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Chapter Text

Prelude

At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas’s accidental information, that Bingley’s attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend’s behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him.

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 33, Letter to Elizabeth.

And so, gentle readers, we return to the scene of the crime. A ball hosted by Mr Bingley and his sister on the night of November 26^th.

Chapter Text

Chapter One:

Fitzwilliam Darcy woke early, as was his want. It was, however, a little later than usual as he ambled down the stairs to break his fast. Bingley’s ball had been well received by the Meryton masses, laying waste to what remained of yesterday. Miss Bingley, honouring the height of London fashion, opened the dance with her brother at 10 pm and concluded the event with a sumptuous breakfast at 8 am the next morning. It left very little time, or energy for any pursuits as the household recovered, but much time for Darcy to think upon what he had learnt and his observations. Today, Pemberley’s master set himself an undertaking. He must speak to Charles before his friend left for London.

A footman nodded acknowledgement as Darcy entered the breakfast room. Typical of Miss Bingley, she ordered a full sideboard of tempting morsels prepared far too early. Enough to feed twice the number of Netherfield’s current guests, Hurst would be the only one to do justice. Sighing at the waste, Darcy did not react to Forster’s uplifted eyebrow. It seemed the servants agreed, even if they would benefit from the excess, stale though it maybe.

“The usual, Sir,” the servant asked respectfully, lukewarm coffee pot in hand.

“Please,” Darcy responded. He did not care if this first cup were not up to his usual standards. Still feeling a little haggard, the brew would be restorative given his lack of sleep. How I hate balls and how they disrupt the following days. I do not understand why they must start late and end even later. They are not conducive to country hours. Daylight is when an estate is most productive and so must the master be it he wishes it to be prosperous.

“Has Bingley come down?” Darcy asked before taking his first sip. His thoughts had waited long enough. Fitzwilliam did not wish to contemplate them further.

Forster shook his head. Removing with the pot, the footman would ensure he served Darcy’s second cup hot, along with freshly cooked eggs to go with his ham. Cook would only be happy to oblige the request when she learned the identity of the dinner. The same could not be said for the Hurst’s or Miss Bingley, for they asked much and gave little in return.

A folded paper at his elbow, Darcy ignored the news. The ball opened his eyes to several situations he must discuss with his friend. It seemed the lessons in estate management had missed their mark. Bingley, as ever, continued in leading strings, unable to see the danger in his behaviour. While the man dressed as a gentleman, it seemed his understanding of society was not so refined.

“Nor is his understanding,” Darcy once again muttered under his breath. It is no wonder Miss Bingley’s character is fixed as a determined shrew. Like her brother, she has not appreciated the subtle undertones that society expects. One cannot do as they please and remain untarnished, or leave others without blemish. Bingley has managed to escape reproof due to his appearance of sense, good humour and liveliness. They are but a sham, hiding his defects as persuaded and inconsistent. He does not realise it yet, but they will be his downfall.

Bingley, like his sisters, stayed abed until well into the afternoon yesterday, after seeing the final guest depart the ball. While the family might climb into comfortable sheets and sleep away the day, Darcy had been cognisant of the work left to the fatigued servants. They had been worked relentlessly by Miss Bingley in preparation for the Ball. They had attended the four and twenty families throughout the night. Caroline took Darcy’s suggestion of hiring additional servants for the occasion more to please him than relieve her retainers. However, the hired help were not trained in the daily running of Netherfield and required instruction and oversight. It placed an additional burden upon Mrs Nichols, the housekeeper and Bates, the butler in an already weary state.

“You do not think,” Darcy muttered quietly under his breath. You announce a ball, leaving your sister to make the arrangements. You do not set a budget, allowing her to spend as she pleases. The candles alone must have cost a small fortune. They were bee’s wax from one of London’s finest. At least Miss Bingley had the forethought to change them out when we sat down to supper. Six-hour candles are respectable, twelve-hour candles would have bordered on overindulgence. That is only the start of her extravagance for a country ball where few would know better!

Left with these thoughts, Darcy did not enjoy his breakfast. He did take care to thank the footman who attended him and send his regards to the cook. A master who wished to keep his staff, and their loyalty, needed to show them respect. Darcy live by this rule in his homes and continued it when visiting other houses.

“That is what I must tell you,” Darcy decided. “We are interdependent on one another. A chain is only as strong as the weakest link. You have many weak links, Bingley. If you do not mend your ways, you will have nothing, for you are the weakest of them all.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

“Bingley,” Darcy acknowledged.

Standing out the window, staring out at nothing in particular, the time seemed to tick by with unprecedented slowness. Finally, the doors to the breakfast room were flung open and the master entered. Dressed in travelling clothes, it seemed Bingley would not tarry over his meal. The coach had been packed and ready several hours ago. It waited only on the master’s pleasure. As usual, Bingley’s time-keeping left much to be desired. He had been no different at Cambridge, where the men first met five years ago.

“Darcy,” the man beamed, sitting down with the expectation of being served immediately.

“Foster, would you leave us,” Darcy requested.

Bowing, the servant did as he was bid, without gaining the master’s approval. It caused Bingley’s eyes to narrow on his long-time friend standing before the window. Darcy seemed to have a weight about him. Yet, he hesitated before speaking, as if weighing his words.

“Bingley, why do you think I ‘stand about in a stupid manner’ at every ball I attend?” the Master of Pemberley suddenly demanded.

Utterly speechless at being attacked in such a way, Charles stared, his mouth slightly open.

“I will tell you it is not for my own amusement! When I told Mrs Bennet I rarely dance at that first assembly, there is a method in my madness. Never have I led a young lady to expect my addresses, or even my admiration,” Darcy reproved. “You know I arbore deceit in all its forms.”

“Of what are you speaking?” Charles demanded, standing to confront his friend. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”

Sighing heavily, Darcy knew Bingley told the truth. He could be very oblivious to the realities of life, even when they stood before him. “This is going to be difficult for you to hear, but you must.” In as few words as possible, the expectations of the neighbourhood were explained to the stunned man.

“You are sure that Sir William,” swallowing, Charles Bingley finally understood his friend's meaning. Head in his hands, he looked up imploringly at Darcy, “is convinced I am to offer for Miss Bennet?”

“Yes,” Darcy hissed, “and if you do not, you will leave her reputation, and that of her family in ruins. Your devotion, your attentions have been so marked, even I have seen them.”

“She might be an angel,” the man whined, suddenly feeling the need to pace up and down the room, “and I may have shown more partiality to her than any of my previous angels, but I am not ready to be leg shackled. I do admire Miss Bennet above all the other ladies I have met. I enjoy her company…”

“Have I not implored you to…” growling, Darcy turned his back on the younger man to continue staring out the window. Taking several slow breaths before pivoting back to face his friend, Darcy's thoughts suddenly coalesced and he demanded, “do you really wish to be a gentleman?”

“Yes,” Bingley answered, somewhat shocked. “That is why I invited you to Netherfield, to aid my first steps into land ownership.”

“Then you must learn, not only to manage your estate, at which you are failing dismally,” Darcy berated, “but act in a manner which affords respect and conforms to society's dictates. The Bennets are the most prosperous family in the district, after you. They are accorded respect, even if Mr Bennet prefers his book room to visiting his neighbours and tenants. His lands are well managed and profitable. Their opinions carry weight in Meryton. By slighting a daughter, the eldest and most beautiful, you shun the family. To leave for London after dancing with Miss Bennet twice last night without calling, you leave her open to your caprice and, possibly, disappointed hopes. Hopes you have created with your attentions. This will be much talked about, and Miss Bennet’s reputation will be harmed with each retelling.”

“I,” once again Bingley swallowed, harder this time, “I had not realised…”

“That is your problem,” Darcy stated, eyes growing cooler and his expression hardening, “you do not think. I have tried to help you, not only in learning to manage an estate but in society. You cannot continue to act in such an irresponsible way.”

“What must I do?” Charles enquired.

“What would you want a gentleman to do, if we were considering the same events with one of your sisters?” Darcy asked.

Bingley paled.

“Think very carefully before you make your next move, Bingley,” Darcy suggested.

“You will not help me?” Charles questioned. His friend's look spoke volumes. “No, you cannot. This is my decision. Either I must offer for her and face the consequences of my actions, or…”

Darcy continued to glare.

“Hope she refuses me,” Bingley wanted, rather than believed this to be an option.

“We have spoken of Miss Bennet’s situation in life. The family would be imprudent to refuse such an offer,” Darcy stated.

Falling into the nearest seat and laying his head on the table, Bingley mournfully added, “it is no better than Hurst reason’s for marrying Louisa. He wanted her dowry, she wanted to be married after three seasons without any other offers. As you can see, they do not much care for each other.”

“The Bennet’s wish for security, while you will gain rank, attaching your name to a gently bred family,” Darcy proposed carefully. “It will be seen as an eligible match.”

Lifting his head, Charles let out a sign. Any thought of breaking his fast fled. In fact, his stomach had tied itself in knots.

Chapter Text

“Mrs Bennet,” Charles Bingley bowed as he entered the drawing-room at Longbourn.

The three-mile ride on his stallion had not been long enough to consider all of Darcy’s words or formulate a plan to extract himself from the parson’s noose. Perhaps, the journey to London would prove more insightful. After all, four hours in a carriage with only his thoughts for company may lead to a way out of this mess. In the meantime, Bingley avowed he would not give Miss Bennet the slightest hope from this visit.

“Mr Bingley,” the matron stood in greeting, her expression one of delight. It seemed all her daughters were in attendance. They welcomed him with a curtsy and wide smile. Glancing between Jane and the visitor, Mrs Bennet offered, “you are very welcome.”

“Thank you,” Charles gave a polite nod, looking anywhere but at the young ladies in the room. Bingley did not wish to give offence, which was against his nature. Neither did he wish to encourage an overly long visit. And that voice, how come it has never grated on my nerves before now?

Because, his alter ego informed, you have never taken the time to remove your attention from your Angel. You do not care to discern that which displeases you.

Looking about the groupings and finally observing for the first time, it seemed the Bennet ladies had been expecting callers. In London, his sisters would have been traipsing all over the city, paying calls the day after a ball, discussing fashion and disseminating gossip. It could hardly be any different in the country, Charles suddenly came to a startling conclusion. This means, if Darcy is correct, I would have committed the ultimate sin, leaving for London without so much as a goodbye, if I have truly raised expectations.

Glancing around the small room, Bingley noticed the younger girls sitting at a small table. They appeared aloof, sharing whispers and glaring at Miss Elizabeth as if they knew a great secret. The piano-playing sibling with the untrained voice stood between her older sisters before the three-seater. While he took this in, Charles noticed Mrs Bennet attempt to arrange the party more to her liking. Miss Bennet ever demure but happy to follow her mother’s instructions moved to stand at his side, while Miss Elizabeth smiled with delight at the change. The meaning of which had not been lost on Bingley, now Darcy opened his eyes.

Thus, Charles Bingley found himself seated beside Miss Bennet. The mother looked at the arrangement with predatory eyes. Jane blushed, either out of embarrassment or pleasure, Bingley could not tell. Finally, Mrs Bennet commanded, “ring the bell for tea, Kitty.”

“I cannot stay,” Charles declined in a shocked tone. Suddenly standing, he forced the five young women to do the same. He refused to look towards Miss Bennet, not wishing to expose himself, or the turmoil he felt, further. “I came to take my leave before journeying to London.”

“I wish you safe travels,” Jane offered, lifting her eyes to Bingley. Confused, she could not explain why he did not return the gesture. Her mind attempted to explain his peculiar behaviour but she could not account for the unconcealed indifference. I have lost his good opinion, Jane’s mind concluded, failing to understand what had occurred to make so material a difference.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” Charles responded without his customary joviality.

He could not look in Jane’s direction without abhorrence. Cheeks colouring, only Miss Elizabeth caught the out-of-character expression and wondered what the slight frown meant. She knew something of great import had occurred between the ball and this visit. Unable to establish if it were due to her family’s poor performance on that night or the reason for Mr Bingley’s sudden departure to London, Lizzy decided to question Jane as soon as maybe. Perhaps he had told her sister something of his plans.

Or perhaps, Lizzy’s mind suggested, the superior sisters and Mr Darcy have been at Mr Bingley.

“When you return,” Fanny offered, hoping for a hint of just how long it would before that day came, “I insist you and your party dine with us.”

“Thank you,” Bingley nodded.

Rather put out at the non-answer, Mrs Bennet frowned. She could see all her plans turning to dust. Before her mother could say more, and further remove doubt of her ridiculousness, Lizzy asked, “do you go to London on business, Mr Bingley?”

“Yes,” he offered. Glancing toward Miss Elizabeth, Charles felt her eyes studying him. Lips pursed, she did not like his single-word answers. Even to his own ears, he sounded as arrogant and aloof as Darcy. “I hope the business that takes me to town will be concluded in a few days, but cannot be certain.”

“Such is the lot of a gentleman,” Lizzy teased, hoping to put the man more at ease.

“Indeed,” Bingley responded. Before the pause became stilted, or Mrs Bennet could stop glaring at her second daughter and formulate a response, Charles bowed. “I wish you good day, Mrs Bennet, ladies,” he offered before bolting out the door.

“That,” Lizzy spoke first, a quizzical expression upon her countenance as she glanced at her sister, “was most singular.”

