Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (35 page)

“Pardon
me, Miss Bingley.”

His
muttered apology and rosy cheeks were frankly adorable, and one of the first
indications of a normal male response. Caroline smiled, feeling quite
triumphant, and closed the already minuscule gap between their bodies.
Fingertips sliding caressingly over his fingers to latch onto the book, she
simultaneously leaned forward to press her breasts firmly into his hand and
arm. Praying the timing was correct and the maid was lurking by the door,
Caroline purred, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You are the soul of kindness. There
must be some way for me to express my gratitude?”

If
not for the other hand lifting to wrap around his neck serving as an unexpected
cushion, she would have bashed face first into the hard wood of the bookcase
when he abruptly stepped to the side. As it was, she tottered and pitched past
the space previously inhabited by him, and emitted a sharp yelp when her arm
struck the surface.

Shocked
and in pain, she swung her eyes about and instantly felt the remaining blood
drain from her face. Mr. Darcy had somehow stiffened his spine so that he
appeared a foot taller than his normal considerable height and was glowering at
her with intense anger and hatred. Chilled to the bone, her veins then turned
to ice when he brusquely bowed and snarled, “Excuse me.”

Seconds
later, he was out the door, his storming march past the maid causing her to
blanch and scurry away—not that Caroline blamed her.

*  *  *

Darcy
was furious. No, he was something far, far beyond furious. His anger at Lady
Catherine on that day in Darcy House was a minor irritation in comparison. For
the first time in his life, the urge to harm another human being overwhelmed.
Only divine intervention saved Caroline from being hurled into the window
conveniently located behind her. And considering how vivid the image and just
how satisfying imagining it felt, all the angels in heaven needed to lend their
aid, or he might turn back around.

He
knew exactly what Caroline had tried to do. The maid—one of the upstairs
servants with no purpose anywhere near the library—standing stupidly in
the half-open door sealed his suspicions. Rage mingled with self-recrimination
and terror. How could he not have anticipated the lengths Caroline Bingley
would go to? She had spent the past three weeks engaged in one long ploy to
wrest him away from Elizabeth, so why was he stunned at her brazen attempt to trap
him scandalously?

Later
he could waste time condemning his blind gullibility. For now, the objective
was to get as far away from Caroline Bingley as humanly possible—for her
sake as well as his.

Not
caring who saw him stomping through the corridor, Darcy ascended the stairs two
at a time and rushed around the corner toward his chambers. Such was his state
of mind that he did not see Bingley’s door open, and if the younger man had
been any less attentive, they would have collided.

“Darcy!”
Bingley gasped, grabbing the jamb to avoid tumbling backward. “What has you in
such a state?”

“Your
sister,” Darcy spat, not even slowing down.

“Caroline?”

At
Bingley’s amazed tone, Darcy stopped and spun around. “Of course Caroline!
Don’t be an imbecile!”

“So—sorry…of
course Caroline. What…? Oh God, I am afraid to ask.”

“She
has gone too far, Charles. I cannot stand for it nor subject Elizabeth or
myself to her actions any longer. I am leaving for the inn at Meryton.” He
whirled away and resumed his frenzied pace. The urge to vacate Netherfield was
nearly as severe as the roiling hunger to physically assault Caroline.

“Wait!
You must tell me what happened Darcy! I have the right to know.”

Again,
Darcy pulled up short and wheeled about. Not hesitating, he explained what happened
in the library, a smattering of curse words and highly unflattering verbiage
embellishing the concise recounting. When he was done, Charles looked ill. He
also looked very angry and determined.

“It
is past time to deal with my sister. Go to your room, Darcy, and stay put. I
refuse to allow you to leave.”

Darcy’s
brows rose at his friend’s blunt command. He could not readily recall Bingley
ever speaking in such a harsh tone—to anyone—and especially not to
him. In fact,
no one
ordered Darcy of Pemberley in such a way! The
oddity and vague humor of it went a long way toward defusing his violent
energy.

Nodding
once, Darcy did as commanded. An hour and two calming glasses of wine later,
Darcy answered Bingley’s knock.

“Caroline
is packing her bags and within the hour will be on her way to Bath. Louisa and
Hurst can deal with her, not that Hurst will pay her any heed.”

Darcy
handed Bingley a glass of wine. “I suspect he will thank you for giving Mrs.
Hurst a companion. Frees him to pursue preferred activities.”

“Caroline
will swiftly drown her disappointments in shopping. A lot can be purchased
between now and the end of November. Maybe there is a merchant selling
character and decency.”

“If
there is, be sure to tell me and I will find a way to get Lady Catherine to
Bath.”

Two mornings later, the topic of
Caroline Bingley’s exodus remained a popular one—at least to Mrs. Bennet,
who for the third time since sitting down with the Longbourn family for
breakfast expressed her opinion on the matter.

“Miss Bingley just suddenly decided
to join her sister in Bath? How odd!”

“They are close, Mama. It makes
perfect sense Miss Bingley would miss their companionship.” Jane swiveled her
gaze to Lizzy. “Goodness knows I will suffer the same when Lizzy is in faraway
Derbyshire.”

“Oh! Do not remind me!” Lizzy
accented her dramatic wail with a slap of butter onto the muffin in her hand.
“Of course, with so many fine carriages at our disposal, visiting will be
effortless. Is that not so, Papa?”

Mr. Bennet’s dry retort emanated
from behind a newspaper. “I daresay a sturdy, padded coach, as Mr. Darcy owns,
drawn by a superlative team of horses will float down the road covering the
distance in half the space of time.”

“There, you see, Jane? Neither of
us shall have a chance to suffer. In a blink, the winter will pass and one of
us will call upon the other.”

