Chapter 1 #2
Darcy swung himself into the saddle in one fluid movement and led off with his driver following him. Miss Bingley stewed in her anger. Not only was Mr. Darcy riding his huge black beast, but he was not riding next to the window where she—the future mistress of Pemberley—was sitting.
Just over halfway to their destination, they stopped to water and rest the horses. As soon as the door was opened and the step placed, Miss Bingley jumped from the cabin and made for Mr. Darcy, attempting to attach herself to his arm like a limpet to the hull of a ship.
As it was difficult to miss the orange monstrosity headed toward him, Darcy strode into the inn, using his long legs to their full advantage, well ahead of her and into the necessary before she reached the door of the establishment.
By the time he ventured into the room where tea was being served to the travellers, the Hursts were on one side of the table and Miss Bingley on the other.
The only empty chair was next to the woman, but Darcy would not sit there.
He nodded to them and made his way outside, ostensibly to check on his servants and horses.
After Miss Bingley hurried her sister and brother out of the inn, she tried to sidle up to him to grasp his arm, but Darcy turned just in time. She ended up looking more ridiculous than normal as she grasped air.
“It is time for us to move on,” Darcy announced before the woman could recover and make another attempt at his arm. He turned and walked toward Zeus who was being held by a stableboy.
“Mr. Darcy,” he heard Miss Bingley’s grating voice behind him. “As your dear friend I must insist you ride inside the coach with me—us.”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley, but no.” Darcy turned his back to the woman and mounted his horse swiftly. “Unless you want to remain here, I suggest you enter the coach, Miss Bingley.”
Going from pink to purple with rage, Miss Bingley stomped back to the coach and slammed the door, almost trapping a footman’s fingers as she did so. The force of the slam was such that the glass in the windows on her side of the conveyance rattled.
‘I will be mistress of Pemberley! If I have to compromise him, then so be it! How can he humiliate me, his future wife, thusly?’ Miss Bingley asked herself, ignoring the answer which was obvious to everyone except herself.
An hour and a half later, Darcy rode Zeus up Netherfield’s drive before the coach. Netherfield’s manor house was nowhere near as large as Pemberley’s, but few were. It was, however, a handsome structure with three or four floors, built in the shape of a rectangle.
Charles Bingley was standing on the steps, waiting to greet them. Bingley had the decency to look embarrassed when he saw the thunderous look on his friend’s visage.
Gingerly, Bingley approached his friend as he dismounted. “We will talk later, Bingley,” was all Darcy would say. Bingley did not miss the moue of distaste on his younger sister’s countenance.
“Why did you not take an estate in Derbyshire as I told you—recommended?” Miss Bingley spat at her brother. “You have led us into the middle of nowhere among, I am sure, savages.”
“Caroline, of what do you speak?” Bingley asked. “We are less than four hours from town and the neighbourhood is very much like the one around Lambton.”
“What do I care for some other backwater town?” Miss Bingley bit back. She was angry at not being able to spend time in the coach with Mr. Darcy as she had planned when she demanded her brother not collect them from Town. As is well known, angry people are seldom wise.
“The backwater town, as you call it, is not five miles from Pemberley, Miss Bingley,” Darcy stated firmly. “As I gift the living there and do business with the town, insulting Lambton is insulting me and Pemberley.”
Miss Bingley lost all of her colour as she realised she had insulted, unwittingly, the last person she would wish to. Luckily for her, Mrs. Hurst quickly grabbed her arm and guided her into the house where the housekeeper, Mrs. Nichols, was waiting to show the ladies to their bedchambers.
“Darce, I am sorry; I should never have given in to Caroline,” Bingley stated contritely.
“Bingley, I will tell you for the last time, I will never offer for your sister. She could compromise me before the Monarchs and I still would not offer for her,” Darcy stated pointedly. “Make her understand this and stress I am your friend not her dear anything, least of all her friend.”
“I will try and talk to her before dinner,” Bingley assured his friend.
Hurst looked on as he anticipated the eruption that would come when her brother spoke to her. He disliked the way his wife acted when she was around her sister and knew they were approaching the time when he would be forced to put his foot down.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Jane dear,” Fanny Bennet claimed her eldest daughter’s attention. “Did you hear Mr. Bingley has a party of five ladies and twelve gentlemen joining him, all wealthy and not scions of tradesmen like Mr. Bingley.”
“That will be good, Mama,” Jane Bennet said, smiling. It was not the serene smile everyone in the area, including her younger sister, was accustomed to seeing—this one was predatory. “I will use what you taught me and catch the richest one present.”
“I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing, Jane,” Fanny crowed. “No man will be able to resist your abundant charms. If you have to surrender your virtue in order to make sure you catch your man, I will not object.”
“Do not worry, Mama, I know what to do,” Jane stated.
The truth was she had surrendered her maidenhood a few years back to a neighbourhood boy, the second Lucas son, Johnny, but she would never marry him.
He was not rich enough for her. After all, her mother had told her for years she deserved the best.
Her mother was the only one to whom Jane would reveal her true self. Aunt Maddie, however, had discovered the truth about Jane three years ago. Thereafter, this led to Jane always making excuses and sending Lizzy to Gracechurch Street on her own.
She had everyone else fooled, especially Lizzy—who prided herself on being able to sketch characters. Lizzy was useful because she worshipped her older sister—something of which Jane took full advantage. One day, when her sister was no longer useful to her, she might reveal her true self.