“Keep your pert opinions to yourself,” Mrs Bennet berated, still feeling the loss of Mr Collins as a son-in-law. Or more to the point, Longbourn’s protection should her husband precede her. “It is not bad enough that you refused to become Mistress of this house when your father passes, now you turn way Mr Bingley with your wicked tongue. I had such hopes for that young man, but it seems he is not to be worked on. Oh, we shall all end in the hedgerows.”

This thought brought on a bout of vexation. It did not take long before Mrs Bennet worked herself into a panicked dither. The salts were called for, Hill importuned and the lady of the house took to her chambers, wailing loud enough for all the neighbours to hear. Mr Bennet’s door slammed and he was not to be disturbed. Lydia and Kitty snickered, looking to Lizzy but dared not say anything with the thunderous expression she levelled at them. They decided to walk to Lucas Lodge and tell all that occurred today. Mary removed herself from the room. One of her concertos could be heard throughout the house attempting to drown out her mother’s lamentations. Jane, clearly upset, slumped onto the settee.

“Come, Jane,” Lizzy roused herself from introspection, “let us take a turn about the garden.”

“Why, Lizzy,” Jane asked, holding tears at bay.

Chapter Text

“I have told you all I know,” Jane came close to snapping.

“It does not make sense,” Lizzy complained, rolling her eyes.

No matter how carefully she questioned Jane over the following days, Mr Bingley had not confided the business that drew him to London to her sister. In fact, to the best of Miss Bennet’s knowledge, Netherfield’s master had not said a word about his plans to journey to the Capital. It left Elizabeth wondering if the business requiring Mr Bingley's consideration had been conceived to remove him from her sister.

“I do not understand how a man so much in love can be so altered,” Lizzy frowned, recalling every expression when last in Mr Bingley’s company. “He could not open the ball with you, Jane. That duty fell to his sister. However, Mr Bingley danced the supper and final set with you, which speaks of his devotion. Besides, you were hardly out of his company when you were not dancing. Something must have occurred…”

Namely the superior sisters, Elizabeth’s subconscious proposed. They wish him miles away and now he is. I am sure Mr Darcy had a hand in Mr Bingley’s removal. He has never approved of Hertfordshire or its society, for we are far removed from the first circles he usually inhabits.

“Perhaps it is something I did or said,” Jane professed mournfully, carefully going over every moment they’d spent together since the first assembly. Each time they met at a dinner or card party, the attraction had been too strong to overcome. They gravitated towards each other, spending as much time in each other's company as possible. She had dared to hope! She had shown as much affection as her heart and mind allowed!

“No, Jane,” Lizzy defended, hating to see her beloved sister so discouraged, “if anything….”

Stopping before she said more, Jane picked up on the unspoken accusation. “No, Lizzy, you cannot think so badly of Lydia and Kitty. They are full young to be out, but even they must have their share of amusements.”

“Perhaps,” Lizzy consoled, just not when it could ruin the chances of a most beloved sister. Oh, Jane, I know you cannot see the damage that our family caused. It was not only Kitty and Lydia that exposed themselves at the Netherfield ball but Papa, Mama and even Mary. They all demonstrated the worst of their characters, before Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley’s sisters. As if they did not have enough reason to discourage an attachment, our family gave them more.

Unwilling to cause her sister more pain, Elizabeth did not bring up the topic again. On the mornings the weather allowed her outdoors, Lizzy spent much of her walk contemplating the change in Mr Bingley’s behaviour and what it signified. As the days mounted and there was no word of his return, the townsfolk began to speculate that Netherfield would soon be closed. Mr Darcy, Miss Bingley and the Hursts declined every invitation, yet they remained in residence. The ladies did not make or receive calls but the men joined various hunting parties. Lizzy had seen Mr Darcy going about Netherfield, visiting the tenants and discussing the fields with the steward as she enjoyed her morning walks.

All Meryton knew of the neglect Netherfield’s owner showed his tenants. Mr Wellsford happily pocketed the rents from the farms and house but did not consider his dependants' welfare. He cared not for the land, only the profits lining his pockets which allowed him to live in Bath as a gentleman of some means. When Mr Bingley expressed an interest in learning to become a Master, Mr Wellsford happily succeeded the responsibility but not his income.

The presumption, Elizabeth fumed, watching Mr Darcy pointing out a paddock lacking drainage from the recent rains. Only to be quieted by her conscious asking who else would look after the estate with Mr Bingley in London and Netherfield’s owner unwilling to open his pocketbook?

Mr Sempron, the steward, had the care of Netherfield in the absence of Mr Wellsford for many years. He had done remarkably well, considering the minuscule funds he was allowed for the improvement of the home farm and tenant lands. He’d been kept on after Mr Bingley took possession, which spoke well of the steward’s abilities and the new master’s attentiveness.  

Mr Darcy is acting as a master should, Lizzy’s conscious told her, even though she did not wish to see any good in the rude, arrogant man.

This conundrum distracted Elizabeth when the news that her cousin, who had proposed marriage to her five days previously, was now betrothed to her friend. Charlotte explained her reasoning. Lizzy did not have to like it, she only had to accept it. It seemed her friends’ position had become untenable. Miss Lucas found an escape, stopping her from becoming a burden to her family. Charlotte would soon be well situated with a most imprudent husband, but she had made her bed, and she happily chose to lay in it, especially given the alternatives.

The final disillusionment came walking from Meryton with her sisters. Several officers unexpectedly joined the party with the intention of escorting the ladies back to Longbourn. Wickham quickly chose to offer his arm to Elizabeth. He congratulated Lizzy on her fortunate escape from Mr Collins. With Mr Darcy still in the neighbourhood, Lt. Wickham declined to answer any of her questions about missing the Netherfield ball. His pursuit of Miss King had ended in disappointment, but he would not be drawn on that. The conversation led Denny and Sanderson to hint that a few of the townsfolk were no longer as obliging towards a man in a red coat as they had once been. He laid the accusation at Mr Darcy’s feet, without mentioning at gentleman’s name. Colonel Foster hinted that his men did not always receive a warm welcome the night they first met at Lucas Lodge and it made Lizzy wonder why.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Malloy, a matron who lived on the outskirts of Meryton, and known for her gossip, came out of her house as the party passed. “May I have a word.”

“You go, Lizzy,” Lydia shouted, more than pleased to be rid of her older sister who spoiled her fun at every turn.

“Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia,” Mrs Malloy’s tone turned icy, indicating the front door. Something in her tone made Elizabeth’s blood run cold.

The three men looked at each other. Lizzy did not like what she saw. Disappointed hopes, perhaps. Feeling uncomfortable, she thanked Wickham, Denny and Sanderson for their company and shepherded her sisters into the house with much complaining from Lydia.

“How did this come about,” Lizzy requested of her host, after first ensuring her younger sisters were amused elsewhere. Sitting in the parlour, enjoying tea and biscuits, Mrs Malloy had just shared the latest gossip about the soldier’s misadventures since taking up residence in their small market town.

“I overheard Mr Holms complaining about the amount the officers owed for food and drink at his tavern to Mr Peterson when I visited the circulating library,” she explained. “Mr Peterson said they owed him for making up their uniforms and had yet to settle their accounts. Well, Mrs Hinsdale was there as well and put her two pennies worth in. It seems every merchant and tradesman in town is owed a fortune. Mr Wickham is in debited more than most. It’s no wonder Mary King’s uncle took her way before he had her dowry spent.”

Chapter Text

Charles Bingley, finally seated in his travelling coach, sighed for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes. After taking his leave of the Bennet family, he encouraged his horse faster than was respectable on rain-soaked roads. He wished to leave the issue of Miss Jane Bennet and marriage far behind him. No matter how Bingley pushed his steed or the amount of mud on his boots, the situation continued to plague his thoughts.

Charles initially intended to leave for London with many daylight hours at his leisure, thus making the journey easy and allowing him to arrive in good cheer. It seemed anything that could go wrong on this fine day, had. Firstly, Bingley slept well past daybreak. This agreed with his keeping town hours. He had yet to learn the rhythms of the county and best utilise the daylight for those duties expected of the master. Then Darcy cornered him while attempting to break his fast. Charles had little idea his attentions wrought such expectations with the populace of Meryton. However unintentionally done, the damage must be repaired and before he left for London. Waiting until calling hours caused more delay. Bingley had every intention of keeping his leave-taking short.

In that at least, he ruminated, I was successful. At this rate, it will be sunset before reaching the outskirts of London. However, I will leave today, Bingley pledged silently, jumping from his horse and ordering his carriage made ready. I have put this business with my attorney off for too long. I can no longer ignore the man’s demands. I will ponder what to do about Miss Bennet on the journey to London.

This settled in his mind, Charles Bingley finally boarded his coach. He did not take the time to observe the servant’s silent communication. His whims had put them out. The stable master expected no less from those of wealth and privilege. He did, however, expect more concern towards the matched four who had been standing about in the late November weather, hitched and waiting for many hours. Not to mention Mr Bingley’s horse, who had been ridden hard and returned covered in mud.

Looking out the window at the passing scenery, Bingley’s mind returned to the Bennet’s drawing room, even though he attempted to focus on other matters. He had not needed to see Miss Bennet’s countenance to establish her confusion at his odd behaviour. The visit, however, set Darcy’s suspicion as a reality in Charles's mind. It seemed Jane would welcome his proposal, even if directed to do so by her mother. Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, comprehended his unusual behaviour. Just as she had seen through his simple character while staying at Netherfield, and commented upon his inconsistency and dislike of disagreement.

An hour into Bingley’s twenty-mile journey and the sun rapidly approached the horizon. It would be full dark by the time the coach reached Hurst’s townhouse. Mrs Simpleton would have a bath on standby and a meal at his disposal, as he’d come to expect. Yet, Bingley found himself no closer to a solution for his problems. He liked Miss Bennet, rather more than any woman he’d met. Jane really was an Angel and would make an ideal wife, someday, for someone.

Just not an ideal wife for me! I am only three and twenty, Bingley’s mind reiterated for the thousandth time. I do not want to be tied to one woman or one place. It is the reason I have put off renting an estate. My father saddled me with a townhome in a fashionable area of London, which I have rented as we frequently stay at the Hurt’s Grosvenor Street address. I wish to be free to come and go as I please. As I said to Mrs Bennet, should I decide to leave Netherfield, I should be gone within five minutes. I know that is impossible, for Caroline tells me it takes days to close a house.

As the miles rolled on, Charles continued to ponder his situation. His ideas seemed to vacillate between popular expectation, an unwanted marriage and his need to please himself, before circling back again, forming a rut that focused his mind on a single track. He could not conceive of any solution, for Charles Bingley could not get passed this most demanding issue. This inability to please both himself and Miss Bennet meant he would have to make a decision that was disagreeable. He did not like to argue.

Chapter Text

Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley and head of his family for the last five years called Charles Bingley out on this one aspect of his character, on many occasions. Bingley liked to please, and be found pleasing. He did not like to argue or be surrounded by conflict. Often this left him at the mercy of his sisters. Truth be told, Caroline in particular. He had, on occasion, stood up to her, but it was usually easier to give way to her dominant opinion and continue to live an untroubled life. Such was about to end, in quite a spectacular fashion. It seemed such inaction on his part culminated in Mr Bingley’s current predicament. All too soon, Charles would need to develop a backbone or become destitute.

“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you,” Bingley spluttered to his attorney half an hour after the man entered Hurst’s study. Truth be told, Bingley did not wish to take his council’s meaning, especially as he called before Charles managed to break his fast, insisting their business could be delayed not a moment longer.

Sighing, internally, for he could not let a client see his frustration, Mr Ignatius Grovesby gritted his teeth. The ‘attempting to become a’ gentleman had put this meeting off for far too long. Initially, the attorney considered Mr Bingley like many others of his class. Rash, unwise and with little care for the feelings of others. This meeting dispelled any notion of Mr Bingley being such a fashion-conscious dandy, instead casting him as pliable, weak-willed and lacking in worldly understanding.

Pausing for a moment, Grovesby decided to explain the current issues facing his client in the simplest of terms. “Your esteemed father, bless his soul, wished for you to become a gentleman.”

“Indeed,” Bingley smiled. This much he understood and was able to comprehend. After all, he had been told so all his life. If Caroline is to be rightly understood, he thought, we are already gentlefolk. Darcy’s friendship has taken our family name a long way with the intimate connection.

“Did you not wonder why he sent you for a university education,” Mr Grovesby asked, in the gentlest possible tone, “instead of teaching you the art of trade, of continuing to administer his businesses.”

“He wished future generations to cast off the stench of trade,” Bingley answered immediately.

“In order to do so,” the attorney hurried to add, before Bingley could utter another word, “all your father’s assets were liquidated upon his death. This was his wish, with strict terms set out in his last will and testament. As you say, he desired for all links to be gone and that started with selling his business.”

“My Uncle,” Charles added with a thoughtful expression, “brought out Papa’s share of the mines and mills. You assured me the price was fair and my uncle happy with the prospect.”

“He was. It is the funds,” the lawyer attempted to lead his client to the obvious conclusion, “we need to speak of. As you know, they were put aside for you to purchase property and endower your sisters. I set aside twenty thousand pounds for each of your sisters and placed the remainder in your account. Currently, the principle is in the four percents, which provides your allotment.”

Ignatius watched the young man before him carefully. The penny, as they say, had not yet dropped, although they had this discussion many times in the past, in a much gentler form. It seemed Mr Bingley did not comprehend the very great abyss upon which he stood. Working hard to control his countenance, Grovesby knew he had to be blunt.

