Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (19 page)

“I suppose it is true that Jane and
Eliza are sadly
démodé,
not being able to afford the best fashion
magazines upon first issuance. Poor dears. Then to be at the mercy of a village
seamstress and the limited number of merchants available in Meryton. I have
checked for myself, and it is appalling the dearth of choices in fabrics and
lace!”

“I suspect Miss Bennet and Miss
Elizabeth are not limited by lacking knowledge or choices, but rather dress in
apparel that is demure and practical as a reflection of their characters.”

“There is a place for practicality,
I suppose, but demure is not an attribute most women of Society find
advantageous. Clearly modesty or plainness of dress is not desired by
gentlemen, since they are the ones who establish the fashion styles for
females.”

“I cannot argue your logic, Miss
Bingley. However, I am not now nor have I ever been a typical example of what
most gentlemen desire from the ladies of Society. Fashion trends I do not
follow, and too often what I see is ridiculous or bordering on tasteless.”

A hard edge had entered his
otherwise bland tone, and not once had he looked away from her eyes, even
though she was standing inches away from him with her bosom generously on
display. It was disconcerting. Not at all the reaction she expected. His words
were ridiculous, and it impossible to believe he truly felt, since it was
contrary to what was normal. The perplexing messages rendered her unable to
formulate a response. Whether that was a good or bad thing, she never knew,
because at that second Charles rushed into the room.

“So sorry I am late! I hope no one
is here…Oh not yet, I see. Good…Caroline! What in God’s name are you wearing? I
can see your legs and your chest is practically spilling…Forgive me, Darcy,
that was too personal…”

“No, no. Lecture away as you deem
it necessary.”

Caroline distinctly detected
amusement in Darcy’s voice as he walked toward Charles, adding to her
irritation. “Charles, do not be a prig.” She tossed her head and sighed in
exasperation. “You may not attend to the dictates of fashion, but I do. Being a
proper lady of a fine house requires looking one’s best, especially when
functioning as the hostess for a dinner party. You might want to remember this
in regards to who you have chosen to be Mrs. Bingley.”

“My Jane always looks perfect and
stays properly covered in the process. Can you at least add a fichu? I suppose
there is no time for you to change—”

“There is no reason for me to do
either. As I was attempting to explain to Mr. Darcy, fashion is—”

“Yes, I have heard all the
arguments.” Charles waved his hand, voice testy. “A daringly dressed lady is
fine under certain circumstances, I will admit. Personally, I prefer not to see
so much of my own sister, but I am sure Sir Giles will be pleased.”

Caroline opened her mouth to refute
any interest in the baronet and add on a bold declaration that she had her mind
set on a particular gentleman, but the chime of the doorbell forestalled.
Minutes later, the foyer was filled with people, and in Caroline’s estimation,
the evening slide further downhill from there.

Mr. and Mrs. Denbigh were decent
enough, even moderately entertaining and surprisingly versed on the theatre and
other aspects of London society. Yet neither of them paid Caroline much
attention. Not that she cared for the regard of a lowly barrister or his wife;
however, the lack disclosed their dismal understanding of proper social grace,
augmenting her annoyance.

Mr. Denniston was a quiet man,
perhaps not as taciturn as Mr. Darcy, but close. When he spoke, it was with
deliberation, his tone dull and ponderous. Caroline nearly fell asleep each
time he opened his mouth and struggled against the inclination to ignore him
completely only because Mr. Darcy appeared to respect his conversation. All the
gentlemen did, in fact, to Caroline’s bafflement. On top of that, Elizabeth
Bennet, of all the women in the room, actively partook of the concourse between
the gentlemen. Whether Eliza truly knew what they were saying and contributed
intelligently, Caroline could not tell, although the fact that they replied
seriously in turn indicated she did. Worse yet was the proud expression on Mr.
Darcy’s face whenever Elizabeth spoke. Caroline resisted grimacing or rolling
her eyes with effort.

Miss Stedman and Miss Osteler were
reserved creatures on the whole. They spoke haltingly, primarily with the women
in the room, and said little to Caroline. Both their mouths dropped upon laying
eyes on Caroline, as she anticipated and rather enjoyed, and thereafter they
were intimidated, as Caroline also relished. Of all the women present, only
Miss Osteler was gowned in anything close to what Caroline would consider the
latest fashion. Her gown was simple and modest, as seemed to be the standard
amongst the pitiable country folk, but of a quality taffeta well sewn with
beautiful embroidery along the hemline. Guessing as to the cost of even that
basic of a garment, and the jewelry pieces and high-caliber accessories,
affirmed Mr. Darcy’s assessment of Sir Giles Osteler’s wealth.

