Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (12 page)

She muttered the last statement
while chewing a bite of scone. Darcy barely heard her and was momentarily stunned
that she would hint at such a private topic. Unfortunately, his delay gave her
a chance to swallow and resume.

“I admit to being flummoxed by your
speech last evening, Mr. Darcy. You worried me greatly and almost had me
convinced by your arguments. Upon reflection, I concluded that you must have a
secret plan for saving poor Charles and salvaging the damage. You are too dear
a friend of my brother to allow him to make such a mistake. I am unable to
decipher your strategy, and as a mere female may never comprehend all the
intricacies, but I want you to know that I am willing, most willing, to aid
your endeavor.”

Darcy’s cold stare and pressed lips
startled her into silence. Or maybe she thought he was agreeing with her.
Whichever the case, it was past time to set the record straight.

“Miss Bingley, you insult me with
your insinuations. I am not, nor ever have been, a man who would lie to a
friend or, worse yet, plot against him while pretending kindness. I would act
in such a manner to no one, friend or foe. Above all, I am a gentleman with
honor.”

“I meant no disrespect, sir, but
last year you—”

“Acted in honesty. I spoke what I
believed to be the truth. I meant no malice toward Charles, ever. I was
mistaken myself, in the truth of Miss Bennet’s affections. As soon as I learned
of my error, from Miss Elizabeth, I instantly humbled myself before Charles and
told him the truth.”

“You told him? You are responsible
for bringing him here?”

“I told him what I knew. Charles
made up his own mind as to his course of action.”

“But the Bennets are utterly
unsuitable! Surely we agree on that? Did you not say as much and use it as
further argument to persuade him?”

“I did. Guilty on both counts.
Since then, I have repented and begged forgiveness from those I offended. As
for persuading, I learned that this is not my place. Not with Charles or
anyone, and that is why I left the decision up to him this time. Last year I
did what I thought was best, but I was wrong. As for the Bennets, I have
changed my opinion radically, largely because I came to realize that my vision
was clouded by prejudices and my own emotions.”

“I…well, I cannot believe what I am
hearing. There must be something I can say to convince—”

“You will have to accept the
reality, Miss Bingley. There is nothing to convince me of. My mind and
conscience were clear on these matters weeks ago. Today it is a subject closed
to any discussion and will only incite me to anger if broached in any way. I
cannot speak for your brother’s tolerance, but I will not endure the vaguest
hint of abuse toward the people of Hertfordshire, and especially the family of
my fiancée.”

  To her credit, Caroline
grasped his meaning instantly. Her eyes widened and cheeks flushed as if
slapped hard. When she spoke, it was a strangled whisper of astonishment. “Eliza?
You asked Eliza Bennet to be your…”

“Wife, yes,” he finished when she
trailed off. “Miss Elizabeth accepted my proposal yesterday. We are to be wed,
with Charles and Miss Bennet, at the Meryton Church on the twenty-eighth of November.
Next week, I shall ride to London for the formal settlements, but Mr. Bennet
has given his permission for our marriage, so the matter is settled. To my
boundless joy.”

He wiped his mouth on the napkin
and rose from his chair. Caroline was staring into space, not unlike him when
she came into the breakfast parlor, although he wagered his expression had been
one of happiness rather than the blank shock on her face.

“Please relinquish your rancor,
Miss Bingley. Our courses have been laid and will not be altered, trust me on
that. Your unkindness toward Miss Bennet pains your brother. Pray his hurt does
not turn to anger and exasperation. The consequences may not be pleasant. He
is, remember, the man who provides for you.”

* *
*

Several hours later, Caroline
Bingley peered out her bedroom window, watching her brother and Mr. Darcy mount
their horses and ride away. It was unnecessary to ask; they were heading to
Longbourn.
To see their fiancées,
she silently sneered.

Releasing a highly indelicate
sound, followed by a blistering curse and violent yank to close the drapes,
Caroline stomped to the rumpled bed and fell across it. Screaming her
frustration into the pillow, and adding a couple punches for good measure, offered
some relief.

Eliza Bennet engaged to Mr. Darcy!