“Sir, that gives you an annual income of four thousand pounds,” the attorney hinted. Still, his client looked like a stunned fish, attempting to integrate this information and the reason behind it. “You spent all of your yearly allotment by September. Along with the rent for Netherfield, I must draw the additional funds from the principal.”

“How much is left?” Bingley asked, the gravity of the situation finally hitting home.

“A little under Ninety-four thousand pounds,” Grovesby answered. “You have spent six thousand pounds in the last five years above your income. Thus, each year your income decreased slightly and your annual expenditure must reflect this change. Yet you continue to exceed your earnings by at least one thousand pounds a year and the interest generated decreases further as does the principal. In addition to this, the interest from your sister’s dowries has been used to cover their expenses prior to drawing from the main account.”

“I know Caroline exceeds her income,” Bingley started to explain.

“It is not only Miss Bingley,” here Ignatius sighed, “Miss Salina and Miss Honora take their likeness from their elder sisters. They often overspend their allowance and the seminary fees take up much of their allotment. The remainder must be made up from your personal accounts.”

Watching the young gentleman, Mr Grovesby realised Mr Bingley had little idea of his true situation. Even though the attorney attempted to explain it many times before, the university education had done little for Bingley’s true understanding.

“I wish to be blunt, Sir,” Igneous stated with some distaste. A nod from his employer allowed him to deliver the truth. “If you continue in this likeness, you will need to take out a mortgage to afford any decent property giving you the same income as you now enjoy. You must look to cut that which is not necessary.”

“What is your advice?” a shocked Bingley asked.

“I must ask, do you really wish to know my thoughts?” Grovesby asked, a serious expression covering his countenance.

“I do not,” Charles sighed, “but I would not be wise to ignore your warning. I have recently ignored a situation of my own making that is causing much distress.”

“May I enquire as to the situation?” Grovesby requested. Any additional issues that may impact his client would need to be carefully incorporated into any advice.

Without warning, Bingley jumped up and started pacing. The story came tumbling from his lips. Miss Bennet and his predicament were never far from his mind, Charles needed an impartial ear and good advice.

“What is your plan?” Requested the attorney. Ignatius’s mind worked at some speed to integrate this new information.

“I do not know,” Bingley signed, finally running out of steam. Sitting, he stated, “I believe I have raised expectations to such a degree that I must offer for her. Will you be able to draft a settlement?”

“You say her father’s property brings in two thousand a year?” Grovesby asked. “That she has little in the way of a dowry and will bring only one hundred pounds a year until the death of her father?”

Nodding, Bingley finally realised his attorney gathered all the relevant facts before offering his opinion. In this, Charles realised, he is like Darcy. The man never does anything without thinking a problem through. He often berates me, as inconstant and capricious. I begin to see his point.

“Firstly,” Igneous ensured he held his client’s gaze, “the Hursts have lived on your favour since the day Miss Louisa Bingley married. Release them to their own means. It will be somewhat of a shock for Mr Hurst’s family as they continually exceed their income. They must learn to live within their means if they are to keep their assets.”

“I had not realised….” Bingley made the sudden leap. “That is why they live with me. I know Hurst required Louisa’s dowry, but…”

Bingley could see himself in a similar situation to Hurst if he did not mend his ways. Though shocking, it finally brought home the seriousness of his attorneys’ advice. I shall not end up in the same fashion, Bingley pledged, living on the coattails of my friends and relations. That is not how a gentleman conducts his business.

Not wishing to say more about the Hurst’s finances, or his client’s good nature and gullibility, the attorney continued. “Your other sisters must be brought into line. They should no longer exceed their allowance.”

“Caroline will not like it,” Charles muttered, wondering how he was to bring about such an action without conflict.

“Yet, it will be necessary if you wish to leave something to the next generation,” Grovesby reiterated. “Miss Salina and Miss Honora will learn from Miss Bingley’s economy. Finally, may I suggest you remain at Netherfield and learn to be a good master until your lease is up. If your expenditure can be contained without supplementing others, and you take a bride that is able to live on two thousand a year, you should do very well.”

“When the lease expires?” Bingley requested.

“You have already paid the lease in advance, which will limit your spending next year. As soon as you are able, purchase,” Grovesby offered. “The longer you leave settling, the greater the purchase price and therefore, the greater your mortgage. I believe you should be able to find a property within your means if you can restrain your family.”

Chapter Text

Mr Bingley had much to think upon by the time Mr Grovesby prepared to leave Hurst’s townhome. Their discussion resonated, drawing together many aspects of his life Charles had not cared to consider at length, yet were not beyond his notice. While he might not have set Cambridge alight with this breath of his knowledge or astounding wit, Bingley was not completely oblivious to his surroundings. He cared to notice only that which gave him pleasure and, in turn, amused the company he chose to keep. The character underpinning his personality demanded equanimity and accord which was most often mistaken for caprice.

At his attorney’s suggestion, he immediately sent an express to Netherfield, informing his sister not to close up the house or return to town. Caroline and Louisa made their opinion of the country very evident. It seemed Mr Grovesby understood them better than himself and knew how they would act. Given this morning’s information, Bingley required quiet serenity to plan for this family’s future and steel his spine for the many battles ahead.

As the head of his household, finances would not allow Charles to keep Netherfield and continue to take on the responsibility for the maintenance and upkeep of Hurst’s townhouse. He’d never considered the reasons behind the Grosvenor Street accounts kept in his name. It seemed his brother’s credit did not exist. The man was willing to trade on Bingley’s good name to establish his current style of living.

That, Charles made his first decision, must stop immediately. I shall call on the merchants that supply this house and make it known I will no longer support my Brother-in-law. I shall have a long discussion with Mrs Simpleton immediately and see what can be done. I am sure it will take many days to transfer and close out the current accounts. After my discussion with Mr Grovesby, I cannot, in good conscience, release any of the staff without time to find another position. I must also provide references, for they have been very solicitous of my needs. And, Bingley’s subconscious added, put up with much from my sisters and brother-in-law. Perhaps Hurst will be forced to rent out his townhouse, as I have. Then he and Louisa can retire to his estate and I shall be rid of them. With any luck, Caroline will accompany her sister.

This decided, Charles made up his mind to remain in Hertfordshire and face his responsibilities which would most likely include Miss Bingley continuing to act as his hostess. Caroline would not willingly give up her position in society, even if it meant remaining with her brother in the country. Bingley also needed Darcy’s good opinion now more than ever to establish himself. While the gentleman was willing and able to remain at Netherfield, Charles knew he must dedicate himself to learning all his friend could impart. To that effect, he must curb his sister’s efforts to secure his friend.

Yet another item I must add to my growing list of matters to achieve, Charles's mind seethed at the obligations he had noticed but ignored to keep peace in his home. Although how I am to control Caroline is beyond me! Her character is fixed, she is conceited and self-important without realising she is barely one step above those in trade. Darcy would never marry her; even should she stoop to fixing a compromise.

“Sir,” Igneous reminded his client that he had not been dismissed. Bingley seemed lost in thought and the attorney had not wished to interrupt. The depth of contemplation out of character for the usually cheerful gentleman, Grovesby could only hope his advice would be acted upon swiftly, proving beneficial to his client’s financial future.

Thanking Mr Grovesby, Charles found his mind clear of the situation with Miss Bennet. It seemed he had much more to consider than raised expectations. He did not feel ready to become betrothed with the enormous responsibilities that had been suddenly thrust upon him. He had much to sort, such as keeping Caroline at Netherfield and removing the Hursts, before Charles could turn his mind to Miss Bennet and the future.

Changing the accounts for Hurst’s townhome took much longer than expected, delaying Charles's return to Hertfordshire. In the meantime, several letters, most via express were exchanged between Grosvenor Street and Netherfield. Caroline, in conjunction with Louisa, attempted to convince Darcy to remove to town. As usual, Darcy understood the situation far better and managed Miss Bingley’s expectations, especially as Charles had requested his advice after outlining the most salient points of his situation. While Pemberley’s master declined to leave, Miss Bingley was obliged to remain and act as hostess. That she did so under sufferance became obvious to the four and twenty families surrounding Meryton. The ladies had not troubled themselves to join society since the Netherfield Ball, while the gentlemen joined many hunting parties. Darcy ensured Hurst attended, to keep up Bingley’s good name and reassure the gossips that he would return and protect Miss Bennet’s reputation.

Twelve days after leaving Hertfordshire, Charles Bingley boarded his carriage, leaving Grosvenor Street, possible for the last time. Looking at the impressive building as they pulled away, nestled between others of the same calibre and in a much sort after neighbourhood, he wondered as to the price it would fetch.

Why, Bingley asked silently, if Hurst is in such dire striates, did he not rent or sell Grosvenor Street? Perhaps it is because he shows a preference for town. In the two years since Louisa married, they have never ventured to Heathcoat, Hurst’s family estate. Darcy is always telling me a good master is more often on his land than in town. He spends upwards of half a year at Pemberley, attending the season for a few weeks at its height. Only last week, we spoke of spring planting. Darcy has already written to his steward and is it barely December. In April, he will see to Rosing Park, as he does every year, ensuring his widow’s Aunt’s estate is profitable for another year. Perhaps, I need to take my likeness from him.

Yet, once again Bingley’s alter ego commented, Darcy has reached seven and twenty without marriage. He is the master of his estate.

Sighing, Bingley considered Darcy’s character and deportment in society. He did not smile or laugh, he did not seek out partners with which to dance. Charles had never seen him request more than one dance with a single lady over the entirety of the season, even when coerced by overbearing mothers seeking wealthy, connected husbands for their daughters. Darcy managed to slip through their fingers with ease.

The gentle rocking of the carriage mirrored Bingley’s mind. One thought chased another through his head, changing his mind, only to have it return to his previous decision. At some point, he slept, dreaming of becoming destitute after losing everything his father worked to achieve. Even his Angel abandoned him, not for his loss of wealth, but for his inconsistency.

Finally approaching Netherfield, he resolved that he would not fail his father. The dreams alarmed the usually complacent gentleman into a state of agitation. Bingley knew what he must do, but the issue of how to carry out his plans remained the issue.

Chapter Text

Receiving her brother’s express demanding she remain at Netherfield, Miss Bingley became infuriated. Caroline wished to speak with Charles in the harshest tone as soon as may be. Thus, for the last eleven days, she took to this parlour after completing her breakfast and not so silently fuming. Miss Bingley’s ire increased with each and every minute she felt compelled to sit in the most inconvenient room. Most days, Caroline refused leave the window giving a good view of Netherfield’s drive until called to dress for dinner. Her Abagail took the brunt of her mistress’s anger and resentment. Even the inducement of Mr Darcy paled, as the gentlemen partook of the local society and often dined out. When not roaming about the countryside, Mr Darcy locked himself in Charles’s study to conduct business, attending the never-ending stream of expresses delivered at all hours. Thus, Caroline could not be bothered with the household tasks that fell to the mistress as she no longer felt the need to impress suitor, leaving Louisa to step into the breach.

For her part, Mrs Hurst revelled in the new-found responsibility. It gave her something to do without Caroline’s constant bickering, insensitive observations and dominate personality. Mrs Nichols, feeling the winds of change, worked to mould the more than capable woman into a competent, caring mistress. Gentle improvements and well-timed discussions worked wonders as the new Mistress took to her position like a duck to water. Far from being an empty vessel, Mrs Hurst basked in the obligation, learning all she could from those Caroline considered far below her notice. Furthermore, Louisa finally understood her husband to be considered an indolent, slovenly man and took him in hand, now she had the confidence and proficiency to do so. Gilbert Hurst had little idea of what hit him.

Into this maelstrom, Mr Charles Bingley stepped on the ninth day of December. He knew what awaited him, thanks to the express Darcy sent to Hurst’s town home yesterday. Steeling himself, Charles handed off his greatcoat and hat to the butler, pausing briefly at the drawing room door.

“Charles,” Caroline’s voice echoed through the doors the moment she heard Bingley’s boots on the tiled floor of Netherfield’s entry hall.

“Sister,” he offered with a cursory bow, stopping to observe his sibling’s mood so he could plan his attack. Four hours in a coach allowed Bingley to consider every scenario, and rehearse his counter-arguments.

“I wish to speak...” Caroline started, a flash of rage crossing her countenance.

“I am sure you do,” Bingley responded in an offhanded manner, cutting off her outburst. “As you see,” he brushed several grains of dirt into the carpet, “I need time to refresh from my journey. Please ask Mrs Nichols to have water sent to my chamber. I shall return in half an hour if it pleases me.”

“Charles,” Caroline’s voice rose, her tone one not to be ignored. A few decibels short of a shout, Miss Bingley’s countenance betrayed her feelings.

“If you cannot control yourself, Sister, I suggest you retire to your chamber until you can do so with calm and equanimity,” Bingley advised over his shoulder, continuing to climb the stairs. He would not let her irritation sway his decisions. Thus, Charles ignored Caroline’s indignant glare and loud huff while taking the risers two at a time. There was more at stake than his sister’s good opinion.

Devesting himself of his cravat, coat and waistcoat, Bingley knew it would take his valet a good quarter of an hour to see to the unloading of his trunks and at least as long for the water to reach is bathing chamber. In the meantime, Charles sat at his escritoire and penned a note to Darcy, requesting they meet in his study in an hour. Bingley needed to start somewhere. It seemed Darcy would be the best place, for little escaped his attention. The communications between them had been short out of necessity. Now they had time to discuss all that occurred in the last fortnight and Charles needed to absorb the information into his plans for the future.

