Page 53 of The Shades of Pemberley
I t was not every day that one made the acquaintance of the wife of a peer.
When Charles moved toward her, leading a woman of obvious quality, Caroline Bingley could not have been more surprised, for while she was no stranger to the activities of the upper levels of society, she had not made the acquaintance of Mr. Darcy’s relations.
Aside from the infamous event between herself and Jameson Darcy, she had no acquaintance with the gentleman, and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, whom she had known a little, had not associated with the Fitzwilliam family.
“Caroline,” said Charles, motioning toward the woman in his company, “Lady Susan Fitzwilliam has asked me to introduce you to her acquaintance.”
“Of course, Charles,” said Caroline, cursing the sudden quavering in her voice, “I should be happy to accept.”
Though Caroline had known Charles had met the Fitzwilliams in Hertfordshire after she departed—a source of some consternation, for if Caroline had stayed there she would have known them too—she had not expected such a woman to ask for an introduction.
As Charles presented her to the lady and then reciprocated, Caroline could not help but examine the woman before her.
Lady Susan was of average height; her middle age did nothing to detract from her handsome visage, cornflower blonde hair showing streaks of gray, her still smooth face lined at the corners of her eyes and mouth.
In her bearing, upright and confident, she revealed her exalted status, as did the dress she wore, which was of excellent quality, though little ostentation.
Caroline had several friends who claimed a certain status, but she had never been so awed by another woman as she was now.
“Miss Bingley,” said Lady Susan when Caroline rose from her deep curtsey. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you, Lady Susan,” replied Caroline. “I am most honored.”
The woman regarded her, provoking Caroline to wonder what she saw. “It is my understanding that you were at Netherfield when William and Elizabeth married.”
Caroline was certain her face was the hue of a ripe tomato, thoughts of what this woman might have heard of her behavior the day of Mr. Darcy’s wedding racing through her mind.
Did Lady Susan ask for an introduction to make her sentiments known and warn Caroline of what further misbehavior on her part would reap?
It was unnecessary, as she had already determined to avoid angering anyone connected to Mr. Darcy, no matter how closely.
“Y-yes, I w-was—” stammered Caroline, only for Lady Susan to interrupt her, though she was not unkind.
“It is unfortunate your sister called you away so quickly, Miss Bingley, for it did not allow us to make your acquaintance in Hertfordshire. Our meeting tonight is most opportune, for my husband and I both esteem your brother and wish to know you.”
Dazed at the notion, Caroline made a reply that appeared coherent, considering Lady Susan did not look at her with contempt or appear to suspect her of being deficient.
“How long have you been in London, Miss Bingley?” asked the lady. Caroline suspected she had seen something of her confusion and awe, and was acting to put her at ease.
“I am now two and twenty, your ladyship,” said Caroline, determined to at least appear competent to this woman. “We first came to London when I was nineteen.”
“You are from the north?”
“The York area,” confirmed Caroline.
“Scarborough, to be precise,” said Charles. “We still have family there.”
Though Caroline did not wish to highlight the common origins of her family, she knew that Lady Susan must already comprehend something about them. Little though she had wished to acknowledge such things in the past, Caroline now understood she only made herself ridiculous by attempting to deny it.
“I am not familiar with York, but I have a sister who lives in Lincolnshire. It is a pretty part of the country.”
For some time thereafter, they carried on a conversation that did not cover important topics, though it was interesting.
Caroline listened and learned of Lady Susan, responded with her observations when warranted, and tried to present herself as someone of intelligence and morality.
How she understood she could not say, but she shied away from any comments designed to make her appear to better advantage as she might have done with some of her other acquaintances, for Lady Susan was not a woman to endure such things.
At length, Lady Susan smiled and spoke to excuse herself. “It was pleasing to make your acquaintance, Miss Bingley. I hope we shall become well acquainted in the coming days.”
“That would please me very much,” replied Caroline with no trace of avarice or self-congratulation. “Perhaps we may meet at another event.”
“I suspect we shall,” said Lady Susan.
When the woman took herself away, Caroline watched her go, wondering if she had dreamed the past few moments.
