The Pendant

Posted on May 20. 2009

Kent chuckled. "Yes, you are the daughter of a tradesman as I am a son of one. Does that not make us the same?"

Caroline remained silent as she looked around Darcy's dining room. Attending the dinner were all manner of guests--aristocrats, gentlemen, and a few offspring of tradesmen, the wealthy ones that had gone to the best schools and had been accepted by society through their friendship with Darcy, such as Mr. Kent. He had been seated next to Caroline, much to her chagrin, and they were placed at the opposite end of the table as the host.

Kent leaned in, speaking in a whisper. "I appreciate what it is like, being viewed as a lesser mortal. I shall never forget how those in the best circles find ways to hold their status above me." He glanced around the table at the various men and women.

"But Mr. Darcy--is he not your friend. Is he not my brother's friend? He belongs to those best circles."

"Your brother is amiable and is well liked by all that know him. As to me, I possess something Mr. Darcy wants. I am not foolish enough to think I am wanted for anything more than that."

"Is that why you are here?"

"I do like him, for he is a pleasant enough chap; still, it does not forgive his attitude towards those beneath him."

"I noticed no difference in our treatment by any of the guests. Perhaps he targets you, not the Bingleys."

"Open your eyes and ears; they silently demand our deference without merit. We must earn their respect. These are little things, I grant you, but they reveal much of these men's true feelings. Notice tonight how they address each other, and then listen when they speak to your brother and me. You will detect the subtle condescension."

Caroline scoffed.

He took a sip of his wine and wiped his mouth with his napkin while keeping an eye on her reaction. "You have experienced much the same treatment from Mr. Darcy. I have seen it myself."

"You are trying to put your prejudice in my eyes and mind, Mr. Kent. I have never witnessed Mr. Darcy as anything but gracious."

"Mr. Darcy is a good host, although he is excessively proud." Kent sighed. "But then how could any of these people not act so pompous when constantly treated as if they are above the likes of us?"

Caroline cast her darkened eyes into his. "What do you want from them, Mr. Kent? Surely, you would never allow the men to treat you this way unless you wanted something."

"True. Again, I repeat, what I want makes you and me the same." Kent leaned closer to her and whispered, "I, too, wish to be elevated into higher society."

Locking his eyes on hers, he continued in a whisper, "We can help each other. I will be continually in Mr. Darcy's company for a time, and I will be your champion. Let me help you, Miss Bingley. I will ensure that he does not leave you out, nor forget your charms."

Caroline glared at him. "What do you want from me? You are the not the type of person that does any favor without your own gain in return. Am I correct?"

"Yes, I am as you surmise. I wish you to champion me as well. I have my own plans for the future, and I want to succeed. And I, too, do not wish to be left out when others are around Mr. Darcy. I need him to lean on me for friendship and advice."

"You think he leaves you out."

"Yes, I do. Miss Bingley. You know the members of their circle belong to a secret club. Perhaps not an explicit one, but they shut out those not born into their world. They laugh at us when they say, 'There is no accident in birth.' Now I wish to be included in that club, and so do you."

Caroline looked away.

"I promise you that the rulers of the social order will one day change, Miss Bingley. Families from trade will reign over the likes of them. Our grandchildren will be the ones with the secret society, and they will long for entry. Alas, it will take too long for us. We must find a way into theirs, and we both know the key to the locked door."

Caroline clasped her locket and lowered her head. "Marriage."

"Yes. Please consider my plea. I wish to be your friend." He stared at her. "We are the same, Miss Bingley. We are the same."

When the time came for the ladies to separate from the men, Caroline found a quiet place to ponder all that Mr. Kent had said as she tightened her hold on the unusual pendant around her neck. She would give this all matter of consideration even when they removed to Hertfordshire in two days time.

Within a short period of time after the Bingley's arrival at Netherfield Park , Jane Bennet received a message.

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

CAROLINE BINGLEY.

