Chapter 13
T he following morning dawned crisp and clear, and the Bennet household bustled with its usual morning routines. Jane and Elizabeth, seated together in the drawing room, occupied themselves with needlework while their mother busied herself with instructions for Hill. The hum of conversation carried faintly through the house, punctuated by Lydia and Kitty’s occasional laughter as they flitted from room to room.
The sound of a carriage pulling up outside drew everyone’s attention. Elizabeth glanced toward Jane with a questioning look, but Jane merely shrugged. The window revealed a familiar sight—the Netherfield carriage coming to a stop at the gate.
Before long, the family assembled to greet their visitors. Mr. Bingley entered the drawing room first, his ever-pleasant smile lighting up the room. Mr. Darcy followed, with his tall and commanding presence drawing notice. Behind them came Miss Darcy, her shy gaze flickering about the room, and Caroline and Mrs. Hurst, both as impeccably dressed as ever.
“What a pleasure to see you all,” Mrs. Bennet cooed. “And how kind of you to call on us!”
Bingley stepped forward, a wide smile on his face. “We come with an invitation. We are hosting a ball at Netherfield on Tuesday next, and we would be honored if you all would attend.”
“A ball!” Lydia and Kitty exclaimed in unison, clapping their hands with delight.
Mrs. Bennet beamed. “Of course, we will be delighted to join you. Such a thoughtful gesture, Mr. Bingley!”
Caroline, standing slightly to the side, fixed her gaze on Elizabeth, her smile tight. “We, of course, hope to see all your lovely daughters in attendance. And, naturally, any houseguests.”
Elizabeth stiffened slightly, her eyes darting to Mr. Collins, who was seated a little apart from the group. His attention snapped to Caroline, and his chest puffed with self-importance.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Bennet gushed, “we do have my husband’s cousin visiting. He is a member of the clergy, you know.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, attempting to steer the conversation delicately. “I am certain Mr. Collins will appreciate the invitation, though perhaps—given his position—he might prefer not to engage in such frivolities.”
“Certainly not, Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins interrupted, his voice rising. “It would be most unbecoming to refuse such a gracious offer.” He turned to Caroline with a broad smile. “I shall be delighted to attend, Miss Bingley.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Mr. Collins turned back to her, his expression suddenly shifting to one of determined purpose. “And Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of reserving the first two dances with you?”
The room stilled, all eyes turning to Elizabeth. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Instead, her gaze flickered to Darcy instinctively.
Darcy stepped forward smoothly, his tone calm but firm. “I must apologize, Mr. Collins, but I have already secured Miss Elizabeth’s first two dances.”
Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her throat. Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins both stared at Darcy in shock. “When did this happen?” Mrs. Bennet demanded, her gaze bouncing between Elizabeth and Darcy.
Darcy, unflappable, replied, “I was already aware of the ball and made my request at the Philips’s card party yesterday evening.”
Elizabeth barely managed to suppress her astonishment, while Mr. Collins spluttered indignantly. “This is most irregular—most improper! Cousin Elizabeth—”
“Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet interjected suddenly, her tone surprisingly shrewd. “If Mr. Darcy has already asked Elizabeth, you must ask another. What about Mary? She is quite accomplished and would be an excellent partner for you.”
“I could not possibly overlook the eldest,” Mr. Collins blustered, his indignation growing.
At that, Mr. Bingley, who had been standing quietly, stepped forward with a smile. “Ah, but I asked Miss Bennet for the first two dances myself, sir.”
“You did?” Mr. Collins looked at Jane suspiciously.
Jane’s eyes widened, and a faint line appeared between her brows. Elizabeth, sensing her sister’s hesitation, gently pinched her arm. “Oh, yes,” Jane said, her voice soft but steady. “Mr. Bingley asked me last night as well.”
Mr. Collins’s expression faltered, but Darcy’s cool gaze was enough to silence further protest. “Then it is settled,” Darcy said firmly. “I believe you will find Miss Mary an agreeable partner, Mr. Collins.”
Mrs. Bennet beamed at Darcy’s tone, practically vibrating with excitement. Mr. Collins, though somewhat deflated, turned to Mary, who inclined her head politely but looked distinctly unenthused.
Eager to change the topic and ease the tension in the room, Elizabeth turned towards the most timid member of the Netherfield party.
“Will you be dancing as well, Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked her young friend encouragingly.
