Page 6 of The Bennet Heir

Chapter Five

S everal days later, Darcy accompanied the Bingleys and the Hursts to a dinner party at Lucas Lodge, ostensibly to introduce the newcomers to the area. As guests of honour, they had little choice but to attend. Neither Mr. nor Miss Bingley relished the prospect, particularly after witnessing how well Darcy had got on with the neighbours at the assembly and the dinner hosted at Longbourn. That evening had been especially uncomfortable, as Miss Bingley had spent most of her time criticising both the décor and the meal. Mrs. Hurst had attempted to redirect her sister’s remarks, but Mr. Bingley had remained oblivious. Mr. Hurst, however, had noticed his sister-in-law’s behaviour and, on several occasions, had tried to assist his wife in steering the conversation elsewhere. Miss Bingley, however, had proved intractable.

Unbeknownst to his hosts, Darcy had called upon Longbourn several times over the past few days, specifically to visit Elizabeth. He would leave Netherfield early in the morning, long before Mr. Bingley would normally rise, and return to Netherfield in time for the morning meal, which was served near eleven.

As he anticipated, Miss Bingley attempted to attach herself to Darcy the moment they stepped down from the carriage. However, he deftly avoided her advances, striding purposefully towards the house before she could claim his attention. By the time the rest of the party entered, Darcy was already engaged in conversation with other guests, leaving Miss Bingley to fume at her failure.

Her displeasure only deepened when she caught sight of Elizabeth Bennet standing beside Darcy, her hand resting lightly on his arm in a manner that spoke of ease and familiarity. But what truly unsettled Miss Bingley was the expression on Darcy’s face—he was smiling. A rare sight in any setting, but at a public gathering? And at that chit, Eliza Bennet, of all people? It was an affront Miss Bingley had neither expected nor could readily accept.

The sight was enough to make Miss Bingley’s face tighten with frustration, and she immediately began searching for a way to regain control over the situation. The night before, she had confided in her sister about the strategies she intended to employ to persuade Mr. Darcy to propose. She had written to all her friends about how well her courtship with him was progressing—a fabrication she believed to be true. In reality, Darcy’s attentions were far from what she had imagined, but Miss Bingley remained convinced that, with time, Mr. Darcy would come to recognise her worth and would beg her to be his wife. More importantly, she was certain that this would secure her role as the mistress of both his London townhouse and the grand estate of Pemberley.

As she had done at the assembly, she made her way towards Darcy, seeking to intrude on his notice and desirous of highlighting the differences between herself and this woman she deemed a “country chit.” Unfortunately for her, that was precisely what she did; however, she was unaware that the differences were all in favour of Elizabeth.

“Miss Eliza,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “ where did you purchase that gown?” It was clear from her tone that she found the gown unimpressive, and she would have been astonished to learn that it had been crafted by a London modiste she herself longed to have as a dressmaker.

“Miss Caro, my aunt took me shopping the last time I was with her in London. My uncle’s business imports fine fabrics, so when I am there, I always have the first choice of what arrives,” Elizabeth replied, not attempting to hide the smile on her face at the other woman’s words. She noticed the lady’s face flushed at her use of the shortened form of her name.

“How many years ago was that?” Miss Bingley asked, unwilling to comment on the interloper’s form of address, knowing she could not remark on it without having her own poor behaviour pointed out. “I believe I had a similar gown two or three seasons ago.”

“The dressmaker from whom I obtained this piece prefers to dress women based not on what fashion deems au courant , but on what best suits the individual for whom the dress is designed. I cannot say where she obtained this particular design, but it was one of the purchases I made when I was in London this past spring,” Elizabeth responded lightly, ignoring the implied insult.

As Miss Bingley truly looked at the gown, she began to recognise that the quality of the material was much finer than she had originally thought, and though the pattern might not be as fashionable as her own, it suited the wearer well. Grudgingly, she had to admit—if only to herself—that it was a rather nice dress.

“If you are ever again in town, I would be happy to take you to my modiste. She is one of the best in London. I sincerely doubt you could get an appointment with anyone better, given your connections to trade,” Miss Bingley replied haughtily.

“I am quite happy with the dressmaker I currently use. My aunt works exclusively with her, ensuring the lady has the best of what my uncle brings in. Of course, he is not truly my uncle—merely the brother of my stepmother. My connection to trade, therefore, is not quite as close as yours. If I am not mistaken, your father was in trade, and your brother’s fortune came from that,” Elizabeth said smoothly.

