Chapter 13
Bingley groaned as he slowly came awake, his mouth dry and rancid.
It was obvious he had drunk a great deal more than he had meant to.
It was a good thing Caroline had been with him to make sure he got back home.
His nose wrinkled as he breathed in the scent of some kind of flower that was entirely too strong for his admiration.
He looked about in confusion and nearly fell from his bed when he discovered a blond head on the pillow beside his.
He quietly climbed from his bed and dashed to his dressing room where his man was polishing his boots.
“Shall I call Lady Arabella’s maid, sir?” Mr. Doorman asked.
“Er, yes, if you would, thank you Doorman,” Bingley replied awkwardly. He could not look him in the eye as he quickly dressed and went to break his fast.
Caroline was holding court at the head of the table as she perused invitations and picked at a piece of toast. “Good morning, brother. Did you sleep well?” she smirked.
“Yes, yes, quite well, thank you. Have you heard from Ivy Well today?”
Caroline’s mouth pinched. “No, why do you ask? Surly you do not wish to leave Arabella and I to fend for ourselves?”
“Well, I had thought to return in time for Jane’s lying in, but since Jane wrote that she was off on her timeline, I suppose I have more time. Er, who is Arabella?”
“Lady Arabella Hardisee, silly. You have heard me speak of her; I am sure. We were at school together. She married the ancient Baron Redmond in her first season. He is rusticating this season so I invited her to join us. I am sure she was most appreciative last evening?”
Bingley flushed like a ripened apple and he turned away to fix his plate, ignoring her hints. He prayed that Darcy did not learn of this or he would never hear the end of it.
“Do not be such a prude, Charles,” Caroline tittered. “You know that Jane encouraged you to take a mistress and who better than a close friend like Arabella.”
“Caroline, I am not comfortable with this conversation.” Bingley choked. “I was already shocked to my toes that Jane would baldly state such a thing in a letter to us both.”
Caroline laughed at him and went back to her letters allowing his blushes to fade as he tucked into a hearty breakfast. Lady Arabella swept in with a cheery good morning to Caroline and he leaned over his shoulder to place a lingering kiss on his mouth.
“A very good morning to you, Charles,” she purred as she settled in beside him and waved for an ogling footman to make her a plate.
“Good morning!” he squeaked, making the ladies laugh.
“Where are we off to tonight?” she asked, sipping at her tea.
“I was thinking the Westbrook masquerade, and if it is not entertaining, we could stop in at Lady Rebecca’s rout. She is always good for a laugh.” Caroline gave her friend a salacious wink.
Bingley listened without comment as his mind struggled to comprehend what was happening to his life. It had never been so exciting before he allowed Caroline such free reign. He grinned at the ladies and took another bite of his eggs as Arabella walked her fingers up his thigh under the table.
∞∞∞
Published by request in the Morning Chronicles for 5d-
Baroness R of RH has left her husband in the country to join the Bonne Ton in their revels.
Hopefully her husband has given up interest in an heir as she has shown little discretion in her amorous adventures and has chosen to move into the home of her latest paramour, CB newly of IW in Staffordshire.
They were caught in a public exhibition at the masquerade of Lord W, where, scandalously, there were no masks involved.
One wonders what the new wife of CB thinks of his abandonment as she has not been seen at all this season.
∞∞∞
Jane sat at her desk boiling over with frustration.
It had been nearly a month since her husband had left to deliver his sister to London, and she had not received a single note from him.
She had even gone so far as to send one of the Nichols brothers to hand deliver her letter and one from Mr. Yates.
When he returned, he reported that the butler would not allow him entrance to the house but did take the letters and put them on the salver, so he assumed that they were delivered.
Still, there had been no response. She was becoming completely disenchanted with her husband and he did not seem to care at all.
This letter, she decided, she would be blunt because obviously her sweet pleas and entreaties for him to return were not enough to bestir him from London.
She let her anger free rein and nearly ripped the parchment with her quill as her feelings flowed from her fingers. She had just sanded the letter when there was a knock at the door and she called for them to enter.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bingley,” one of the workmen greeted her. “We just finished with the sitting room and wished to get your approval to move on to the dining room.”
“Of course,” she rose, bringing her letter to place on the salver in the entry. “I am sorry that you have had to repeat your work there, but at least now, all is new work.”
“Work is work,” he replied stoically.
“I would like to look over your receipts for what has been accomplished thus far,” Jane informed him as they walked.
“We have already been paid by Mr. Darcy, Ma’am.”
“I know, but I also do not trust my dear brother not to pad the bill in our favor. He has already done too much, and I do not want him to be out even a farthing.”
The man chuckled, “As you wish. I shall fetch everything after you look over the work.” He swung open the door and stepped back to allow her to enter.
The room was beautifully redone, all of Caroline’s brash and gaudy decor had been removed and crated back up, leaving an elegant, welcoming room in its place. Much of the furniture were antiques from the house which had been reupholstered in light fabrics with touches of blue and gilt.
“It is beautiful. The walls and floors look brand new; I much prefer the lighter finish over the dark that was here when we first saw the house.”
They discussed all that had been done and one of his workers delivered his book of receipts which he handed to Jane. She opened the ledger and did some quick calculations as she turned pages.
“You undercharged by a shilling, Mr. Smith.” She handed him back the book, pointing out the error.
“How!” he exclaimed looking at the long rows of numbers written in his careful hand. “You could not possibly be able to catch that at a single glance!”
Jane giggled at his incredulity. “I have always had a talent with maths and numbers. Shall we meet weekly to keep me up-to-date on the costs?”
“Of course, ma’am,” he stuttered, still in shock, as he followed her from the room.