Beaming, Georgiana nodded her head. “My brother has given me permission to attend until the supper dance. I may only dance with him, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Hurst, however.”
“Quite understandable,” Elizabeth replied. “I’m sure you will still enjoy the evening, and you needn’t worry about unfamiliar partners boring you with dreadful topics, like horse racing.”
“Why can’t you dance?” Lydia demanded, bounding to that side of the room, Kitty close behind.
“Miss Darcy is only fifteen years old, and she is therefore not yet out,” Elizabeth replied calmly.
“Well, if that isn’t the silliest thing I have ever heard,” snorted Lydia. “I am only fifteen as well, and I have been out these six months at least!”
Kitty giggled beside her, clearly finding Lydia’s outburst amusing. Georgiana, however, flushed deeply and cast a nervous glance at her brother.
Darcy’s voice cut through the room, calm but firm. “In higher social circles in London, particularly where my sister will eventually find herself, young ladies are not presented until they are at least seventeen or eighteen. It ensures they are fully prepared for the demands of society.”
His tone, though measured, carried enough authority to silence Lydia momentarily. Mrs. Bennett, however, was undeterred. “Seventeen or eighteen, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, her voice laden with curiosity. “Why, that seems so… late. Why would one wait so long?”
Darcy inclined his head slightly, his expression polite. “In part, it allows young ladies to develop the poise and confidence necessary for society’s demands. It also ensures they are better equipped to navigate its intricacies.”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile at the subtle dig, though Mrs. Bennet was oblivious to any possible slight. “Well,” Mrs. Bennet began, puffing up with self-satisfaction, “our Lydia is already quite accomplished. There was no sense in delaying her debut.”
Darcy’s lips twitched as though he were restraining a comment. Elizabeth—sensing the need to redirect the conversation—quickly addressed Georgiana again. “Miss Darcy, I am certain that when you do make your debut, you will be the toast of the season. For now, I hope you will enjoy the ball. And if I may, I would be honored to sit with you for a moment to hear your impressions.”
Georgiana’s cheeks turned pink, but her smile brightened. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I would like that very much.”
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, seemed deep in thought, her eyes darting between Darcy and Georgiana. Elizabeth could almost see the wheels turning in her mother’s mind as she no doubt imagined the possibilities of such connections.
Lydia, recovering quickly from her earlier indignation, turned to Kitty and whispered something that made them both giggle. Elizabeth ignored them and instead focused on Georgiana, who seemed reassured by the attention and kindness.
“Well,” Bingley said brightly, breaking the moment, “we still have many invitations to deliver, so we must take our leave.”
As the Netherfield party made their farewells and exited, Elizabeth felt a curious mixture of relief and confusion. Darcy’s intervention had been entirely unexpected, and as she watched the carriage pull away, she couldn’t shake the lingering warmth that his words had stirred within her.
Caroline Bingley sat rigidly in the carriage as it rattled down the uneven road, her gloved hands curled so tightly into fists that her knuckles ached.
How dare he? she seethed.
The audacity of Mr. Darcy to request the first two dances at the ball from that insipid Eliza Bennet was beyond belief. Of all the women in Hertfordshire—indeed, of all the women present in the drawing room—why on earth would he stoop to ask her ?
She’s not even that pretty! Her teeth are the only tolerable thing about her .
As the hostess, she should have been the natural choice. After all, Darcy was the man of highest rank. Propriety demanded he honor her with the first dance. It would have been the perfect display of his regard for her, a subtle announcement of their shared understanding. Instead, he had humiliated her in front of the entire household.
She could still see Mrs. Bennet’s gloating expression, could hear Lydia’s irritating giggles. Worse yet, she had watched as Darcy’s gaze lingered far too long on that Eliza Bennet, as though she were worthy of admiration. Caroline’s stomach churned with anger, and she drew in a sharp breath, her nostrils flaring.
No, this cannot be true. Mr. Darcy’s attentions to that little chit are nothing more than a whim, a temporary lapse of judgment.
He was a man of impeccable taste, far above such rustic charms.
But…
But what if it wasn’t just a lapse? What if he genuinely admired her? The thought made Caroline’s blood boil. She would not allow it. She could not allow it.
“Caroline, are you quite well?” Louisa asked, raising a perfectly arched brow as she glanced at her sister.
“I am completely fine,” Caroline snapped, though her tone betrayed her irritation. “Merely fatigued from the day’s calls.”
