Page 45 of Why I Kissed You (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

“Indeed, Mrs. Darcy,” Bingley replied. “Now I am wondering whether I should attempt informing my sister she dallies with a blackguard, or do I leave Caroline to her own devices? She is one-and-twenty, after all, and does not need my permission to marry, if it should even come to that. She is, as we all know, stubborn and recalcitrant and narrow-minded—if she’s already set her sights on Malford, she won’t be swayed.

There’s also the fact that Colonel Fitzwilliam is unabashedly relieved at not having to decide whether to marry her or not. ”

“What did Rowarth and Winterbourne advise?” Darcy asked.

Bingley drew a breath and sighed. “Lord Winterbourne is of the mind that I should at least attempt to warn her against him, as he says he knows the man well and is certain he only acts a part with her. Lord Rowarth agreed with him.”

Elizabeth offered her sister’s betrothed a gentle smile. “And what are your thoughts, Mr. Bingley?”

“I… I don’t know. A part of me wants to leave her to it and be a fool if it suits her. On the other hand, she is my sister. I must do my duty by her, mustn’t I?”

“You can hardly do anything tonight, my love,” said Jane. “Go home to your rooms at the hotel and let it rest. Tomorrow when you wake, I am sure your heart and mind will tell you what is right to do.”

Bingley smiled at her and patted the hand on his arm. “You are right my love, of course,” said he. “I will deal with it tomorrow. For what remains of the evening, I mean to enjoy your company.”

Elizabeth and Darcy agreed that he should not let the matter of his sister’s foibles spoil the time they had left together, and the four chattered amiably about the upcoming house party until both of their carriages were at last drawn up to the pavement.

-…-

It was not until Monday, when the Darcys’ self-imposed reclusiveness was ended and the various members of the party gathered at Darcy House in preparation for departure to Hampshire, that Elizabeth learned of the outcome of Bingley’s moral debate.

He was, as it turned out, one of the last to arrive, and when he had, he immediately requested a private audience with Darcy, Elizabeth, and Jane.

After directing Fitzwilliam and Rowarth to see to the guests, Darcy led the way to his study.

“Went to Grosvenor Street on Saturday,” Bingley began without preamble.

“I could not let the matter of Lord Malford lie without at least making some attempt to speak to Caroline about him. Neither she nor the Hursts were in when I called—and I went twice. I went again yesterday after morning services. Again, they were all out. I could not answer for it! It simply escapes me what they could have been doing.”

Bingley had paced as he spoke but came to a stop before the fireplace and braced a hand on the mantle.

“I was at last able to get an audience with Caroline this morning,” he went on.

“I told her that I was loath to interfere as she and Louisa had done, but that I had it on good authority Lord Malford was not a gentleman. I shared with her what Rowarth and Winterbourne told me—that he is a drinker, a gamester, and is rumored to have more than one mistress about town in addition to a habit of visiting brothels.”

“Good gracious!” Jane cried softly.

“Seems Philip was right when he described him as a titled Wickham,” Darcy observed. “What was your sister’s reaction?”

Bingley turned to look at them with a flabbergasted expression. “She dismissed every claim as ridiculous! Said it was the habit of men to disparage each other, especially when they had reason to be envious of one another.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “What reason could Lord Rowarth and Lord Winterbourne possibly have for being envious of Lord Malford?”

Bingley threw his hands up. “I have no idea.”

Darcy drew a breath, glanced at Elizabeth and then Jane, then took a step toward Bingley.

“Charles, far be it for me to promote indifference after all that’s happened between us,” he began, “but I believe it may be in your best interests to wash your hands of the matter. I do not mean to say that you should stop caring about your sisters, but they are grown and so are you. You have done your duty as Caroline’s brother and tried to warn her—do better than I and do not interfere any further. ”

Bingley stared at him for about a minute in silence, then drew a breath and squared his shoulders.

“You are right, Darcy. If I ever want my sisters to respect the fact that I am a man grown and my choices are mine to make, I must do the same for them. Caroline has already made it clear she has her sights set on Malford, so if she is disappointed, it is no one’s fault but her own. ”

A smile that was most certainly forced then came to his face and he clapped his hands together. “Now I’ve got that out of the way, how about we all go to this house party and enjoy ourselves?”

