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Posted on Tuesday, 11 March 2008
The evening following the night at the theatre, Charles arrived at Boodle's around the dinner hour. It was too early to arrive at Almack's, and since his post-Christmas return to London, he had developed the habit of dining at the club several times a week. It gave him not only the social interaction he craved, but also minimized the social engagements his sister foisted upon him.
Despite his determination to find a wife, or perhaps more accurately, a replacement for a certain Miss Bennet, he found his sister's attempts at throwing her friends in his way annoying, and in some cases, downright repulsive. Some of them could be called pretty, and they were all considered accomplished and well dowered. However, they were also simpering and snivelling. Worse, most of them were only interested in his friendship with Darcy, and if he was lucky, his five thousand a year. After dinner the previous week with Miss Turner, with whom he spent the better half of the evening detailing the grandeur Pemberley or comparing Netherfield to it, he decided it was best to find his wife on his own. Thus, after dinner, he would head to Almack's
He wandered the halls looking for entertainment or a dinner partner. Either would do at the moment. He made his way up to the second floor, where the intellectuals could usually be found discussing philosophy or the merits of the most recent act under debate in Parliament. He breezed through these rooms, pausing occasionally to listen to a particularly eloquent diatribe, and then moved on. He, himself, considered few of these people his friends. In truth, his only purpose for venturing through these rooms was in hopes of happening upon Darcy. He hated the fact that his friendship had been transformed into a series of chance meetings. Nonetheless, he would not, could not, risk meeting Miss Bennet. Seeing her at the theatre made him realize he was still very much attracted to her; but she had moved on, and so must he. Until she was firmly out of his mind and heart, or London, he would avoid Arryndale House.
Having not found Darcy, he made his way to the chess room -- the other room his friend visited with some regularity. Here he found two older members engaged in an intense game with several others huddled around exchanging whispered commentary. He stopped by to examine the board. From his cursory glance, he could not say with any certainty the outcome; based solely on the number of missing white pieces though, black had the advantage. A more careful study, however, revealed that unlike the white queen, the black queen had already been captured. Not seeing a clear winner, and not wishing to demonstrate his lack of skill for the game, he quietly stepped away and headed to the card room.
The card room was where he been spending most of his days. Here, he could fairly reliably meet up with an acquaintance, share a bottle of wine and dinner, play a few hands, and then head home or to Almack's.
He felt lucky. Tonight I shall meet the future Mrs. Bingley, he thought confidently. And why not? It was on an evening such as tonight that he had met the beautiful Miss Crandall. She was a lady who, except for the minor scandal revolving around her brother's marriage last year, was promising.
Before he could think about offering for her though, he needed to wait for the scandal to pass and see how she was received. In the meantime, the Little Season was upon them, and there was no harm in having a backup plan.
As expected, it took Bingley only a few minutes in the card room before finding an acquaintance. "Duncan!" Bingley exclaimed, greeting his friend. "It has been a while. What brings you to London so early in the year?"
Duncan looked up from his game and returned the greeting. "Bing! Good heavens, man, you look almost respectable!" The others at the game looked up at the newcomer as Duncan performed introductions. "You remember Greisen..." He was interrupted by another player who, based on his ill humour, was losing. "If you wish to gossip like a couple of hens, at least wait until the game is over," the man bit out.
Bingley shrugged and took up a seat, watching the game with indifference. When it finally came to its conclusion, Duncan and Greisen collected on their notes and joined Bingley. After exchanging greetings once again, Greisen suggested heading over to Watier's. "I am having a run of luck tonight and intend to have it pay off handsomely!"
Bingley hesitated. He had not been to Watier's since his second year at Cambridge, and for good reason. He was horrible at gambling, and Watier's tables always played high. His friends for that evening, however, were determined he accompany them.
"Bingley," Greisen said. "I do believe you have become too Puritan for your own good. We must change that tonight."
His comment earned a cackle from Duncan. "He has been hanging out with that Darcy fellow too long." With a light hearted chuckle at Bingley's bristle, he added, "Do not get me wrong, Darcy is an upstanding gentleman, but too uptight. Needs to have a little fun now and then."
"Perhaps that country miss of his will change that," Greisen retorted lasciviously. "I hear she is well endowed," he added with a waggle of the brow.
"You know the man Bing, pray, is it true what they are saying about him and his betrothed?" Duncan asked conspiratorially. "I heard the reason for the marriage is he compromised her."
It was one thing to call Darcy uptight -- for that was truth; it was quite another to besmirch his name. "He did no such thing. Darcy is an honourable gentleman," Bingley replied.
Greisen snorted at the emphatic defence. "Come, Bingley. You do not really expect us to believe that. The man could have any debutante in London, and he settles for an unknown country chit with no dowry?"
He did not want to sour the good mood, but Bingley was uncomfortable over the direction of the conversation. He still considered Darcy a friend, regardless of the current cooling. In the end, he decided there was little harm in having a little sport at Darcy's expense. He placed his hand over his heart dramatically. "I swear he did not compromise her; though I dare not vouch for his sanity." The men each let out a howl, encouraging Bingley further. "She comes from the most wretched of families; five daughters with the worst matchmaking mama." When he saw his companions visibly grimace, he added, "She had me married to one of her daughters almost the moment I stepped into Hertfordshire; but I saw through it all," he declared proudly.
Duncan held out his arms, stopping the progression of the other two. He removed his beaver and placed it solemnly over his heart. "A moment of silence for our fallen comrade, the illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire." The other two followed suit, though Bingley hesitated for a moment. He did not like them speaking so ill of his friend, but reasoned it was all in jest. A moment later, they took up the pace again, poking fun at the other gentlemen that had been married the previous year, and those whose engagements had already been announced.
The three entered Watier's, and Bingley took a slow look around. It had not changed since his last visit. The air was stale and filled with scent of cigar smoke, food, and liquor. Loud rackets erupted from tables intermittently, as men won and lost. Servants wandered from table to table with trays laden with liquor.
The three found a table and settled down to a hearty meal before testing their luck at the tables.
"What have you been up to, Bing?" Duncan asked after they had ordered dinner. "I heard something about you purchasing an estate."
Bingley nodded forcefully. After washing down his food with a large gulp of wine, he replied, "Yes, I am about to enter the hallowed ranks of the landed gentry. I leased one, the one in Hertfordshire, but did not find it to my liking."
