, no doubt,’ Mr Tryphon said. ‘Unlike what might befall those poor young men.’

  ‘Do you,’ Caroline asked, ‘dislike flirting, Mr Tryphon?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said hastily. ‘It is useful in encouraging a certain sort of interaction between men and women.’ He smiled, and assumed a scholarly air, ticking off his points as if on a blackboard. ‘It enables a young woman to show a young man that she is interested in him in ways that do not overstep the bounds of propriety. It provides amusement, both for those engaged in it and for those who observe. It is one of the social arts, and as such is worthy of study.’ He paused, and his face became serious, as if his thoughts had suddenly turned dark. ‘However, there is an inherent risk, one that is more likely to strike down the young man.’

  Caroline didn’t like seeing him appear sombre, and so endeavoured to bring back his former, lighter mood. ‘And what risk might that be? Do tell me, I am all ears.’