Page 15 of The Next Mrs Bennet
A ndrew Fitzwilliam, Viscount Hilldale, was extremely frustrated at the lack of speed of the ship transporting him towards England and his beloved Jane. Here it was past Michaelmas, the final day of September 1811, and with the winds and seas they had encountered, the Captain estimated it would be three weeks to a month before they reached England’s welcoming shores.
Andrew intended to keep to his prior determination of stopping to see his parents at Matlock House first, but depending on the time, he would ride for Longbourn the same day, or at the very least, at first light the next morning.
His heart ached to see Jane again. He intended to propose to her as soon as he was in her company. How many times had he lamented his decision to take things slowly after her come out? He knew it was selfish from a certain point of view, but had he been married prior to being sent on the mission for his father, Jane would have been with him, and, God willing, they even now may have been returning with an expanded family.
Before he departed on his more than two-year odyssey, Andrew had been aware he loved Jane. Over the months and years of the separation, that love had become an ache in his heart that only Jane would be able to heal. He had not known that the depth of his love was without a bottom, deeper than the oceans he had crossed. That was no longer the case; he had no doubt just how much he loved her. Andrew was fully aware that his heart was a shell of itself without his Jane and until she was with him, and accepted his hand in marriage, it would not be whole again. That organ belonged to Jane Bennet in its entirety, and she was the one who had the power to leave it missing a large part, or make it complete again.
As much as Andrew dreamed of faster methods of travel, this was the reality and there was nothing to do but hurry up and wait. Even though he wished they would arrive in England on the morrow…no, this very day, he was thankful for the fact that no matter how few knots of speed the ship was sailing at towards its destination, every minute of every hour brought him closer to his love.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The holder of Andrew’s heart was thinking about him and how much she missed him at the same time he was thinking of her. It was a cold September night as Jane sat in the window seat in her bedchamber with her coverlet wrapped tightly around her shoulders for warmth. There was little fire left in the grate, but it had burnt low already. Jane did not want to disturb a servant in the small hours of the morning to come build her fire up for her.
She looked up at the still black night sky, seeing the twinkling of some stars between the occasional dark clouds which floated across her field of vision. Jane wondered if Andrew was awake on the ship thinking about her just as she was thinking about him. If mayhap they were both looking at the same stars, that would make her feel much closer to his physical presence.
Andrew was always in her heart and consciousness. While she was awake, very few moments passed in which Jane did not think of him, and when she slept, he would always be there in her dreams to comfort her with his presence. She loved her dreams because for the hours she slept she was with her beloved. She was sad when she woke up, and he was not there with her.
Yes, when she saw him in her dreams, he looked as handsome as always; his chiselled features, good build, sandy blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes made him a very attractive man. However, Jane knew that it was his character and inner goodness which were the things that had drawn her to him. Just like she hated being judged for her superficial looks, she would not judge another on such shallow criteria as those.
She looked up into the night sky, and as she did every night before she climbed into bed and went to sleep, she offered up a prayer for Andrew to be brought safely back to her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The Bingley coach drew to a halt in the drive near the broad stone steps which led up to the veranda before the double front doors of the house. Behind it were two carts. One was filled with Miss Bingley’s trunks; the second one had the other three peoples’ baggage as well as some fashionable furniture the hostess of the estate insisted needed to be brought.
The house boasted three floors above the level of the entranceway. It was a fairly large rectangular structure constructed of big square stones in a light brown colour. To the one side of the drive were the formal gardens, almost all stark now, with the reds and browns of autumn seen everywhere, but with the promise of beauty in the spring. Beyond the gardens was a nice-sized park with almost leafless trees dotted around and a large pond off to one side in the distance. Past the park was a wilder area of untamed vegetation and trees.
By her age and the fact that she was married to a gentleman, her older sister by rights should have been the mistress of the estate. However, Caroline Bingley had loudly and vociferously demanded, and been awarded that role by her brother, who would not stand up to her and hated to anger his younger, much more forceful, sister. Louisa Hurst had not protested either, as she was fully aware how nasty her sister could be if anyone attempted to cross her. Louisa and her husband Harold did their best to keep from igniting Caroline’s ire.