Louisa said nothing further, though the slight upward curve of her lips hinted at her amusement. Caroline turned her attention back to the window, where the landscape blurred into a haze of trees and fields. She replayed the scene in her mind: Darcy’s calm and deliberate declaration that he had already secured Elizabeth Bennet’s first two dances.
Not hers. Not the woman who had tirelessly entertained him and his sister with her wit and refinement. No, he had chosen that rustic, country trollop with her sharp tongue and unremarkable connections.
It was unthinkable.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze flicked to Darcy, who sat opposite her in the carriage. He seemed utterly unaffected, staring out the window with his usual stoicism, as if he hadn’t just turned her entire day into a disaster. Beside him, Georgiana sat quietly, the very picture of composure, though Caroline noted the girl’s faint smile.
Even his mute sister approves of this nonsense!
Caroline’s indignation burned hotter.
Mrs. Hurst attempted to break the tense silence with idle chatter about the upcoming ball, but Caroline barely heard her. She would not allow this affront to go unanswered. Darcy’s actions must be the result of some temporary lapse in judgment, and she would see to it that he was reminded of his proper place—at her side.
When the carriage turned down the road leading to the officers’ encampment, Caroline welcomed the distraction. The invitation from Colonel Forster and his regiment provided the perfect opportunity to bolster her spirits. Captain Forster and his men would be invited to the ball, and if her demeanor was cool enough, perhaps she could demonstrate to Darcy the marked difference between the ladies of refinement and the wild Bennet girls.
After all, the two hoydens will most likely make fools of themselves with the soldiers. Perhaps I could add something to their wine…?
As the carriage stopped, the gentlemen disembarked first. Darcy strode ahead with Bingley, and Caroline followed with Louisa. The crisp autumn air bit at her cheeks, and she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders.
The officers greeted them warmly. Captain Forster accepted the invitation on behalf of the entire regiment.
Caroline made polite conversation, her practiced charm on full display, but her focus wavered when her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure near the edge of the encampment.
George Wickham.
He was speaking to another officer, though his body was angled away from the group, as though deliberately avoiding notice. As Darcy turned slightly, Caroline saw Wickham stiffen, his posture shifting as he subtly moved further into the shadows.
Her eyes narrowed.
As they moved on to speak with another group of officers, Caroline took advantage of a moment when Darcy and Bingley were engaged in conversation. She slowed her pace, her skirts swishing against the gravel, and moved closer to where Wickham now lingered near the edge of a tent. He glanced up, and their eyes met. A flicker of recognition passed across his face, followed quickly by wariness.
“We need to speak,” she hissed under her breath. “Soon.”
Wickham’s expression shifted to one of practiced nonchalance, though she could see the unease in his eyes. He gave a slight nod, then turned away as though their exchange had not occurred.
“Caroline, do keep up,” Bingley called cheerfully.
Darcy, she noticed sourly, didn’t even glance behind him at her.
I will be his wife— make no mistake about that!
∞∞∞
George Wickham scowled as he waited in the early afternoon sun at the edge of Netherfield Park for Caroline Bingley to come to meet him. Flipping open the ornate pocket watch he’d won at dice the night before, he groaned. He would need to leave soon in order to return before dinner.
Stupid woman is ten minutes late. Does she want us to get caught?
He’d left a note with a young maid at Netherfield to put on Caroline’s pillow, informing her of the time for their rendezvous. The girl had agreed with a giggle, and he’d sent her on her way with a wink and pat on the bottom.
I’ll have to come around more often if all the maids at this house look like that.
After waiting another five minutes, Wickham had almost given up. With a sigh of resignation, he turned away and began to the mile walk back towards the barracks.
“Wait!”
The hushed cry and patter of footsteps behind him caused him to tense, then relax as he recognized the voice as belonging to the mistress of the estate.
“About time,” he snarled at her, turning around to face her.
Taken aback at his harsh tone, Caroline stopped short, her eyes wide. Forcing himself to paste a pleasant expression on his face, he said in a softer tone, “My apologies, madam. I was merely concerned someone might see us. I allowed my worry to get the better of me.”
She straightened her gloves with a sniff. “It took some time to escape my sister’s endless chatter about the ball.”
“Ah, yes— the ball. I know my fellow officers are quite eager to attend. I imagine you are as well? Surely my old friend would have asked you for the first set by now.”