Such a comment caused Miss Bingley to glare at the speaker. Charlotte, recognising that while Elizabeth was speaking the truth, it was not well received, cleared her throat and attempted to rein in her sister’s words. She issued a quiet reprimand, breathing Elizabeth’s name to recall her to her place. Elizabeth lightly placed her hand on her sister’s arm in a silent apology.

Unwilling to risk further insult by continuing this conversation with Miss Bennet, Miss Bingley attempted to direct her attention towards Mr. Darcy.

“Mr. Darcy,” she cooed, “there are several people here whom I have not met, but I believe you have. Would you mind accompanying me around the room to introduce them to me so that I might know my neighbours as well as you and my brother seem to do? Surely there are others who I ought to know.”

“I do not believe that is proper. Your brother or another lady would be a better person to perform the office. Were I to do so, it might give a false impression of a deeper connection than exists between us,” Darcy replied in his deep solemn voice, causing Miss Bingley’s mask to slip. Her expression turned to one of anger and frustration. It took several moments for her to mask her feelings and put a pleasant smile upon her face once again. At that moment, Darcy seemed to realise that Miss Bingley might be more of a threat to him than he previously had wished to consider.

Not desiring to humiliate herself any further that evening in front of those she deemed beneath her, Miss Bingley left without excusing herself and sought out her brother to vent her frustrations at him. She was most upset with her brother for inviting Mr. Darcy to his estate and then not doing what was necessary to persuade his friend to offer for her as she had expected.

“What do you expect me to do, Caroline? It is clear that the man is not interested in you, and nothing I can do will force him to ask for your hand. He has said he would not marry you, and even mentioned his father’s threat to get rid of an unwanted wife by sending her to Scotland or Ireland, leaving her with only a small allowance so she could not leave the estate without his knowledge or permission. Would you really be willing to risk him doing something along those lines?” Bingley asked, as close to standing up to his sister as he had ever done.

“I am certain he would never act so, Charles,” Miss Bingley said coldly, her tone laced with disdain. “Mr. Darcy would never treat his wife so shamefully. If I were to publicly compromise him, he would be forced to offer for me. After we were wed, he could stay at Pemberley, and I could remain in his London townhouse, that is, after I give him his heir. Then, I could give all the parties I wished, and he could rusticate on his country estate, except for a few weeks a year when I would want to host house parties during the summer months.”

“Caroline, I am not certain that this is the wisest course of action,” Bingley protested weakly. “However, if you insist on this course, I will do all that I can to assist you. But keep in mind that once you are married, you are, in essence, your husband’s property, and he can do with you as he wishes. If he is forced to marry you after a compromise, he will hold all the power and can include whatever he wants in the marriage settlement, and I will have little recourse.”

“Do not be so foolish, Charles. You know I always get what I want, and what I want is Mr. Darcy. See that I get him,” Miss Bingley said with a huff.

Neither Maria Lucas nor Mary Bennet was considered old enough to attend the dinner party at Lucas Lodge that evening. However, that night, Mary and Kitty Bennet accompanied their brother and sisters so that they might spend time with Maria during the gathering. The evening was an anticipated event, offering an opportunity for conversation and amusement, and the sisters were eager to catch up with their friend. Since she was unable to attend the dinner, she was delighted to have the company of Mary and Kitty, and the three took advantage of their time together to share news and observations about the evening’s guests.

After some time, Maria persuaded Mary to slip out to see the ladies in their fine dresses. Though they were perhaps not as fine as those that might be seen in London, many were still much nicer than what was typically worn in Meryton. The girls were hiding behind a tapestry so they might peek out at the ladies and gentlemen and happened to be near where the Bingley siblings were holding this conversation. They both had to stifle gasps at hearing Miss Bingley speak so and were astonished that a woman would speak so lightly about forcing a gentleman to marry her.

“You must tell your brother what you heard tonight, Mary,” Maria said to her friend.

Mary agreed. “Mr. Darcy has visited Longbourn several times since he came into the area. He is a very kind gentleman, and I know my brother thinks well of him, as do Lizzy and Charlotte. I believe he and Lizzy are sweet on each other, perhaps even courting, and they would not wish to have their relationship affected by a jealous harpy.”

“Lizzy will marry Mr. Darcy?” Maria asked.

“He is merely calling on her, Maria. Mr. Darcy has only been in the area for a little over a fortnight, and he and Lizzy met only recently. It is much too early to speculate on their relationship,” Mary said strictly.

Maria’s face fell. “Oh,” she said. “He is so handsome, and Lizzy is very pretty. They would make a striking couple. They danced very well together—or so my brother said. They danced together twice at the assembly, and my brother said it looked as though they had been dancing together their whole lives.”

The girls continued to think about what they had heard and how it might affect the rest of the family until the party was called into the meal.