For the thousandth time, that one
phrase sent floods of fury and misery cascading through her body. The urge to
verbally rave or throw another breakable item against the wall was as intense
as it had been when she first reached her chambers after leaving the dining
room.

Somehow she had calmly finished her
coffee and breakfast, not tasting any of it, sedately climbed the stairs, and
traversed the long corridor at a casual pace. She had even closed the door
behind her and silently leaned into the solid surface for a good five minutes
before the roiling emotions exploded. The housemaid had dropped the pillow she
was fluffing and bolted from the room. Caroline had barely noticed. She had
already directed her rage at Anna, her personal maid, who had dashed from the
dressing and bathing room the second she heard her mistress’s voice.

Attempts on Anna’s part to console
lasted about thirty minutes before Caroline screamed at her to go away. Clearly
Anna was relieved to exit the scene of madness, as was Caroline to have her
gone. What good was she, anyway? It was unthinkable to confide in her,
a
servant
, and if Caroline had done so, the result would be worse gossip
circulating below the stairs than there probably already was. Not that a woman
of Caroline Bingley’s station cared what common laborers thought of her, but
her humiliation being a source of amusement added to the insult.

Flopping over onto her back, she
scowled up at the canopy over her bed and pondered the same question she had
for hours:
How could this have happened?

Eliza Bennet engaged to Mr. Darcy?
It was impossible! All of Caroline’s careful designs destroyed by a nobody from
a backwater town. The Bennet women should marry men of their own class. Why steal
men of substance far above their pathetic circumstances? What right did
she
have to pick the one man—
the only man
—that Caroline wanted?
Who was
she
to come out of nowhere and, in a matter of seconds, snatch
Mr. Darcy when Caroline had been cultivating their relationship for three
years?

Upon her first introduction to Mr.
Darcy, the same month as her debut into Society, Caroline made up her mind to
have him. It was a simple, logical decision, and for two years, she had waited
patiently. In truth, she was content not to rush into matrimony. The frivolity
available to an unattached female of the
ton
was extremely enjoyable.
She excelled in the flirting, delighted in seductive taunting, and adored the
attention from both sexes. While having fun, she learned how the wife of a high-ranked
gentleman of the gentry was supposed to act in every situation. Her brother’s
friendship with Mr. Darcy played to her advantage, the two of them invariably
together for stretches at a time. A comfortable level of amiability grew, and
since Mr. Darcy did not seem to be in a rush to find a wife or establish female
relationships aside from with her, Caroline saw it as merely a matter of
her
deciding when
she
was ready to take the next step. When she did, the
familiarity between them would make it easy for her to communicate her
willingness to accept the proposal she confidently believed he would offer.

In fact, it was as they were
traveling to Netherfield last autumn, at the end of an exhaustive but
wonderfully successful season, that Caroline found herself staring at Mr. Darcy’s
handsome profile and contemplating the pros and cons of another year of
unencumbered gaiety versus the prestigious amusements available as Mrs. Darcy.
She was leaning toward the latter and, while not definitively decided, had been
formulating scenarios that would make her intentions obvious. Then, suddenly,
Elizabeth Bennet and her “fine eyes” entered the picture. Caroline’s planned
agenda was tossed into chaos! Between Charles’s ridiculous admiration of Jane
Bennet and Mr. Darcy’s inexplicable fascination with Elizabeth, not to mention
being in boring Hertfordshire in the first place, Caroline’s temper had
remained on edge for months. Luckily, she had her sister, Louisa, to offer
comfort and guidance. Best of all, in the end, Mr. Darcy came around and agreed
that the Bennets were unworthy. Together they convinced Charles and returned to
London without a backward glance.

Or so she had thought.

Jumping out of bed, she commenced
another furious pace around the room, her mind whirling over the months since
then.

In all honesty, Caroline had
recognized Charles’s melancholy over losing Miss Bennet and experienced moments
of empathetic sadness. She did love her brother and desired his happiness,
primarily because his positive emotional state benefitted her. But she remained
convinced that Jane was wrong on every level, and that Charles would come to
the same conclusion in time. Gradually he seemed to emerge from his heartache,
and as the season progressed, he embraced the activities as fully as in
previous years. If not quite the effervescent young man as before, his
temperance and maturity was regarded by many, particularly prospective fathers-
and mothers-in-law, as advantageous. Caroline and Louisa agreed that in time he
would fall in love with another, as he had dozens of times before Jane Bennet.

