Work Text:
The Morning After The Engagement
Caroline Bingley walked through Hurst’s townhouse with a spring in her step. The little season was in full swing and thanks to her brother giving her a generous allowance before he high tailed off to visit some friend or another, she was dressed to impress.
Miss Bingley smiled at the footman as he held open the door to the dining room. Mr Darcy had been in town since September; he had even brought his sister with him for the little season. This happenstance allowed her to call often at Darcy house under the pretext of visiting dear Georgiana and in turn, meant she often was in company with Mr Darcy.
Humming happily to herself she selected some pastries from the sideboard. This would be the year that she finally became Mrs Darcy, everything was perfect. Taking her seat, she glanced at her brother-in-law Hurst who was steadily making his way through the newspaper as he shovelled food into his mouth, uncaring for the bits of eggs dropping from his fork and onto the fine demask tablecloth. She wrinkled her nose, odious man. When she was mistress of Pemberley, he would not be invited to any events she held for the upper echelons of society, his appalling table manners would reflect badly on the Darcy name.
Smirking in the knowledge that she would soon be free to enjoy her breakfast amid the splendour of Darcy House; she poured herself a cup of tea and began to plan.
When Miss Bingley had called at Darcy house the previous day, she had found out that Mr Darcy had been called away from town. The information she was able to ferret from the mosey Miss Darcy had been scant. All the girl had been able to say was that their aunt Lady Catherine had come to Darcy house and that by the following morning her brother had his valise packed and had left at dawn. Miss Bingey rolled her eyes at the memory of the girl stammering through her explanation of her brother's absence and made a mental note to send the girl to a seminary as soon as they were wed. The one she herself had attended had a reputation for turning even the most simpering of misses into the refined and poised ladies that the ton favoured. Miss Darcy would do well to receive her instruction there, if she was ever going to be ready for her come out.
Turning her thoughts back to her main focus, that of Mr Darcy, Miss Bingley reasoned that the gentleman would not be long at whatever business he had or else he would have removed Miss Darcy to Pemberley as was his wont. An evening at the theatre upon his return would be the best option, she mused.
Her eyes grew unfocused as she allowed herself to imagine being escorted through the theatre on Darcy’s arm, nodding serenely to acquaintances as he proudly led the way to the Darcy’s box. She would relish in the jealous looks that the ladies of the first circle would shoot at her as Mr Darcy helped her into her seat, kissing her hand lovingly before sitting beside her and placing his hand back upon his arm, the look of devotion in his eyes clear for all those in the theatre to see. Yes, she would call upon Miss Darcy this morning and convince her to plan a surprise trip to the theatre to celebrate her brothers return.
A choking, retching noise brought her out of her daydream. Looking up, she was greeted with the sight of Mr Hurst, red faced and leaning his arms heavily upon the table as his wife forcefully patted his back.
“Mr Hurst!” Louisa Hurst shouted in panic between slaps.
A violent cough rent through the air as bits of half chewed egg and ham was forcibly expelled from Mr Hurst’s mouth and rained down upon the table. Miss Bingley watched in disgust as a glob landed in her teacup.
“Mr Hurst are you well?” Mrs Hurst’s lip trembled as she poured her husband a glass of water.
Mr Hurst nodded his head and greedily drank down the water his wife handed him.
“What happened?” Mrs Hurst pressed.
“Really Louisa,” Miss Bingley injected snidely, “As if we don’t know what happened.” She motioned for a footman to clear the table. “Your great lump of a husband has once again shown how barbaric he is. I’ve seen sows eat with more decorum than that fat oath.”
“Caroline!”
Ignoring her sisters gasp and wiping her hands on her napkin, she stood, turning to face Mr Hurst. “Maybe if you learned to chew your food instead of guzzling it down your flabby gullet, we could all be spared a reoccurrence of such a revolting spectacle.”
“Caroline! How dare you speak to my husband in such a way! Do not forget that your live here, a recipient of my husband's kindness.”
Sniffing, Miss Bingley held her head high. “I shall be Mrs Darcy soon and I can guarantee that until that farm animal you call husband learns some table manners, you will not be received in any of my homes!”
Looking at the open-mouthed stares of her sister and brother-in-law, Miss Bingley felt a thrill of gratification, sure that she had carried her point.
The satisfaction she felt was short lived as the sound of laughter broke through the silence, starting as a snicker and working its way up to a full-blown belly laugh.
“What is so funny?” Miss Bingley snapped.
Mr Hurst furiously shook his head, unable to speak through his mirth as tears streamed down his face.
“How dare you laugh at me!” Miss Bingley shrieked, her disgruntled expression serving to lapse Mr Hurst into another round of raucous mirth.
“I have never been so insulted in all my life! You can be sure Mr Darcy will hear about this!”
Mr Hurst leant forward, one hand supporting his midsection as his laughter increased, the other hand banging on the table.
“The newspaper,” he managed to wheeze out. “Look at the paper.”
With a bemused smile Mrs Hurst picked up the paper and scanned the page Mr Hurst had been reading before his fit of choking.
Mr Hurst knew the moment his wife had found the correct section of text as with a startled gasp her eyes flew to his and held for a few seconds until a giggle burst forth, covering her mouth with her hand, her laughter grew to match that of her husbands.
“What is so funny!” Miss Bingley stomped her foot.
Rubbing his wife’s back as she fanned her face, gasping in laughter, Hurst picked up the newspaper, turned it and dropped it down in front of Miss Bingley. With a huff, she cast her eyes down and read.
Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy esq. of Pemberley, Derbyshire, is pleased to announce his betrothal to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of Mr Thomas Bennet esq. of Longbourn, Hertfordshire.
“No!” Miss Bingley cried, the edges of her vision becoming black as spots danced across her eyes. The last sound she heard before she hit the floor was the howls of merriment from the Hursts.