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Chapter Twenty-Three

December 1, 1811 Netherfield Park Elizabeth

E lizabeth adjusted her gown, her fingers lingering on the Montrose brooch that secured her fichu. The carriage had just arrived at Netherfield. When the door opened, a footman assisted Jane down first. Elizabeth followed, drawing a deep breath as she ascended the steps.

Today, Caroline and her betrothed were expected. It had been agreed that their first meeting should take place at Netherfield, where any potential shock on Caroline’s part might be more easily contained. Elizabeth had argued that the lady might not recognize her, but Charles, as he had asked her to call him, had laughed and insisted his sister would know her at once.

In the days following the discovery of her origins, the household had been filled with discussion. On the evening of the twenty-seventh of November, Elizabeth had at last confided in Jane. Her sister had been suitably shocked and distressed, embracing her warmly and kissing her cheek. Mama and Papa had informed Mary and Thomas, though they decided to wait before telling the two youngest daughters until matters had settled somewhat.

Elizabeth had also shared her dreams with Bingley, and confirmed that they were, indeed, memories. “You were a rambunctious child,” he had chortled. “Caroline thought you would break your neck climbing fences.”

And now, the moment had come. Today, she would meet the lady who had, by Bingley’s account, once been her dearest friend.

“Good morning, my dear!” Bingley stepped forward and took Jane’s hand. “You look lovely.”

Jane blushed. “Thank you, sir. If you continue to flatter me so each day, I shall come to think far too well of myself.”

Darcy greeted Elizabeth in a like manner, and the four soon settled on two settees arranged before the fire. The ladies’ maid, Sally, sat quietly in a distant corner, doing her utmost to remain unobtrusive.

“When is Miss Bingley expected?” Elizabeth asked when they were comfortable before the roaring blaze.

“She said they would arrive before tea. It cannot be more than half an hour now.” Mr. Bingley glanced at his pocket watch. “Yes, they intended to leave London early. They must be very near.”

“Shall I ask Mrs. Nicholls to prepare tea?” Jane smiled, though it was somewhat strained. After Mrs. Hurst’s cold reception, she worried that Miss Bingley would likewise find her wanting. The Hursts had kept to their rooms whenever the Bennets called, and Elizabeth wondered whether their manners might improve were she introduced as the granddaughter of an earl.

“Yes, by all means. It will be your right and duty soon enough.” He grinned and kissed Jane’s hand, catching it as she rose to give the orders.

“Have you written to Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked her betrothed.

“I have. I did not mention the news. Instead, I teased her and said I had something of great importance to tell her when next we meet. I imagine I shall have an express demanding information before the week is out.”

They chuckled together. “You are so serious most of the time, sir, I had begun to wonder whether you possessed a sense of humor. I am pleased to see that it exists. Has it rusted from disuse, perhaps?” She raised a brow with mock severity, relishing the thrill of his answering grin.

“I have had much cause to be dismal in recent years. I should still be so, were it not for you.”

“Careful, sir. With such praise, I may begin to believe I am quite without fault.”She gave him a saucy wink, delighted by the depth of his love.

“Then you will be in the same situation as your sister. I have no intention of ceasing my efforts to praise you, and Bingley will do the same with Miss Bennet. You had best grow accustomed to it.”

“That will not prove difficult.” In truth, she had known love from her Bennet family for a long time, but this was something altogether different. Darcy’s love completed her—made her feel truly whole, save for the small corner of her heart still left unfulfilled until the past was at last resolved.

“A carriage is coming up the drive, sir.” Mr. Griggs bowed as he spoke, then withdrew to await the arrival of guests at the front door.

“I had best go greet them.” Bingley stood and left the room.

Elizabeth’s nerves grew with every delicate tick of the gilt clock on the mantelpiece.. She grasped Darcy’s hand and took comfort in his steady touch.

At last, the door to the drawing room opened, and Bingley entered, followed by a handsome, dark-haired gentleman with a beautiful woman on his arm. Elizabeth at once noted a resemblance to Charles. Dressed in a fashionable travel gown that accentuated her trim figure, Miss Caroline Bingley carried herself with confidence and poise.

This was my dearest friend? Elizabeth could scarcely fathom it.