"Then I shall speak with my solicitor on your behalf; he always has an inside avenue on estates nearby. He just recommended an estate in Berkshire to an acquaintance," Duncan offered.
Bingley thanked him for his offer, but declined, stating he was content with his current solicitor. Conversation then moved towards other topics and finally settled on the upcoming season. Greisen and Duncan rattled off the name of each debutante making her debut this season, and listed the merits, or lack thereof, of each one in lurid detail. Bingley listened with unfeigned interest, mentally making note of any that sounded promising.
"What of your sister, Bing?" Duncan asked. "She must be in her what, third season now?"
"I believe it is her fourth." Bingley shook his head in dismay. "She has had her cap set on Darcy for years. Hopefully, now that he is engaged, she will look elsewhere." He gave the other two gentlemen a sly look. "She has a handsome dowry, and runs a most efficient house," he added suggestively, causing both Duncan and Greisen to chuckle heartily.
"It will take more than her dowry to put a shackle on this ankle," Greisen chortled. "No offence, Bingley, but your sister is a bit of shrew, and everyone knows she has her cap set on either Darcy, or now that he's engaged, a member of the peerage." To this Bingley could only shake his head miserably. He wondered if Caroline knew her reputation was so tattered.
Duncan and Greisen were respectable, wealthy men; even if they did have predilection for the gambling tables. They would treat her well and keep in her gowns of the latest fashion. Yet they had all but sworn her off. He grimaced, wondering what it would take to get Caroline married. Perhaps I should increase her dowry.
When dinner was complete, the three headed to the tables. Bingley's plans for visiting Almack's vanished with the lighting of his first cigar.
The playing started off decently, with Bingley winning some and losing some. It had been a while since he had played with such high stakes, but as his wins and losses seemed to even out, it was not long before he felt at ease; though the easy feeling may have had some assistance from the dinner wine and after dinner brandy.
As the night progressed, Bingley's luck took a decided downturn. Before long, he had lost more than his gambling allotment for the month. He considered retiring, but the persistent nettling of Greisen and Duncan persuaded him otherwise. They were having a run of good luck, and were not about to allow any changes to the table. A losing streak was bound to end soon, they reasoned. With his liquor hazed mind, Bingley agreed.
He tapped into his next month's allotment to ride out his current wave of bad luck. A few hands later, he won a round; just as his friends predicted. He grinned. With a little patience come large dividends, he told himself as he collected the notes and prepared for the next hand.
The cards continued to be dealt, and the liquor continued to flow. So long as Duncan and Greisen were winning, they refused to move from the table. Bingley was not as fortunate as his comrades, and continued to ride the waves of winning and losing. While some might argue that it would all even out in the end, for Bingley it was not the case. When he won, the returns were respectable; when he lost, the losses were great. Goaded on by his compatriots though, he continued playing well into the early hours of morning.
Two days after the night at the theatre, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived at the Gardiners' just after the acceptable visiting hour. Georgiana, Elizabeth, Darcy, and Jane had planned to go shopping that morning and then return to Gracechurch Street for afternoon tea. Jane noticed Elizabeth's quizzical brow, and was herself slightly alarmed when Mr. Darcy was not included in the announcement.
"My brother sends his regrets, Elizabeth." Georgiana offered, even before the usual exchange of pleasantries. "He had some business to attend to with his steward and hopes to join us in time for tea."
Elizabeth nodded once, trying to appear nonplussed. Jane, knowing her sister well, could see her disappointment. Perhaps Elizabeth does care for Mr. Darcy more than she lets on, she thought happily.
Whether it was love though, was more difficult to determine. Never having seen Elizabeth in love, compounded by her own disillusionment of what it meant to be in love, gave her little on which to base her observations. Was it possible they were both putting on an act? If so, why, and for whose benefit? Surely someone could not fake emotions such as disappointment, could they?
Jane was startled from her internal debate by the feel of someone taking her hand. The source she soon discovered was Colonel Fitzwilliam, bowing over it. "Miss Bennet," he greeted. "If you had nothing of great importance at the shops this morning, I was hoping to make up for my recent absence with a ride in the park." He was about to inform her of the rest of his plans, but was interrupted by an animated Georgiana.
"My brother has lent us the open chaise so we may tour the park."
A look from Aunt Gardiner told the girls the plan met with her approval, and in a flurry of excitement, they donned their capes, bonnets and gloves.
One by one, Colonel Fitzwilliam handed the ladies into the chaise; first Georgiana, then Elizabeth, and finally Jane. As he handed Jane in, he could not resist grazing his lips against the back of her hand.
He looked up at her and noticed the pretty way she blushed and looked at him through her lashes. As her blush subsided, he was tempted to kiss her hand again; if only to see that alluring way her skin pinked again. Before he could give in to the impulse though, a giggle from Georgiana reminded him of the presence of others. He quickly relinquished Jane's hand.
The kiss and ardent look from Colonel Fitzwilliam set Jane's pulse racing. Unable to look at the others, she quickly took a seat and looked out over the street.
She would have been pleased to know Colonel Fitzwilliam was not faring much better. As he watched her settle into her seat, he felt his heart pounding. Never before had he been so affected by a woman; and found it somewhat disconcerting. He was used to controlling the situation around him, including his interaction with women. He was an unabashed flirt, but never did it continue beyond what he could control. Yet here was a woman who could make him forget how to do the most basic of tasks, like breathing.
Jane watched fondly as the colonel assisted the ladies in securing rugs, ensuring none would catch a chill, and giving instructions to the driver. Despite his gruff exterior, he was a gentle creature when dealing with those close to him. She recalled how vulnerable he looked when he asked if she had decided against him. It was nothing like the cool soldier he usually portrayed. She enjoyed seeing this side of him. When he was like this, she could see the man behind the uniform.
While his face was perhaps not as handsome as others, she did not mind. Perhaps it was a result of having such an indolent father, but she found she liked the imposing figure he cut. There was strength and power and decisiveness in his manner that she could only find admirable.
As she watched him teasingly ruffle Georgiana's curls, she began to wonder if she could love him. Surely the blush she felt only moments before was a good sign; not to mention the rush of heat she felt upon seeing him instead of Darcy.