“Mrs Hurst,” Darcy stated with a slight frown as the men settled before a raging fire, a glass of wine in their hands, “has surprised me. Your eldest sister is more than capable of running a household.”

“Louisa will need to be,” Charles signed, “for I have signed over all the accounts for Grosvenor Place into Hurst’s name. Many of the staff did not wish to stay. I offered them a month’s wages and a letter of recommendation, which they gratefully accepted.”

“They will find work easily, if they wish to stay in town,” Darcy commented with a huff. “At Pemberley our turnover is minimal. I have heard of households that are not able to keep good help.”

“If they are treated…but that is my issue with Caroline. I must do something about my sisters,” Bingley sighed once again, thinking of the many tasks before him. Taking a long, fortifying sip of his wine, Charles shook his head. “All my sisters. I mean to start with the eldest. It is time the Hurst’s kept their own household. I am glad Louisa has stepped into the breach.”

The look Darcy levelled at Bingley, told the man more occurred in his absence than he considered possible. “Hurst has also been taken in hand by his wife, although the progress is slower. I fear for his welfare. Have you ever seen a man removed from his cups?”

Shaking his head, Bingley suddenly gasped. “Once,” he offered.

“I gather it did not end well,” Darcy concluded. “I called Mr Jones, the apothecary, when Hurst began sweeting profusely and speaking in riddles the morning after being denied. Mrs Hurst ordered her husband’s imbuing limited to dinner. No matter how he complained she did not relent.”

“What is the result?” Bingley demanded.

“That it ought not be attempted in such a drastic step. Mr Jones has proscribed a stepwise approach,” Darcy’s expression softened. “I gather it is not the first drunkard he has treated with this method. Hurst is still hearing voices, trembling and bewildered much of the time, but he is slowly improving. The process will take more than a month before he is completely well.”

“I suppose I am expected to host them,” Bingley bit down on the tip of his tongue at this complication. “That was not my plan.”

“You can hardly throw your sister out,” Darcy remonstrated.

“You are right, as usual,” Bingley conceded. “Hurst will be better able to manage his estate if he is not constantly in his cups. Perhaps, with Louisa able to run a house, they will manage Heathcoat well enough.”

“And rent out their town home,” Darcy said solicitously. “The income will aid them to improve the land. I understand Heathcoat requires some investment to bring it back to prosperity.”

“I see your thoughts mirror my own. Now, if only curing Caroline of overspending could occur with so little inconvenience,” Bingley laughed. The harsh sound echoed off the walls.

“Perhaps,” Darcy offered carefully, “if you let Miss Bingley know of your troubles…”

His friend simply glared.

“How can she improve if you do not give her the means to change,” Darcy proposed, before becoming very pale and still.

“I say old man,” even though embroiled in his own troubles, Bingley could not miss the change in his usually reserved and stoic friend, “what is the matter? Is there anything I can offer for your present relief?”

“No,” Darcy stood suddenly and began to pace the room. “I have been hoisted on my own petard, Bingley. The trouble with Wickham, had I given him the means to change, perhaps he would not have turned out to be such a rake.”

“You cannot blame yourself for that man,” Bingley reproved. “He was given more than most can expect.”

“Agreed,” Darcy’s agitation increased, “however, I was shown how to use my advantages at my father’s knee. I knew I would be the Master of Pemberley, bound by honour and duty. My father ensured I understood the part I must play. Wickham never spent time learning his place in society because my father treated him almost as a second son. Now he wishes the spoils without the means to support them. Much like you sister.”

Never the sharpest tool in the shed, Bingley saw the inference and was able to apply it to Caroline. She had been given a lady’s education, a good dowry and enough pin money to support a family. Yet, she desired that which was above her station. My sisters are the daughters of a tradesman. Nothing will wipe the stench from them, unless it’s a man like Hurst. A man looking for a fortune to support his ailing lands. Even if I purchase an estate, and marry a gentleman’s daughter, like Miss Bennet, my children will still be considered tarnished. Caroline wishes me to marry well. Yet, who would have me? More so if my fortune continues to erode by overspending.

The women my sisters choose are not to my liking, nor are they interested once they know I do not have an estate. Or they are only interested in my wealth and how to spend it. Even my previous angles have been attracted to my pocket book. Those with funds enough are quickly whisked away by their protectors because I can offer them very little. Perhaps Miss Bennet is not so bad a choice. She is pleasing and has happy manners. A lack of dowry is of little concern if she can economise, for we must save enough to endower any female children.

“Bingley,” Darcy had to touch his friend’s shoulder to get his attention.

“I apologise,” Charles responded, suddenly pulled out of his wool-gathering.

“I must return to Pemberley,” Darcy stated, obviously lost in his own considerations. “I will leave in the morning.”

“I was counting on your support,” Bingley almost pouted.

“I shall be at your disposal via correspondence,” Darcy offered. “In the meantime, you should look to your steward. Mr Sempron is a Hertfordshire native and a good man. We have discussed Netherfield at length. With a good master and a little investment, this estate could produce five thousand a year.”

Nodding, Bingley let his friend go. He’s learnt a long time ago Darcy marched to his own drum. It seemed this discussion had been as cathartic for the Master of Pemberley, as it was informative to the son of a man in trade. Continuing to sip on his drink, the puzzle began to coalesce. It seemed the discussion with Darcy tied together so many treads.

Taking his time to think the matter through, Bingley finally pulled the bell cord. When the butler answered, he demanded to see Mr Sempron. An hour later the dinner gone called all in the house to dine. With a lightness in his step, a buoyance he’d not felt since leaving for London, Mr Charles Bingley finally felt ready to face his sisters, and thereafter the remainder of his life.

Chapter Text

Entering the parlour after dressing for dinner, Bingley found his sisters in a heated debate. Well, he heard Caroline’s voice from the foot of the stairs all the way to the ornate doors outside her preferred drawing room. The responses to her cutting words were in a much more delicate tone, softer without the inflections of unbridled emotions colouring them. It seemed Mrs Hurst modulated her responses so the entire house did not hear them, inferring Miss Bingley to be the shrew.

Most singular, Bingley considered, until he recalled all his sisters had, or in the case of Selina and Honora, were being educated at one of the finest, and most expensive, seminaries for young ladies. It seems my eldest sibling is finally putting all that education to good use. Capital, she shall need it in the near future when she is Mistress of Heathcoat. Perhaps…

“Charles,” Caroline turned on her brother the moment he stepped into the room, “you must tell Louisa that I am mistress of Netherfield.”

Glaring at Caroline, Bingley briefly glanced at Louisa. He barely managed to stifle a gasp. It seemed Mrs Hurst had taken to her duties as Darcy stated. Seated on one of the ornate settees, mob cap fastened to her head, she waited demurely to be acknowledged by the Master of Netherfield. Her gown was still far too lavish for a family dinner, it appeared somewhat more sober than usual. It suited this new rendering.

“Louisa, you look very well this evening,” Bingley complemented with a bow to display the honour of his words.

“Thank you, brother,” Mrs Hurst coloured slightly under the praise.

At that moment, Charles Bingley wondered if Hurst had ever truly admired his wife or just her twenty-thousand-pound dowry. The man never spared a kind word. After placing the gold wedding band on her finger, they never danced again. He knew Louisa adored dancing, but as a matron, she rarely got the chance, especially if her indolent husband failed to do his duty.

“Charles,” Caroline drew the attention of the entire room with her nasal demand. She did not like the speculative expression crossing her brothers' countenance. However, the rest of her words were cut short by the appearance of Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst. Turning up her nose at the latter, Miss Bingley prepared to pounce on the former.

“Forster,” Bingley caught the eye of the footman before he closed the parlour doors, “please inform cook to hold dinner for an hour. I shall call when we are ready.”

Nodding, the servant didn’t utter a word as he backed out. After completing his errand, the young man stationed himself by the door. It wouldn’t take any effort to discover what occurred in the room if Miss Bingley chose to open her mouth. The woman’s voice could be heard over half of Netherfield’s room when she considered herself quite put out.

“Sit down, Caroline, and do be quiet,” Charles demanded with a huff as he considered what must be imparted to his family.

Miss Bingley complied, more because Mr Darcy did so than being ordered to do so by her brother. Shooting a hostile glance at the man who rarely stood up to a slight wind, she turned toward her prey. Opening her mouth with the intention of commencing a conversation with her guest, Mr Darcy’s attention had been captured by the Hursts seated to his right. Once again, Louisa directed her husband’s wandering attention and deportment to her liking.

 At least, Caroline thought, she is finally taking him in hand. However, before Caroline could manipulate the conversation, Bingley’s tone demanded the party’s full attention.

“What I have to tell you is of the utmost importance,” his eyes swept the room, before he signed heavily, “and will affect us all.”

Understating what Bingley was about to do, Darcy cleared his throat. He did not need to be a part of a family discussion. Before he could make his excuses, Charles pointed to the wing-backed chair he currently inhabited, indicating he should remain. It seemed his friend might require assistance and support; which Darcy had pledged to provide.

“Hurst, how are you this evening,” Bingley asked softly while assessing his brother-in-law. He noted the tremor in the man’s hand and voice.

“I, I am unsure,” Gilbert responded in a weak voice. His expression bewildered, he looked to his wife for guidance. Louisa smiled brightly and lay a comforting hand on his forearm.

“The man is a disgrace,” Caroline stated under her breath. The volume loud enough for the rest of the room to hear.

“As are you, sister,” Charles rebuked, loudly and with feeling. The expression on his countenance one Miss Bingley had never before witnessed.

“Me,” Caroline squeaked.

“I shall not berate your behaviour and lack of all good manners before our guest,” Bingley replied, indicating his good friend, who responded with a small nod and hidden smirk. This made Caroline shrink back in the matching wing-backed chair. “We will speak of your future tomorrow. Now, I have something I must tell you. Darcy knows of our family troubles as we have been in constant communication via express this last fortnight.”

The discussion when as well as Bingley expected. Hurst continued to take up a place on the couch but comprehended little. Louisa played with her single silver bangle. Charles knew this to be an action she performed when thinking deeply, usually because Caroline had said something unkind. In this case, it seemed his eldest sister finally understood her husband’s precarious financial position and the fact he required more than her dowry to shore up his failing estate. As to Miss Bingley, her face paled as the full weight of their situation finally set in. She might be harsh, mean-spirited and spiteful, but stupid Miss Caroline Bingley certainly was not.

“What is to be done?” Caroline demanded, almost jumping up and pacing the room. Her agitation affected the others in the room, putting everyone on edge.

“We will remain at Netherfield until the end of the lease,” Charles stated. The authority in his tone more to convince himself of his only option.

Pacing increasing in speed, Caroline understood the reason but did not like it. Her mind raced, analysing which friends she could convince to invite her for the little season so she might catch a husband before their disgrace became known. Marrying Mr Darcy had always been a herculean task. With exposure, she had deluded herself into thinking it possible. The man would never attach his name to an impoverished family without connections or land. Even though he admired Miss Eliza Bennet and her fine eyes, Mr Darcy had been careful not to raise expectations, either in the lady or the general populace of Meryton. The same could not be said for her brother.

With this thought in mind, Caroline’s gaze narrowed on her brother and became malevolent. She knew the rules of society. In marrying the daughter of a country squire, Charles would buy his children into the gentry, should he purchase an estate. Louisa had shaken off the stench of trade that continued to haunt Miss Bingley by agreeing to become Hurst’s wife. If she were forced to make the same decision, Caroline declined to settle for the first available gentleman willing to take her dowry. She would choose her target well.

“You may prefer to remain in this country,” she finally cried. “I shall write to Miss Heatherington. I am sure she will host me for the little season.”

“I think not,” Mr Darcy finally weighed in on the conversation. Blinking slowly, he turned toward Miss Bingley. Ensuring he had her complete attention, the master of Pemberley explained, “your brother has sent a ripple of gossip through the servant class by dismissing most of Grosvenor Place’s maids and footmen. The shop keeps and merchants will not lend credit to that address since he refused to continue to meet the accounts. I believe the ton already knew of Hurst’s reasons for marrying a woman with a handsome dowry.”

Darcy nodded in Mrs Hurst’s direction as if apologising for spelling out the reason for her marriage. Louisa, no longer able to hide behind her brother or drunkard husband, returned the gesture in acknowledgment. She did not take umbrage at Darcy. The look she levelled at her husband, however, spoke volumes about the man he would become under her thumb.

“I would like to remain with you at Netherfield, brother,” Louisa requested. Once again indicating the man seated beside her as the reason. “Until my husband is more himself. When Gilbert and I return to Heathcoat, I do not think we shall leave for some time.”

Caroline, meanwhile, fumed quietly at the set down. Mr Darcy had never spoken to her in such a manner. It informed her, as nothing else had, that any hope in that quarter was been lost. She now had a choice before her, none of the options pleasant. She could either write to her friends in London, begging an invite for the season, even then they may shun the acquaintance if the word had already spread as Mr Darcy indicated, or remain at Netherfield. At least in this backwater, she would be mistress, but her spending and lifestyle would be curtailed. Besides this, she would not be able to catch a husband and remove herself from this dreadful neighbourhood.