Mr. Darcy’s other prophecy proved
true as well. Sir Giles took one look at Caroline Bingley and his eyes
literally bulged! As soon as the formal introductions were made, he glued
himself to her side. Caroline’s emotions ran the gamut from egotistical
pleasure at his adulation to nausea-inducing dismay when Mr. Darcy did not seem
to notice. The latter gentleman’s focus was entirely upon Elizabeth, increasing
Caroline’s stomachache.

Then, at one point, she noticed Mr.
Darcy flick a rapid glance toward Sir Giles, who was babbling something to her while
his eyes were firmly locked upon her décolletage, followed by a harsh glower
and tight press of his lips. While it was entirely possible the reaction was
not borne of jealousy, Caroline refused to accept it was sparked by any other
emotion.

Hatching a new plan, Caroline
smiled winsomely at the baronet and offered her hand for a glancing kiss. Sir
Giles was handsome, Caroline admitted upon closer inspection, and his manners
were impeccable. Under different circumstances she might have been interested in
considering him a suitor. But for this evening, his purpose was specific: to
make Mr. Darcy jealous.

Flirting, for Caroline, was as easy
as breathing. With no other women vying for the baronet’s favor, she was free
to monopolize. Sir Giles was smitten within minutes, Caroline deftly playing
the game all through the evening. There were the occasional disapproving glares
from Charles, and indecipherable glances from Mr. Darcy, but she had no clue if
her ploy was having a lasting impression. It was maddening!

The after-dinner hour with the
ladies in the parlor was another low point to the evening. Caroline’s hopes to
embarrass the Bennet women and plant seeds of self-doubt with disparaging
comments never seemed to have the desired effect. Elizabeth inevitably laughed,
as if Caroline’s jibe was meant as a joke, or nimbly redirected the
conversation. Once or twice a strained silence fell, Caroline noting a troubled
flicker cross Elizabeth’s brow, but it passed too swiftly for assurance as to
the lasting impact. It was enough to lift Caroline’s sagging spirits and
inspire more subtle attacks, until, that is, Miss Stedman noticed the ring on
Elizabeth’s finger. Cheeks rosy and eyes shining, Elizabeth recounted how Mr.
Darcy had given the ring as a symbol of his affection and promise, the ladies
oohing and ahing disgustingly. Caroline honesty thought she would retch.

The final insult came after the
guests had left. Caroline turned to Mr. Darcy, who was staring wistfully at the
closed door, and requested he escort her upstairs to her room. She wanted to
scream when Charles jumped in, before Darcy looked away from the door, and
offered his arm. The message was crystal clear, Caroline additionally shocked
when her normally polite, meek brother reproached, “I will escort you,
Caroline. I believe Mr. Darcy has had enough of you for one night. Come along,
Caroline.”

* *
*

Darcy waited with a glass of brandy
in each hand, thrusting one at Bingley the moment he entered the library. “No
need to say a word, Bingley. Take a big swallow and forget the whole thing.”

Bingley smiled faintly at Darcy’s
light tone and did take a big swallow of the brandy, but then shook his head. “I
must apologize for Caroline, Darcy. No, please, I must.” He dropped into a
plush chair with a groan. “She vexes me no end! But what am I to do? She is my
sister, and as much as I hate her ridiculous attitude, I can appreciate where
she is coming from. She is wrong, but I am trying to be patient and understand.
Is this weak or foolish of me?”

“No, not entirely,” Darcy agreed,
albeit with hesitation and a wince. “I am painfully aware that Caroline’s
opinions are precisely as mine were not so long ago, and that you tolerate her
expressing them, in part, out of deference to me.”

It was Bingley’s turn to wince. “That
is not entirely true and you know it, Darcy. Never have you been as…meanspirited,
God forgive me, as Caroline can be. You were restrained. She is openly vocal.”

“If you recall honestly, my friend,
I was not always restrained. Perhaps not as meanspirited, but I made no secret
of my aversion to society here, or the Bennet family.”