“You know Darcy, of course.” Bingley had begun introductions, and Elizabeth realized she had missed part of them whilst she was woolgathering.

“My betrothed, Miss Jane Bennet.” He took Jane’s hand and drew her gently forward. Elizabeth remained partially concealed behind Darcy. Miss Bingley’s attention had fixed upon Jane, and she greeted her future sister-in-law with an enthusiastic smile.

“And this is Jane’s younger sister, Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy stepped aside as Bingley made the introduction. Miss Bingley turned—and froze. Whatever greeting she had intended to offer died on her lips. The color drained from her face, and she gave a sharp cry before collapsing into a dead faint. Her betrothed, whose name Elizabeth had missed, caught her just in time.

“If we had wagered, Elizabeth, I should have won.” Bingley looked both smug and a little chagrined.

“What is the meaning of this?” the gentleman demanded, cradling Miss Bingley’s in his arms as he carried her to a nearby chaise and laid her upon it with great care.

“Sir James, I apologize. I ought to have arranged the introduction more delicately. I knew Caroline might be startled, but I never imagined—”

“Just who is this ‘Miss Elizabeth’?” Sir James turned a dark look on her. “Something out of a nightmare I should say, judging by Caroline’s reaction just now.”

“Have a care how you address my betrothed, sir,” Darcy said coldly, stepping forward and placing a steadying hand on Elizabeth’s back. “If you would allow us but a moment to explain—”

A low moan interrupted him. Caroline stirred and put a hand to her head. “What happened?” she asked weakly.

“You had a fright, my dear. Pray, take care as you sit up.” Sir James assisted her, one hand at her back to support her, just as Darcy had done for Elizabeth.

“Charlie?” Miss Bingley looked about and caught sight of her brother. “Aunt Amelia? Is it possible?”

“I am very sorry, sister, for not giving you warning. We needed to see your honest reaction.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “You did not disappoint.”

He beckoned Elizabeth forward and stepped aside. “Look who I found in the wilds of Hertfordshire.”

Miss Bingley’s gaze lingered on Elizabeth’s face, then dropped to the brooch fastening her fichu. “Can it be so?” She pushed herself up to stand and came within half a foot of her. “How very like your mother you look.” A sob escaped her, and she promptly threw her arms around her long-lost friend.

Uncertain how to respond, Elizabeth tentatively put her arms around Miss Bingley, remaining thus until Caroline broke the embrace. Tears glistened on her cheeks as she placed her hands gently on Elizabeth’s shoulders.

“Let me look at you! I never thought to see you again—and here you are. Why did you never write?”

“It is a long story, Caroline. Shall we sit? Jane has ordered tea.” Bingley motioned to the chairs gathered around the fire. He took his betrothed’s hand and led her there.

Caroline did not leave Elizabeth’s side as they followed. When they were all settled, the entire tale was told once more, including Elizabeth’s loss of memory.

“You see, Miss Bingley, I did not know who I was until very recently.” Elizabeth gave a little shrug and bit into a biscuit.

“There will be none of that. You were Lizzy to me for eight years and so you will remain. And I beg you to call me Caroline, as you did before.” She grinned, her pleasure unmistakable. Then she turned to Darcy. “I see you have at last succumbed to the charms of a lady. Nothing could please me more than to know my dearest friend will be well settled.”

“I thank you, Miss Bingley.” Darcy shifted slightly, as though her informal address made him uncomfortable. “Elizabeth and I are very happy.”

“I am pleased to hear it. I must host everyone at my brother’s house in town whilst you pursue the matter of Elizabeth’s grandmother. That is, of course, if Charlie agrees.” She cast a pleading look at her brother.

“It would hardly be proper, Caroline—with you in residence, they may come to call as often as they like.” Bingley turned to Jane, lifting her hand and pressing another kiss to her knuckles.

“Save your displays of affection for when I am not in the room, dear brother.” Mrs. Hurst appeared in the doorway, her husband trailing behind her. “Welcome, Caroline.”

“Good day, Louisa.” The sisters’ greetings were painfully formal. It was clear that their relationship was strained and distant. Elizabeth felt a pang of sorrow for them. Her own bond with her sisters and brother was amongst the dearest things she possessed. Only Darcy held a closer place in her heart.