“Thank you, Louisa,” Charles smiled, although not as brightly as was his want. The words recalled Caroline’s attention to the room. Offering his arm, Bingley called to the footman on the other side of the door. “Foster, please tell cook we are ready to dine.”

Returning his attention to his eldest sister,  the master of Netherfield shredded all of Caroline’s hopes and plans when he requested, “I should like you to continue as my hostess until you return to your estate.”

“Surely,” Caroline butted in, having come up with a slim possibility to improve her future prospects, “you will spend the season at Grosvenor Place, Louisa?”

“I think not,” Mrs Hurst turned her nose up at the woman. “I believe it is time we leased the property. Brother, Mr Darcy, perhaps you can convince Gilbert that the funds would aid in the restoration of Heathcote.”

“I shall be delighted to discuss the matter with my brother,” Bingley responded. “Darcy, what say you?”

“It is a handsome property and should be in demand for the season,” he said, remaining as neutral as possible.

Hurst, for his part, simply looked on as if a goldfish in a bowl. Caroline, seeing her final option disappear before her eyes, glared at everyone in the room. Her disgust and animosity continued as Charles escorted Louisa to the foot of the table, placing her in the Mistress’s chair as if the cement her position within his house. Hurst required the aid of the footman to guild him to the dining room, while Mr Darcy placed his hands behind his back and refused to offer his escort into dinner.

“Caroline,” Bingley shooed the footman away while holding out a chair for his sister. “Please take your place beside me. Hurst,” pointing to the chair between his sisters, it left the other side of the table free for Darcy.

While the servants were in the room, Caroline dare not through a tantrum, as much as she wished to. It was not until the course had been laid, she realised her brother spoke of the future. Without Miss Bingley’s constant interruptions, Mr Darcy offered his opinion freely. Even Louisa added her two pence’s worth. Much to Caroline’s shock, the gentlemen listened to every word. At the end of the meal, the gentlemen forwent the separation of the sexes

“I shall be off with the first light,” Darcy bowed to his hostess. “I hope you will not mind if I retire early.”

“I shall have cook pack you a basket for your journey and take my leave of you now,” Louisa offered graciously.

“Thank you.” Turning to his friend, Darcy offered, “Bingley, it has been a pleasure.”

“You are welcome back at any time,” Bingley smiled.

After the gentleman bowed and left, Caroline felt her frustration rise. She had lost everything that mattered. True, a thousand pounds a year could keep a family, but not in the style she wished. Her brother indented to slash the household budget and refused to honour any overspending. Charles closed down her accounts in town when he closed those for Grosvenor Place. Watching Mr Darcy depart, the enormity of changes finally and irrevocably settled upon her.

I am ruined, truly ruined, and with that thought, Caroline finally fainted dead away.

Chapter Text

Hurst began laughing. At first, the sound echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls. Just why he found his sister-in-law falling to the ground quite so funny, he had little idea. It did not take long for the sound to turn harsh and hysterical, at which point, Mrs Hurst called for the aid of several footmen.

“Andrews,” she requested the young man entering the room attend her. “Please fetch Mrs Nichols. She is to bring the smelling salts for Miss Bingley. Forster, Mr Hurst shall require help to his room and Mr Jones to attend to his needs.”

Nodding, the barely out of his teen years servant scurried away, while the older footman looked upon the chaos and hid his internal smile. The house had been in an uproar this last fortnight. Every servant knew Miss Bingley’s thoughts on Meryton, the families that lived within five miles and her aim of capturing Mr Darcy and becoming the mistress of his estate. The so-called lady was not discreet, and many of the servants that were able moved on, understating their positions to be temporary at best. When the family returned to town, only a few would remain to keep Netherfield house in order for the next tenant. Luckily, Foster, as the head footman, along with Mrs Nichols, the Butler and three maids made the list.

Mrs Nichols appeared and glanced at Forster. Her eyebrows rose marginally as a signal for the servant to go about his duty. Between young Andrews and the senior retainer, they hoisted Hurst from his chair between them. Once on his feet, the man’s laughter turned to tears and desolate sobs. He did not fight his removal. His mouth opened and closed, sounds that might be construed as language exited. No one in the room understood a word of the mumbling monologue.

Unperturbed by the commotion, Mrs Nichols attended Miss Bingley. Opening the vial of salts, the housekeeper barely waved them under the uppity miss’s nose with the expectation she would revive in a foul snit. The response was underwhelming, a second attempt had the repulsive-smelling potion held a little longer with a similar result. When this did not accomplish the task at hand, it seemed the young lady truly had fainted and might be in some danger.

Louisa, shocked but holding her equanimity, addressed her most senior servant. “Perhaps Miss Bingley should be taken to her room. When the apothecary attends to my husband, he should look in on my sister.”

Nodding her understanding, Mrs Nichols made it so. Before long, only Charles and Louisa remained. Brother and Sister looked at one another both with the same expression on their countenance. It asked what they were to do.

“Charles,” Louisa’s tone took on a sharp edge. She had called her sibling several times. He had been lost in contemplation. “Come, let us discuss what is to be done.”

“I do not think….” Bingley began.

“Then is it time to start,” Mrs Hurst smiled calmly, her voice soft and composed as she led her brother towards the blue drawing room and called for tea. “We have much to do before the winter sets in. While you were in London, Mr Darcy discussed the home farm and the tenant’s situation with Mr Sempron. Caroline has never been interested in the concerns of others. Nor I, for that matter.”

“We have all failed,” Bingley literally slumped into the nearest chair. Letting out an enormous sigh, he looked toward his eldest sister. “I have failed you.”

“I have come to believe,” Louisa stated, sitting beside her brother and laying a hand on his arm, “that it is our father who failed us. While his intentions were good, the fault lay in his execution. We girls were educated to become the wives of gentlemen, given a good dowry to entice offers and left to navigate our elevation without true understanding.”

“Papa continued to be a tradesman, until the day he died,” Mrs Hurst continued to speak. It seemed Charles listened, choosing not to interrupt. “He treated us all as chattels, to be bought and sold to improve our family fortune and connection. I believe that is why he sent us all to be educated at such a young age.”

Nodding his agreement, Bingley sighed. “If only Mama has survived Honora's birth.”

Gasping, as if she’s finally made a connection, Louisa offered her thoughts. “Only after Mama passed, did Papa wish for his children to become genteel. He never spoke of his business again. We barely saw Papa.”

“He was either in his study,” Bingley recalled, “or conducting business at one of the mills or factories. We saw more of Aunt Margret and Uncle Bingley than Papa.”

“You were but seven when Mama passed,” Louisa recollected, “and still in the nursery. We had servants enough, but I was allowed to come to Mama. She wished me to understand a woman’s place before being sent into the world. It taught me much, observing those I wished to emulate, even if we were in trade.”

“You are saying,” Bingley finally caught on, “that losing Mama materially changed Papa?”

“Yes,” the word came out in a long hiss. “We girls were always to have been educated at the seminary before our come out. Only Mama’s influence ameliorated Papa’s need to improve our family situation through marriage. With her passing, he had no one to check his boldness.”

“That is why,” Bingley’s mind could finally make some sense of his inheritance and the stipulation to purchase an estate, “I have been given a gentleman’s education. Papa wished for me to marry a gentleman’s daughter and elevate our position in society”

“That is what Papa wanted,” Louisa agreed, forcing her brother to look up at her, “but is it what you wish?”

“I…I do not know. Darcy says I am failing at being a landowner,” Charles's thoughts seemed so chaotic. “We must stay at Netherfield, at least until the end of the lease if I am to have any chance of keeping my inheritance from being further whittled away.”

“Or, we could all remove to Heathcoat,” Louisa suggested. “There is much that must be improved, including the mind of my husband. While Gilbert cannot fulfil the role of master, it would give you the opportunity to do so. Mr Darcy spoke about diversifying. Pemberley produces more than crops. The rent from Grosvenor Place could aid in other endeavours to bring my husband’s estate back to profit.”

Eyes wide, it seemed Darcy had underplayed his sister’s transformation. Watching Louisa pace backward and forward, she played with the single silver bangle on her left wrist. Truly wishing to know, Bingley proceeded to ask, “What of the expectations I have allowed toward Miss Bennet?”

“Miss Bennet would make you a fine wife,” Louisa stated, “should you choose to purchase an estate and wish to enter the gentry. If your bent runs true to ancestry, then, perhaps you need to consider other options.”

“Trade?” Bingley almost squeaked.

“Indeed,” once again, his sister returned to his side. “Uncle Bingley remains in trade. Aunt Margret writes to say he is much involved with little time for society since Papa’s passing. He purchased Papa’s share but has no sons to take over once he is gone. True, he is still young enough to marry again and produce an heir. In the meantime, you could learn the business, if that is your wish.”

“I do not know,” Charles confessed.

“Will you not talk to me of your thoughts?” Louisa asked.

 “Darcy advised speaking with Mr Sempron. I had decided to learn everything possible from the man. He has lived his entire life in Hertfordshire and knows the crops and livestock that do well. There are many improvements that could be made if the owner would allow some little investment. But, like many, the landlord is in absentia and cares nothing for the men and women who toil so that he may enjoy the profits of their labours. Darcy did not express his scorn in words.”

“No,” Louisa agreed, “his looks would have been enough. Mr Darcy truly cares for the tenants and servants under his care. I am sorry to see him go.”

“And I,” Charles added mournfully. “I believe I shall retire early.”

“Charles,” Louisa’s hand curled into a secure clasp, “Miss Bennet’s reputation will survive this, as it has done before. All of Meryton know of her mother’s matchmaking. Indeed, I am not sure how much of the gossip has been started by that woman. However,” Mrs Hurst stopped her brother before he became truly angry. Her sorrowful look requested he hear her out. “I know a marriage of unequal affection, of the pain when the attraction fades and nothing is left but a lifetime beside a partner in life you cannot abide. Do not put yourself, or Miss Bennet in such a position. It is better to be honest, as you have been with us tonight. Perhaps, she will understand and still wish to stand at your side.”

“I am not sure I wish it,” Charles confessed. Head hanging low, the words came slowly. “I am not ready to take a wife.”

Drawing in a breath, Mrs Hurst held it for several seconds as she understood her brother for perhaps the first time. Slowly exhaling, she patted his arm soothingly. “Then you must tell her. Charles,” she challenged, “before you fall in love with your next Angel, you must decide what you wish for yourself.”

“I know,” he huffed.

Chapter Text

The Bingley siblings looked to one another with a new, strange understanding and yet, so much remained unsaid. Both comprehended the enormity of the challenges that lay before them. Bidding goodnight his eldest sister, Charles retired to his chamber to consider all that occurred on this most trying of days. Louisa, meanwhile, knew she must complete her final duties as Mistress before closing down the house for the night. She could not rest so easily while awaiting the arrival of Mr Jones. The Mistress would see to his comfort should he need to stay and attend his patients.

Just how has this momentous change come about in such a short space of time, Louisa considered with a weary sigh. Her alter ego offered, it is not so sudden, but the work of many years. I believe it started with being let out of the nursery.

Louisa Bingley recalled her childhood with joy. Charles joined her in the nursery just before turning three. Two years later, Caroline appeared, and another four added Sephora. Mama stopped by the nursery at least thrice a day, often taking nuncheon with the children. After Sephora’s birth, she had been allowed to accompany Mother about her daily tasks.

“It is time you learnt the duties and responsibilities of the Mistress now you have turned ten,” Martha Bingley told her eldest. “Therefore, you will begin to accompany me in the morning and study with masters in the afternoon. However, I request that you save your questions. We will have tea in the drawing room. You shall have my undivided attention so that I might explain the reasons behind keeping a household in good order.”

Happy to have her Mama’s exclusive attention, Louisa proved to be a good student and took in all she could. Not long after her youngest sister’s weaning, she noticed a change in her routine. Mother came to fetch her from the nursery later in the morning. By early afternoon, Mama appeared drawn. The maids started speaking in hushed tones that their mistress was likely in the family way again. Being but a child, they were not so closed mouthed when Louisa appeared. It did not take long to realise what they meant. Delighted to welcome another sibling to the nursery, this pregnancy proved very different from the last four. As Mrs Bingley’s confinement approached, the servants once again used hushed whispers as they worried for their mistress’s health.

Honora came in to the world as Mama passed. Louisa was once gain relegated to the nursery. Their house in mourning, Aunt Margaret stayed on past the funeral to help out with the children. Papa soon realised he could trust his sister-in-law to accomplish the duties of his deceased wife, without the need to discuss every decision. Miss Margaret Gates loved her nieces and nephew. A confirmed spinster with few other optios, she simply obeyed Mr Bingley’s requests, believing a father had only the very best of intentions for his children and she could be useful to the grieving family.

Sighing, Louisa declined to think any more on the past. She needed to speak with Mrs Nichols and ensure all the servants not required to await the apothecary could go to their bed. Tomorrow would be another day, filled with much to be seen to. Alongside her duties as Mistress, she must consider Hurst’s estate matters and how best to deal with them now it seemed his mind maybe truly broken. Their new man of business, Mr Mayweather, provided with the aid and direction of Mr Darcy, had started the long road to recovery for Heathcoat. He had suggested a steward be engaged, especially with Mr Hurst in such a delicate condition and was looking into suitably qualified and honest men that would make the estate their lives work. The remaining tenants would be vetted. Mr Mayweather believed the wheat had been harvested by other landowners in the immediate area requiring hard working labours for their home farms and only the chaff remained.