The other three in the coach had had enough of listening to the youngest Bingley’s diatribes about how her brother had failed her by not making sure Mr Darcy had ridden with them to this benighted estate. Bingley had, weakly, tried to point out that his friend had business he had to complete, but that did not reduce the level of his sister’s complaining.
One of the waiting footmen opened the door, extracted the step from its recess, and extended it, locking it into place. Bingley alighted, followed by Hurst. Then the latter handed out his wife while Bingley did the honours for his younger sister.
“This is nothing to Pemberley,” Miss Bingley asserted as soon as she gave the manor house a cursory glance.
“Unless we are speaking of Chatsworth, Blenheim, Snowhaven, or the like, very few houses are,” Bingley responded. He had seen Pemberley one term break when he and Darcy were at Cambridge, but the truth was his sister had never been at the estate, but you would never know that to hear her speak. Rather than point that out to Caroline, Bingley chose to keep the peace. The one time, some two years past, when he had said that, his sister had thrown a tantrum and blamed him for the fact she had not been to Pemberley.
Hearing the name of the estate Chatsworth reminded Caroline of the Duke of Devonshire’s granddaughters, who she had wanted to befriend but had never been able to meet. The only time she and her brother were admitted to events at that level of society was when Mr Darcy was in London. He only attended part of the full season, and the duke’s granddaughters seemed to prefer the Little Season. She supposed her dream of meeting and having the na?ve granddaughters forward her in society was dead.
“Are you sure my Mr Darcy approved of this estate?” Miss Bingley verified.
“Yes, Caroline, he approved. If you doubt my word, please make yourself free to ask him when he arrives on Thursday evening,” Bingley confirmed.
That had to be enough for Miss Bingley. The last thing she would do was ask Mr Darcy because, heaven forfend, he thought that she disagreed with him. She knew that the way to induce him to offer for her was to always agree with him and to be as attentive to him and his needs as possible. She was positive once he saw her in her role as the ideal hostess he would propose to her. Caroline was certain she would return to London—just like she had boasted to all her acquaintances—as Mr Darcy’s betrothed. After all, there could be no one to compete for his attention in this little backwater.
“I will not question Mr Darcy. I suppose I will need to take your word in this instance,” Miss Bingley sniffed.
Bingley led his family members up the stairs to where the butler and housekeeper awaited them before the wide-open front doors.
“Welcome to Netherfield Park, Mr Bingley,” Nichols intoned as he bowed, and his wife curtsied to those who had arrived. After the senior staff had been introduced to Miss Bingley and the Hursts, the butler noticed furniture being offloaded. “Mr Bingley, I am confused, where do you plan to place those pieces?” Nichols had to fight hard to school his features based on the distasteful, gaudy furniture he could see.
“I plan to make sure the drawing rooms are fashionable,” Miss Bingley sneered. She was not happy the servant was questioning her brother. Which meant he was doing so to her.
“As much as it pains me to tell you, you may not remove any of the existing items, or change the décor in any way,” Nichols stated with another bow.
Seeing his sister was about to interrupt, Bingley decided to speak instead. “As my sister is the mistress here, why did you say what you did regarding her ability to make changes to the rooms?” Bingley demanded.
“It is in your lease, Sir,” Nichols replied respectfully.
“Then we will ignore it!” Miss Bingley hissed. “I will design the most impressive drawing rooms before our special guest arrives on Thursday!”
“That will be grounds for Mr Phillips to evict you, Mr Bingley,” Nichols intoned.
“I never saw that in the lease,” Bingley claimed. When the butler asked if he had read all clauses before signing the contracts, Bingley could not reply he had and still tell the truth. As much as he hated what would come next, he would have to tell Caroline she was not allowed to redecorate the house. “Mrs Nichols will you please show my sister to the mistress’s suite and my other sister and her husband to their suite?” The housekeeper curtsied and led the others into the house. As soon as they were alone, Bingley turned back to the butler. “Not even the bedchambers?” he asked plaintively. The butler shook his head.
