Page 14 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)
Charles Bingley felt his heart thumping in his chest with a mixture of excitement and yes, fear. He had never asked a woman to marry him before, after all. It was quite an epochal day!
The world seemed keen on spurring him on, at least. His gray horse was full of vim and vigor, and the day, while cold enough to produce clouds of mist from nose and mouth, was neither windy nor wet.
He rode the three miles to Longbourn in a haze of adoration for Miss Bennet and worries about proper terminology. Ought he to quote poetry to his lady before offering for her? Should he list out her manifold attributes? Should he assure her of his indifference of her comparative poverty?
No, most definitely not the latter. Speaking of a dowry with the lady in question was bad form, very bad form indeed.
He pulled up to Longbourn with a sudden certainty that he ought to be himself. If Miss Bennet consented to be his wife, she should know that she was taking a man who had no gifting for poetry.
With that settled in his mind, he handed his reins to the stable boy and marched with determination toward the house.
/
The east sitting room at Longbourn was fairly empty, which Bingley found a relief. Even better, Miss Bennet was one of those in attendance, along with the clergyman Mr. Collins, Miss Charlotte Lucas, and Miss Kitty, the fourth Bennet daughter.
“Good morning, Mr. Bingley!” Kitty exclaimed innocently. “Thank you again for hosting the ball at Netherfield last night. It was so much fun!”
“I am glad that you enjoyed it, Miss Kitty,” Bingley replied, his eyes fixed distractedly on the glowing countenance of Miss Bennet, who was smiling at him. How was he to get everyone else out of the room, he wondered?
“Mr. Collins,” Miss Charlotte Lucas said suddenly, “I do believe that I left my shawl in the drawing room and I find myself a little chilled. I shall go fetch it.”
“Oh no, Miss Lucas, please allow me to do so!”
“Thank you very much!”
Once the rector was out the door, Miss Lucas turned an inquiring gaze on Mr. Bingley, “Am I correct that you wish to speak to Miss Bennet alone, sir?”
He gulped and nodded, “Yes, Miss Lucas, I do.”
“Very well. Kitty, do get up and let us leave them in privacy, though I will leave the door open a few inches for propriety’s sake.
I daresay you will not be disturbed given that most of the family is visiting in Meryton this morning.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and their children are departing for London tomorrow, and wish to spend the rest of today with Mr. and Mrs. Philips. ”
Bingley beamed at the young lady with awe and gratitude. He quite thought that if Wellington had more staff officers like Miss Lucas in his train, the war against the French would have been won long ago, “Thank you, Miss Lucas.”
Kitty Bennet, blushing and giggling, was ushered forcibly out the door by Miss Lucas, and Bingley turned his attention on the woman who had won his heart.
She was, he noticed worriedly, looking rather distressed.
But he had never been certain of what was going on in the minds and hearts of women. Perhaps she was merely embarrassed?
In any case, he had no intention of drawing back now. He dropped to one knee, reached out his right hand to take the lady’s slender pale one in his own, and spoke but a few words.
“I love you, Miss Bennet. Will you accept my hand in marriage?”
She blinked at him with her huge blue eyes and for an agonizing moment, all was silence. Finally, with a soft and regretful sigh, she shook her head. Bingley felt his heart drop to his toes with a mixture of sorrow, disbelief and deep disappointment.
“I cannot accept your offer of marriage at this moment, Mr. Bingley,” the lady said soberly, “though I would be delighted to enter into a season of courtship.”
He looked up at this, suddenly filled with hope, “A courtship? Of course, Miss Bennet! I should not have been so forward given our short acquaintance. I do apologize.”
“Pray do not!” the lady responded quickly. “I am truly most honored at your offer, Mr. Bingley, and I do care for you, but the truth is that I am still distressed ... well, I must tell you about my former fiancé, Mr. Brisbane.”
/
Mr. Bennet had been hoping for a peaceful morning in his library but naturally, that was not to be. It was not yet eleven in the morning, and he had a young, impassioned gentleman pacing the floor in a frenzy of outrage.