“So much to do,” Louisa let out a sigh knowing herself to be alone, “and so little time to achieve it all.”

With that that final thought, Mrs Hurst pulled the bed cord to have the tea tray removed. Mrs Nichols attended her. Handing off the note from Mr Jones, it appeared the good man had been called to a birthing that was not proceeding well.

“We shall have to ensure Mr Hurst and Miss Bingley’s comfort,” Louisa decided, “until the morning at least. Perhaps if they are still unwell, I will ask my brother to send to London for a doctor.”

“Very good Ma’am,” Mrs Nichols curtseyed, her mind working furiously to re-arranged the servants needed to accomplish the task.

“Should you need to hire day staff to fill the breach,” Mrs Hurst read the older woman’s expression easily, “please do so.”

Smiling, Mrs Nichols nodded her understanding. She had the notes set to go out at day break. The daughters and second son from one of the tenant families would welcome the extra income, while the young people could use the experience before going into service. With seven children to feed, and another expected any day, it was the most they could anticipate from life.

While Mrs Hurst and Mrs Nichols closed down Netherfield for the night, Caroline stirred. Looking around her bedchamber, she noticed the fire blanketed and felt one of her night dresses covering her person. Obviously, her maid fulfilled her office before retiring for the night. Before Miss Bingley think ill of the servant, the events of a few hours previously invaded her mind. The explosion of memory quite took her breath away, causing a sharp inhale as the consequence began to take shape. In that moment Miss Caroline Bingley did not know herself.

Caroline recalled every word of the conversation in the drawing room after dinner. Taking it apart, Mr Darcy indicated Charles sent a ripple of gossip through the servant class by dismissing most of Grosvenor Place’s maids and footmen. Given their families precarious financial position, Miss Bingley understood the need but did not have to like the fact. Her heart bled for the loss of their reputation and fortune. No longer could she spend as she liked on fine silks and lace. Her pocket book could no longer be a slave to fashion. Added to this, she would not be able to charge any excess to her brother, as the shop keeps and merchants had been instructed not lend credit to Grosvenor place, the Hurst’s or herself.

 I am ruined! Silent tears streamed down Caroline’s cheeks. Not so much for curtailing her spending, but the loss of face it entailed to society in general. Mr Darcy, or any gentleman of his station will not want to be seen with me. I shall be fit only for those who require my dowry or a man of trade. Even then, if I do not change my ways, they will not have me. Mr Darcy made it quite plan. He thinks little of me, preferring Eliza of the vulgar Bennet’s. What can he see in her! What does that country upstart have….

Rising, Miss Bingley stood at her window, watching the moon rise and shivering in the cool night. Remembering every interaction with Miss Bennet and Miss Eliza, it finally came to Caroline. They might not dress in the latest London fashions, or be considered accomplished, but the pair conducted themselves with modesty and decorum. They spoke kindly to the help and the servants responded by according their every wish. Neither young lady gossiped, instead presenting the locals in a prudential light.

I have been given proper instruction, Caroline reflected, shivering as night air cooled further, but failed to put it to good use. The other girls at the seminary chose to look down upon a daughter of a tradesman. They laughed and teased. Is that what is occurring with my sisters? Are they being intimidated as Louisa and I were? I must write to them at once.

Trembling, Miss Bingley realised the middle of the night was not an appropriate time to start writing letters. Hurrying back to bed, she made a better plan. Tomorrow, I will start afresh. I shall begin by speaking with Louisa. Perhaps together we can come to some decision as regards Sephora and Honour. I do not think it best they remain at the seminary. Better they come to Netherfield and Masters hired to instruct them here. Perhaps they shall be spared this lesion I have learnt tonight. They may even see Louisa in a prudential light, as the pains me to admit that the household is running more smoothly under her supervision.

That decided, Caroline fell into a deep, restful sleep. She woke earlier than her usual wont, hoping to catch her sister before bidding Mr Darcy good journey. After the revelations of last evening, Miss Bingley almost made it through dressing in one of her most dowdy and plain ensembles without a cross word towards her maid. Miss Bingley’s tongue took several cuts from her teeth, as her mind demanded the words of censure not pass her lips. Peters said not a syllable to her mistress, but the young maid’s shock showed upon her countenance for the remainder of the day.

“Caroline,” Louisa’s astounded expression demonstrated her astonishment as her sibling entered the drawing room well before noon.

“Sister, I would like to speak with you,” Caroline responded with a polite nod. It took all her will power not to click her tongue on the roof of her mouth in a display of displeasure at being forced to give way to Louisa.

Overwhelmed by the diffidence on display, Mrs Hurst indicated they should sit. Louisa waited for Caroline to start, unsure where this conversation would lead. She did not have to wait long.

“Charles made our unfortunate family situation quite plain last night. I have spent some time considering what to do, especially as Mr Darcy and any gentleman of his rank will not want to know me, or by association our younger sisters.” Pausing to gather her thought and get her anger under control, Louisa continued to wait for Caroline to explain. “Did you enjoy your time at the seminary?” she finally demanded, standing and pacing the room. Miss Bingley required some outlet for her fury.

“I did not,” Louisa sighed.

“Neither did I,” Caroline’s face clearly demonstrated her displeasure as she turned to face her sister.

“I believe,” Louisa offered in a careful tone, “Papa lost all reason and constraint after Mama passed. He became determined to use his daughters to better the families position in society. That is why we were sent to school and well endowered. He did not live to see the havoc he rought.”

“Yes” the hiss amply displayed Miss Bingley’s emotions. “The best we could hope for is a match to a gentleman requiring our dowry because he could not manage is estate,” Caroline spat, trying not to look at her companion.

“I told Charles last night,” Louisa’s voice continued to be soft and consoling, “that I know a marriage of unequal affection. I do not want that for my siblings, including you Sister. Mr Darcy may have influence and wealth, but you and he do not suit in any respect.”

Narrowing her eyes, Caroline saw the truth that had been staring her in the face for years. Louisa had married Hurst for many reasons, but mostly to raise their family reputation. She had done what their father requested and felt the consequences. Which forced Caroline to see the truth. 

I have been chasing a man who loves his sister above all, his estate and name almost as much and would spend the entirely of his life in the country without society. While Pemberley is a fine home, I would not enjoy being trapped in a gilded cage without the excitement of town. He would never stoop to marry a woman with the stench of trade about her, no matter how finely dressed and schooled. If I am honest, the gentleman barely tolerated me, while his is enamoured of a woman who’s pert opinion’s run counter to his own. How singular. It is more a reflection of Mr Darcy character than my own and perhaps the reason he has reached an age without procuring a wife.

“I would like to write the Sephora and Honour, asking if they dislike the seminary as we did,” Caroline’s mind returned to their conversation after several minutes silence. “If they are as unhappy as we were, perhaps we could convince Charles to remove them to Netherfield.”

Smiling for the first time in the conversation, Louisa agreed. “I have though much on this in the last weeks. Perhaps we might be able to hire masters and have them come stay at Netherfield. We shall have to set a good example for them, Caroline.”

“I will try,” Miss Bingley agreed with a frown, “although I believe I shall slip and falter from time to time.”

“Let us break out fast,” Louisa acknowledged, standing and offering Caroline her arm so they might put up a united front. “Then we may sit down and pen a letter together. However, I shall be relying on you, should Sephora and Honour decided to live at Netherfield. Between my duties as Mistress, which I cannot be convinced to relinquish, and my husband’s condition, I will have little time to dedicate to improving our younger sisters.”

Caroline allowed Mrs Hurst to lead her into the dining room, silent and full of though. The amount and selection had been drastically reduced. It seemed Louisa had taken their brother’s warning seriously and set about making changes. Choosing a plate, Miss Bingley realised all her favourites were still available, but there would be little left over.

“Has Charles come down?” Caroline enquired.

“No,” Louisa frowned. “That is just one of many adjustments I fear we all must make.” Miss Bingley’s expression asked the question she dare not, for she knew the answer and did not like it. “If we are to remain in the country, it is time we kept country hours. Breakfast shall be removed in half an hour. Ring the bell and send a footman to rouse the Master’s Valet. I will not trouble the kitchen staff to keep food hot, for they have other duties. If Charles has not served himself by half after ten, then he shall have to wait until we dine at six this evening.”

Frowning, Miss Bingley’s tongue took another beating from her clamped teeth. I suspect, she cautioned, it shall not be the last time. I am not sure I like this new version of my sister.

Chapter Text

A week elapsed between Mr Bingley returned to Netherfield and the family daring to venture into society. During these seven days, Hurst’s mind improved not a jot, Caroline’s tongue took many an injury, Louisa calmly continued as Mistress and Charles began the long process of maturing. Mr Bingley contemplated the decisions which would be required to affect his finances, family, estate and tenants for a positive outcome. It seemed he had learnt more than Darcy gave him credit for, and this series of revelations inclined the gentleman to do better.

The letter to Sephora and Honora, explaining the Bingley misfortunes, took far longer to compose than either Mrs Hurst or Miss Bingley could foresee. It had to encompass an explanation, without giving too much away, in case the schools Principle read the missive or it got into the hands of another student. The younger Bingley sisters needed all the information at their disposal to make an informed decision in a delicate way, so as not to overwhelm their gentle sensibilities. The entire truth would be laid bare once they arrived for Michaelmas. In a few short weeks Sephora and Honora would be required to contemplate their lives, just as the elder siblings were currently doing.

“We,” Caroline recalled, “were not given the opportunity to leave that retched school, for we did not have all the facts about the expectations of society. I believe I may have made a difference choice, were my wishes accounted for!”

“Sister,” Louisa looked over her tea cup, embroidery piled on the settee beside her. They waited each morning in the drawing room in hope of an answer from Sephora. Reasonably, yesterday had been the earliest a response could be expected. “I also wish to have this business over. Still, it may be another week before our sisters’ letter reaches Netherfield. In the meantime, we must repair the damage to our family reputation. We did not bother to call on the Ladies of Meryton while Charles visited London. In that respect, we have failed to meet expectations.”

Almost throwing her cup on the side table, Caroline pouted. “I know we must cultivate the local ladies, but….”

“I think we should invite several of the leading families to dine in recompense. The Longs, the Goulding’s, the Lucas’s and the Bennet’s,” Louisa suggested. “Perhaps it can be arranged for as early as tomorrow evening. You and I could make the calls this morning and offer personal invitations and an apology. With so little time, I am sure they will not decline.”

“If you insist,” Miss Bingley rose and paced around the room. “Some little amusement is better than remaining in this house without company.”

Taking another sip, Louisa smiled. “I am not enough company?” she queried.

“I did not mean…. I am trying sister, to mind my words and think before speaking. You know that is not what I meant,” Caroline pouted, before throwing herself back into her chair. “I fear I will sound like Lydia Bennet, but I long for a ball, or dinner party with gentlemen who are eligible and attentive. I wish to be admired, courted and have my own home. This I will not find in Meryton.”

Louisa gave a hearty chuckle. “I believe you are becoming the woman you have always wished to be, and not the one you believe you should emulate.”

Sitting up straight, the words stuck a cord. “There are no eligible men, gentle or otherwise, within ten miles, save our brother,” Caroline whispered, her mind working to encompass the idea. “If there is no one eligible for the daughters of a gentleman, even if he is poor by the standards of the Ton, then who are to local Ladies to marry if they do not have a season.” This thought worked its way from the top to bottom of Caroline’s conscious mind. This one idea cascaded, creating many more. Before long, the axis of her world changed. Stunned eyes looked to her sister, who sat in amusement, carefully completing the garment for a tenant’s newborn. “This is why you married Hurst!”

“I had been out four seasons,” Louisa agreed. “There was talk of being left on the shelf. When the first eligible offer came, I took it.” Placing her sowing to one side for the second time in less than a half hour, Mrs Hurst gave her full attention to her next youngest sister. “It is not only the gentle women of this village who have limited options. Even in London, among society, there are many rules. Few can truly afford to marry where they like. If you wish a wealthy, respectable husband, then you should look for an older gentleman who is in need of a second wife. They,” Louisa emphasised, “have the ability to weather a connection to trade. However, you will find your entry into the first circles hostile at best. It will be much as the first year or two at the seminary.”

Leaving Caroline to mull over her advice, Louisa sought her brother. Charles learnt his lesson and now appeared to break his fast well before half after ten when the dishes were cleared. He toiled away in the office, a rather smug expression on his countenance.

“Brother?” Mrs Hurst entered the room. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

“Even if you were,” Bingley smiled, “it does not follow that the interruption is unwelcome.” Sighing his threw down his quill and shook his head. “It appears we will break even this year, with the changes you have made to the household. I am prodigiously proud of your accomplishment.”

“That is good. Next year we will do better,” Louisa agreed. “Caroline’s tenure at Netherfield has also aided our position. However, I wish your opinion on inviting the leading families to dine tomorrow night. It will not be a lavish event, but will establish us in the neighbourhood as amiable and willing hosts.”

Rather than jumping like a young pup at the idea, Charles Bingley sat back and considered it. “We have not made a good impression, as Darcy pointed out only too well.” Pausing to carefully chose his words, Bingley sighed and turned a forlorn gaze on his sister. “I foresee an issue. Louisa, will the invitations be acceptable?”

“The Bennet’s will come, for Mrs Nichols tells me the Mistress bemoans Netherfield’s reluctance to enter society and continue to admire her eldest,” Louisa give her younger brother a quelling glance.