The clucking of those around her did not go unnoticed, for Caroline knew others had noted the attention paid to her by a woman of high society.
What this might presage and whether Lady Susan was serious in her desire to know her better, Caroline could not say, but those few short moments had raised her in society far more than any amount of toadying to Lady Diane Montrose, though she was the daughter of a baron.
For the rest of the evening, she existed in a state of disbelief.
AS THE SOUND OF A LOUD voice raised in displeasure reached Bennet’s ears, he set his book on his desk and clasped his hands in front of him, anticipating the coming confrontation with a sort of glee he had rarely felt.
While he understood Darcy’s reasons for wishing to avoid the disruption to his wedding, Bennet had seen at once what must occur after he acted to circumvent it.
The lady was most ridiculous to Bennet’s way of thinking, for anyone who thought they wielded such supreme authority as to forbid a man’s marriage to another must be mad or so caught up in their importance as to be lacking in any sense.
In Lady Catherine’s case, Bennet thought there was an element of each.
Now that Darcy and Elizabeth had departed for Ramsgate and Bennet’s wife and daughters were safely in London at the Gardiners’ and the earl’s houses, Bennet anticipated the coming inanities.
As the only member of the family at home, he could allow Lady Catherine’s disdain to break against the walls of his sardonic amusement where it would do no damage at all.
Bennet had even spent the previous days planning how he would receive her, for he meant to take the maximum pleasure he could from the coming interview.
No doubt it would sustain him should he ever find himself in her company again.
The door to his study opened at once, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, tall and proud, stalked into the room.
Mrs. Hill did not even appear other than to open the door for the lady, for Bennet had given her instructions that she should not delay or impede the woman; he knew she was not above abusing the servants if they did not move with the speed she required.
For a moment after she entered, Lady Catherine looked about the room with distaste, no doubt cataloging the many deficiencies of Bennet’s study compared to her grand estate in Kent.
When she regarded him, Bennet had the sense that she had found everything about him wanting.
Though unfortunate for the lady, that only ensured Bennet would draw this out as long as he could.
“Mr. Bennet.”
His name on her lips sounded like an epithet.
“Lady Catherine,” replied Bennet, uncertain if he kept his diversion from his tone.
“When I first came to Longbourn, I thought it a hovel and you a ruffian. Now that I have returned, I see that my initial impression was the truth.”
“One man’s refinement is another man’s inelegance.”
The bland reply did not please the virago, but she declined to pursue the subject. Instead, she turned her attention to the reason for her journey.
“I went to the church this morning, Mr. Bennet. Do you know what the parson informed me?”
Bennet knew exactly what the parson said, for he had done so at Bennet’s instruction. “Given my acquaintance with Mr. Smith, I can well imagine.”
That was nothing less than the truth, for Smith was not one to endure poor behavior. Whether commoner or noble, he would have no qualms at all about taking one to task for any perceived misconduct.
“I will own that I was not unsurprised,” said the lady, her tone more offhand now. “That your mercenary daughter would give up this farce she perpetrated on Darcy was more than I expected of her.”
The lady shrugged. “Then again, I must suppose it was not her doing, for Darcy must have seen the insufficiency of her pretensions and acted to rid himself of his imprudent millstone. Tell me, Mr. Bennet, how much did you extort from Mr. Darcy to end the travesty of his engagement?”
This was an offense beyond anything Bennet had expected.
Far from making him wish to rail against this stupid woman, he determined to reveal the truth to her in a manner as uncomfortable as she had ever endured.
It was not, perhaps, commendable to behave in such a manner, but the lady was well worthy of it.
“You suppose Darcy paid us to break an engagement?”
“What other explanation is there?” Lady Catherine sniffed with disdain, an action Bennet thought ingrained in her conduct. “Was today not to be the day of this supposed wedding?”
“It was,” confirmed Bennet. “What of it?”
“If Darcy did not bribe you, then why is there no one at the church? Why are you skulking in your library rather than giving your daughter away or offering your insufficient hospitality to your neighbors? Why is your house as quiet as a mouse?”
“There are answers to all your questions,” replied Bennet.