“You have only just arrived,” Mrs. Hurst continued. “And already you speak of going back to town?”

“Caroline has offered to be my hostess when Jane goes to London for her wedding clothes.” Bingley spoke in a rush, forestalling Caroline’s reply—they had agreed to keep the full truth from the Hursts until all matters were properly sorted.

“And when is this wedding? Have you even set a date?” Mrs. Hurst flounced to a nearby chair and seated herself, folding her hands with deliberate poise.

“We plan to marry in March,” Jane said, beaming at her betrothed.

“Well, I suppose it is wise to order your gowns before the season’s rush. I could introduce you to my modiste, if you like. Madame Pierre is very fashionable and highly sought after.”

“I thank you for the offer, however my aunt’s modiste, Madame Dubois, will be making my wedding clothes.”

Mrs. Hurst gaped. “Your aunt…the one from Cheapside? She is one of Madame Dubois’s clients?” Her expression mingled doubt and disbelief, and it took all of Elizabeth’s self-command not to laugh aloud..

“Yes. She has made our family’s clothing for years,” Jane replied evenly. She spoke the truth. Mrs. Bennet had secured the appointment quite by chance after encountering Madame Dubois in Hyde Park. Impressed by her efforts at clothing and raising five daughters, the modiste had offered her services. Though her clientele was exclusive, she had taken a liking to the family and made room for them. They paid handsomely, of course, but their gowns were modest in design, making the cost manageable. The connection to their Aunt Gardiner had been revealed later.

“Well, then.” Mrs. Hurst muttered, adjusting a fold in her skirt. “When is this little excursion to take place?”

“We shall leave before Twelfth Night,” Bingley cut in. “Darcy’s sister will be in town, and he plans to accompany us. Mrs. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth will go as well.”

“Well, what will Hurst and I do?” Mrs. Hurst huffed, folding her arms like a sulky child. “We have come all the way to Hertfordshire and now you mean to abandon us?”

“You may come to London or remain here.” Bingley said with an indifferent shrug. “If you choose to stay, Mrs. Nicholls will see that you have everything you require. And you have met enough people in Meryton and the surrounds that you should not want for invitations. I am sure I could persuade young Master Bennet to go shooting with you, Hurst.”

“A capital idea,” Hurst exclaimed, his florid face lighting with enthusiasm. “Cracking good shot, that boy. Gave me quite the challenge last time.”

Mrs. Hurst looked ready to protest, but thought better of it. She pursed her lips into a thin line and fixed her eyes on her clasped hands.

“We must have a celebration dinner, in honor of your engagement.” Caroline clapped her hands in delight. “James, do you not agree?”

“I would agree to anything that brings you pleasure, my love,” he replied, gazing at her with unabashed affection.

“Wonderful! When shall we have it?” Caroline’s excitement was infectious, and Jane and Elizabeth exchanged bright smiles.

Louisa interjected, frowning. “I am the hostess here, Caro.”

“Then you will know the best day to hold a dinner. Jane, Elizabeth, do you know your mother’s schedule?”

“We have no fixed engagements until the week of Christmas,” Jane answered. “Our uncle and aunt will come then. Longbourn always hosts a Christmas Eve soirée for the neighborhood.”

“Then next week, it shall be!” Caroline turned to her brother for confirmation, ignoring Louisa’s irritated huff.

“We shall send round an invitation,” Charles agreed with a smile.

Jane and Elizabeth did not linger at Netherfield much longer. Caroline and her betrothed walked them to the door, trailing behind the two happy couples. Before Elizabeth stepped into the carriage, Caroline gave her another tight embrace.

“I shall call and share every memory I can recall,” she promised. “And we shall never be parted again, not even when we marry, for we will exchange letters five times a week.”

Elizabeth laughed. “That seems a little excessive,” she replied, but I shall do my best.” Yet even as she smiled, a small doubt stirred within her. Caroline’s zeal to resume their former closeness as if nothing had ever happened gave her pause. What if Caroline Bingley disliked the woman Elizabeth Montrose had become? What if she expected Elizabeth should act as the girl she once knew—not as her current self? It did not bear dwelling on, and Elizabeth resolved to act only in the manner most likely to secure her own happiness.