Jane walked over to Bingley and slipped her arm around his. “I quite agree with you!” she said cheerfully, before the two went out together.

Elizabeth sighed and slipped her arm about Darcy’s. “I have a terrible feeling that Caroline Bingley is going to hurt her brother as well as herself with her pig-headedness and her blind ambition.”

“I regret, in this instance, that I must agree with you, my dear,” Darcy replied, before leading her back to their friends.

-…-

In only a few days at Winfield, the house party was determined to be “the best idea any of us ever had” by one or another of the party.

Elizabeth did not disagree, for she was having a most delightful time getting to know the noble friends of her new cousins.

She was quite diverted by how much she felt at home.

Perhaps because it was so intimate a party—all of them young people just looking to relax and enjoy themselves—the rules of etiquette were often bent.

The ladies were not required to always wear their bonnets and gloves, the men often removed their jackets.

Even Lord Winterbourne, who outranked all of them, could often be found lounging out of doors in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, his jacket draped over the back of the chair in which he sat.

When half the agreed upon six weeks was done away, Elizabeth received a letter from her father—Mr. Bennet wrote in surprisingly good cheer of the goings-on at Longbourn.

Darcy had sent him information on three women of Mrs. Annesley’s acquaintance that were “highly suitable” to bringing his youngest daughters—and perhaps even his wife—under an improved regulation of conduct.

The aptly named Mrs. Patience Humphrey was the one eventually engaged to the task, and—having been employed there nearly a fortnight at the time of the writing of the letter—was declared to “have some touch of the divine in her,” for Mary’s playing was already vastly improved, and her tendency to sermonize lessened.

He was “excessively diverted” by the lady’s clever ways of counteracting Lydia’s immaturity and petulance and was impressed in a manner he could not put words to on the “remarkable alteration” in the frequency of Mrs. Bennet’s nervous attacks.

Kitty, as it turned out, needed the least amount of correction—she had wanted only to be properly guided in the right direction for her own intelligence to break free of the youthful restraint she had placed on it, and she excelled from the start in the study of history and languages, and had even shown an interest in learning the lyre.

Mr. Bennet had concluded his letter with, I am actually hopeful, my dearest Lizzy, of there being some account of them of which I can truly boast when next I write .

Jane, when she had read the letter herself, expressed both relief and joy on the occasion. “Mrs. Humphrey must be talented indeed,” she observed, “if she has done so much in only two weeks’ time!”

“Talented indeed, sister,” replied Elizabeth. “I can hardly contain my interest in seeing our sisters again, which I shall do in another four weeks.”

“You mean at mine and Charles’ wedding?” asked Jane.

“Aye. Before that, Mr. Darcy says he is required by duty to his aunt and uncle—and the dictates of society—to spend some time in London during the remains of the Season,” explained Elizabeth with a roll of her eyes.

Jane smiled at her misery. “You mean you are to be paraded about at balls and parties for their acquaintances to see the girl whose charms ensnared the heart of their illustrious nephew.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Something to that extent, I believe.”

She folded up the letter from her father and tucked it into a pocket as she looked across the garden from their place at the top of the gently sloping lawn; all but one of the ladies were gathered there, while down nearer the large fountain, six of the seven men of their party paired off with fencing foils.

Darcy’s opponent was Lord Winterbourne, the two of them having become fast friends due to their mutually reserved natures.

On learning they shared interest in fencing, they soon developed a friendly rivalry over their skill at the sport.

“Jane, I have a confession to make,” she said as she watched her husband parry a thrust from his opponent.

“A confession?” asked her sister.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I must confess that I have fallen in love with my husband.”

Jane’s eyes, and her smile, grew wide. “But Lizzy, that is excellent news! Does my brother know his joy?”

“Not yet. I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell him—it has not yet presented itself.”

“I hope it will be soon,” said Jane. “We already know how very much Darcy loves you—his happiness will therefore be complete on having earned your love at last.”