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Miss Bingley was furious. That the woman facing her had not even flinched during a tirade that left Caroline red-faced and gulping for air only made it worse. That this same female was now lecturing her on proper, ladylike behavior was intolerable.

“ Madam , you forget yourself! My brother may have hired you—though for what possible purpose I cannot imagine—but you are a servant and you will address me as such! How dare you speak to me in such a familiar manner!?!”

Mrs. Bullock came very close to rolling her eyes.

With her own children grown and her husband laid to rest, she had no household of her own to run.

Her desire for a new challenge had led her to apply for the position as companion to a young lady in London Society, thinking that it would be an amusing undertaking.

The spoiled girl before her was certainly not as dull as spending hours on end mending her grandchildren’s baby clothes, she reminded herself.

Schooling her features, she kept her voice calm.

“Miss Bingley, you know perfectly well that I have been retained to act as your companion and that I am here today to help you settle into your new establishment; your brother and sister explained this all quite clearly when we were introduced yesterday.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—that was merely an interview!

One that you failed miserably, might I add!

My brother has suggested moving, of course—this house is really much too small and poorly located for entertaining on the scale that we shall be doing.

” Caroline suppressed the memory of being turned away from a ball only the previous evening.

She had nearly argued her way past the butler when the hostess herself had appeared and informed her unwanted guest quietly but firmly that it was a private party, by invitation only, and to please leave before she embarrassed herself any further.

Caroline had been so mortified that she had remained entirely mute until her brother’s carriage had returned her to Waverley Street.

When she arrived home to find that Mr. and Mrs. Bingley had already departed for a party and there was no one to listen to her choleric rant, she was left with a throbbing headache.

She had not noticed the look of relief on her maid’s face when the lady demanded a powder and retired for the night.

While all of this was running through Miss Bingley’s troubled mind, Mrs. Bullock had gently drawn the younger lady into an empty sitting room, leaving the maids and workmen to pack.

Unbeknownst to Caroline, most of her wardrobe had been moved the previous day, leaving only the furniture and those necessities required for a last night in the house.

“Now then, how about a nice cup of chamomile? That always calmed my girls down when they got their pantalets in a twist.”

The soothing tone snapped the younger woman’s attention back as much as the words.

“How dare you! I’ve no need of a companion and one such as you would not be my choice, should I ever descend to such a situation.

Now—you will leave my presence immediately, and take those filthy workmen with you!

” Unfortunately, the impact of her dramatic flounce onto the chaise was marred when she was forced to reach behind her and extract one of the little embroidered pillows that Jane was so fond of scattering about.

This time, Mrs. Bullock did not bother to refrain from rolling her eyes.

In the end, for all of her bluster, Miss Bingley was left with no choice but to accompany the older Scotswoman to her new residence, for there was not a stick of furniture left in her chambers and her brother and sister-in-law had wisely locked up all the other rooms and absented themselves from the house.

The next day, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley ventured cautiously to his sister’s new establishment, hoping (though not expecting) to find her content.

Mrs. Bullock herself met them in the entryway after a maid answered their somewhat timid knock; had they not been quite so disconcerted by the laughter coming from the parlor, they might have noticed a twinkle in the older matron’s eye.

Charles and Jane caught glimpses of a maids bustling about in other parts of the apartment, but the room to which were directed showed no signs of being only recently assembled.

Most astonishing, however, was the sight of Miss Bingley sitting with four other women and looking more bewildered than her brother could ever remember.

Caroline managed the introductions with reasonable poise, if not her usual sangfroid. “Charles, Jane; how lovely to see you! These ladies are my new neighbors, come to tea as you see.”

Even as his wife innocently exclaimed over the amiability of Caroline’s new acquaintances, Bingley looked at the female faces distributed around the room and suspected that they had interrupted a genteel interrogation.

Lady Francesca Hewitt was a tall, angular woman who had never been called beautiful, but the passing years had lent her face a lining of humor and wisdom that made it distinctive.

She had been widowed for more than two decades and, with no children of her own, her husband’s baronetcy and estate had passed to a brash young nephew with no interest in an elderly aunt.

Rather than clinging to the past, she had invited a distant cousin and dear friend to live as her companion and moved to occupy one of the nicer apartments in the London building left in trust as part of her settlement.

Although her family had expected her to sell the property and live off the proceeds, Lady Francesca found it far more amusing to live anonymously among her tenants, receiving her rents through a firm of tight-lipped solicitors.

Her wicked sense of humor might have led her astray more often, had it not been for the steadying influence of her dear friend Miss McNash, who, Francesca often teased, should have been named Conscience rather than Constance .

The other two ladies in the room were unique in their lack of discernable differences.

Misses Helen and April Culpepper were twins and, although they did not dress exactly alike, they shared a dressing room and even their most intimate acquaintances often mistook one for the other.

Indeed, the ladies often joked that they themselves did not know which sister was which for, although it was certain that Helen was the elder and by fifteen minutes, a nurse had once left the two babes alone and returned to discover that she had no idea which was which.

Had the Miss Culpeppers been born male, competition for their elderly father’s estate might have caused their relationship to turn out quite differently.

However, as it was, they had grown to be good-natured ladies, made independent by their inheritances and so entirely satisfied by one another’s company that neither had ever felt the desire to marry.

“For what are men to sisters? We adore dancing, of course, but surely husbands would get in the way of gossip and shopping!”

Needless to say, Miss Bingley found this sort of talk extremely shocking, for she had always been taught that the goal of her life was to secure a wealthy gentleman with as much social consequence as possible.

As a result, she viewed the appearance of her brother and Jane in her new parlor with mixed feelings of dismay and relief.

Regardless, whatever comfort she derived was short-lived, for soon Lady Hewitt raised a subject guaranteed to bring Caroline even more discomfort.

“Ah, Mrs. Bingley, you are just as beautiful as I’ve heard. I had the pleasure of meeting your sister at the Dowlands’ only a week ago; Mrs. Darcy is lovely, and has quite a wit about her. ”

Jane accepted the compliments serenely, even as her hostess ground her teeth. Unfortunately for Miss Bingley, the conversation soon turned to one of the few topics that might vex her even more than the former Miss Eliza Bennet; namely, Miss Darcy’s debut.

Caroline’s voracious reading of the social columns meant that she could not remain ignorant that the very girl to whom she had paid so much attention in the past (albeit with the primary goal of gaining access to her brother) was quite successfully taking her place in the highest circles of Society.

It never occurred to Miss Bingley that, had she bothered to be more sincere in her affection to Georgiana, the younger lady might have smoothed her way into Society’s upper echelons much as her brother had done for Mr. Bingley.

The unpleasant things she had written about Elizabeth escaped Caroline’s memory entirely.

Instead, Miss Bingley could focus on little beyond her feelings of jealousy and bitterness.

Thus, when the Darcys’ ball was mentioned and she saw her brother glance toward her in alarm, she understood with sudden clarity that the invitation she had counted on would not be coming at all.

Even a few months previously, Miss Bingley would have been secure in her ability to browbeat Charles into taking her (there was no doubt in her mind that he and Jane were invited), but the increased resistance he had demonstrated made her hesitate, and before she might decide on the best approach, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were making their farewells.

Realizing that all of her guests were preparing to depart, Caroline acted on impulse and asked Lady Hewitt to remain a moment.

“Your Ladyship, forgive my presumption, but you mentioned that you will be attending the Darcys’ ball.

I’m sure that my brother would send a carriage for me if I asked, but… ”

“But that would very silly when you can just as easily accompany me! Of course, Miss Bingley, you must ride in my coach—I shall be quite happy for the company. Shall we agree to depart at ten o’clock?”