She recalled with warmth the first time Colonel Fitzwilliam had kissed her hand; it was when he asked permission to call on her while she was in London. Since then, he had taken that liberty several times. To her embarrassment, she found herself wondering if and when he would do it again.
Could this be love? There were some similarities in what she felt now and what she had felt for Bingley. She could not help thinking that not once in their months together had Bingley even attempted to kiss her hand. He had never formally asked to call on her; but had simply tagged along with Darcy and Georgiana. Shocked by the realization, she began to examine the events of the fall a little closer. Aside from paying her particular attention and a few boyish smiles, Bingley had done nothing to demonstrate his affection for her. In light of the colonel's actions, she could only conclude that Bingley's attachment towards her was not as ardent as she had believed. How readily she had been taken in! She had freely given a man her heart in exchange for nothing more than a few smiles and pretty words. The realization was humbling.
A question from the colonel snapped her out of her musings. She smiled warmly at him, with a new understanding that she was experiencing for the first time what it was like to be courted. With a small nod, she indicated she was comfortable and ready to begin the ride.
While Jane, Elizabeth, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana were preparing for their ride through the park, in another part of town, there was a loud knock on a heavy wooden door.
Bingley turned over in bed, his lids still heavy with exhaustion. The sun filtering through his bed curtains and the chiming of a clock told him it was well past time to break his fast. He pulled a pillow over his face in an attempt to shut out the persistent sun so he could once again find sleep.
Just as he was getting comfortable again, he heard someone clearing his throat very loudly. Annoyed, he grumbled, "Snyder?"
"Yes, sir," Snyder said. "Mr. Turner is in your study. Shall I have him wait?"
Bingley groaned at the reminder. He was not looking forward to this meeting. Mr. Turner would not be happy when he learned how much he had lost last night. "It is none of his concern," Bingley muttered harshly to himself. "He is my employee and shall do as I order." With some simple addition, Bingley calculated he had lost almost a three months' allotment. He groaned. "No matter, I had a bad night, and I shall simply be more careful in the future. I have not suffered a loss like that in years." He conveniently failed to recall the primary purpose for this was because he had not visited that establishment in years.
Realizing Snyder was still waiting for an answer, he said hastily, "Yes, Snyder. I forgot. Tell him I shall be down shortly, and then help me dress." As an afterthought he added, "Have coffee and a tray sent to my study as well. Oh, and Snyder, my best riding clothes. I will be going riding with Miss Crandall after my meeting with Turner."
"Of course, sir," Snyder replied. His voice portrayed none of the concern for his master that had been steadily growing. It was not like Bingley to forget appointments, especially those with his steward. He had also noticed the late hour at which his master retired lately, and the fact that more often than not, he would return home well foxed.
As if these changes in behaviour were not enough, he had also noticed his master had lost some of the jovial demeanour for which he was so well known. Snyder, however, was first and foremost, a professional, and so he kept these concerns to himself. There was only one person with whom he would speak of this, and only because he knew that person to be the sole of discretion. Perhaps together they would find a way to help restore his master to his more genial self.
Posted on Wednesday, 19 March 2008
The Darcy landau ambled slowly through the park. As the sun had not yet warmed the area, there were not many people about, leaving only the squirrels, birds, and the early signs of spring for their perusal. Snuggled under layers of wool, with hot cider in hand, the cool temperatures did not disconcert the jovial group.
The carefully constructed seating arrangement placed Elizabeth and Georgiana directly across from one another allowing for easy conversation between the two soon-to-be sisters, and left Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jane to their own discussion.
"Is your cousin not fond of shopping, Georgiana?" Jane asked teasingly.
"I am afraid you have found me out," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied with false dismay. "When it comes to ribbons, gloves, and lace, I am a lost man. A soldier's uniform is simple for a reason."
"You and my father both," Jane replied, suppressing a giggle with a smile. "When my mother speaks of bonnets and slippers, his eyes glaze over quite quickly or he retreats to his study."
The colonel let out a bark of laughter. "I believe most men have that reaction; some of us are better at hiding it than others though." After another round of laughter, Elizabeth engaged Georgiana in conversation, giving the other two some time alone.
There was an anxious moment of silence before Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "Georgiana tells me the performance the other night was exquisite. I am sorry to have missed it. Did it also meet with your approval?"
"It did, though my ear for music is not as sharp as some." She nodded towards Georgiana and Elizabeth.
"I much prefer plays to operas and musical performances. Perhaps I will have the honour of escorting you to the theatre for a play before you return to Hertfordshire?"
"I would enjoy that." She blushed. "Is your preference for comedies or tragedies?"
"I prefer the comedies of the bard, generally. Darcy prefers tragedies." In a stage whisper, he added jokingly, "I believe he thinks it makes him appear more intellectual."
Jane could not help but giggle behind her hand, causing the colonel to grin boyishly. Her laugh was like a siren call.
For herself, Jane could not help but notice how sweet the colonel looked when he smiled as he did. In those moments, she could see that beneath the cold, gruff, military exterior, there was a warm, affectionate, and even vulnerable person.
"How do you find the Blakeslees?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, trying to feign indifference. He knew well the effect Lord Blakeslee could have on a woman, and that someone as beautiful as Jane would not escape his friend's notice. `
"I find them perfectly amiable," Jane responded diplomatically. She could not voice that she found Lord Blakeslee intriguing. She had not even told Elizabeth that. "Lord Blakeslee is very much a gentleman. His younger brother will make a wonderful surgeon. Lord Blakeslee mentioned he has known you and Mr. Darcy for a number of years."
Perfectly amiable. Colonel Fitzwilliam was pleased. He knew Jane would not be easily taken in by Blakeslee's title and wealth; she was not like the other women of his acquaintance. Still, Blakeslee was charming, and a flirt. He was pleased to see Jane had not been so easily affected.
"His estate is not far from Pemberley, and he attended Cambridge with Darcy." With a chuckle he added, "The three of us got into our share of trouble when we were young."
Jane laughed lightly as she tried to imagine the colonel as a boy. She had seen glimmers of his mischief, and could readily picture a more rambunctious version of the man. Though not wishing to betray her thoughts with yet another blush, she said, "It is difficult to imagine Mr. Darcy causing trouble at any age. Though if I am to trust my sister's account of things, there is much evidence to the contrary."
