Page 27 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Miss Bingley’s Bedchamber

Netherfield

Late at night

Caroline Bingley threw another log on the fire and leaned forward, relishing the warmth as the flames danced high. She was dressed in an ivory silk nightgown, with a blue silk dressing gown over it. They were expensive, comfortable, and lovely garments, but they were not particularly warm.

She took another sip of brandy, relishing the burning taste of the liquor as it cascaded down her throat. She did not usually drink such potent alcohol, but she felt in need of a strong dose of liquid courage tonight.

She could, of course, still back out of her plan to compromise Mr. Darcy, and she admitted to herself that she was strongly tempted to do so.

Without a doubt, if she followed through, Mr. Darcy would be angry at her, and Charles would be as well – not that she cared a great deal about her brother’s opinion.

Indeed, there was a certain vicious satisfaction in claiming Darcy as a husband even as Charles had so foolishly claimed Miss Jane Bennet as a bride.

But Darcy? She had never been afraid of him, but she did feel a certain … alarm at the thought of his face dark with anger at her actions.

She took another drink, drew in a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.

No, she would not retreat like a weakling, but would step forward boldly to grasp her destiny.

Charles did not understand, of course – and here, her face twisted into an unbecoming sneer – and neither did Louisa.

They both took after their father, Mr. Matthew Bingley who, while a brilliant man of trade, had not been particularly ambitious.

Oh, their father wished for his only son to rise into the lower realms of the gentry, yes, but it was their mother, Mrs. Cornelia Bingley, who had always been the driving force behind the family’s societal aspirations.

Caroline had taken after her mother, and even now, she could remember the late Mrs. Bingley’s instructions.

“My dear Caroline,” her mother had said, “I quite depend on you to guide your brother and sister. You are the youngest but by far the cleverest, not to mention the most ambitious. Charles is a handsome young man, well bred, friendly, and charming. He can look high for a bride, and I expect you to assist him in his search for a woman who can raise the Bingley name in the ton.”

Caroline had done her best to steer her brother toward the perfect woman – namely, Miss Darcy of Pemberley, who was the niece of an earl, daughter of a gentleman, well dowered, and exceptionally accomplished in all the womanly arts so valued in society.

Miss Darcy was full young but then Charles need not marry immediately, after all, and by the time he was ready to truly settle down, Georgiana would be of marriageable age.

And now, all her toiling, all her struggle, all her work on her brother’s behalf had come to nothing. Unless a miracle occurred, Miss Jane Bennet would soon be Mrs. Jane Bingley.

The clock chimed twice, marking two hours past midnight, and Caroline drained her glass, set it down, and rose gracefully to her feet.

She owed it to her mother, to her family, to herself, to claim Mr. Darcy as her own.

She would not turn back. Mr. Darcy would be asleep now, and when he woke in a few hours, she would be in his bed, and he would be forced to make her an immediate offer of marriage.

It was quite Biblical, really – Ruth had done something similar to find a husband – not that Caroline quite remembered the details of that particular story, but sometimes a woman had to make her own way to find her happiness.

Caroline loosened her robe and walked slowly to her door, opened it, and glided through. She shut the door behind her and waited for a moment until she was certain that no one was out and about at this dark hour.

She did not dare carry a candle, but the dim light of an oil lamp on a small table allowed her to walk the length of the hall without stubbing a slippered toe.

When she attained Mr. Darcy’s door, she paused and listened carefully for any sounds.

The room beyond the door was entirely silent, marred not even by the sound of snoring.

That was no surprise; Mr. Darcy was, she was certain, far too much a gentleman to snore.

According to Louisa, Mr. Hurst snored; just another example of how Caroline’s sister had married an inferior sort of gentleman.

Caroline carefully, carefully turned the knob of the door all the way, and then pushed the door open, thankful that there was no hint of a squeak. Again, she paused, listening, but there was complete silence within.

It was very dark, too; even the fire was a mere mass of coals.

Nonetheless, she had carefully inspected the bedroom before Mr. Darcy’s arrival at Netherfield, and knew that the bed was set along the western wall.

She carefully groped her way through the blackness until her thigh softly impacted the side of the bed.

She paused and listened again, and again there was silence.

She tiptoed forward to the head of the bed and again, listened.

There was nothing, not even the sound of breathing, and her heart suddenly sank within her. Was it possible that Darcy was still downstairs, drinking with her brother? They never stayed up this late but given that Charles was newly engaged, perhaps…

“I had truly thought better of you, Caroline,” a familiar and entirely unwelcome male voice said from behind her.

She spun around with a shriek of shocked horror as a taper suddenly flared to life from the fireplace, reflecting the grim face of her brother, Charles Bingley.

“Charles!” she cried out, “what are you doing here?”

In a detached corner of his brain, Charles Bingley realized that he had never, in his entire life, been so angry.

When Mrs. Blythe had come to him with a tale of an overheard conversation which suggested that Caroline was intending to compromise Darcy, he had been inclined to ignore it.

Surely his own sister, educated at one of the finest finishing schools, would not be considering such an egregious act?

And yet, the more he thought about it, the less confident he felt.

Caroline had always been selfish and determined to have her own way, along with being gifted at rationalizing the worst behavior.

Given how much Bingley’s younger sister disapproved of his precious Jane, it did seem possible that Caroline would attempt to force Darcy into marriage.

He had hoped not, very much, but had been obligated to discuss the matter with Darcy, who had taken the threat very seriously indeed.

