Page 24 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Netherfield

Caroline Bingley’s bedchamber was spacious and beautiful. She leaned against the plush back of the wingbacked chair and surveyed the room thoughtfully.

She had claimed the mistress’s suite upon taking up residence in the house; it was only fair, as she was acting as hostess to her brother.

Charles had chosen a room further down the hall nearer to Mr. Darcy’s, and so Caroline had adopted the adjoining sitting room for herself as well.

She had made it her own, filling it with her own decorations, the scent of her favorite perfume, and the best wax candles that money could buy.

It was a haven and a retreat when the rest of the household grew intolerable.

They were her favorite rooms in the house, and she did not want to give them up to Jane Bennet.

As if that penniless country squire’s daughter would have any idea how to be mistress of an estate such as Netherfield!

It galled her to no end to be ousted from what was rightfully hers to make way for a woman who had never even been to a ton party.

She took a sip of tea and grimaced. The added laudanum leant an unpleasant taste to her drink, and Caroline, who had a sweet tooth, despised the bitterness.

However, she had a truly abominable headache, and the laudanum would help her recover quickly.

She had to think, but it was difficult to do with the pounding in her skull.

She knew why she was feeling so poorly, of course!

She was generally a very healthy woman, but with her brother’s idiocy, and Mr. Darcy’s foolish ‘honor’, and Louisa’s traitorous behavior, well, it was no surprise that she was feeling horrible.

It would serve them right, she thought viciously, if she were to fall into decline and die!

Miss Bingley took another sip and leaned closer to the fire to warm her hands.

It was a cold day, and her bedchamber, while beautiful, was on the corner of the house and a trifle on the chilly side.

She could order a maid to warm the bed and then climb under the covers and hide from the rest of the world, but that would be cowardly, and she prided herself on her courage even in difficult circumstances.

She sighed and closed her eyes. The laudanum was doing its work, and her head was already better, though she felt tired.

That also was no surprise. Her brother’s idiotic proposal to Miss Bennet the previous night had resulted in a very poor night’s sleep, and then she had risen early to talk to the master of Pemberley!

And then Mr. Darcy had disappointed her completely!

“ A gentleman cannot cry off an engagement ,” he had said.

Well, that was true enough, no doubt, but a lady could break an engagement, and there must be some way to convince Jane Bennet to release the talons she currently had sunk into Caroline’s foolhardy brother!

But how? Caroline could not touch the principle of her dowry, nor was she willing to bribe the girl with her own money. No, Charles must be convinced of Miss Bennet’s unsuitability and pay her off himself. Except that the likelihood of that occurring was dismally low.

But if he did not, Miss Bingley’s greatest hope in life, that of becoming Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, would be entirely at an end.

Mr. Darcy would not dream of marrying a woman with a sister-in-law like Jane Bennet, who had no dowry, whose mother was crass, who had one uncle who was a small town solicitor and another uncle in trade in London.

She was nearly asleep when a sentence repeated itself in her mind.

“ A gentleman cannot cry off an engagement .”

Caroline Bingley opened her eyes and sat up, her brow furrowed. She had never had much use for women who engineered compromises but the current situation was nearly impossible, and when one was in crisis, surely it was permissible to lower one’s standards a little?

She was mistress of Netherfield, and thus she knew where everyone was sleeping, and more importantly, held the keys to all of the rooms. Mr. Darcy was an honorable man, and if he should find a lady in his bed at night, well, he would have but one option.

He would, no doubt, be angry with her, but he was a good man.

He would not beat her or starve her. No, he would marry Caroline, and since he needed an heir, provide her with children.

She was wealthy, well educated, handsome, and an excellent hostess.

Mr. Darcy would not suffer in the least. She had no doubt that in a short amount of time, he would thank her for forcing him to realize the obvious, that she was his perfect bride.

She would need to determine Mr. Darcy’s schedule, of course.

There was the valet to consider; the man’s bed was in the servant quarters, but he stayed up late to assist his master in changing.

She would need to learn when Darcy generally went to bed.

Furthermore, she had never really bothered herself concerning the duties of the underservants.

It would be dreadful if she stumbled over a maid while making her way from her own bedchamber to Darcy’s in the middle of the night.

Her own personal maid, Agnes, could help.

The woman was completely loyal to the Bingley family as she had served Caroline’s mother before Mrs. Bingley’s untimely death.

Agnes had been Louisa’s personal maid for a year, and then Caroline, realizing how gifted the woman was, had claimed her for her own use.

Agnes was brilliant at managing Caroline’s clothes, and she was also a gifted hairdresser.

In addition to these practical attributes, she was an inveterate gossip.

The maid spent her few personal hours chattering with the other servants at Netherfield.

While Caroline rather disapproved of Agnes’s proclivity for low company, it would be most useful now.

Agnes would, she knew, be eager to assist with her plot to become Mrs. Darcy, as her own position of personal maid would rise when her employer became mistress of Pemberley.

Caroline Bingley released a sigh of relief. There was a way out of this horrific situation so long as she had the courage to do it.

And she was a brave woman.

/

The Hunting Lodge

Netherfield Estate

“Oh Jane, oh my dear daughter!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked, limping over to embrace her eldest daughter. “Oh, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing. I have never been so happy in all my life! Five thousand pounds a year!”

Jane carefully embraced her mother and then guided her over to the couch and said, “Pray do sit down, Mamma. I can see your ankle still pains you.”