The colonel threw his head back and laughed. "Darcy was always a serious one. The influence of two elder boys can quickly override such reservations, especially when one is young." Jane joined in the laughter.
"Will you remain in London long enough to attend the Granvilles' ball next week?" the colonel asked, changing the subject.
"If my father can spare me a little while longer. I do not believe he will object, especially since it is being held in Lizzy's honour." She looked down at her hands, a little embarrassed by her forwardness. She was quite certain why Colonel Fitzwilliam was asking her if she was to attend, and she wanted to give him some encouragement.
"May I be as bold as to request the both the first and last set with you that evening, Miss Bennet?"
"I would be delighted, Colonel," Jane replied, after only a moment's hesitation. She looked up at him shyly. Seeing the joy etched in his features at her acceptance, she felt herself flush, and attempted to still her thumping heart. She thought him rather handsome when he smiled like that.
The buoyant chatter from the opposite seat had ended, and Jane looked over to see Georgiana attempting to stifle a giggle. At least Georgiana seems pleased with the idea of her cousin and me. She knew such a public declaration would not go unnoticed by anyone. She had been tempted to only agree to the first set, but could think of no graceful way to back out of the second. She looked to Elizabeth and saw a small smile on her face as well.
"Miss Elizabeth, may I request the second set with you? I am reasonably certain Darcy would give me a sound thrashing were I to request any other."
Elizabeth laughed merrily. "I would be honoured, Colonel, to reserve any set Fitzwilliam does not claim for himself."
"Cousin," Georgiana asked. "Do you think Brother would allow me to attend the ball? I know I could not dance, but I should dearly like to watch Jane and Elizabeth."
"I am afraid not, Pea Head. Your brother and I are in agreement on this matter. No balls until next year, and then only private ones."
Georgiana visibly deflated in her seat, and scowled at her cousin's use of her pet name.
"There will be plenty of balls next year, Georgiana," Jane said, trying to placate her. "I am quite certain you will be so popular then, that you will long to be without a partner to rest your feet!" To this Georgiana giggled.
Jane looked at the colonel and noticed that he was now the one scowling. Understanding the source of his consternation, she smiled at him, though her eyes betrayed the humour she felt. He could only shake his head in dismay. It was no wonder his father was happy not to have had daughters!
An hour or so later, the carriage pulled up in front the Gracechurch address. Jane watched as a waiting Darcy presented Elizabeth with a nosegay of purple crocuses and daisies.
After ridding themselves of their outdoor attire, the five, along with Mrs. Gardiner, all adjourned to the dining room for the planned, light, mid-day repast. There, a larger bouquet of crocuses, foxgloves, daisies, and wallflowers greeted the group. Jane smiled. The colonel is right. Darcy is playing the role of a besotted suitor quite well. Whether it was an act or true affection, she did not contemplate. Elizabeth seemed happy, and that was really all that mattered. Her thoughts may have been affected by her own warm feelings of being courted, but she did not contemplate that either.
Conversation over the meal was light and amusing, and all too soon the Darcys and the colonel were taking their leave.
As the others made their way to the door, much to Jane's surprise, Colonel Fitzwilliam held her back with a gentle touch on the arm. With a soft but intense gaze, he tucked a crocus -- that he had taken from the vase while no one was looking -- behind her ear. The look in his eyes said everything he did not.
Jane felt her entire being blush. She thanked him with a bashful smile. In a whisper she said, "We should join the others."
The colonel nodded, but did not move. He stood gazing at her. A moment later, he took a deep shaky breath and offered her his arm.
They joined the others as they were saying their goodbyes. If anyone else noticed the flower that now adorned Jane, they said nothing. Nor did they say anything when the colonel kissed her hand before leaving.
Bingley inhaled deeply, enjoying the cool clean air of an open field on the outskirts of London. The ride had been exactly what he had needed to extinguish the uneasy feeling that he had carried with him from the house. The meeting with his steward had not gone well.
On top of his own gambling losses, he learned Caroline had over-spent her allowance the previous month. While that itself was not new, the amount was staggering. She was taking the loss of Darcy very ill indeed, and was comforting herself on Bond Street, Piccadilly, and Mayfair. Mr. Turner had shown him receipts from every known merchant in the area; feathers, gowns, slippers, reticules, bonnets, hair pieces, ribbons and scads of jewellery. She had practically purchased an entire new wardrobe.
If they were not more careful, Turner warned, they were in risk of having to tap into their principal. That had sent Bingley's stomach churning. He would have to have a talk with Caroline, but he would not worry about that right now.
He turned to his right and smiled at the pretty Miss Crandall perched atop her steed. This is what I need, some fresh air and the company of a pretty woman.
The two prodded their horses forward and took off at a brisk canter. "You are a remarkable horsewoman, Miss Crandall," Bingley commented, noting the ease with which she commanded her horse.
"Thank you, Mr. Bingley," she replied. With a slight haughtiness to her, she added, "Though you can hardly be surprised. My father is a top breeder of horses. It would follow that everyone in his family would be accomplished riders."
Bingley flushed slightly, feeling as though he had just been scolded. "Of course, Miss Crandall. I only meant to comment on how refreshing it is to find the trait in a lady."
"How does the search for an estate go, Mr. Bingley?" Miss Crandall asked, bored with the topic at hand.
"Well enough. I believe my solicitor will have a few estates for my viewing soon. I hope to have purchased one by the end of the Season." The truth of the matter was, his solicitor had only begun the search for a new estate and had yet to find someone to take over the Netherfield lease.
"You will be giving up your estate in Hertfordshire?" Her tone was a mixture of exasperation and incredulity. Her father would never approve of the match if Bingley were not a landed gentleman. The degradation would be too great for the family, still attempting to recover its good standing amongst the ton after the scandal caused by her brother's marriage to a shopkeeper's daughter. This news was an unwelcome setback.
"It was not to my liking. I would prefer something further north, where I grew up."
"Not too far north, I hope. I have been to Nottingham in the deep of winter, and find it much too cold." She let out a wistful sigh. "I should like a place in Sussex, I think. Brighton has much to entertain."
"Sussex? I would have thought you would wish a place closer to your family in Warwickshire or Northamptonshire."
Miss Crandall turned up her nose. "And have to suffer my brother's wife?" She sniffed lightly. "I think not."
