Page 3 of The Bennet Heir
Chapter Two
“ M ama, have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Lydia burst into the small parlour, her voice shrill with excitement as she flung herself onto a chair. Her mother and eldest sister, who were seated drinking their tea, looked up at the interruption.
“I have indeed,” Mrs. Bennet replied, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I have even met the gentleman who is leasing it. Charles Bingley is his name—only twenty-three and already in possession of a large fortune. My brother says he has four or five thousand a year! A handsome young man, too, and I have decided he will do very well for you, Jane. You are of age, and if you can manage to persuade him to propose, your sister and I will no longer have to endure this wretched little cottage. We shall live with you at Netherfield in comfort instead and no longer have to be dependent on that selfish stepson of mine.”
Jane’s teacup trembled slightly as she set it down. “Do you think we shall have the opportunity to meet him, Mama? Will he come to the assembly?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Lydia cut in, her voice rising as she twisted a lock of her hair. “Everyone will be there, and surely he would not want to miss it. Besides, it will be ever so lively!” She clapped her hands in delight. “I am so very pleased that you will allow me to attend, Mama, since I would hate to be left at home while the two of you were out indulging yourselves. I’ll be the youngest girl in attendance and intend to make sure Maria Lucas knows that I was permitted to attend while she could not. She’s two years older, but not as pretty as I am.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled indulgently at her youngest. “Precisely so, Lydia. But returning to Mr. Bingley, he is bound to attend. A young man of means must surely wish to make a good impression among his new neighbours. As Jane is clearly the most beautiful woman in Meryton and its environs, he will surely be interested in her. All you need to do is to smile at him, Jane, and entice him.”
Lydia basked in her mother’s approval, already picturing the excitement of the evening. She would be the only twelve-year-old in Meryton permitted to attend, and the thought filled her with glee. Her mother had bought her a dress covered in lace flounces, and she was excited to show it off. Neither Mary nor Kitty would be there to dampen her fun, and she could hardly wait to tell them all about it. She was not yet out and could not look for a husband, but still her mother would not deny her when she pouted so prettily.
It was not entirely unheard of for children to attend assemblies in Meryton. However, those who did were usually quite young and accompanied their parents because they could not be left at home. Unlike these children, who were expected to sit quietly in a corner and not participate in the dancing and revelry, Lydia Bennet had no such intentions of behaving with decorum—much less of restraining herself.
In truth, Mary Bennet and Maria Lucas were now old enough to attend the assemblies as observers. However, both Bennet and Charlotte had agreed that it would be best for them to wait, in light of the recent news that the militia would soon be arriving. When Charlotte broached the subject with her parents, Sir William and Lady Lucas readily concurred. With so many unknown men soon to enter their society, neither family wished to draw their young daughters to the attention of these newcomers.
Jane kept her expression carefully neutral, her unease growing as her mother shared her plans. She knew better than to argue, but wished her mother would not place these high expectations on her. It was possible that Mr. Bingley was already engaged to be married or was courting a woman in London. Perhaps she would even come with him to visit.
Hesitating, Jane allowed her fingers to tracing the edge of her teacup. She recalled seeing Mr. Bingley from afar—his figure was well-dressed, his manner with her uncle had appeared lively. Although she had not been close enough to discern his features, he had appeared well-favoured. “How am I to entice him, Mama?” she asked softly, her uncertainty evident. “If he is as wealthy as you say, then surely many women will be vying for his attention. What if he is attached to someone else? What if he prefers another?”
Mrs. Bennet waved a hand dismissively, her expression sharp with impatience. “Pah! So long as he is not married, he is still available to you. Attachment or no, it hardly matters. Sir William mentioned that he intended to call on him, and naturally, the gentleman will be invited to the ball. The Long girls are nothing to worry about—plain, silly creatures, the pair of them. And Lizzy—” Mrs. Bennet’s lips curled in distaste as she spat the name, her scowl deepening. “—Lizzy is far too much of a bluestocking for a man like Mr. Bingley. She has her head buried in books, and her manners are much too bold. No, my dear Jane, it is you he will admire. You have beauty and sweetness on your side.”