The darkened clouds seen earlier on the horizon hugged Netherfield Park, releasing its pelting rain without regard for the unlucky souls below. The refreshing crisp November air had transformed into a bone chilling dampness. The birds huddled in their nests, and the squirrels sought refuge in the nearest tree. However, not all creatures were fortunate enough to reach shelter before the storm began.

The drawing room at Netherfield had grown dark enough to require the lighting of candles. even though it was afternoon. The dripping on the windows and the crackling of the blaze were the only sounds inhabiting the formal room where Caroline Bingley rested on the sofa with her head held high, hands folded loosely in her lap, and without the smallest hint of a slump in her posture. Her furrowed brow and frown marred the lady-like picture as she stared at the gold threads running through the royal blue carpet. The light from the fire caused the amber hued rose, hanging from her neck, to send similar golden sparkles throughout the room.

Mr. Kent was correct.

Long ago, Caroline conceded the inconsequential existence awaiting those not born into the upper echelons of society, or otherwise intimately connected to one from that class. Her awakening to this unwritten, but unquestioned fact of life occurred when she attended the first private ladies' seminary in London alongside girls from some of the most well-placed families. Her education did not end with instruction in music, language, literature, or even in how to dress, move or behave in a polished or fashionable way. If the lessons had stopped there, then the particular gentleman she sought might have favored her with his attentions. She was the most diligent student, excelling in all her endeavors.

Once her father enrolled her into the private school, her affable spirit had changed irrevocably. Her initiation into the world of class distinctions began within the walls where lessons of substance held sway, and where she first encountered true prejudice. Every girl--even the personal servants of the girls--sneered at her. She was the only tradesman's child in a school for daughters and nieces of dukes, earls, and barons. No one spoke to her, preferring to cut her at every opportunity. In her fourteenth year, the sweet and engaging little girl her beloved father called Caro ceased to exist.

Lady Julia and her haughty friends formed the Primroses, a ladies' club, and only a tap from another member allowed other schoolgirls to enter. While Julia kept its existence from the teachers and the head mistress, she did not intend to keep the club hush-hush from the girls left out. Caroline was one of several never invited.

Every day during breaks, the Primroses scurried to the garden, holding secret meetings, discussing everything the teachers deemed unladylike, but soon their normal habit developed into sneering and snickering at all the girls excluded from the group. They mistreated the outsiders by demanding they clean up, do homework, mend clothes, and fetch shawls for them.

Refusing these commands, Caroline would retreat to her bedchambers. She had begged her father to let her return home; but he told her to stand straight and tall, and keep her chin held high. She had more money than most of the other pupils, and was never to forget her worth. She stayed, but grew to hate reading, as books were the only entertainment available to her.

With the rain striking against the Netherfield window, Caroline gently touched the jewel at her neck, remembering the moment she began her singular quest in life.

One day after a particularly emotional visit from her father, the news of the secret club reached the headmistress of the school. The headmistress ordered the leaders to her office.

"Lady Julia, I understand you started a club called the Primroses."

All four girls stared at the floor.

"Did you, or did you not, start a club?" the head mistress demanded.

"Yes, madam," Julia said, defiantly. "We wanted to share confidences without the presence of those beneath us."

"Who are the girls in your club?"

As she revealed names, the headmistress gasped, startled by the list, which included all the daughters of the most influential members of society. Tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk while she weighed the choices facing her, the headmistress cleared her voice. "The… policy…well, is explicit. No clubs unless they are open to all the girls wanting to join. Either the excluded young ladies are invited to join or no one joins." She gave them one week to change their ways.

Julia motioned for her friends to join her as they were leaving. After several hours, she sent word to the headmistress asking permission to use the ballroom. They agreed to the ultimatum, and agreed to extend an invitation to all the girls.

Caroline, along with Sylvia and ten others, entered the room. Julia and her closest friends sat in a row with all the other members standing behind them.

