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Bending down and kissing her dear boy was a pleasure. “Now it is time for you to join your brother and sister in Morpheus’s arms. I love you, Matty, and I will see you in the morning.”

“I love you and Papa too, Mama,” Matty said as he yawned.

As she stepped out of the nursery, Elizabeth saw her son’s eyes closing. With a warm heart and a smile, she made her way down the stairs to join her sisters and the Phillipses.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

As much as it had irked her to be ready at the time her brother had dictated, Miss Bingley had entered the drawing room with a few minutes to spare.

She had not missed the looks of admiration at her ensemble and the jewels dripping off her person.

The gown was in her signature burnt orange colour.

The turban and four ostrich feathers were all dyed to match.

To her disappointment, it was not Mr Fitzwilliam, but rather her brother who sat next to her in the coach. Although she wanted to say something, given her brother’s mood of late, Miss Bingley clamped her mouth shut.

The cousins did not speak to or look at Miss Bingley for the short drive to the assembly rooms in Meryton.

William was on the left of the conveyance, and as they slowed to arrive, he noticed one of the Hertfordshire travelling coaches passing the Bingley conveyance in the opposite direction; it was empty now.

He gave Richard a soft kick and inclined his head to the window.

Richard smirked, especially as the shrew was looking out of the window on the other side of the coach, sniffing into a silk square as if the smell of the town was overpowering her.

He was certain she was enough of a social climber that she would have recognised the Hertfordshire coat of arms on the door of the coach had she seen it pass them.

When the footman opened the door, Bingley exited and turned to hand his sister out.

Miss Bingley looked at Mr Fitzwilliam suggestively, hoping he would understand and climb out and assist her out. It seemed like he did not notice, so she had no choice but to take her brother’s hand and alight.

William and Richard were fully aware of Miss Bingley’s attempted machinations, which they had both ignored. They shook their heads before alighting.

As soon as Mr Fitzwilliam was out of the coach, Miss Bingley made to move towards him and grab one of his arms. She felt a hand on her shoulder and was about to scold the owner for his impudence when she saw her brother’s stern face. It was his hand.

Bingley shook his head in warning.

Knowing that her damned brother would send her back to the estate, Miss Bingley froze and did not attempt to take Mr Fitzwilliam’s arm.

She was seriously displeased with her brother.

She had wanted to walk into this unfashionable ball on Mr Fitzwilliam’s arm so that the woman who thought she was being courted by him would bow to the superiority Miss Bingley clearly displayed.

Sir William met the Netherfield Park party at the entrance. He was well aware that Her Grace wanted to be introduced as Mrs Winston to those who did not know her. Before he could introduce the arriving party to anyone, the three men made directly for the Duchess and her party.

“Mr and Mrs Phillips, it is good to see you again,” Bingley bowed to the couple. He turned to the four ladies. “Your…Mrs Winston, Miss Bennet, and Miss Millar, well met.”

“Mr Bingley, may I introduce to you my sister Miss Catherine Bennet? I believe you have not yet met her. This is her first local event.” Elizabeth stated. Bingley bowed to Miss Catherine and asked Miss Millar for the first set and reserved sets with Mrs Winston, Miss Bennet, and Miss Catherine.

Richard and William greeted all the members of the Phillips’ party, including Cathy, who they both knew. William requested sets of all the ladies, including Mrs Phillips, who refused with a blush.

After the introduction and requests for various sets were made, Elizabeth asked Bingley, “Will you introduce the lady with you, please?”

Miss Bingley was about to berate the chit for acting as if she, a woman wearing a gown of no fashion and no jewels of note, was above her.

She saw her brother’s face and bit the comment back.

Her anger was building because neither Mr Fitzwilliam nor Mr Darcy had asked her to dance, yet the latter had requested sets with the lowborn nothings.

At least, Mr Fitzwilliam had not asked any of the chits to dance the first set with him.

In her anger she forgot the name; Bennet had been in the society pages often over the years, starting with one who married the Duke of Hertfordshire.

“Mr and Mrs Phillips, Mrs Winston, Miss Millar, Miss Bennet, and Miss Catherine, I present my sister, Miss Caroline Bingley. Caroline, you got all of their names, did you not?” Bingley asked.

The ladies who were named curtsied while Phillips bowed. Miss Bingley barely inclined her head.

William was about to call Miss Bingley out on her rudeness when he saw Lady Elizabeth give a quick shake of her head. He held his peace and instead admired how beautiful Her Grace was. He kept his features schooled. He could not reveal his true feelings to anyone.

When the first set was called, Miss Bingley waited expectantly to be asked to dance by Mr Fitzwilliam, who, as far as she knew, was not engaged to dance that set.

He did not even look at her. “It seems we are both without partners for the first set, Mr Fitzwilliam,” Miss Bingley purred.

She was about to bat her eyelids when she remembered what Mr Fitzwilliam had said to her earlier.

“In fact, I am dancing the first. I am partnering with the lady I am courting. Did you forget I mentioned she was present?” Richard stated. He turned, offered his arm to Mary and led her to the forming line.