"You would not miss your brother?" Bingley asked, a little incredulous.
"Perhaps a little, but I shall have a new family when I marry. I am certain I will find them delightful." She gave him a coy look. "Besides, I shall still write to him, and we will see each other in London. That will be enough."
Bingley was surprised by Miss Crandall's attitude, to say the least. Thus far, he had only seen an elegant and well poised woman. Uncertain of how to respond, he only returned a wan smile. Shortly after that, the two returned the busy streets of London.
Lord Blakeslee carefully aimed his pistol at the far end of the garden and pulled the trigger. A fraction of a second later, a glass bottle shattered. Without lifting the gun, he aimed at the next bottle and did the same. His two rounds expended, he reached for his powder pouch to reload.
He would have preferred fencing, but word of the unknown woman on his arm at the theatre had spread through London more quickly than he expected. A visit to White's last night had given him a glimpse of what he would face if he made an appearance at the fencing club. He simply did not feel equal to such questioning and ribbings.
It was not that he was embarrassed by Miss Bennet, or her situation. It was the fact that he had no answers for the questions being asked. Oh, he liked her well enough. Every time he saw her, she looked more beautiful than the last. That, along with the innocence and the sincerity of her character, he found very alluring.
She was nothing like the other women of his acquaintance. She was not interested in the size of Trentholm Park, and never once made mention of his income or title. She was mild mannered, and spoke with true affection about her family and friends. It was as if she possessed everything the other ladies of his acquaintance did not.
The question that plagued his mind since the theatre was the level of her interest in him. Darcy had mentioned she had recently been crossed in love, which might explain the lack of encouragement she gave him. She smiled prettily enough at him, but there seemed to be little emotion behind it. Was she simply being polite? Or perhaps she simply did not want to appear too forward, as a lady of good breeding is taught.
He shook his head in frustration as he packed the powder. With a snigger, he realized, he may have borne witness to the female version of the Darcy mask. It had taken him years to decipher the nuances of Darcy's stone-like face. Miss Bennet and her pretty, serene smiles were not much different. Unfortunately, he did not have years to learn her secrets.
As he finished checking that the pistol had been properly loaded, he contemplated his next move. He needed to see Miss Bennet again, but could not call on her alone. It was far too early for that, and he did not wish to mislead her. Nor was he ready to express his interest in the lady to his friend. It seemed his only hope was to spend more time at Arryndale and hope for a chance encounter.
With a frustrated sigh, he took aim again and fired. Again, his shot was dead on.
Bingley returned home from his outing with Miss Crandall a bit down in spirits, and was therefore more annoyed than he should have been when Fillmore, his butler, told him that Caroline wished to speak with him. With a tired sigh, he instructed Fillmore to wait fifteen minutes and then send word to his sister that he was in his study.
Once behind his study door, he poured himself a glass of port. As he sipped at his glass, he relived his conversation with Miss Crandall. She seemed to possess everything he needed in a wife: she was well dowered, came from a respectable family -- aside from the current scandal that was already waning - she was generally kind and well mannered, and beautiful. He sighed wistfully, recalling how well she looked in her pastel purple gown -- especially when she blushed -- and how the colour of the gown seemed to deepen the blue of her eyes. They shared many of the same interests, and he could speak with her on a number of topics. She was better read than many women of the ton, and thus, could talk about things other than the latest colour sweeping the parlour rooms of London.
Yet her attitude towards her sister was disturbing. Miss Crandall's censure of Mrs. Crandall was a bit disconcerting. He had found Mrs. Crandall kind, considerate, and eager to please. Albeit, she did not have the most handsome face, or the connections to recommend her, but the Crandall name was well established within their circle; and Mr. Crandall seemed pleased enough with his choice. The family had come away relatively unscathed by the ordeal. So why was Miss Crandall insisting on holding a grudge?
He took a sip of port and twirled the glass between his fingers. Perhaps he was being too selective. A man and wife did not have to agree on everything. Once they were married, as she stated, she would be part of his family. He was certain she would get on well enough with Caroline and Louisa, a fact that certainly spoke in her favour. He sighed inwardly, undecided on what to do.
There was plenty that spoke in favour of Miss Crandall, yet he could not rid himself of the memory of her face as she spoke about her sister-in-law. Did she think the same about him? After all, his fortune had come from trade. Perhaps like many, she was simply over looking it because of the size of his income. Or perhaps, she was simply biding her time until a more eligible match came along.
A knock on the door ended his musings and signalled his sister's presence. He bid her to enter.
"Charles, I understand the Granvilles will be hosting a ball next week," Caroline said as she floated in and then seated herself. "I assume you have sent your acceptance."
Bingley sighed. He had hoped Caroline would not hear about the ball. He knew Darcy did not want Caroline to attend, but had been too polite to exclude her. He had wanted to attend alone. "Of course I did. It is in honour of Darcy's engagement."
His sister's lip curled in disgust. In the next moment though, she returned to a more placid mien. "Excellent. Now I shall not have to give any uncomfortable explanations." With her calculating smile she added, "I did you the favour of reserving the first two dances with Miss Woodall for you. Are you not pleased?"
"You did what?" Charles exclaimed, bolting upright in his chair.
"Really, Charles," Caroline said with a roll of her eyes. "Miss Woodall is the daughter of a respectable man, with a dowry of twenty-five thousand pounds; not to mention her brother is a good friend of Mr. Darcy's, which speaks highly of them." She smiled haughtily, letting her brother know she was quite pleased with herself for arranging such a match. "I am certain her father will have no objections to the match once you find a suitable estate."
"I would thank you not to interfere with my personal affairs, Caroline." There was a dangerous edge in his voice.
"You can hardly back out now. It would be unseemly, especially since you will be escorting Miss Woodall and me. " With a sneer, she added, "Mrs. Woodall is still in confinement, and Mr. Woodall will not attend without her."
"What of her father?" Bingley asked.
"You know very well her father remains in the country until after the Little Season."
Charles rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to release the sudden knot of tension that had formed. "Very well, Caroline. The first two with Miss Woodall. In the future though, do not offer what is not yours." He refilled his glass with a generous pour.
Caroline placed a peck on her brother's cheek. "I knew you would not disappoint me. If you will excuse me, I must see the modiste about a new gown."