“Besides, you will have your
husbands to allay any suffering.” Kitty’s innuendo made Jane blush and Lizzy
laugh.

“I do hope you said nothing to
offend her, Jane.”

“Who, Mama?”

“Why Miss Bingley, of course! Is
that not what we are talking about?”

“I was under the impression we were
talking about sturdy carriages and distracting husbands.” Lizzy winked at Jane,
who was still rosy cheeked. “Either subject is preferable to Caroline Bingley
as far as I am concerned.”

“I agree with Lizzy,” Kitty piped
in. “She was most unpleasant. You will not admit it, Jane, but I am not
marrying her brother, so can speak my mind. Good riddance, I say.”

Mrs. Bennet set her teacup onto the
saucer with a sharp clink. “It would not serve your interests to speak harshly
of Miss Bingley to Mr. Bingley, Jane. Remember that!”

“Judging by how besotted the two
gentlemen are with our eldest daughters, you can rest easy, my dear.” All eyes
turned to the newspaper shielding Mr. Bennet’s face. “My guess is that
commentary on the personality of Miss Bingley would delight Mr. Darcy and not
be vigorously denied by Mr. Bingley.”

“A man’s affections are fickle, Mr.
Bennet, and should never be tested.” Mr. Bennet lowered the paper an inch and
peered at his wife. Mrs. Bennet paid him no mind, her attention equally divided
between her eggs and her daughters. “Remember that, girls. Always strive to
flatter and be the peacemaker in your marriage. If Miss Bingley’s abrupt
departure is in any way the result of unpleasantness, then you must immediately
make amends!”

Jane was staring at her toast.
Feeling
guilty for no reason
, Lizzy wagered, so she kicked Jane under the table
while turning a sweet smile toward her mother. “Mama, you have nothing to fret
about. Jane especially and me, to the best of my capability, were polite to
Miss Bingley at all times. Besides, there is no proof that her departure was
abrupt, simply that we did not hear of it until afterward. She was bored to
tears at Netherfield, that much is certain, and Bath is, by all accounts, much
more exciting than Meryton.”

“If I had the means to visit Bath,
I would hasten there as well.” Mary’s bland tone drew everyone’s attention,
even Mr. Bennet, who folded the newspaper. “I read an interesting book about
the natural springs and walking trails. A sight to behold.”

“I quite agree with Mary, although
I do not think Miss Bingley apt to climb rocks or traverse wooded trails. It is
doubtful she will do anything more strenuous than strolling through the Pump
Room and local shops.” Lizzy’s speculation earned an agreeing grunt from Mr.
Bennet, a giggle from Kitty, nods from Mary and Mrs. Bennet, and a smile and
snicker from Jane, who rapidly hid both behind her napkin. Not giving her
mother a chance to prolong the topic, Lizzy rushed on. “At the present, I can
find no fault in the desire to forego a nature walk for the rigors of battling
crowds on a merchant street. For probably the first time in my life, shopping
has a great appeal.”

Lizzy grinned at her father. Mr.
Bennet answered with a groan and unfolded his newspaper. Jane quickly washed
down her toast with a swallow of hot tea, wincing at the discomfort but jumping
on Lizzy’s hint.

“Oh yes! We did not hear the rest
of our Aunt Gardiner’s letter, Mama! They have returned to Town, but when are
we to join them?”

As expected, wedding planning was a
sure distraction. “My sister Gardiner requested several days for them to settle
in after being away and to prepare for your visit. She suggested the
twenty-fourth. Not that it matters to me, since I will be staying here.”

Mrs. Bennet’s woeful sigh and
drooping shoulders momentarily had the desired affect. Lizzy felt a sharp stab
of pity render her breathless, and Jane looked on the edge of bursting into
tears! The nagging for their father to escort them to London had finally
resulted in his assent. Mrs. Bennet had complained loudly—contrary to her
recent motherly advice to be the peacemaker—and was only placated when
Lizzy and Jane cleverly heaped upon her a mountain of “important wedding
arrangements” to handle while they were gone. Happily feeling essential, Mrs.
Bennet reverted to the intermittent doleful expressions and pathetic sighs. It
was fast becoming the main reason the two brides-to-be were eager to get to
London.

Luckily, before either capitulated
and begged her to come instead, Mr. Bennet spoke from behind the paper. “The
twenty-fourth will not do. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are joining the fox hunt,
remember? We will leave on the twenty-fifth. I’ll write Gardiner.” And with
that, the matter was decided.

* *
*

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were
perfectly agreeable to leave for London on the twenty-fifth. Of course, they
were perfectly agreeable to just about anything, as long as it occupied the
time stretching until their wedding day—or to be more accurate, their
wedding night. Not that either of the gentleman were indifferent to the
necessary plans for the ceremony and surrounding celebration with friends and
family. When asked, they sincerely proclaimed a desire for their nuptials to be
special and even expressed the occasional opinion on the food or decorations.
If pointedly questioned, however, they would admit that the night they
consummated their marriages was far more important. Unlike the wedding day,
where the discussions were open and seemed to involve half of Meryton, Darcy
and Bingley separately arranged their wedding nights with only the basic
information related to anyone. The following conversation while riding to
Longbourn two days before the fox hunt was one of the few.

“Bingley, I talked to Mr. Bennet
last evening about my wish to depart with Elizabeth as soon as possible after
the wedding breakfast.”

“Oh, are you planning to make
directly for Pemberley then? Or London?”

“Pemberley, although not in one
shot. That would be impossible. Nor do I wish to spend my wedding night in a
carriage.”

“Understandable.”

“I am making alternative
arrangements but wanted you to know that we shall not infringe upon your
hospitality at Netherfield.”