Miss Bingley burnt with humiliation. She watched as Mr Darcy led the dowdy Mrs Winsome, or whatever her name was, to the dance floor; her brother led the pretty blonde—she would have to kill that in its tracks—and some country mushroom collected the youngest Bennet and led her out to the dance floor.

None of the women were wealthy, nor did they have any fashion or jewels, so how was it that she, the epitome of class, wealth, and fashion, was left to be a wallflower?

“She does not remember me from the modiste shop at all, does she?” Elizabeth stated as she and William came together in the pattern of the dance.

“In her mind, that never occurred,” William opined. “Given how religiously she purportedly reads all of the society pages and gossip rags, I am surprised Miss Bingley did not recognise the Bennet name.”

“An angry person is seldom wise,” Elizabeth said as she inclined her head towards the fuming woman standing alone on one side of the hall.

No one was standing near her. “Richard told us the pretensions which got her banished from society more than four years past are back, even as she attempts to hide them.”

“To think I used to…” William began but closed his mouth when Lady Elizabeth shook her head.

“No, William, unlike her, you learnt to be a better man and have made the needed changes. The same can be said for my sister Jane. Do not dare try comparing yourself to that harpy now. Miss Bingley had an opportunity to change her character and did not take it. She and she alone is to blame for her lot in life. If I did not know better, I would say the woman is delusional.” Elizabeth saw Richard and Mary dancing a few couples down the line from her and William. Mary was glowing like the sun.

She did not miss Jane dancing with Mr Bingley. Her older sister seemed to be blushing with pleasure. Lastly, she saw Cathy dancing with Johnny Lucas. To Elizabeth, it looked like her sister was enjoying her first foray into society.

Miss Bingley’s fury kept building as she watched the man she had chosen to marry as he danced with everyone but herself. Other than her brother asking her to dance the fourth set, no one, especially not the two men being hosted at Netherfield Park, had requested she dance a set with them.

She saw the frumpy Mrs whatever her name was sitting out a set.

How dare she seem so friendly with the men of her party who had ignored her, their hostess?

She could not take the one who Mr Fitzwilliam was courting to task because she was dancing with him again for the second time.

Miss Bingley purposefully stalked over towards the married one.

It was time to vent her spleen. Her anger erased her memories of the consequences her brother had promised.

She stood in front of the lowborn woman, her arms akimbo, waiting to be acknowledged.

The nothing made as if she did not see her.

“What favours has one like you bestowed on moral men like Messrs Fitzwilliam and Darcy so they will dance with you and ignore me? You must have bewitched them with your arts and allurements! I am sure that because your peasant of a husband is not here, you have tricked these upstanding men into your bed, you, slattern you!” Miss Bingley screeched.

She did not notice that the dancers had all stopped and were standing staring at her open-mouthed, and the music had ceased.

She also did not see her brother and his friends hurrying towards her.

Elizabeth held up her hand to stop the three men as she stood.

“Miss Bingley, you have a very bad habit of insulting me, although this insult will never be excused like the previous time.” Elizabeth saw the look of confusion on the shrew’s countenance.

“Let me see, it was a little more than four years ago when I was at Madame Chambourg’s, shopping for my wedding gown.

If my memory serves me, and it always does, you did not know I was one of the clients, and thought I was a seamstress.

You said, ‘How dare you speak of your betters in that way? I will have you sacked on the spot.’ Do you not remember, Miss Bingley?

It cost you more than three years away from society. ”

Miss Bingley searched her memories and remembered at the time she had insulted the Duke of Hertfordshire’s fiancée…No! It could not be possible. If she was His Grace’s fiancée then, that meant that now she was a duchess! “I did not know who you were,” she squeaked out.

“And did that give you the right to speak to me as you did? Your days in society are over, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth pronounced.

“Unlike last time, your brother and sister will not be tainted by your ruination. You are very lucky my husband, the one you called a peasant, His Grace Lord Archibald Chamberlain, the Duke of Hertfordshire, is away because his wrath would be great. Even if he were to forgive you, which he will not, Her Majesty the Queen would not. You see, Her Majesty is rather fond of me. Elizabeth cocked her head to the lady on Mr Fitzwilliam’s arm; she added, “Her Majesty is also rather fond of my sister, Mary, who will be Mrs Fitzwilliam one day. She is, by the way, my next younger sister. The lady I am positive you think is not good enough to be noticed by your brother, Miss Millar, is my older sister.”

“Why were you introduced as Mrs Winston?” Miss Bingley cried.

“Because I do not want to be fawned over by an inveterate social climber and fortune hunter.” Elizabeth turned to Mr Bingley. “I suggest you remove her from here.”

All Bingley could do was shake his head at his sister, who had just committed irrevocable social suicide. “Yes, Your Grace.” Bingley bowed and gripped his ashen sister by her arm and walked her out of the assembly past all the looks of disgust aimed at her.

“I think we may restart the assembly. We will not allow that woman to spoil it for all of us, will we?” Elizabeth suggested.

The music recommenced, and the dancing began once again.

Bingley returned about an hour later, in time for a second set with Jane Millar. He did not mention his sister, who would be kept locked in her bedchamber until their aunt arrived.