“How could any man treat an angel like Miss Bennet in such a way? To ask for her hand in marriage, to be accepted, and then marry another? The man deserves to be shot through the heart!”
Bennet sighed and poured a cup of brandy for his guest. “Please do sit down, Mr. Bingley.”
The young man obeyed and took a sip of brandy, struggling to calm himself.
Bennet fixed his eyes on his guest, choosing his words with care, “It was a most grievous affair, Mr. Bingley, and Jane took it very much to heart. I fear many young men are fools.”
“I suppose we are,” Bingley returned with his brow clouded, “but I find it difficult to believe any man could be idiotic enough to cast off someone so lovely, so charming, so good as Miss Bennet!”
“I understand that she has agreed to a courtship with you?”
“Yes,” the young man declared thankfully.
“That is a very good sign, Mr. Bingley, and a wise request on her part. You will have weeks to get to know one another, and both of you can withdraw without a loss of honor if you realize you will not suit.”
The younger man’s features hardened, and he met his host’s eyes challengingly. “I promise you that I will not withdraw, Mr. Bennet. I love your daughter and will do all I can to win her acceptance.”
Bennet turned his gaze to his books, then to the vaulted ceiling, then to the green carpeted floor, before focusing on Bingley’s face. “I hope so, sir, and since I do not wish for there to be any surprises in the future, I am going to tell you a secret, though I ask that you keep it in confidence.”
Bingley felt a tremor of uneasiness, “A secret?”
“Yes, Mr. Bingley. I must tell you about the tulips.”
/
The master of Pemberley had slept poorly and risen late, and thus had requested a plate of cold meats and bread to be eaten in his private sitting room.
His meeting with Wickham last night should be his primary concern, but in reality, the veiled insults of Miss Elizabeth Bennet were uppermost in his thoughts.
It was quite extraordinary that a young woman of poor connections and no fortune would be so impertinent, so daring!
Of course he deserved her condemnation. Like an utter fool, Darcy had insulted the girl’s looks the very day they met, which was an appalling act on the part of any man who claimed to be a gentleman.
It was even more regrettable given that the whole point of his visit to Hertfordshire was to learn more about the locals, and with those ill-chosen words, he had set much of the gentry against him.
It was sensible for Wickham to distance himself!
“Darcy, may I come in?”
“Bingley,” Darcy replied, pulling himself out of his self-flagellation. “Please come in and sit down. I hope you do not mind if I finish my repast?”
“Please do,” his friend answered, flopping down inelegantly on a chair near the fire.
Darcy chewed a bite of meat as he took in his friend’s dazed and confused expression. “What happened?”
“I went to Longbourn this morning to ask Miss Bennet for her hand in marriage.”
Darcy sat up in surprise. “Did she refuse you?”
That would be the most obvious reason for the man’s bewildered appearance, but it was startling. How could Jane Bennet, eldest daughter of five, destined to lose her home when her father died, turn down a wealthy man?
“She did, though she has agreed to a courtship. She was jilted some eighteen months ago by a Mr. Brisbane, whose father owns Netherfield, as a matter of fact. The young Brisbane was affianced to Miss Bennet, but then married the daughter of his tutor at Cambridge.”
“That was very poorly done of Mr. Brisbane.”
“It was quite terrible, Darcy! Miss Bennet was heart-broken and humiliated. How could anyone do such a thing? But that is not …”
The younger man stared into the fire and then shook himself, “What I am going to tell you now must be in confidence. Indeed, I would not tell you at all except that I know that your purpose here is to seek out French activity, and while it seems unlikely that this relates, it is quite extraordinary.”
“Of course,” Darcy declared, intrigued. “I will not speak of this to anyone save Wickham, and then only if I think it worth passing on to him.”
Bingley nodded, squared his shoulders and gazed into his friend’s eyes, “Mr. Bennet told me the source of the family’s unexpected wealth.”
“Yes?”
“They are growing tulips.”