Thus, Darcy was sleeping, probably uncomfortably, on a couch in a formal parlor downstairs, with Percy, his valet, on the floor beside him as a guard, and Bingley had made his way to a chair by the fire in Darcy’s bedchamber, hoping against hope that the whole thing was a dreadful mistake.

Now those hopes were dashed and he took a few moments to gain firm control of his temper by lighting the wax candles on the mantelpiece, which lit the room with a soft, cheery glow, quite at odds with the conversation that was to come.

“I think it is obvious why I am here,” he said as he turned around to regard his sister, his eyes narrow with fury.

“I heard rumors of your attempt to compromise Darcy, and while I doubted that you could be so wicked, so vulgar, as to do such a thing, I felt obligated to ensure that my friend would not be tied to a woman he despised.”

Caroline’s face had been pale in the candlelight, but at these words, she flushed red and snarled, “Vulgar, wicked ? I am not the one to be described in such a way. You are the one that has failed the family, failed our dear departed Mother, in offering for a woman with nothing to recommend her but a beautiful face and voluptuous form! I have no doubt you will regret…”

She trailed off as Charles stalked menacingly toward her, his fists clenched. She had never, ever seen him like this, and for a moment, genuine fear stirred in her heart. Surely he would not strike her?

She observed the moment when Charles’s face relaxed, and she sighed in relief, which quickly turned to dismay as her brother pronounced what sounded like a death sentence.

“There is no reason to discuss this further,” he said curtly. “I will give orders to the servants to pack your luggage, and you and your maid will depart at dawn for Bath. You will live with Aunt Cynthia, who is, I am confident, entirely capable of managing you in a way that I realize I cannot.”

Caroline gasped in horror, and she reached out a claw to snag her brother’s coat. “No, not that, Charles! Our aunt is the wife of a tradesman, and Bath is a social desert. You cannot be so cruel as to…”

Again, she trailed off as her brother leaned forward to glare into her eyes.

“Cruel, Caroline? Cruel? I have long known that you are ambitious, but to force my closest friend into a loveless marriage … no, you are the cruel one, and you will not be permitted to live in my house, or use my money, for the rest of your life. Now come, Caroline – dry your tears, and I will escort you back to your room. Just so you do not take it into your head to wander the house in search of Darcy, I will post a few servants at your door to ensure that you stay within until dawn when you will be cast from my home. Come along.”

/

Netherfield

The Next Morning

A soft tapping woke Darcy, and he opened his eyes and looked around with confusion until his mind helpfully provided him with the reason for his current situation. He had slept on a sofa, a surprisingly comfortable one, in the parlor to keep safe from Miss Bingley’s machinations.

He sat up and swung his feet onto the floor and watched as Percy, his valet, immaculately attired in spite of his own night on the floor, opened the door and gestured for Bingley to enter. “Would you like me to bring you some tea, sir?” Percy asked.

“Thank you, yes,” Darcy replied, and waited until his man had departed before turning a bleary gaze on Bingley. “Well, what happened last night? I hope that we were merely being alarmist?”

Bingley, whose face was pale and sported dark circles under his eyes, collapsed more than sat on a chair near the fire and said heavily, “I fear not, Darcy. As planned, I sat by the fire in your bedchamber, and I confess that I was nearly asleep when Caroline crept into the room at two hours past midnight and was extremely displeased to discover your bed uninhabited.”

Darcy felt his heart clench within him at these words, and he leaned back, suddenly breathless.

“That is regrettable,” he managed to say.

“Regrettable?” Bingley repeated bitterly. “That is certainly one way to describe it, old friend. Indeed, I am not certain whether I dare claim you as a friend anymore. I apologize profusely for my sister’s horrifying actions and entirely understand if you feel the need to end our association.”

Darcy sighed and asked, “What do you plan to do with Miss Bingley now?”

“She is already gone,” Bingley replied with grim satisfaction.

“Several of the servants were told that an emergency had arisen and that Caroline was required to attend to our aunt Cynthia immediately. An hour ago, I put my sister and her personal maid into our carriage and sent them away with orders that the coachman convey her to Bath as quickly as possible. I sent an express to Aunt Cynthia so she will have some warning before Caroline descends upon her.”

Darcy grimaced. He was naturally pleased to have Miss Bingley safely away, but he felt rather sorry for the aunt.

“You need not worry about Aunt Cynthia,” Bingley said, apparently sensing his thoughts.

“She is the widow of a man of trade, wealthy, and mother to four grown sons and two grown daughters. She has a phlegmatic and very determined disposition. She will manage Caroline successfully; it is grimly obvious that I have not.”

“There is a difference between being a brother as opposed to an older relation,” Darcy mused, his mind shifting back to the disaster at Ramsgate but a few months earlier.

He had thought himself an excellent guardian of Georgiana, only to realize that he had, in fact, failed miserably by not warning his sister of Wickham’s foul character.

“I suppose,” Bingley said disconsolately.

Darcy stood up and wandered over to drop a hand onto his friend’s shoulder.

“Do not take it too much to heart, Bingley. Your sister made her own choices, and when you heard whispers of her plan, you acted immediately, taking steps to safeguard my reputation ... and hers. The truth is that I would not have married your sister even if she had succeeded in infiltrating my bedchamber when I was within. I refuse to be forced into such a marriage.”

Bingley stood up and managed a wobbly smile.

“I completely understand and agree that you would have had no other viable option. You and Caroline would be miserable as husband and wife. I am most thankful for the young servant who overheard the conversation between Caroline and her maid and reported it to Mrs. Blythe. I am also greatly relieved that we averted a major scandal on the eve of my own marriage.”