Since this was an informal gathering of friends, there was no seating assigned, and Sir William and Lady Lucas encouraged the party to sit wherever they liked. Though Miss Bingley attempted to move in Mr. Darcy’s direction, she was too late to reach him, for he was already escorting Elizabeth Bennet into the dining room.

Looking around, Miss Bingley saw her brother escorting Mrs. Frances Bennet and her daughter Jane into the dining room. At least that woman had the sense to leave her youngest daughter at home tonight , she thought with distaste, recalling how the girl had flitted about the assembly hall without care or decorum.

Then, with a sudden jolt, she realised she was without an escort. Heat crept up her neck as she glanced around, hoping no one had noticed the oversight. With as much dignity as she could muster, she followed the others into the dining room and slipped into a seat beside her sister, Louisa.

“We must speak tonight, Louisa,” she hissed, her voice tight with urgency.

Louisa, startled by her sister’s tone and sudden presence beside her, turned to face her. “About what?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley whispered furiously. “He appears altogether too taken with the Bennet family—particularly that one he is sitting next to. He was laughing and smiling with her earlier, Louisa. Mr. Darcy never laughs in company. What am I to do? I told all my friends he was coming to Netherfield for the purpose of courting me, and that I would return to London engaged to him.”

On Louisa’s other side, Mr. Hurst let out a low chuckle. “I suppose you ought to write to your friends and inform them you were mistaken—that Darcy does not care one whit about you.” He took another sip and smirked. “Had he wanted to marry you, he would have asked before now. Anyone who knows the man can see he barely tolerates you. He suffers your presence only out of respect for your brother.” He spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard, but Miss Bingley heard him clearly enough.

Miss Bingley stiffened, her face paling in indignation, but before she could respond, Mr. Hurst continued, his voice thick with amusement.

“In fact, there is a bet in the book at White’s on what desperate measures you will take to compromise yourself in an effort to win him and another on whether, if you succeed, Darcy will refuse you outright or send you to some far-flung corner of the country, never to be seen again.”

A strangled gasp erupted from Miss Bingley, drawing the attention of the entire table.

Miss Bingley remained silent for most of the meal, pointedly ignoring both her sister and Hurst, irritated that Louisa had not bothered to contradict her husband. On her other side sat Mrs. Long, a poor widow of no consequence—lacking fortune, notable connections, or even a semblance of taste in dress or accessories. To make matters worse, the woman had taken it upon herself to criticise Miss Bingley’s attire and had the audacity to suggest that her attitude was unsuitable for country society.

Fixing the widow with a cool stare, Miss Bingley responded sharply that her manners reflected those of the haut ton and were not only acceptable but far preferable to the abominable country manners on display that evening.

Mrs. Long merely shrugged, muttered something under her breath, and turned her attention back to Mr. Goulding. With her sister out of favour and no other suitable conversation partner, Miss Bingley was left with little to do but observe her brother and Mr. Darcy. As the meal progressed, her resentment towards both gentlemen deepened, and she silently schemed how best to turn matters to her advantage.

When Lady Lucas rose to lead the ladies from the table, Miss Bingley clasped her sister’s arm and nearly dragged her into a corner of the sitting room. “You must help me this very evening. I need to do something to separate Mr. Darcy from that chit, Eliza, as soon as may be so he can spend the rest of the evening by my side where he belongs.”

Mrs. Hurst sighed. “Caroline, I have encouraged you in your pursuit of Mr. Darcy, but you have gone too far this time. Gilbert is still rather annoyed at you for dragging us from London and lying to him about the letter from Charles. He confronted our brother, and Charles told him he had not invited us, nor were we expected. I do not know if you realise just how much of an inconvenience it was for us to not only close the house in London, but for the servants here at Netherfield to prepare rooms for the three of us with no notice. Charles told you that he was not ready to entertain, and his invitation was for the Christmas season, not immediately. Your impulsive actions required both Charles and Gilbert to have to pay a bonus to the servants for the extra work you caused.

“Not only that, but since arriving in Meryton, it has become abundantly clear that Mr. Darcy will never offer for you. He has stated as much to both Charles and Gilbert and has even threatened extreme measures should you attempt to compromise him. So no, Sister, I will not assist you in this.”

With that, Mrs. Hurst turned away and joined Mrs. Charlotte Bennet, engaging in conversation until the gentlemen rejoined the party.

Miss Bingley huffed at her sister’s departure, but no one approached her—likely deterred by the scowl on her face. Left alone with her thoughts, she brooded over Louisa’s words.