Flushing faintly at this oft-repeated praise, Jane said nothing as her mother leaned forward, her tone turning conspiratorial. “Here is what you must do. Smile at him—brightly, prettily—and he will ask you to dance at the assembly, I am sure of it. When he does, agree with everything he says, no matter what it is. Men do not want to be argued with, Jane. Agree with him, flatter him subtly, and you will have him persuaded to marry you before you know it.”
Jane bit her lip and glanced down at her tea, discomfort flitting across her face. Her mother’s instructions sounded simple enough, but the thought of behaving so calculatedly unnerved her. Yet, she dared not voice her doubts.
“Lizzy is the better conversationalist. She has always drawn the attention of the gentlemen from the neighbourhood. However, none of them will offer for her because they fear she will reject them. She and I always spoke of marrying for love,” Jane whispered, almost wistfully, as she looked out the window. Her mother would contradict her, she knew it, and she almost hoped her mother would not hear.
While Mrs. Bennet openly disdained her stepdaughter, Jane could not help but admire Elizabeth. Despite her mother’s constant criticism, Elizabeth’s quiet confidence, quick wit, and kind heart had always drawn Jane to her. When she could manage to slip away unnoticed, Jane would visit Grandmama Bennet’s dower house. There, she could enjoy time spent with Grandmama Bennet, who considered Jane a welcome addition, and in the company of her sister Elizabeth. Although her father required her to move back into the manor house when she was ten, Elizabeth still spent her days with her grandmother as often as possible.
These visits were a source of immense joy for Jane, who cherished those stolen moments. Elizabeth would include Jane in her lessons, which often involved assisting Grandmama Bennet with some new herbal remedy she was creating or lessons about how to best use roots and herbs for healing. Jane loved to sit with them, listening as the elderly lady patiently explained the uses of the plants and flowers she was preparing. It was a place where Jane felt free to be herself without fear of judgment or comparison.
Yet, her visits had to be conducted in secret. Mrs. Bennet had decreed that Jane was not to associate with Elizabeth or Mrs. Eleanor Bennet—she was not allowed to call her Grandmama in her own mother’s presence—any more than was absolutely necessary. Jane, who rarely disobeyed her mother, found herself torn between loyalty and her growing affection for Elizabeth. She understood the risks of her defiance; if her visits were discovered, her mother’s wrath would be swift, and it would likely be Elizabeth who bore the brunt of it. Mrs. Bennet would find a way to twist the situation, punishing Elizabeth for “corrupting” Jane or for daring to overstep her place.
The thought of Elizabeth suffering on her behalf troubled Jane deeply, yet it was not enough to keep her away. Elizabeth never once reproached her for the risk or hinted that she should stop coming. Instead, she welcomed Jane with a warm smile and an eagerness that made the sneaking and secrecy worthwhile. For Jane, those visits were more than simple rebellion—they were a chance to learn from someone she respected and to experience the companionship of a sister who treated her as an equal rather than a pawn to be used or a child to be moulded.
In those quiet hours, surrounded by the dower house’s gentle calm, Jane could glimpse a different kind of life—one filled with kindness, understanding, and freedom. It was a fragile hope she clung to, one that gave her strength to endure the suffocating pressures of her mother’s ambitions, especially as she grew older, and they seemed to grow heavier.
After her stepbrother married, Jane knew the peace she had enjoyed in the preceding months would not last. When Jonathan Bennet first became the master of the estate, there had been daily clashes between him and her mother. Though these quarrels had eventually subsided, they reignited with a vengeance as soon as Jonathan announced his engagement to Charlotte Lucas. Mrs. Fanny Bennet, furious at the prospect of losing her role as mistress of Longbourn to what she derisively called a “good-for-nothing spinster,” grew even more embittered and combative.
Given a choice, Jane would have preferred to remain at Longbourn. She had grown fond of the home and its quiet comforts, but her mother had no intention of offering her a choice. Determined to leave Longbourn not long after Charlotte assumed her position, Mrs. Bennet made up her mind to move to her brother’s house in Meryton. Without consulting anyone, she ordered the servants to pack not only her own belongings but also those of Jane and Lydia.
Lydia was delighted by the change, for it meant she would no longer be expected to learn in the schoolroom with Mary and Kitty, but Jane felt a deep reluctance to leave the only home she remembered. She entertained the fleeting thought of refusing to leave, but the idea of defying her mother was unthinkable. To do so would cause Mrs. Bennet great distress, and Jane, ever dutiful and eager to avoid conflict, could not bring herself to inflict pain. Instead, she resigned herself to the move even as she mourned the life and home she was being forced to leave behind.