Her face darkened in anger, and he nearly laughed aloud. The entire town was buzzing with the gossip that the Bennet girls had caught the most eligible bachelors in town; Mrs. Bennet had been crowing all morning to her visitors how her three eldest daughters already had partners for the first set.
“He has been… distracted by that wretched Bennet girl,” she said, pursing her lips. “I know he loves me, but I do worry he will fall prey to her little games to secure him.”
Ha! I bet he does , Wickham thought sarcastically. Aloud, he bowed slightly and said, “It is the lot of all rich men, I’m afraid, to be intrigued by those who are… beneath them. But rest assured, such infatuations rarely last.”
Her lip curled in disdain. “If he dances with her first at the ball, all of my chances with him are gone. He means too much to me to allow him to throw away our future together.”
Looking at him from under her batting eyelashes, she cooed, “He is your friend, is he not? Please say you will help me.”
“How can I help you? He despises me, remember?” He infused his words with faux regret, adopting the wounded air of a misunderstood soul. Two can play this game , he thought with derision.
Caroline hesitated, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I think we need to… arrange a situation that will force his hand. I need your assistance to compromise him.”
Wickham blinked, momentarily stunned. Did she just suggest what I think she did?
Caroline bit her lip, her nerves evident as she awaited his response.
“How… exactly do you plan to accomplish that?” he asked carefully.
Her voice grew more confident as she explained. “I will serve a special tea tomorrow evening after dinner for everyone. I have a unique blend from London—it’s truly unremarkable tea, but with the addition of this vial”— she shook a small bottle in front of him— “and a few herbs to mask the bitterness, it will taste exotic. I’ll add just enough of the drug to ensure that everyone falls asleep within a quarter of an hour. Once they are unconscious, I will signal you from the window before drinking some myself. You will come in and… arrange matters.”
“Arrange matters?” Wickham echoed cautiously, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Yes, this is where I cannot do it myself.” Caroline’s spoke briskly as she outlined the rest of her plan. “You will quickly move Mr. Darcy and myself to his chambers, remove our clothing—” here she blushed before continuing resolutely— “then lay me down next to him, ensuring that we appear… compromised. When he wakes, it will be evident to everyone that he has no choice but to propose.”
Wickham’s mind raced. “And what of the servants? Surely, they’ll notice something amiss.”
“I will give them the afternoon off, except for a single maid to serve the tea,” Caroline replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “If questioned, I will simply blame the tea’s supplier.”
He chuckled darkly. “And you believe Darcy will simply accept such a story? He could hush up the entire matter, especially with no witnesses.”
Caroline frowned, her brow furrowing in thought, then she grinned triumphantly. “I will invite the two eldest Bennet girls to join the tea. I’ll tell them I need their help with the ball’s arrangements. They’ll be there to witness everything, and I will take great pleasure in seeing Elizabeth Bennet’s face when she realizes she has lost.”
Wickham stared at her, impressed despite himself. “A bold plan,” he said after a moment. “Though I must say, you’ve given this more thought than I expected.”
Caroline straightened, her expression smug. “I will not leave my future to chance, Mr. Wickham. Darcy and I belong together, and I will not allow some country nobody to ruin my plans.”
As she looked at him with satisfaction, Wickham found his gaze wandering over her figure. She was undeniably attractive, but her demanding nature made her an impossible prospect for a man like him. Still, he couldn’t help but admire the cunning mind behind her refined exterior.
Too bad she is such a demanding creature, Wickham thought to himself, else I would try for her dowry myself. But the idea of Darcy being tied to such a shrew for the rest of his life is too good an opportunity to pass up.
“Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll do my part. But we must be careful. Timing is everything.”
“I quite agree,” Caroline said firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Wickham, for your service to my future husband. I won’t forget your help once I am Mrs. Darcy.”
“You truly are a remarkable woman, Miss Bingley,” he said with a charming smile. “My old friend will be very fortunate to have you for a wife. I am in awe of your dedication to your union, and I hope to one day have a woman love me just as much as you do him.”
She preened under the compliment, and Wickham allowed himself a small, private laugh. If only Darcy knew what he was in for. The perfect revenge—and no one will suspect a thing.
With a final conspiratorial nod, Caroline turned and disappeared back toward the house. Wickham adjusted his coat and set off at a brisk pace, eager to return to the barracks before his absence raised questions. His steps quickened, his mind already savoring the chaos that would follow.