Bingley choked on his drink. "The modiste?"
"Of course! I positively must have a new gown for the ball."
"But Caroline, you already overspent your allowance for this month last month!"
Deafening silence filled the air for several minutes.
Mustering as much composure as she could, Caroline said evenly, "Charles, I can not possibly attend the ball in one of my old gowns." Her voice slowly rose in pitch and volume. "Do you wish us to appear paupers? All of the Ton's elite will be attending! I simply must look my best!"
Suddenly, full understanding dawned on him. His sister's extravagant expenses were her way of trying to publicly appear nonplussed by Darcy's engagement. Apparently, she had decided the best way to accomplish that was to demonstrate she did not need Darcy's ten thousand a year. Nonetheless, he could not afford to let this continue. "If you continue spending money this way, we will be paupers!" He wiped away the spittle that had collected at the corners of his mouth.
"If you would have agreed to marry even one of the ladies I introduced you to, we would not have this problem!"
Charles rubbed his temples and took several deep breaths. He hated confrontations. They always left him agitated, long after their conclusion. And this was the second one today. Quietly he said, "Very well, Caroline. One gown for the ball. Anything else for the rest of the month comes out of your own pocket."
With an indignant snort, Caroline turned and walked out of the room.
Bingley fell against the back of his desk chair, holding his head in his hands. Caroline was becoming unbearable. He knew it would be ugly when Darcy did finally decide to marry, but he never imagined it would be like this. He expected a few tantrums, a few broken vases and perhaps a servant or two in tears. But buying up all of London? And to what purpose? Darcy could not break his engagement, even if he did suddenly have a change of heart; he was too honourable for that. As much as he loved his sister, he hoped someone would notice her soon and take her off his hands.
Posted on Tuesday, 25 March 2008
After the ride through the park and subsequent tea at the Gardiners, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy and Georgiana returned to Arryndale House. "A word, Richard." Darcy commanded as the three climbed the steps.
Knowing precisely what had Darcy's feathers ruffled, Fitzwilliam casually followed him into his study. Without asking for permission, he poured himself a glass of port and settled into his usual chair.
"How is it you came to be at the Gardiners?" Darcy asked as he closed the door.
"I arrived here this morning, just as Georgiana was leaving. I decided to escort her."
"Since when did you become interested in escorting Georgiana around town?"
Richard feigned injury and contemplated feigning innocence as well. Deciding that was not in his best interest though, he decided to confess. "Since her destination included the current residence of Miss Bennet."
"What are you thinking, Richard?" Darcy unceremoniously bit out, before he was completely situated with his own drink.
After a casual sip, the colonel replied, "I am thinking I greatly admire Miss Bennet and wish for her to get to know me better."
"She is to be my sister!" Darcy barked. "Not some common tart. I will ask you not trifle with her."
Fitzwilliam rose up in his chair. Looking Darcy in the eye he said, "I would not trifle with Miss Bennet. My intentions are honourable, if you must know."
Much to the colonel's amusement, Darcy did nothing but stare at him, in stunned silence, for several minutes. "I do not understand why you are surprised, Darcy. You bore witness to the attention I paid to her while in Hertfordshire." He took another sip from his glass.
"I thought you were... you were distracting her to give Elizabeth and me some privacy."
There was an urge to laugh. Darcy and Elizabeth had little need for privacy, and certainly not the amount he had given them. Fitzwilliam quirked a brow at his cousin, conveying his thoughts.
"All right." Darcy threw up his hands. "So you paid her some attention last December. It was a temporary diversion!"
"You decided it was temporary. I did not."
"Richard! You are a second son and she has no dowry." Darcy said, standing abruptly. "Nothing can ever come of this... this infatuation." He paced agitatedly behind his desk.
"I told you before that I would live in a shack if it meant having Miss Bennet as my wife."
"You said that in jest!"
Fitzwilliam said nothing. There was nothing to say. He simply needed to let Darcy come to terms with his pronouncement on his own. After several more minutes of silence, Darcy slumped back into his chair, indicating that if nothing else, he had resigned himself to the idea.
"Does his lordship know?" Darcy asked.
The question gave the colonel pause. It was one thing for Darcy to know of the budding relationship. It was quite another for his parents to know of it. His father would object, and would do his best to put an end to it before it could become something more. That thought caused the colonel to sink into his chair. "No, he does not. Nor do I intend to ask for his permission," he replied quietly.
"He will not take the news kindly. He may even disinherit you."
"He may." The colonel shrugged. "But as you said yourself, I am a second son. The family lineage is my brother's responsibility. And, after your marriage to Miss Elizabeth, father can not complain about the connection." Seeing Darcy still remained unconvinced, he added, "Father may bluster about the lack of fortune for a few days, but in the end it will not matter."
Darcy rolled his eyes. His cousin was being stubborn and purposefully neglecting reason. This only compounded his usual annoyance at the way his cousin minimized the importance of family connections and fortune. "Did you at least ask Mr. Bennet's permission to call on his daughter?"
When the colonel shifted uncomfortably, Darcy once again to shot out of his chair. "Richard! Have you lost all sense of propriety?" Darcy bellowed.
"You were so blasted eager to leave, I did not have time. Besides, I did speak to Mr. Gardiner, and asked his permission." He pulled at the collar of his uniform. The memory of that interview still caused him discomfort. This one was not much better.
"At least that is something," Darcy muttered as he returned to his seat.
The two sat in silence, mulling over all that had been said. The colonel conceded that Darcy had some valid points. Now that both Darcy and Georgiana knew where his interest lay, it would not be long before his parents discovered it. He had to prepare himself for that. He could tell Darcy was still struggling with the idea, but the resigned look told him Darcy had also been won over.
With that hurdle cleared, he decided it was time to tell him everything. When his parents discovered his interest, he would need Darcy's support. It would not be prudent for Darcy to unwittingly learn of his participation in the covert courtship. "I need to tell you something else." He suddenly felt like a cadet again, confessing misdeeds to a superior officer. He cursed under his breath before telling Darcy about the stowaway gift. As the story continued, his anxiety grew; Darcy's mien was turning grimmer with every word.
"Mother Mary and Joseph!" Darcy cursed. "How dare you, Richard! Does Mr. Bennet know?"