“Mrs Bennet remains steadfast in her determination to marry off her daughters?” Bingley queried, understating the need better, now his eyes had been opened.

“You had four sisters to marry off,” Mrs Hurst almost hid her smile at the horrified expression on her brother. “Caroline is now one and twenty. Soon she will be considered on the shelf. Sephora is to have her come out next year after graduating from school. I expect she will not be pleased as we know none who could sponsor her in London. I believe she may not wish to leave school, but I am hopeful that we have rescued Honora in time.”

The frown deepened. “I had not considered this and shall have to add it to the list of concerns going forward. I think we should host the dinner party. It will go some way to appeasing the local families and allowing us to truly become part of the community. In fact, I shall join you on your calls and speak with the gentlemen. I believe I must take my hat in my hands…”

“Quite so, Brother, quite so,” Louisa nodded, not allowing her satisfaction to shine through. “I will request the carriage ready in one hour Do not be late!”

“I would not dare,” Charles grumbled under his breath. His oldest sister had become somewhat of a tyrant. She will need to be, to bring Hurst’s estate back to profit. I believe Louisa is practicing while attempting to teach Caroline the true responsibilities of a Mistress.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Darcy finally sat in his carriage as it slowly made its way north. The sudden and unexpected departure from Netherfield meant the usual coach inns were not conveniently located. Nor had he sent an express rider ahead to arrange rooms. For a man who carefully considered and planned for every event, no matter the circumstance, it threw Darcy’s staff into a dither. Clayton, the Master’s loyal and long-time driver, indicated they would make better time taking the road north out of Meryton. He’s discussed the route with Netherfield’s stable master. Mr Harrow suggested joining the main road on the other side of Hatfield, rather than back tracking through St Albans to London. Happy to have a few miles shaved off their journey, Darcy agreed. It turned out to be both a blessing and curse.

They made good time to the first coaching inn, traveling thirty miles in the limited December daylight. The weather held. The Pig and Wheelbarrow appeared clean, the stables well maintained and the food filling. Darcy made a mental note to enhance the owner’s custom by increasing the venues reputation among those he knew whom travelled this way. Clayton reported the horses had not been overtaxed and all appeared to be going well. The partry should make the remaining 90 miles in three days, arriving at Pemberley just before dusk, if the weather held.

Disaster struck on the second day. Around midday and fifteen miles from their intended Coaching Inn, a place Darcy had utilized many times before, a rut in the road led to a loud crack under the passengers. Calling a halt, Clayton looked the carriage over, only to return to his master with a deep frown.

“The axel’s splintered,” he determined. “I’ll unhitch the horses, and send young Daniels to the nearest village for a wheel smith.”

Nodding, Darcy requested his own steed untied from the back. “I will accompany Daniels and arrange lodgings. This will not be fixed today.”

“Aye,” Clayton agreed sadly, “that be the truth, Sir. Maybe tomorrow, if there be a wheel smith available. Might have to be a blacksmith and that could take longer. Perhaps a hired coach?”

“Not unless there is no alternative,” Darcy sighed.

His valet, driver and the second outrider stayed with the coach after they’d moved it to the side of the road and unhitched all the horses. The animals happily picked at the grass daring to push above the snow. Three miles down the road, they came across a market town. Pleased, Darcy knew he would be able to arranged lodging, meals and respite for his party. He also enquired after hiring a coach until his could be fixed, only to find none available.

“Have you managed to locate a wheel smith?” Darcy requested when he met up with the outrider.

“Afraid not, Sir,” young Daniels offered with a smile. “I found the blacksmith. He said the axil should be in place by noon tomorrow. He’s sent out the apprentice with a cart to fetch the others and take a look. Said he’ll come find you if it’s worse than we thought. The stable master recommended him.”

Nodding, Darcy sighed. He really didn’t want to be trapped in this town and lose at least a day’s travel. Yet, it gave him the opportunity to determine their best route and plan where they would stay. By the time Clayton arrived with the other servants and coach, he’d penned notes to the regular Inn’s, sent them off by express and seen to his horse. The elderly driver stood and observed his charges being feed and watered.

“Mr Darcy,” Clayton nodded, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips. Sables that met the man’s expectations were few and far between.

“Let us hope the weather holds,” Darcy responded.

It did, but not for the entity of their journey. Three days later the heavens opened, followed by a sudden cold snap that brought snow. Detaining the party twenty miles from Pemberley, the thoughts Darcy held back began to force their way into his conscious mind. Remarking to Bingley he hoisted himself on his own petard, it seemed he’s given Georgiana no more chance to avoid becoming entangled with Wickham, than Miss Bingley overspending her allowance and draining the family coffers. The parallels were a revelation.

Had I only told her of that worthless rake’s history in a way that could be understood by a child, Darcy berated himself, then she might have been prepared. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst’s overindulgence had been fostered by their father’s wish to see them well married. They believed themselves preparing for a life of wealth and connection. How is any woman to survive in society with the strictures placed upon them when we men hold them to such naivety? How are they to know what to look for when we men are taught they are such delicate creatures and their reputations even more fragile? When we cloister them and keep them ignorant? When we do not tell them how to distinguish the great evils veiled by so many in a society we deem civilised?

If only I had taken my own advice, Darcy reprimanded himself once again. If only….Georgiana would not have been taken in by a rake and swindler. I encouraged Bingley to tell his sisters the truth so they might make changes to safeguard their family name and reputation. Yet, the damage is done. And I did the same to my dearest sister. How could she have known about Wickham’s profligate ways. Yet how could I tell her and maintain her artlessness. A young woman should not know of the acts encumbered upon a married woman, or consequences of anticipating wedding vows or that there are men who would encourage such behaviour. Nor should she be aware that there are evil people in this world, ready and willing to take advantage of her. Surviving society is abhorrent for a man of means and connection with full knowledge of how easily they can be trapped into a lifelong commitment not of their choosing. How am I to keep my young sibling from the ravages of men such as Wickham without informing her of the danger and maintaining her virtue?

The argument chased itself around in Darcy’s head almost every waking moment as the party continued North. Keeping to himself throughout their journey, the scowl worn on his countenance let his servants know the Master wrestled with a heavy burden.  The completed journey ended up taking a week, where it should have taken half the time. The delay gave Darcy pause to consider exactly how to approach his sister with his revelations caused by the events at Netherfield. He was no closer to a resolution when the carriage pulled up before his beloved home late on the seventh day of travel.

One look at her brother and Georgiana knew he had much on his mind. Encouraging him to take all the time he required to refresh after such a long journey, she awaited Fitzwilliam in the Yellow drawing room. Contemplating his continuing displeasure, Miss Darcy believed her brother’s mood to be caused by her inexcusable behaviour with Mr Wickham.

“Tea?” she asked quietly, so as not to disturbed the lion currently sitting comfortably in his favorited chair by a blazing fire.

“Yes,” Darcy answered, his mind still struggling with the words he needed to say. Sighing heavily, he took the cup, drained it, even though the heat scolded his tongue. Launching himself from the seat, for once the words he wanted to say came naturally. “I have done you a great disservice.”

“No, Brother, it is I….” the glare levelled her way stopped Georgiana’s lips from forming the words.

Holding out a hand as an offer of peace, Darcy tried again. “Please, allow me to say my piece, then we shall discuss blame, not that there is any to be apportioned. I have done you a great disservice, but society would not have me behave any other way. I did not tell you of George Wickham’s propensity to lie, cheat and deceive. Please be easy. I do not bring that scoundrels name up lightly when I know how it affects you. We shall not rehash the past. I could not tell you about his evil deeds for our father held him in the highest esteem until the day he passed. I did not tell father of his wickedness, believing it for the best. The fault in this is my own, but it is done. I considered the omission for the best. However, the events of last summer have finally shown me the error of my ways.”

Once the dam had been unleased, Darcy continued to speak eloquently for an hour. Everything he held back came forth. His language tempered to the ears of a sixteen-year-old girl only recently out of the school room and having experienced a disappointment of the most acute kind. Darcy explained the constant attempts to compromise his honour. How women of the Ton looked to his connections and wealth without consideration for his person. Darcy implied others garnered his friendship for their own selfish reasons. He explained the vicious undertones of the first circles that would catch the unaware in its tangled web.

“I tell you this against the expectation of society so you might better protect yourself,” Darcy finished, exhausted by the prolonged outburst.

“I do not know what to say,” Georgiana noticed how much effort it took her brother to remain awake. Needing time to consider all that she had heard, the young woman straightened her spine. It seems, she considered, I shall need to practice before my come out if even one iota of this is true, and it must be for my brother never exaggerates. He is spent. I shall send a tray to his room tonight while I considered everything I have heard. Perhaps, in the morning I will be able to ask questions.

“I should not have said anything,” Darcy suddenly felt remorse, unburdening himself in such a fashion.

“We will speak more in the morning,” Georgiana stood. Nodding her head as if she’s made some internal decision, Darcy watched on in fascination. “You shall retire, Brother, for you are more asleep than awake. I will have a tray sent up and close the house early. You may join me in the small breakfast room at nine to break our fast. I shall have much to ask after a good night’s sleep.”

Indicating his agreement, Darcy realised too late he had opened Pandora’s box. Over the next weeks, the siblings started a new tradition. They broke their fast together, dismissing all the servants so their words might not be overheard. Georgiana Darcy’s understanding of the world increased in a meaningful, but not sordid way. Careful to tell the truth, but walking a tightrope between what his young sister ought to know and what was socially acceptable, Darcy educated her to the best of his ability.

“So,” Georgiana questioned one morning, “there is no lady in town whom you wish to make Mrs Darcy? What will happen to Pemberley if you do not beget a son?”

“I do not know,” Darcy frowned. These discussions proved as eye opening for the Master as his young sibling. “Perhaps I shall leave the estate to your eldest son.”

“And what makes you believe I shall marry?” Georgiana asked. “After all you have experienced, I am not sure I wish to make my come out. I….I do not…that is…” Pausing to consider her words, she sighed. Once again straighten her spine, she stated “I do not want to make the same mistake again.”

For the first time in weeks, Darcy found himself smiling. “I do not believe you will do so, for I shall be at your side as you navigate your season.”

Giving her brother a piercing gaze, Georgiana Darcy finally had the opening she needed. “Tell me of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You mentioned her thrice in your letters from Netherfield.”

“I did,” shocked, Darcy attempted to recall the entries in his weekly correspondence with his sister. “It is of little import,” Fitzwilliam’s tone turned frosty, “for Miss Elizabeth is not of our sphere.”

“So, society would not approve of a match,” Georgiana asked. Hiding her smirk behind a teacup as her brother’s expression communicated his thoughts, she understood him completely. “Yet, you go against society’s strictures and tell me of the troubles you have had finding a lady to marry whom matches the Darcy’s in wealth and connections. Would it not be beneficial to be happy and occasionally brave a society that you do not care for, rather than suffer in an unhappy arrangement.”

“You do not understand,” Darcy stated.

“Then tell me what I do not understand,” Georgiana challenged, “or how am I to guard against admiring someone who is unworthy of our family connection?”

Stupefied, Darcy had to think long and hard, for every time they broached the subject, Georgiana displayed how well she had listened to her brother. Every argument he offered, she countered, demurely, sensibly and with only the very best intentions for her brother’s welfare. Finally, his objections seemed inconsequential when compared to the great treasure that could be gained, even if it meant going against societies expectations.

“Why,” Georgiana offered when it seemed she had finally won the point, “should Miss Bingley believe herself able to improve her connections by marrying into wealth, if a man cannot choose such a bride.” Before her brother could answer, Miss Darcy indicated she was not finished. “I understand it would be much spoken of, that the Bridegrooms family reputation would be tarnished. Possibly even his sister’s marriage prospects diminished. Yet, would you really wish your sister to marry to increase wealth and connection, or for respect and affection?”

The end of February brought warmer weather. Brother and sister continued their breakfast routine, learning more of each other. They often rode Pemberley in the brisk mornings, continuing to improve their understanding of the world. Throughout the winter Georgiana, carefully planned a campaign with Mrs Annesley. She wished the opportunity to be introduced to Miss Elizabeth. The first step involved an invitation to Netherfield. However, on this topic Darcy would not be swayed.

“Bingley,” Darcy had not revealed his friends financial position, “has his own troubles. I will not impose upon Netherfield while he puts his house in order.”

“Will you not tell me of Mr Bingley?” Georgiana asked, intrigued. Darcy gave in, using Bingley’s situation as a cautionary tale. Hearing of his near ruin, it seemed she had many more questions about society and how a woman could aid in maintaining her family’s wealth. “I wish to know of Mrs Hurst and the alteration in her countenance. Can you tell me how it came about?”

“I truly do not know,” Darcy recalled the events leading to a change of Mistress at Netherfield. “Perhaps it has always been hiding beneath Miss Bingley’s abrasive personality. When Miss Bingley refused to do her duty, Mrs Hurst simply stepped into the breach.”

“It is such a pity we cannot go to Netherfield,” Georgiana sighed as she fingered several keys on the pianoforte later the same evening, “for I believe I should like a lady such as Miss Elizabeth for a sister.”

“Whatever gave you the idea that Miss Elizabeth would be an appropriate sister?” Darcy asked, perplexed. They had not spoken of the woman in weeks. Indeed, he considered the topic closed.

“I should love for my sister to walk three mile in mud to attend to my sick room. Society might not deem such behaviour lady like,” Georgiana stated wistfully, “but I think it the most faithful demonstration of kindness and affection.”