“That was a year ago, Darcy, and we
both know why you reacted so strongly. Quit torturing yourself over the past.”

Darcy smiled fondly at his friend. “Charles,
can I say, without sounding condescending, that I am impressed by your…
maturity
, for lack of a better term?”

“As I see it, we have both been
changed, in ways we may not yet fully understand, by events this past year.”

Reclining into the chair beside
Bingley, Darcy humorously raised his brows and grinned. “Touched by love?
Rather cliché, is it not?”

“Indeed, it is. And best kept our
secret.” Bingley lifted his glass, Darcy toasting as they both laughed. Then
Bingley grew serious. “I cannot honestly say I am thankful for all that
happened…with Jane. Yet it did afford me an opportunity to mature, as you say,
and learn to think for myself. I do believe I will be a better husband because
of it.” He shrugged. “I suppose I owe you thanks, Darcy, although I cannot go
that far.”

“If you thanked me I would question
your sanity.” Darcy swirled the amber liquid, his tone as serious. “I am unable
to completely embrace thankfulness for the struggle and torment of this past
year, Bingley. I know I am also a better man because of it, yet I would not
willingly walk through the valley again.”

“Best we put the past behind us,
except for remembering the lessons, and face the future with happy hearts and
hope.”

“I can drink to that.”

They sipped in contented silence
for a bit, each man staring at the fire and lost in their thoughts.

For Darcy, those thoughts were
centered on Elizabeth. He missed her, yet a part of him loved the night. Alone,
mentally replaying every word and glance and stolen touch, he could allow his
musings to drift. Sometimes they drifted into future imaginings, times when
they would be able to freely express their love in highly intimate ways, but
also in the simple joys of warm embraces or entwined hands. Other times, his
private musings were for the present, listing all the topics he wanted to
discuss so as to increase their bond, and planning a host of special moments to
ensure their courtship was eternally memorable. It was amazingly easy for him
to relax when thinking about Elizabeth, so much so that he nearly dropped his
glass when Bingley’s voice broke into his reverie.

“My hope has been that Caroline
release her prejudices. I thought she would, at least to a large degree, the
more she was around Jane and saw her sweet nature and pure heart. Should not
our love be so evident that, if for no other reason than a sisterly desire for
my happiness, she would accept it?”

Darcy did not answer immediately.
The subject of Caroline’s behavior was uncomfortable for several reasons. Yet
clearly Charles sought the discussion, so after another sip of brandy and deep
inhale, Darcy answered, “Indeed it should. I suspect if it were only you and
Miss Bennet, Caroline’s attitude would be softening. Perhaps even resigned and
happy for you by now.”

“It is not right, Darcy. She has
absolutely no business including you and Miss Elizabeth in her harangues! It is
wrong for her to speak to me as she does, but I am her brother. While I know
she is overstepping and being utterly rude, I practice tolerance because we are
family. My choices are indeed mine to make, but they do affect her, so I am
doing my best to maintain my calm. You are an entirely different matter,
however. I am mortified by her behavior, and I confess rather flummoxed over
how to deal with her.”

“Caroline is playing a desperate
game she is doomed to lose. I…mean no offense, Bingley”—Darcy shifted in
his chair, eyes darting to his friend then back to the fire—“but I have
never felt any attraction for your sister. I have been careful to never
wittingly give her cause to expect more from me than friendship.”

“Has
this
been your concern?
That I would blame
you
for her actions because I believed you encouraged
her? Lord! No!” Bingley scooted to the edge of his seat, forcing Darcy to meet
his eyes. “My astoundment this past week is the result of incomprehension as to
why she was so annoyed with
your
choice! Me choosing Jane, I could
understand, as I said. But you? It made no sense to me precisely
because
it has been abundantly obvious from the first day you met Caroline that she did
not interest you in that way! Hell, half the time you are barely civil to her!
Not that I blame you, trust me.”

Darcy was unable to halt the smile
Bingley’s words elicited. “Thank you, Charles. I did need to hear your
reassurance. Mind you, I do not dislike Caroline, and it is my pleasure to
welcome her as your sister, as I do Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. I also cannot say I was
wholly unaware of Caroline’s interest, although until this past week I
underestimated the extent. I feared I blundered in some way, or my hospitality
was interpreted as personal.”