"If he did not, he most likely does now. Mr. Gardiner knows."
"If I were more uncertain of the outcome, I would call you out," Darcy growled. When the colonel said nothing in response, Darcy took a deep breath and inclined his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, in a low tone, he said, "Did you at least tell Mr. Gardiner I knew nothing about it?"
The colonel snorted. "Yes, Darcy. I made it clear you are completely guiltless. Your reputation as a staid, unimpetuous gentleman is still in tact."
"Richard, what do you plan to do if you are called to the continent? The situation on the peninsula is rather precarious with Wellesley mounting an offensive."
Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes, which allowed him to suppress the groan that threatened. Was he to have this conversation with every person remotely tied to Miss Bennet? "If I am called to duty, I will discuss it with Miss Bennet. Her wishes are the only ones that are relevant in this matter."
Darcy shook his head slowly. "At least tell me this. Are you close to coming to an understanding?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped his eyes to the floor, uncertain how to answer that question. "If you are asking whether Miss Bennet is receptive to my attention, then yes. Whether or not she is ready to accept an offer from me, I do not know."
There was a long silence. "What is the likelihood you will be called away?"
"I am not able to tell you that."
Darcy nodded, accepting that it had to be a military secret or he did not know. "Richard, you can not come to an understanding with her and then leave her wondering when you will return."
"I am well aware of what is honourable and right, Darcy," he bit out. "Do you really think I would do that to her? To anyone I cared for? But it is none of your concern. It is a matter to be decided between Miss Bennet and me."
"Very well, if you are determined to have Miss Bennet, and she loves you in return, you have my support. But I urge you very strongly, to think on it before it is beyond you."
The colonel emptied his glass and then held it up in salute to his cousin. "Not to worry, Cousin." He did not bother to add it was already beyond him.
It had been almost a week since Bingley had run into the Bennets. He attributed that and an entertaining lunch, to his current good mood. In fact, the last time he recalled feeling so content was Christmas, while visiting his aunt and uncle in Scarborough.
Over lunch, he had run into a few friends, and they had shared some good laughs. Much of the discussion had revolved around the coming season, and Bingley was delighted to learn of a few intriguing ladies that would be making their debut. If he decided against Miss Crandall, it was good to know the prospects were promising.
His mood immediately soured though, when Fillmore, his butler, notified him that his sister was waiting for him in the music room. The information sent his eyes skyward, and he let out an exasperated sigh. He knew what was coming.
He looked longingly over at the staircase that led to his apartments. It would be easier to try and ignore Caroline. Unfortunately, according to Fillmore, she had already scared two maids in the last hour, which meant he would not escape it, only delay it. Either he faced the music now, or she would ruin dinner. He decided it best to avoid indigestion.
He trudged the distance to the music room; the volume of the pianoforte amplified with each step. He recognized the tune as Bach, but it was far from sounding light and pleasing as it should have. He concluded Caroline was angrier than usual, and was taking it out on the pianoforte. He stood before the door once again, contemplating the solitude he could find upstairs. Before he entered, he steeled himself with a deep breath. "Fillmore said you wished to speak with me, Caroline." Bingley said.
The angry sounds from the pianoforte stopped immediately. Caroline looked up at him, and bolts of lightning shot from her eyes. "Where were you?" she demanded.
"Out."
"Miss Sutton and Miss Woodall were here today. This is the second time you have missed tea with Miss Sutton. Now I demand an explanation."
"I was at my club," Bingley replied slowly and deliberately. He pursed his lips tight, letting her know she would get no further explanation.
"Charles, I have worked very hard to make these matches for you. Either Miss Sutton or Miss Woodall would make you an excellent wife."
"I am capable of choosing my own wife, Caroline."
Caroline scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You can do better than that Miss Crandall, Charles. The Ton has not quite forgiven her brother for that dastardly thing he calls a wife. How can you associate us with that?"
Charles swallowed the curse on the tip of his tongue. It was one thing to remind him of his duty to his family, but now she was foisting her own aspirations upon him. He would not stand for it. His only duty was solidify their standing amongst the ton by marrying the daughter of a gentleman, and one from their own circle. Miss Crandall was a perfectly acceptable choice. He did not believe the Bingley family name would suffer with such an alliance. "I am capable of choosing my own wife. I will not discuss this any further with you. Good day." He turned and stalked out of the room.
Lord Blakeslee arrived at Arryndale late in the afternoon. It had been five days since the night of the theatre. Since then, he had dined with Darcy once at his house. His objective for today's visit had little to do with the owner of the house, and more with the owner's future sister, who had been often in his mind.
In casual conversation, Darcy had mentioned Elizabeth would be visiting that afternoon. He supposed that a visit from Elizabeth would also include the elder Miss Bennet.
"Afternoon, Cardwell," Lord Blakeslee greeted Darcy's butler with familiarity. "Are the Darcys entertaining today?"
The middle aged butler bowed respectfully. "Mr. Darcy was entertaining the Miss Bennets with Miss Darcy, but I believe he is now in the armoury with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Would you like me to show you to him?"
"Thank you. I can find my own way. Could you fetch a practice foil and fencing jacket for me though?" The butler nodded. "Thank you, Cardwell."
He made his way through the halls until he heard the sound of wood hitting wood. Quietly he opened the door and stepped into the room. He did not want to interrupt the current sparring match.
"Blast!" Darcy shouted, and he winced from the blow he received in the leg from his cousin. Blakeslee clapped loudly. "You are getting better, Darcy. With a little more practice, you will be as good with two blades as you are with one."
The two men turned towards their friend. "Wesley!" they greeted together.
Darcy wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel and then tossed it to Richard. "What brings you by?"
"Nothing in particular, but if neither of you are too fatigued, I had Cardwell fetch me a foil and jacket."
Not long after, the three were suited up and armed with the fencing foils. It had long been determined that Colonel Fitzwilliam could best Darcy or Blakeslee one on one with some regularity. Since then, the three had taken to sparring together. Though two on one sparring was not permitted at the fencing club, all three gentlemen enjoyed the added challenge. So when they could, the three would practice at Arryndale.
The battles were swift and furious. They took turns battling two against one. By the end, they were all tired.
After wiping down and changing into their regular clothes, they adjourned to the library for tea. "So how is it you have an afternoon free, Darcy?" Blakeslee asked. "Between your betrothed and your sister, I did not think your time was your own anymore."