As for Mr. Darcy, indeed this past
year he had been withdrawn more so than typical. He had spent the bulk of his
time away from London, and when in Town rarely left his townhouse on Grosvenor
Square. Charles visited with him, although not as often as previous, but
Caroline had not once been invited. Their encounters at various social events
in Town were few, brief, and in the company of so many other people that Caroline
had spoken barely a word to him. Once she had pondered whether his strange
behavior had something to do with Elizabeth Bennet, but despite his irritating
infatuation, they had left Hertfordshire with no further mention of either
Bennet sister occurring in the months subsequent, so she failed to account for
a minor interest in a country girl being the cause. Then, distracted by balls,
operas and plays, dinners, shopping, garden parties, and other endless
festivities with her friends in London and elsewhere, Caroline ceased fretting
over it. To her way of thinking, nothing had truly changed. Her plan to become
Mrs. Darcy had merely been postponed. With the fall season of shooting and
hunting, they would dwell at Pemberley as they had in the past, and everything
could then be settled between her and Mr. Darcy. 

Clearly she had been outrageously
mistaken. Unbeknownst to her, Elizabeth Bennet had managed to evilly cast a
spell over Mr. Darcy. Caroline did not know how or when, but somehow the chit
had dug in her claws and tricked a man of uncommon intellect and sense into
proposing. There could be no other explanation than a devious ploy. What could
a country girl who had never set foot in London Society possibly have to offer
a man of means such as Mr. Darcy? What did she know of managing a fine
household or hosting a social function or conversing with a dignitary?

Caroline fell into the chair near
the fireplace, shuddering at the vision of Elizabeth as the Mistress of
Pemberley. A tragedy! Again she deliberated writing to Louisa. Just as the
prior dozen times, she relinquished the idea. Her sister’s sympathy would be
soothing, and perhaps together they could work a miracle in devising a plan to
break the two betrothals, but Louisa was in Bath on holiday with Mr. Hurst.
Unfortunately, Caroline was alone in her misery.

Mr. Darcy engaged to Elizabeth
Bennet.
How could it be?
Caroline frowned, honestly baffled.
What did
he see in her?

She possessed few discernible
accomplishments and argued with him abominably. She was ordinary and
unremarkable! She did not own a single fashionable gown, not one piece of fine
jewelry, nor lone garment of fur. Half the time her hair resembled a bird’s
nest of coarse twigs, and it was unlikely a drop of cosmetics had ever touched
her skin. How Mr. Darcy could claim Elizabeth Bennet the handsomest woman of
his acquaintance was an unsolvable mystery, so it must be the result of an
enchantment. Grudgingly, Caroline granted Elizabeth was not hideous to look at
or utterly lacking in manners. Admittedly there were scores of worse examples
within the eligible ladies of Society, even those with purest bloodlines. But
in no respect could she compare to the majority of women in his circle.

In no way does she compare to
me.

The thought knifed through Caroline’s
mind painfully, leaving in its wake an odd restoration of clarity. Shifting her
gaze to the tall mirror propped in the corner she critically examined her
reflection. High emotion of any type affected her fair complexion in a negative
way—that being one reason Caroline had long ago fostered an icy core, to
prohibit mood swings—so at the present her cheeks were blotchy and eyes
red. This, however, did not hide the facts. Physical appearance was one measure
of worthiness, accomplishments and elegance being among the others, and in
every point imaginable, Caroline was simply stating the obvious—as anyone
with a modicum of rationality would agree—when she claimed her
superiority over Elizabeth Bennet.

Standing, Caroline walked leisurely
toward the mirror. She gazed discerningly at her figure. Elizabeth, with her
tanned cheeks, dull brown hair, small breasts, and skinny body hidden under
drab gowns lacking style, could not hold a candle to the vision of feminine
perfection seen in the silvery surface. Caroline did not understand why a
lushly beautiful woman caused men to universally transform into drooling dogs
incapable of thinking with a body part above the waistline, but it was a fact
she intended to exploit.