"I called you here to invite you to join the Primroses. The rules are simple. You must undergo a test for a fortnight, after which we will vote on your acceptance. We will initiate only those young ladies demonstrating success in proper deportment. Any infraction detected by any member will result in a negative vote and will overturn your membership." Julia eyed the smiling headmistress who nodded agreement.

Caroline straightened her body to its full height, lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and raised her hand. "Lady Julia, might I ask a question?"

"Yes, Miss Bingley."

"Will you permit challenges to a claim of improper behavior?"

"The vote is conducted in secret. Neither the young lady nor any of the other members will know who voted against her."

Caroline scoffed. "I, then, decline this pretense of an invitation." She turned and left for the library.

Not ten minutes had passed before Julia sent Sylvia to find her. She was a sweet girl; however, easily led. Sylvia did like the tradesman's daughter. She found her to be funny, charming, and engaging, nevertheless deep down, she understood this lack of connections necessitated Caroline's separation from the others.

"Please, we are asking you to join the club."

Caroline shook her head. Without looking up from the book, she hid the tears falling on her cheeks. She took several deep breaths while Sylvia continued to badger her.

"But why? I cannot understand why you would not want to be included?"

Sitting upright, Caroline glared at her. "For how long would they allow it? Perhaps the other girls believe Julia and her wooden marionettes will allow them to remain, but I am not… not so dim-witted. Today is the last time they will offend me in such a way."

Sylvia sighed. "What you say is untrue. You have a chance. Do you not want to try? Your future would be secure, if they could hold sway over you. I understand the importance of their help when I come out, and so should you."

"Tell this to the pack of wolves in the ballroom. I refuse to join, because I know they will delight in voting me out in two weeks. I will not join the club, even if they begged or paid me. I am not stupid, and I no longer care for their society. I am not at anyone's disposal, and every single one of them will need to beg permission to speak to me. One day I will belong to the highest of circles, and when that day arrives… I will peer down on all of them!"

With a flourish, Caroline opened her book, and returned to her reading.

Ashamed, Sylvia left the room knowing that, unlike this tradesman's daughter, she did not possess the strength of character to challenge Julia and the others. However, she did relish speaking the words when giving a thorough recitation of what Caroline had stated. Every young lady was stunned. No one moved for a quarter of an hour.

Interrupting the silence, Julia announced, "So it shall be. She will never be accepted."

Whether the disbandment of the club was due to guilt or boredom, no one ever revealed; but the Primroses ceased to exist within a fortnight, with some of the girls blaming Caroline, and others pointing fingers at Julia. From that day forward, two camps formed, which would remain throughout their debuts into society.

Caroline's father, however, rewarded her with an expensive amber colored topaz, sculptured in the shape of a perfect garden rose. She was stronger than any of the silly girls forming the club were, and he was proud of her. She remembered he whispered to her, "One day they will bow to you, my sweet Caroline. You are their superior, as the garden rose is a cut above the primrose flowers." From that day to this, she wore this reminder faithfully around her neck, unless a ball necessitated a different form of jewelry.

Years later, as Caroline was introduced to her brother's friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, the means for her revenge against Julia and her coterie materialized in her mind. As Mrs. Darcy, she could achieve her greatest desire--acceptance by all. No one dared to reject a Darcy. Every townhouse door would open to her. Of course, underneath their friendly expressions, they would despise her envious position. She knew this to be true; she did not care. Her triumph would be behind the smile on her face. She would smile, and smile, and smile.

Unfortunately, as Caroline sat waiting for a woman of no fortune and no connections, all she could envision was the laughter and whispers in every London ballroom when Charles and his country wife entered. Either she or her brother needed to marry a Darcy. Any dreams she had of acceptance by the ton, or revenge upon Lady Julia, could not withstand such a low connection. Today she had to learn everything about this country miss and her family before she could attempt to undermine any connection between them. She vowed to take any action, even if it meant she had to befriend this girl and pretend to find her worthy.

Thinking only of her only own future, Caroline continued to stare at the gold threads running through the blue carpet until Whitson showed Miss Jane Bennet into the parlor.

The End