“It is nothing,” her mother declared, though she huffed in relief as she lowered herself onto the couch. “Oh Jane, we must talk about your wedding clothes and the like! You must go to London for them, and I am thinking perhaps light blue silk…”

“I will not be buying any wedding clothes, Mamma,” Jane interrupted.

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened, and she cried out, “Not … not buy any wedding clothes? Of course you must!”

“I will not,” her eldest daughter repeated in a firmer tone. “You know that money is in short supply now because of the fire. I could not reconcile it with my conscience to purchase wedding clothes with my father’s limited funds when I will shortly marry a generous, wealthy man.”

The mistress of Longbourn stared incredulously at Jane, and then she turned beseeching eyes on her husband. “Mr. Bennet, speak to Jane! She must have wedding clothes! What will our friends and acquaintances think if she is married in an old gown?”

“They will think that she is being sensible,” her husband said, bestowing a fond look on his engaged daughter.

“Jane is correct, Mrs. Bennet. Every shilling must be put to good use if we are to move back to Longbourn by the New Year, and while this hunting lodge is comfortable, I know you do not wish to stay here forever, nor do I want to burden Bingley in such a way.”

“Is it … is it really so bad?’ his wife asked in a shocked tone. “Are we … poor now?”

Bennet grimaced and turned his gaze on Jane, who rose to her feet and said, “I would like to see Mary and Kitty.”

She hastened out of the room and down the corridor into Mary’s bedchamber, where she found Kitty and Elizabeth speaking softly to Mary, who was curled up near the fire on a well-padded chair.

“Jane!” Kitty said quietly, though her excitement was obvious in her shining eyes. “Congratulations on your engagement!”

“Thank you,” Jane replied, kissing the girl on the cheek before turning to Mary. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“I feel better every day,” Mary replied, smiling up at her most beautiful sibling. “My head only aches when I am overly tired, and my arm and hand, while painful, are not keeping me up at night any longer. I am thankful.”

“We are incredibly thankful as well,” Elizabeth declared, patting her sister’s healthy hand and blinking back tears. She still struggled with the reality that she had come close to losing both mother and sister in the fire.

A moment later, she forced a smile and turned to Jane. “I apologize for abandoning you, but I knew Mamma would be upset that you are not purchasing wedding clothes, and I truly could not bear watching it.”

“No wedding clothes?” Kitty repeated in disbelief. “Why ever not?”

“We have very little money at present,” Jane explained.

“Indeed, Father and Lizzy are poring over the books every day, attempting to find new ways to save. It would be inappropriate for me to purchase new gowns, especially since Father assures me that the marriage settlements are very generous. I will be able to buy plenty of gowns after we marry.”

“That is wise,” Mary said approvingly, only to turn in alarm as Kitty burst into tears.

“What is wrong, Kitty?” Jane asked in distress.

“I did not know … I was not aware how bad it was,” the younger girl cried out. “Will we … will there be food to eat? Will we starve?”

“No, no, of course not!” Elizabeth exclaimed, reaching over to wrap Kitty in an embrace.

“No, Father has a good income. It is merely that there is so much to be done at Longbourn! No, we will always have food and clothing and shelter, but for a time, we will need to be careful. Do not be afraid, Kitty!”

/

Butcher’s Shop

Meryton

The little bell above the door rang as Lydia and the maid entered the shop.

Lydia took a deep breath of relief, and then wrinkled her nose involuntarily at the metallic scent in the air.

It was hot and close, the smell of death and blood wafting heavily from the back.

Salted hocks and hams swung from the poles lining the ceiling, the floor sanded lightly with salt.

Across the room stretched a sturdy maple counter, a woman standing behind it.

“Good day, Miss Lydia,” Mrs. Fletcher, the butcher’s wife said cheerfully. “I hope you are well?”

Lydia had never cared much about the opinions of the lower classes, but in this moment, with the memory of glares and mutterings as she walked through the streets of Meryton, she could only smile in appreciation.

“I am well, thank you,” she replied. “I believe you have some meat for us?”

“Indeed, I do, miss,” Mrs. Fletcher said cheerfully, “as nice a piece of beef as you could ask for! I have it all packaged up for you!”

“Thank you,” Lydia replied, eying the packages greedily.

She liked beef very much, and before the fire, they had usually been able to count on some kind of beef dish at dinner, as her mother had always set a very fine table, even when there were no guests present.

But now, the only meat served regularly at Longbourn was chicken, and often the potatoes and dumplings were so plentiful that she had to search for a piece of meat in the dishes. How she hated being poor!

Mercy, the maid who had accompanied her from Longbourn, reached forward to take the basket in her own strong arm while Lydia took the lighter basket, and together the two girls left the shop and turned toward home.

Lydia had insisted on accompanying Mercy to the butcher’s shop because she was anxious to get away from Longbourn for an hour, but now, as she observed the way that her acquaintances turned away from her, she could only regret her decision.

Far better to be bored at home than to be disdained in town!

“Miss Lydia!” a male voice cried from her left, and she turned warily, only to find herself beaming in delight.

“Mr. Wickham!” she replied eagerly. “How are you today, sir?”

Wickham smiled back at the girl, his eyes drinking in the sight of Miss Lydia’s beauty.

It was a great pity that Miss King was such a plain looking heiress, and Miss Lydia so beautiful and poor, but life did not always conform to his wishes.

He would never marry a pauper like Lydia Bennet, but he could, at least, enjoy her handsome face, and who knew, perhaps more in time.

“May I take your basket and walk you home?” he inquired.

“That would be wonderful!” Lydia replied happily.