When the gentlemen entered the room, she watched as her brother immediately sought out Miss Jane Bennet who several guests had referred to as Miss Pattison, while Mr. Darcy went straight to Miss Eliza Bennet’s side. A flicker of an idea sparked in her mind—perhaps there was something in this she could use to discredit both women. The question was, who could she approach at the party to uncover the information she needed?

Determined to ask her maid to discover the information for her, she approached Mr. Darcy.

“Mr. Darcy,” she began, “I can hardly fathom enduring many more evenings spent this way. Imagine hosting a gathering where guests are permitted to seat themselves without any regard for proper rank or decorum.”

Darcy inwardly sighed as he turned towards the unpleasant voice, attempting to treat the woman with the respect due to her as his host. “Miss Bingley, I found I quite enjoyed the arrangement this evening since it allowed me to choose my partner. There are instances where seating people by rank is necessary, but a simple gathering of friends does not require it. Now, if you will excuse me, Miss Bennet mentioned needing to join her brother, and I will escort her to him. Perhaps you can seek out yours?” This last was said so directly that only a simpleton could misunderstand. However, Miss Bingley chose to ignore it.

“I am longing to speak to Mrs. Charlotte Bennet again. Perhaps I can accompany you,” she replied, fluttering her lashes in what she thought was a coquettish manner.

Cutting a glance at Elizabeth, Darcy’s eyes silently pleaded for her help. “I should be delighted to take you to speak with my sister, and anyone else whom you wish to meet. Charlotte is just over there, speaking with her father, Sir William. Mr. Darcy, did you not need to speak to Mr. Philips? He is in that corner there,” Elizabeth answered, indicating a corner on the opposite side of the room from where her brother and Sir William stood with Charlotte.

“I do not require you to introduce me to the neighbourhood, Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley bit out, her irritation evident. Once again, she had failed to secure Mr. Darcy’s attention for herself.

Elizabeth met her gaze coolly. “Perhaps you do require an introduction—to at least some of us—for I am quite certain no one here has addressed me by that name. Only Charlotte and her father call me Eliza; neither would have introduced me so informally. You ought to address me as Miss Bennet unless I grant you permission to use my Christian name.” She arched her brow. “Or would you prefer I call you Miss Caro, as I did earlier?”

Her tone was crisp because her patience had finally worn thin. She had no desire to continue this tiresome game.

Darcy struggled to suppress a laugh, his cough betraying the amusement he was trying to hide.

“Are you well, sir?” Elizabeth asked, feigning concern. “Perhaps I should send for a drink.”

“I am well, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied, his voice tinged with amusement.

But Miss Bingley’s frustration surged at the casual intimacy between them. After Miss Elizabeth just scolded me for addressing her improperly, Darcy addressing her so informally surely means they are closer than I had believed. Her jealousy flared as she struggled to conceal her feelings. How long has this been going on? Her mind raced. Could it be that he prefers her in ways I never imagined?

Once again, Miss Bingley stomped away, going directly to her brother and dragging him away from Jane and into the hallway. “Charles,” she hissed, “you must act immediately to separate Mr. Darcy from that hoyden, Miss Eliza Bennet. I thought his behaviour at Longbourn demonstrated his interest in the lady, and it has only grown more pronounced since. He must be actively calling on her.”

Sighing heavily, Bingley looked at his sister in consternation. “What would you have me do?” he asked resignedly.

“Step on her dress and tear it, pour tea on her, knock her down; I do not care. Simply find a way to require her to return home so Mr. Darcy will pay attention to me,” she replied, attempting to keep her voice down, but struggling with the effort of it.

However, before Bingley could respond or could move from where they stood hidden, they heard the sound of furniture being moved. Looking around the corner and back into the room where the guests were gathered, it was obvious that the party was preparing for an impromptu dance. “Ask that chit to dance and step wrong so she will fall and break her leg,” Miss Bingley demanded. “Simply do something!”

Shaking his head as he watched his sister stalk away, Bingley slowly returned to the room. He saw that Darcy had already asked Miss Elizabeth—or was she Miss Bennet, he could not be sure—for a dance, so instead of seeking her out, he returned to Miss Jane, as she had asked him to call her, and invited her to dance. They lined up near Darcy and Elizabeth, but not close enough that Bingley could cause her to fall or anything else his sister had suggested.

After he finished dancing, he turned to approach the couple with his own partner. Before he could, he noticed his sister approaching them. When Miss Bingley attempted to again claim that Darcy had previously asked her to dance, Darcy rebuffed her, causing her face to redden in mortification. Darcy took Elizabeth and walked towards the table where refreshments had been set out, leaving behind an angry Miss Bingley.