To this, Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, and even Darcy shook his head with amusement.
"That is an easy explanation. My sister prefers the company of Elizabeth now."
All three laughed.
"To be dismissed by them both, and not yet married." Blakeslee shook his head. "It does not bode well for your future felicity." He turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I thought you were going to give him pointers on how to court his lady fair."
Colonel Fitzwilliam placed his hand over his heart. "I have done my best, Wesley. But some cases I fear are hopeless."
Darcy rolled his eyes. He was saved from having to defend himself by a knock on the door.
"Forgive the interruption, sir," a servant said, "but you wished to be informed when Miss Elizabeth was taking her leave."
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Blakeslee sniggered as they watched Darcy nearly jump from his seat. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to speak with my fiancée."
The two gentlemen left in the library let out a hearty laugh as soon as the doors were closed again. "It is almost painful is it not?" Blakeslee laughed. Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled and nodded in agreement. "He is doing better than I expected though."
"Never believed I would see the day when Darcy would moon over a lady," Wesley remarked. He downed the last of his port and then rose. "I believe I should take my leave as well." With a quick goodbye, and without any further explanation, he left Colonel Fitzwilliam by himself.
As soon as he was out of the library, Blakeslee hurried to the front doors. Cardwell had mentioned the Miss Bennets, meaning more than one, earlier. If Miss Elizabeth was leaving, her sister would be also. He hoped to have a few minutes with Miss Bennet before their carriage arrived.
Providence was on his side. As he approached the front entrance, he saw Miss Bennet standing apart from Darcy and Elizabeth, who were speaking in low tones and did not notice his approach.
"Miss Bennet," he greeted. "It is a pleasure to see you again." He bowed over her hand.
"Lord Blakeslee," Jane returned, while dropping a curtsey.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
"I must thank you again for your generosity," Jane finally uttered with a nervous smile. "My aunt still raves of the night at the theatre."
"If you enjoyed yourself, that is all the thanks I need."
Jane could not but blush. "It was a lovely evening. I have never had the privilege of viewing a performance from a private box."
Again the two fell into silence. Blakeslee's normal easy manner seemed to have fled. He was having difficulty finding a way to raise his question. Then recalling the upcoming ball, he asked, "Will you be attending your sister's engagement ball?"
"I believe so. I am still waiting for permission from my father, but I do not believe he will object."
Blakeslee brightened. "Then might I be favoured with the first two?"
A blush covered Jane's face. She dropped her eyes to the floor. "I am sorry, sir, but the first two have already been claimed."
He was unsuccessful in masking his surprise. "I see," was all he managed in response. Recovering, Blakeslee asked, "Am I too late to request the honour of the supper dance?"
Bashfully, Jane shook her head. "The supper dance has not yet been claimed. I shall look forward to it."
A moment later, the carriage pulled up in front of the house. Darcy assisted Elizabeth into the carriage. He then turned to assist Jane in as well, and was surprised to find his friend already there.
As the carriage pulled away, Darcy said with an edge in his voice, "Wesley."
With a clap on the shoulder, Blakeslee replied, "Not to worry, Darcy. I will not trifle with her. I only wish to know her a little better."
He was spared any further inquisition by the arrival of his horse. He mounted, and with a tip of the hat, rode off. It was not exactly what he had envisioned when he set out to Arryndale, but he could not complain. He had secured a delightful dinner partner for the night of the Granville ball. But who had claimed Miss Bennet's first?
The stormy weather turned the follow day into one for letters. On Gracechurch Street, Jane and Elizabeth sat watching their younger cousins play with their toys, while they tended to embroidery and correspondence.
Jane pulled out a missive she had received the other day, but had not had time to read. Seeing the address, she smiled. "It is a letter from Charlotte." Seeing a pinched look flicker across her sister's face, she immediately apologized.
"It is all right, Jane. I am not pained that Charlotte writes you. Indeed, I am pleased that our cousin permits her even that."
"Lizzy!" Jane chided.
Elizabeth only chuckled. "Forgive me, dear Jane. It was unkind of me. But what does he expect to accomplish by forbidding Charlotte to write me as well? Does he truly think it incentive enough to bring scandal to our house and break the engagement?"
"I do not know. Certainly it can not be an easy situation for him. Charlotte wrote Lady Catherine was very displeased. Apparently, she would not accept visits from Mr. Collins for a number of days after she received word of Darcy's engagement." She could see words forming in Elizabeth's mouth, but her sister remained silent.
Changing the subject, Jane said cheerfully, "Charlotte has invited me to visit her in the spring."
"And do you think you shall see the splendour of Rosings while there?" Trying to imitate their cousin, she added, "The chimney cost upwards of eight hundred pounds!" This caused the two sisters to giggle. Their young cousins joined in, though unaware of the reason for the mirth.
Finally, Jane admonished her sister. "Lizzy. Be kind. It was very thoughtful of Charlotte to invite me. Do you think papa will allow me to go?"
"Of course he will. He has no reason to not." With a light giggle, she added, "And mama will insist on keeping good relations with the Collins', so she might not be thrown from her house upon papa's demise."
Jane smiled at her sister's teasing. "I would like to see Charlotte happily situated. Though I do hope it does not cause Lady Catherine any consternation."
In another part of London, Colonel Fitzwilliam was also tending to correspondence. Unfortunately, his did not send glad tidings from a friend or invitations to visit the countryside of Kent. His correspondence was all business, business from Whitehall, no less.
He contemplated the implications of the missive he received. Nothing was stated with any certainty, but he knew how to read between the lines. The increase in the amount of ammunition, weapons, and supplies ordered meant there would be a call to duty. The question was how many men would be called. The equipment request was too much for just a company or two. This was more than just refortifying the ranks.
Would his entire regiment be called? Perhaps just a single battalion. If it was only one battalion, he would most likely remain in England. If it was more than one, there was a good chance he too would be heading to the continent.
A sinking feeling entered his stomach. The reasoning behind moving their encampment to Sussex late last year was starting to make sense. None the less, he was a soldier first. He had orders to follow. Speculation would do no good. When the time was right, he would be told what to do. For now, his orders were clear. He penned a number of missives and had them sent off to his lieutenants.
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty