Page 12 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Netherfield Ball
Later
The last strains of music came to an end, and Caroline Bingley curtsied coyly toward her partner and said, “Mr. Darcy, thank you for the dance. You perform the reel delightfully.”
Mr. Darcy bowed but did not speak and guided her off the floor and toward her sister, who was seated at the edge of the room with a glass of ratafia in her hand. Caroline clutched her partner’s arm until she reached the chair next to Mrs. Hurst, whereupon she reluctantly released Darcy and sat down.
“Would you care for a glass of punch, Miss Bingley?” Darcy asked, and Miss Bingley nodded. “Indeed, sir, thank you.”
Darcy retreated and Louisa, once she was certain the gentleman was out of earshot, said, “Caroline, my dear, I declare that you and Mr. Darcy are the finest couple we have seen all night. You dance together so delightfully.”
“We do, truly,” Carline replied smugly, her gaze wandering from one end of the ballroom to the other. The evening had thus far been an entirely successful one, without a single misstep in music or refreshments, and she could only believe that her obvious gifting as a hostess which would lead Mr. Darcy to finally offer for her hand in marriage.
“I declare,” a voice said a few chairs away, “the way that Mr. Bingley is looking at your Jane, I believe we will soon see her the mistress of Netherfield!”
Bingley’s sisters exchanged horrified glances just as another female voice spoke up. “Oh, my dear Lady Lucas, pray do not say such things! I am confident that Mr. Bingley is merely engaging in a mild flirtation. If anything, I think he is far more interested in my Lizzy than Jane!”
“How can you possibly say that, Mrs. Bennet?” Lady Lucas replied in a high-pitched tone. “He has danced twice with your eldest and but once with Elizabeth. And the way he looks at Jane? It seems obvious that he is in love with her!”
“And I will not allow that,” the matron of Longbourn declared. “You know that Longbourn will go to Jane and … well, I am not at all ready to … there is no need for her to marry yet, or even at all! I know she is incredibly beautiful, but that does not mean that one of her younger sisters should not have a chance to marry Mr. Bingley!”
Caroline turned an amazed look on her sister, only to notice that Darcy had arrived as well, with a glass of punch in his hand. She accepted the glass with a soft word of thanks, and a moment later, one of the officers fetched her for the last dance of the evening.
In the midst of the twirling and stepping, she was aware of a deep well of disbelief. Mrs. Bennet did not wish her eldest daughter to marry Charles? How absolutely delightful.
***
Netherfield Ball
Later
George Wickham smiled flirtatiously across at Miss Kitty, who blushed and giggled at being the center of his attention. The Boulanger was not a complicated dance and did not require much thought from Wickham. It was the last dance of the evening, and the locals were growing tired. Wickham himself could have danced far longer, of course, as could Bingley’s Town-bred sisters, he reflected with private amusement. Mrs. Hurst was farther down the line, looking as fresh as she had at the start of the evening and entirely too chipper for having been partnered with Darcy, Wickham thought.
Across the room, he glimpsed his own face and suppressed a scowl as annoyance flooded him once more at Alexander’s presence. And without a doubt, his conniving twin had snatched one of the prettiest girls in the room as his final partner of the night, Miss Lydia Bennet. George himself had already danced with her, of course, and enjoyed it immensely.
Miss Long trotted for him, and he turned her gallantly, re-entering the flow of the dance seamlessly. Miss Kitty approached, and he took her hands, responding automatically to her mindless simpering. She was a comely creature, but not terribly intellectual, nor was she as lively as her younger sister, and Wickham was able to occupy himself with his thoughts.
They were not entirely pleasant ones. Wickham had come to the sad conclusion that he stood little chance of winning the heiress Jane Bennet. Bingley held many of the same advantages as Wickham himself – looks, and charm, and easy conversation – plus considerable wealth. Moreover, there was no hope that George could successfully denigrate Mr. Bingley by virtue of his association with Darcy. Alexander was now in Meryton, and would leap to Darcy’s defense any time George sought to disseminate the truth about the proud master of Pemberley.
Wickham shot a brief glare across the room at his oblivious brother. He detested being foiled by such a prosy moralizer, but he knew from past experience that it did little good to pursue his usual entertainments with his twin in the neighborhood. Alexander prided himself on being so high-minded , preaching ‘brotherly love’ despite loving his own tiresome morals far more than his own brother. Oh, he claimed to care, certainly, but it was all drivel. For his own part, George held to no such pretenses – he despised his twin and had for a decade. Alexander had stolen the living from him!
Yes, stolen. It was reserved for George . That’s what old Mr. Darcy had wanted! And his faithless son and George’s scheming twin had stolen it from him! Three hundred pounds a year that should have been his! He would have taken Holy Orders eventually, after he had his fun in the world. It should have been kept for him, waiting for him to be ready. He would have been an ordained minister, with the prestige and trust that came with that, and would generously have given the curate position to Alexander, as befitted a younger brother. Instead, those who should have supported him most dealt falsely with him, casting him into a cold uncaring world with only his looks and wits to make his way.
Well, he had made his way, and he would keep doing so. Meryton was a pleasant fruit for the plucking, with its pretty ladies and trusting shopkeepers. Still, Meryton would not last forever. Wickham would have to move on, eventually. The meager pay that the militia gave its lieutenants certainly was not enough to sustain him; already he owed debts of honor, which would be harder to shake than the debts to the shopkeepers, which were easily left behind. He would soon need to bend his considerable intellect to the problem.
For now, however, he was fascinating Miss Kitty, who was responding most favorably to his attentions. She was often overlooked in favor of the more engaging Miss Lydia and lapped up every compliment he paid her. Wickham favored her with his most charming smile, focusing on enjoying the dance with his pretty partner.
***
Breakfast Parlor
The Next Morning
Ten O’clock
Darcy stepped into the breakfast parlor and hastily made his way to the coffee urn and poured himself a large mug of coffee. He then gathered two muffins from a plate, sank down in his usual seat at the table, took a long dreg of coffee, and said, “Good morning, Bingley.”
His friend, who had been watching with amusement, said, “You could have stayed in bed, you know.”
Darcy sighed. “I know, but I can never sleep past nine o’clock, regardless of how late I went to bed. For that matter, I am surprised that you are not still between sheets.”
“I am riding for London today, you know, to speak with my man of business.”
Darcy, who was indeed tired after a late night and unquiet dreams about Elizabeth Bennet, looked startled and said, “I confess I had forgotten. Are you certain you wish to journey the very day after the ball?”
Bingley nodded and took his own sip of coffee. “Yes, I do, partially because the weather is so good. It is perfect riding weather, with blue skies and a light wind. I will only be gone for a few days, and I intend to return as quickly as possible. I am eager to spend more time with Miss Bennet.”
Darcy took a bite of muffin, chewed, swallowed, and then said, “Bingley, I overheard a conversation last night at the ball, which was both unexpected and concerning. It has to do with Miss Bennet.”
Bingley frowned forbiddingly. “If you intend to tell me gossip about the lady I love, I beg you to desist at once!”
“No, no! It is not that at all,” Darcy said in alarm. “No, it was a conversation between Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas, and the former expressed her desire that her eldest daughter remain unmarried. She obviously cares deeply for her eldest, but apparently she wishes for you to marry one of her other daughters.”
Bingley shook his head in confusion. “So it is not the fact that my fortune was derived from trade? Or perhaps Mrs. Bennet believes the heiress of the family deserves a man with better connections?”
Darcy bit his lip as his hands absently tore the muffin into bits, which dropped onto the plate.
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I am confident it is not that, though I am confused. You are most eligible, Bingley, and … no, it is more like the lady is afraid she will lose Longbourn if Miss Bennet weds. But that does not make sense, not in the least! The disposition of Longbourn will be arranged in any marriage settlements, after all, and you are obviously a generous man, my friend.”
Bingley wrinkled his brow and, after a minute’s thought, said carefully, “I think that Mrs. Bennet is not as clever as her husband and older daughters.”
Darcy suppressed a rude snort and said, “I see what you are saying. Perhaps she does not entirely understand what will happen to the estate when Miss Bennet weds.”
“Exactly. I appreciate your warning, Darcy, but I am not dismayed nor dissuaded. I am not certain if I will offer for Miss Bennet, but if I do, I will only permit her refusal to sway me. I have no intention of giving up my happiness for the sake of her mother’s unfounded fears.”
“Very good,” Darcy replied, rising to shake his friend’s hand. He watched as Bingley departed and then collected more food from the buffet, this time eggs and ham, before sitting down again.
He found himself thinking with perplexity about the situation at Longbourn. He had no great respect for Mrs. Bennet’s mental faculties, but surely someone had explained to the woman that…
“Mr. Darcy!” a feminine voice simpered. “Good morning!”
The master of Pemberley watched as Miss Bingley, dressed in a sprigged muslin morning dress with a fine Norwich silk shawl, sailed into the room and smiled down upon him.
“I know that the ball was not entirely your wish, but I hope you enjoyed it well enough?” the lady inquired.
Darcy, casting a hunted look at the closed door, set down his cup of coffee and rose to his feet. “Indeed, Miss Bingley, it was most enjoyable.”
“Oh, but I did not mean to interrupt your breakfast! Please, do sit down!”
“I am finished, thank you,” he replied and retreated out the door.