Now, she was even more regretful of having left. Had she remained at Longbourn, she would not be expected to smile prettily at a man she knew nothing about. She would not be expected to win a suitor for the sole purpose of providing her mother with a better life. If she married this Mr. Bingley, could she refuse to allow her mother to live with them? If he was as rich as her mother claimed, would it be possible to persuade him to give her mother an additional allowance, but only with the condition that she live elsewhere? It was something to consider even if it could never come true.
Caroline Bingley was far from pleased to find herself travelling to an insignificant town in Hertfordshire. The very thought of living in the remote county made her inwardly cringe. While she supported her brother’s ambition to join the landed gentry—after all, that elevated her own position by association—she vastly preferred the entertainments and society of town. The one exception to her disdain for the countryside was Pemberley. That grand estate was the pinnacle of refinement, a jewel of the English countryside that Caroline could tolerate—no, enjoy—especially if it meant occupying the position of its mistress.
She had often imagined herself at Pemberley, overseeing its staff and redecorating it to her tastes, revelling in the idea of her name forever tied to a prestigious property. While she did not care for the country overly much, she envisioned hosting house parties in the summer when London was too hot to tolerate and showing off her estate to all those who had disdained her as the daughter of a tradesman. Already, she could imagine the glittering parties and soirées she could host at the grand estate.
That dream sustained her through many tedious trips to other country estates, but now she sensed her opportunity was near. Her brother’s letter, received just yesterday, had contained the delightful news that his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy had joined him in Hertfordshire, ostensibly to advise him on the management of his leased estate. She had long admired Darcy, or at least his wealth, and more than anything else, she desired to marry him for his estate, Pemberley, his wealth, and his connections to nobility. The reason for his visit hardly mattered to Caroline. What mattered was that she would have the perfect chance to demonstrate her suitability as his wife—and the mistress of Pemberley—and solidify her claim to the role she had coveted for so long.
This trip was more than an inconvenience; it was a mission. Caroline had no intention of leaving Meryton without securing Darcy’s attentions and, ultimately, his proposal. If that required feigning a sudden appreciation for the charms of the countryside, then so be it. She would flatter, charm, and play the devoted admirer to perfection. Whatever it took to make him see her as the ideal companion to share his life and his estate, she would do it, including compromising the gentleman to force his hand.
While the dull monotony of rural Hertfordshire might test her patience, Caroline Bingley knew the potential reward far outweighed the inconvenience. This was her chance to secure her future, and she was resolved that nothing—and no one—would stand in her way.
It was with this determination in mind that, the previous afternoon, she had set her plans into motion. While her sister Louisa and brother-in-law Gilbert Hurst were out attending an evening engagement—a tiresome affair Caroline had chosen to avoid—they returned to find their trunks packed and ready for an early departure the following morning. Caroline had decided they would leave for Hertfordshire at once, and she was not one to let their objections derail her plans.
With practiced ease, Caroline bent the truth to suit her needs. She informed Louisa and Mr. Hurst that Charles had requested their immediate presence at Netherfield, citing his need for their company as he settled into his new role. Neither Hurst seemed pleased about the abrupt change in plans, nor did they appreciate her ordering the house closed and their things packed, but Caroline left little room for protest. Louisa had long since learned that contradicting her sister was an exercise in futility, and Gilbert Hurst was far too indifferent to challenge her will.
Satisfied that her scheme had gone unopposed, Caroline had gone to bed that evening with a sense of triumph. The pieces were falling into place. By this time tomorrow, she would be on her way to a new opportunity to demonstrate her charms to Mr. Darcy. Whatever trials Hertfordshire might bring, she was certain they would pale in comparison to the satisfaction of achieving her goal.
Upon arriving at Netherfield, Caroline stepped down from the carriage and turned a critical eye towards the house. It was tolerable, she supposed, with its Georgian facade and neatly manicured grounds. Regardless, it was nothing compared to the grandeur of Pemberley. Still, she reminded herself, this was only a stepping stone, and her brother leasing the estate would certainly raise her own status.