This was why Darce had admonished him to read every line of the lease, and to be fair, Mr Phillips begged him to read all before the lease was signed. Rather than being too keen, he should have waited for Darcy to come with him. It was too late now; he was stuck for a year, and if he was evicted, according to the butler, the balance of his lease would be forfeit. Even one with his fortune could not afford to throw away so much money.
He instructed the men to reload all the furniture and return it to his house on Curzon Street. Only once the cart was no longer visible did Bingley turn back towards the house. He made for the study and dug out a copy of the lease. He read all of the clauses. There were almost a dozen for which they could be evicted with no refund of money already paid. He felt the failure of not doing this before all over again, and then put it out of his head. All would be well, and if not, Darce would fix things for him.
Feeling like a condemned man being led to the gallows, Bingley left the study and made his way up to Caroline’s bedchamber. He knocked, and her maid opened the door a crack.
“Tell my sister I need to speak to her,” Bingley told the abigail.
“I am changing,” Miss Bingley stated loudly. “Go wait for me in the sitting room between our suites.”
Thankful for the reprieve, no matter how short, and after pouring himself a two-finger snifter of brandy from one of the decanters on the sideboard, Bingley sat down in a wingback chair and quickly gulped down the amber liquor. He felt it burn its way down, but he was sure that was not as bad as his sister’s reaction would be.
“I looked out of my window and saw the carts were gone. Where is my furniture?” Miss Bingley demanded when she entered the sitting room, before she greeted her brother.
“On the way back to London,” Bingley admitted without lifting his head to look at his younger sister.
“ WHAT !” Miss Bingley screamed. “You, Charles Arthur Bingley, ride after it and have them return here, NOW ! You know I want everything to be perfect for Mr Darcy; how dare you allow the cart to depart?”
“Caroline, I may not. I read the contract I signed. We are forbidden from changing furniture or décor, all at the pain of eviction.”
“I care not if we are evicted once Mr Darcy does his duty to me, but I will make the rooms presentable before he arrives. You will go to the agent immediately and tell him so!”
“There is no flexibility. If we are evicted, there is no refund. It is a significant sum which will leave me unable to pay your allowance; no new gowns for a year, none of it.” Bingley waited while his sister weighed the information he had given her. He was sure she would live with the house as it was rather than forgo money. He had not pointed out the obvious to her: she had not seen any of the rooms in question yet, so they may, in fact, not need any updating.
“I am seriously displeased,” Miss Bingley hissed. “If my Mr Darcy does not offer for me because of this, woe betide you!” She swept out of the sitting room, slamming the door behind her.
Bingley was relieved. It could have gone far worse.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Is that from Mr and Mrs Nichols?” Becca queried seeing the note in her husband’s hand.
“It is. Mr Bingley, his two sisters, and the older sister’s husband have arrived. All are remarkably similar to the way they were described in the report. Miss Bingley had some of her gaudy, tasteless furniture brought from London; Nichols says it is on its way back. Evidently, Mr Bingley does not want to forfeit all of the money he paid on the lease,” Bennet reported.
“When will you call on them?” Becca enquired.
“Not before the morrow. I will not impose on them on the day they are moving in. I do not believe that Sir William and some others will wait until then.”
“I am sure you are correct. I received a letter from Mama and Papa. They will arrive at Longbourn in a little less than a sennight. Marie and Will, and Connie and Harry will be with them. Aunt Elaine, Uncle Reggie, and Richard will arrive a few days after them, so they too will be here when our interesting guest reaches us.”
“It is a surprise our cousin has been able to stay away since Mary turned eighteen. I suppose to London we will go in November. At least we will be able to visit Hatchard’s and other book sellers.”
“There is that, but as much as we both love to get lost looking for new tomes, it will be secondary to the reason we will be in Town; Mary.”
“It is a good thing Ellie is almost five years younger. That way we will have a good rest before we need to plan the next coming out for a daughter.” Bennet got a wistful look in his eyes. “Even our youngest is growing up.”
“It is the way of things, Thomas. On a different subject, this Miss Bingley will bear watching based on the Nichols’ first impressions of her.”
“I agree, Becca, my love. If there is to be an eviction, I suspect she will be the reason for it. All I can do is thank goodness none of our children are vaguely like her in character.”
“Amen to that,” Becca agreed.