As they entered the hall, there was a loud cacophony from the direction of the entry and Jane, hopeful that Bingley had arrived at last, nearly ran toward the noise only to slow to creeping when the voices became clear.
“La, what a place!” Lydia screeched, hanging on her husband’s arm as her head nearly toppled from her shoulders as she goggled at the staircase. “We shall be quite comfortable here! And you can do some hunting, Wickie.”
Her cackling laugh grated on Jane’s already stretched nerves. “Lydia, what are you doing here?” she asked as she stepped into view.
“What kind of greeting is that?” Lydia demanded a deep pout marring her usual lively face.
“We came to assist you with the house while you have your babe.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought of children.
“Someone must take control of the house while you are in bed for a month. I shall see to redecorating things, do not worry! Everything is so plain!”
“I have everything well in hand,” Jane replied steadily. “Mary is here to assist me and Elizabeth and William will be joining us as soon as I send for them.”
“I am married too, you know,” Lydia whined, hands on her hips. “You do not need Lizzy to come! You know that they do not like poor Wickham.”
Wickham attempted to look innocent and disappointed-- to Jane it just looked smarmy. “It is very good to see you, dear sister,” he simpered, reaching for her hand and placing a lingering kiss on the back of it.
She had to pull quite hard to force him to release her. “I wish you had written, Lydia. I would have informed you that it was not a good time for a visit.”
“Well, we already sent the carriage away, so we are here now!” She cackled again, brazenly eyeing one of the footmen and batting her lashes.
“Come show us where our rooms are and then we can go shopping! I need new clothes and Mama said that you would buy them, so we came as soon as Wickie could get leave from the regiment.”
“Mama was mistaken, Lydia. You shall have to go to Longbourne if you wish a paid shopping trip.” Jane’s voice shook under the strain of standing firm.
Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “Well, we shall see. I hope you ordered a good dinner. We have the sparsest dinners you ever saw. Our income is nothing to yours.”
Jane sighed in resignation and signaled for a maid. “Please show Mr. and Mrs. Wickham to a suite on the third floor, Rebecca. Perhaps the green and gold?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The girl curtsied and began up the stairs.
Jane did not like the look in Wickham’s eye and stopped him.
“My maids are not for you, Mr. Wickham. You shall not impose on any of them or you shall find yourself back in Newcastle within a minute. John,” she called, “please see to Mr. Wickham’s toilet while he is here.
” She turned back to her scoundrel of a brother-in-law. “John is very protective of all of us.”
An only slightly chastened Wickham scowled as he meandered after his wife, taking in the house with an avarice eye.
Jane felt a chill of apprehension crawl up her spine as she watched him slither away.
At least she had her footmen and Mr. Yates to watch over them, she thought as she went to find Mrs. Toole.
The housekeeper was overseeing the laundry maids behind the kitchens and called out a greeting to her mistress when she appeared.
“We have surprise visitors, Mrs. Toole,” Jane informed her. “My youngest sister, Mrs. Wickham, and her husband have appeared, and I had them placed in the green and gold suite on the third floor.”
Mrs. Toole’s eyes widened. “I am sorry I was not available to see their comfort, ma’am.”
“Not at all. They are not welcome visitors, but we shall allow them a week’s stay and then I shall invite the Darcys, and they will scamper away like the leeches they are.
” She sighed heavily. “I need you to warn the maids. Mr. Wickham is considered quite handsome to impressionable young ladies and often imposes himself on any who is willing. I find such antics unacceptable and do not wish any of my maids to fall prey to his practiced wiles. Please ensure that they all know that any imposing on his part will have him turfed immediately with no repercussions rebounding on them. I want them to feel comfortable disclosing such things no matter the perpetrator. It will never be acceptable at Ivy Well.”
The housekeeper beamed in pleasure. “That is good to hear, Mrs. Bingley, I shall make sure that the maids understand.”
Jane bid her good day and returned to the house for a rest as her back was beginning to ache as badly as her head. Likely from the stress of Lydia’s arrival, she grumbled to herself. That girl brought nothing but turmoil and dramatics wherever she went.
As she passed by the estate office, her steps slowed and she bit her lip as she debated whether to bother Mr. Yates with the news. Realizing that he had gone to school with Darcy and likely knew Wickham, she made up her mind and knocked.
“Mrs. Bingley?” he greeted her with a wrinkle of worry on his brow.
“I…” Jane hated to expose her family’s failures even further but pushed away her reticence and spoke again.
“I thought that you should know that George Wickham has arrived with my sister Lydia, who married the bounder, and I hoped that you might be willing to keep an eye out for him as you go about your day.”
“Wickham,” he muttered with a moue of distaste. “I have not heard that name since Cambridge. He was a disgusting scoundrel even then. Lydia is your youngest sister, I believe you mentioned; she cannot be more than sixteen!”
“Mr. Wickham took her from her friends in Brighton and hid with her in London until William found them and bribed him to marry her to save the rest of our reputations,” Jane explained, blushing in embarrassment at such proof of licentiousness.
“She was sixteen at the time. She is seventeen now, nearly eighteen, and has not grown much since she nearly ruined us all. She shows no regret and if anything, such close connection with Wickham has made her worse.”
She did not realize that tears were falling until he handed her his handkerchief. She accepted it and dried her face as she apologized. “It was a difficult time. I have tried not to dwell on it too much, but now they are here, unapologetically themselves and I am at a loss.”
“Would that I could do something to relieve your present distress,” Yates spoke soothingly.
“Just know, if you need my support I shall be here. If Wickham holds to his usual patterns, he shall sleep late each morning so I shall do what I need out on the estate then, so that I can be close by during his waking hours.”
Jane’s tears welled once more; he was so kind. “I am sorry! I have become such a watering pot! Thank you, sir.”