Hiding behind his book, Darcy immediately recalled the passage in his letter. His sister had used his own words to great effect. Forced to reconsider everything society deemed appropriate once again, Fitzwilliam and Georgiana found themselves in the family coach on the way to Netherfield on the first of March. It seemed Bingley wanted to display the changes in his family situation. His response to Darcy’s letter indicating they would be available to stay for some weeks on the way to Rosings Park contained not one ink blot or slurred word, which demonstrated more about the Master of Netherfield’s growth than the message it contained.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

Approaching the waiting carriage, Mrs Hurst gave the coachman instructions. They were to visit the Bennet’s first. During the journey to Longbourn, she had much she wished to say. However, Miss Bingley started the conversation the moment they were all seated.

“As much as it pains me,” Caroline huffed, a sour expression covering her countenance, “Mr Bennet owns the second most prosperous estate in the county, after Netherfield. It is right that we offer the first invitation to them.”

“True,” Louisa agreed easily, happy in the knowledge her younger sister began to understand that social strictures did not only apply to London. Mrs Hurst often consulted with the housekeeper over the last three weeks. Mrs Nichols turned out to be a fountain of wisdom with a vast knowledge of the local society and their history. “They are the leading family in this county, and as such, we must pay them the respect they are due. Lucas Lodge shall be our second stop.”  

Caroline’s tongue took yet another bruising as she held back her bitting remark. Louisa acknowledge the feat with a squeeze of her sisters’ hand. At last, she watched the expressions cross Miss Bingley’s face, Caroline has learnt to hold back her spiteful words before they exit her mouth. Even I can see that my sister is finally putting her years at the seminary to good use. I do not think she will ever be easy in this rural society, but I admire her courage for attempting to adjust to our new circumstance.

“Charles,” Mrs Hurst turned on her brother, gaining his attention. “Selina and Honora have not responded to our letter. I believe they may be waiting until we collect them from the Seminary at Michaelmas. Are you to make the journey, or shall Caroline and I retrieve our sisters?”

Grimacing, Bingley carefully considered his response, something he was forced to do more and more. “I shall make the effort, as the explanation is my responsibility. I am the head of this family and the fault is mine.”

“That is not true,” Caroline interrupted, not happy to confess her shortcomings. “We all have had our part to play. The remedy must be shared by us all.”

“Very true,” Louisa once again squeezed her sister’s hand in solidarity. “There will not room for the entire family to travel home from the seminary with Selina and Honora’s trunks. Then someone must stay to look after my husband.”

“You are the best fit for the purpose,” Caroline grunted. “I shall go with Charles. I believe it will take more than our brother’s words to convince Selina of our situation. She is too much like me.”

Nodding her head in agreement, Louisa wondered if the change in Miss Bingley’s behaviour would survive Selina’s removal from school. Together, the good work might be undone. Honora, on the other hand, resembled her eldest sister in character and could be easily convinced.

“We will give Selina the option of returning to the seminary in the new year, as she has only a few months before her come out. You must explain that she can no longer exceed her budget, brother. I believe the strongest terms will be needed to make Salina conform to our new situation,” Louisa warned.

“Yes,” Bingley hissed the word. “I shall count on your assistance, Caroline.”

“That,” the haughtily demeaner returned, “is the reason I agreed to accompany you.”

When the carriage appeared at Longbourn, the mid December day held back rain. Threatening clouds suddenly appeared on the horizon. The short, sharp shower would last as long as their call, ensuring all the Bennet daughter were sequestered within the house.

“Are you ready,” Louisa asked, watching Charles take a deep, fortifying breath. He had not been in the company of Miss Bennet for almost three weeks. With all the occurred, he did not know how to feel.

“No, but it must be done,” he managed a weak smile.

“Then let us proceed,” Louisa sallied forward, handed out by one of the footmen.

The Bingley party were shown into the drawing room. Mrs Bennet sat in her favourite chair, close to the fire. The eldest Miss Bennet’s clustered together on a settee to one side. The younger girls seemed happy enough ensconced at a small table in the corner. It left few options for their callers.

“We had not expected visitors today,” Mrs Bennet frowned at their guests, indicating their visit might not be kindly received, “for it seems like rain.”

“We would gladly brave the rain to deliver an invitation to dine,” Mrs Hurst offered the card to the matron in the hope it would improve their reception. It seemed Mrs Nichols report of Longbourn’s mistress bemoaning the loss of a son-in-law had been exaggerated.

“I shall have to ask Mr Bennet,” Mrs Bennet hesitated. Taking seconds to make up her mind, she ordered, “Kitty, pull the bell for tea.”

Glancing toward Jane, Mrs Bennet recalled the gossip currently running through Meryton. The butcher, baker and candlestick maker all remarked on the decrease in business from Netherfield over the last weeks. This led some to speculate about the Bingley’s wealth. Mrs Nichols attempted to slow the servant’s gossip from spreading. The housekeeper had not a hope of stopping it completely, so put about a limited version of the truth in the hope it would supersede rumour.

The servants noticed the changes taking place. Few had to wonder why, as Miss Bingley’s behaviour and voice initially told them all they need to know. With such salacious information, they could hardly be expected to keep it to themselves. Tails of fortunes lost soon added to the tradesmen’s declining sales. Mrs Nichols tempering of the scandal only added fuel to the fire, leading many to believe the Bingley’s were in the worst possible financial situation. Miss Bingley’s dowry had been drastically downgraded, especially when the town learnt there were four sisters, three yet to marry.

Mrs Bennet, Lady Lucas, Mrs Goulding and Mrs Long sat in this very parlour over the last week discussing the distressing situation. Jane, unable to listen to the matrons dissecting every word, spent her time in more practical pursuits. She did not wish to speak of Mr Bingley, for it caused great pain. Even the balm of sister love from Elizabeth could not sooth her aching heart.

Louisa offered with a kind smile, happy they were to remain for fifteen minutes. “We are to invite the Lucas’s, Goulding’s and Long’s. It shall not be a large party. I do hope Mr Bennet has no previous engagements.”

“Oh,” Mrs Bennet seemed more interested, eyeing the still unopened envelope. She could not decide if the details to be gained outweighed the snub of the previous weeks, especially if she had to share the credit with Lady Lucas.

“Shall I take the invitation to Papa?” Jane asked. She did not wait for her mother’s agreement. Almost snatching it out of the lady’s hand, she removed from the room as fast as possible, while still appearing demure.

In his study, Mr Bennet noticed the Bingley carriage arrive. Deciding he would find limited diversion in the visit, he would wait until they left to make sport. The gentleman did not foresee his most reserved daughter entering his sanctuary and demand he decline the invitation to dine.

“Why?” astonished, Octavius requested the envelope, placing it at his elbow unopened.

“I do not wish to be in Mr Bingley’s company,” Jane offered.

“My child,” the patriarch offered a chair, only to find Jane refused. Gentling his tone, Bennet advised, “the world is full of such trials. We are all called upon to do that which is not pleasant.”

“You do not understand,” Jane accused in the harshest tone she had ever used. “It is not that I find Mr Bingley unpleasant, rather the opposite. I still find him the most amiable man of my acquaintance, although I admit the shine had dulled somewhat. I shall not be comfortable sitting across the table and wondering why I am set aside, even if his fortune has been lost.”

Sighing heavily, Octavius opened the missive. He read it though three times before comprehending the content. “Mary, Kitty and Lydia are not invited,” Bennet stated in befuddlement. Reading the words aloud as if it would make them clearer, the Master of Longbourn recited, “Mr Bingley and Mrs Hurst request the pleasure of hosting Mr and Mrs Bennet, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth to dine at Netherfield at 6.30 pm…”

“Lydia will be most displeased,” Jane commented when her father paused and did continue reading. “Since Mrs Malloy spoke with Lizzy about the Militia three weeks ago, she has not been content.”

“I dare say, many a young lady in Meryton is not content now the soldiers are restricted to barracks,” Octavus added. “They shall have to work the remainder of the winter to pay off their debits to the town. Few will lend an invitation to dine or mix with their daughters. I had not expected Mr Darcy, of all people to express his concern to the tradesmen in Meryton. At first, they did not believe his tale of debits in the market town close to his estate, until he sent for the vows he purchased. However, once the merchants began to speak of it, they saw a pattern and Colonel Foster was forced to make amends for his men.”

Jane attempted to make a story to resolved everyone of blame. Lizzy’s disapprobation forced Miss Bennet’s kind heart into the realisation that fault not only could, but must, be laid at the feet of particular individuals. Stories of routs, debauchery and intrigues, with Mr Wickham as the main participant started to circulate. The information could not be kept from the younger Bennet’s. Lydia had been inconsolable for days when the soldiers were locked in their camp. This, more than any other event caused Jane’s perspective to change.

I believed Mr Bingley to be a just as a gentleman ought, she recalled her first impressions. Although I did not have the opportunity to become well acquainted with many of the militia, they had the appearance of gentlemen. Learning of their shameful behaviour has made me see the world in a different light. I can never be as cynical as Lizzy but in the future, I shall not think so well of people until they earn my trust.

“Jane,” Mr Bennet recalled his daughter’s attention, “you may tell your mother to accept the invitation. We shall make the best of the night and, perhaps, I shall be able to make sport of my neighbours.”

“Papa,” Jane scolded, “that is unkind.”

“Perhaps it is, child,” Bennet looked over the top of his glasses, “but I have little enough in this life to make it agreeable. I shall take my pleasures when and where I can find them. Go and give the good news to your Mother.”

“I do not believe Mama will think it such good news,” Jane stated, before understanding her father for conceivably the first time. Papa wishes to be contrary toward Mama. Lizzy often states that a marriage where either party cannot be respectful or affectionate cannot be agreeable. I did not understand to what she referred when she said we had daily proof.  The thought, while returning to the drawing room changed the axis of Miss Jane Bennet’s world. I shall join the family party and dine at Netherfield. I shall be myself and should Mr Bingley seek my company, I will treat him as if an indifferent and casual acquaintance. Should he wish for more, the gentleman must earn my trust and respect by showing me the same.

“Well Jane,” Lizzy whispered as her sister returned to her seat.

“Papa has,” Jane paused, looking directly to Mr Bingley, “accepted your kind invitation.”

“Oh,” Mrs Bennet made the word sound disappointed.

“We are delighted,” Mrs Hurst smiled brightly.

Beside her, Caroline attempted to match her sister’s countenance. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” she sat forward, eyes bright with an expression between hope and pain, “I should like it very much if you will consider calling for tea one day next week. Louisa and I expect out younger sisters, Selina and Honora for Michaelmas. They will likely join the family for some time and need an introduction into the local society. We would appreciate your guidance.”

Jane looked to Lizzy, and an entire conversation occurred. It seemed the sisters were asking for their help. “We should be delighted,” Miss Bennet, as the eldest, responded rather astounded at diffidence. “Would next Thursday be acceptable?”

This time Caroline deferred to her elder sister. It demonstrated how much had changed in the Bingley home. “I believe we have no obligations on that day,” Louisa agreed. Sending a glance toward Mrs Bennet, Netherfield’s Mistress offered, “should you require it, our carriage will be made available.”

“We have a carriage,” the lady rebuked with an alarming frown.

“Of course,” Louisa smiled disarmingly, “my apologies, Mrs Bennet. I would not like Miss Bennet or Miss Elizabeth to take ill should they be caught unawares by the weather.”

Making a noise halfway between a snort and displeasure, the lady understood she could no longer play games with Mrs Hurst. It seemed the servant stories concerning the change of management were correct. Eyeing Mr Bingley, Mrs Bennet wondered if the man could still be worked on to offer for her Jane, even if he wasn’t so rich. He’d sat silently at his sister’s side during the almost quarter of an hour call and said little, except for the pleasantries expected on entering the drawing room. Nor had the man’s eyes strayed to her eldest daughter.

I shall insist Jane go to Netherfield and make the most of this overture, Franny contemplated. I am unsure how I shall keep Lizzy at home, but I have time to work it all out.

Understanding they must not overstay their welcome on this initial foray into society while attempting to improve their reputation, the Bingley’s ended the call. In the foyer, waiting for their outerwear, Charles finally had a moment to speak privately with Miss Bennet. He approached quietly, not quite knowing how the young lady would respond.

“Miss Bennet, there is much I must apologise for,” he whispered. “I hope we may have a moment to speak when you come to dine.”

Nodding, Jane did not know how to feel. Stepping back, she watched the party board their carriage through the window. I wonder at the reception they will get from Lady Lucas and Mrs Long, especially if they do not invite the entire family to dine.

Before Jane could continue her thought, Mrs Bennet called for their carriage. Deflating, Miss Bennet knew she must inform her mother of the restrictions placed on their invitation. The matron took the news as well as could be expected. Hill and the salts were called for. Lydia began to complain at the snub. Kitty looked dumbfounded. Mary did not care nor, thankfully did she offer any words from Fordyce. All the while, Mr Bennet stayed in his library, door slightly ajar and enjoyed the chaos created by the Bingley’s visit.

“Do not say a word, Lizzy,” Jane scolded.

“I shall not brook you displeasure,” Elizabeth agreed. “Come, Jane, you are best at calming Mama’s nerves. I shall make Lydia see sense and close Papa’s door. We may yet have some solitude, so long as Lady Lucas does not call to crow over Charlotte’s engagement to our cousin.”