As the front door swung open, Charles emerged, his expression one of mild surprise at the unexpected arrival. Caroline knew she had to act quickly. If she allowed him a moment to question their presence, her carefully woven story might unravel. Not that her brother and sister could do anything about it, but she preferred her deception go unnoticed, at least for now.
“Charles, we came as soon as we could, just as you requested,” she gushed, her voice infused with just the right mix of enthusiasm and concern. She clasped her gloved hands together as though the urgency of the matter weighed heavily on her. “You cannot possibly entertain without a hostess, and we have come to assist you as you establish yourself. Of course, I am delighted to take on the role and to make the house comfortable for your stay.”
Her brother blinked, visibly taken aback. “Requested?” he echoed, his brow furrowing. “Caroline, I do not recall?—”
“Oh, Charles, there is no need to thank us,” she interrupted smoothly, linking her arm through his and steering him away from the others. “When we received your letter, it was clear you required our presence to assist you in settling into this new estate. Naturally, we could not delay.”
Charles looked over his shoulder at Louisa and Mr. Hurst, who were busy instructing the footmen on the unloading of their trunks. “But I never?—”
“Of course, you did not wish to trouble us,” Caroline continued, her tone growing indulgent as though he were a child in need of gentle guidance. “But family is meant to support one another, is it not? What could be more important than ensuring the success of your first foray into the landed gentry?”
Charles hesitated, his protest wavering under his sister’s relentless manipulation. With a small sigh, he relented. “Well, I suppose it is good to have you all here,” he said, his tone lacking conviction.
“Precisely,” Caroline said with a triumphant smile. “Now, let us not waste another moment. I am certain there is much to do.”
As they entered the house, Caroline’s sharp eyes scanned every detail of the interior. The furnishings were tasteful though perhaps not as fashionable as she would have chosen. Still, she supposed it would do for now. Her thoughts drifted to Fitzwilliam Darcy. No doubt he would appreciate her guidance in helping Charles transform this provincial estate into something worthy of the first circles.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing in the hall. She turned, her breath catching slightly as Darcy appeared at the top of the staircase. Dressed impeccably, as always, he descended with an effortless grace that only heightened her determination.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said warmly, stepping forward to greet him. “What a delight to see you again. Charles was wise to invite you to Netherfield. I am sure your advice will prove invaluable.”
Darcy inclined his head politely but offered no more than a brief greeting. His cool demeanour did not trouble Caroline; she was well accustomed to his reserve. She knew her work was cut out for her, but she relished the challenge of capturing the elusive gentleman.
Remaining where he stood on the steps, Darcy inwardly shook his head. He had agreed to come to Netherfield only after Bingley promised his sister would not be here. No doubt Bingley had mentioned his presence in a letter that had brought Miss Bingley there forthwith, for his friend still wore the slightly confused look that seemed common when his younger sister was near. The Hursts, as well, looked as though they just then realised they had not been expected.
“You have arrived just in time,” Bingley said to his newly arrived guests. “There is to be an assembly tonight, and Darcy and I were just speaking of it. Of course, you will go with me since it will be your best opportunity to meet our neighbours.”
Caroline frowned at this information, having not considered that her brother would attend a social event so soon. Having not grown up on a country estate, she was unaware of the practice for newcomers to be visited by the neighbouring families. She supposed the assembly would be yet another opportunity for her to show off her elegant taste in clothing, and it was likely the country mushrooms they would see there would only highlight her own excellent style. While it was not ideal, she put on a smile and looked up again at Darcy.
“I look forward to dancing tonight,” she said, her voice lilting with forced charm as she tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes in what she hoped was an alluring manner. Her gaze lingered on the gentleman, expecting a flattering response and a request for a set, preferably the first.
For a moment, a flicker of discomfort crossed his features—a slight tightening of his jaw and a faint shift in his posture. Caroline, however, was too absorbed in her own performance to notice.
His reply was a curt nod, polite but entirely noncommittal. When no follow-up request for a set of dances followed, her smile faltered ever so slightly. The absence of the anticipated invitation left her momentarily at a loss though she quickly recovered, her practised expression of graciousness slipping back into place.
Inside, her thoughts churned. How could he not ask? Surely, he must see that she was the most elegant and suitable partner here. She resolved to redouble her efforts, determined not to let the gentleman slip from her grasp.