Chapter 21
One afternoon several weeks later, Jane was dressing for dinner when a maid came to inform her that a fine coach had been seen entering the park. It would not be anyone from the neighborhood as they all dined at a similar time of day, so that left only one obvious conclusion.
“Please inform Mr. Fackrell that Mr. Bingley has arrived and inform him that if there are more people than just he in the carriage that the luggage is not to be unloaded, nor is the carriage to be taken to the carriage house as they will not be staying.”
The girl’s eyes were wide with disbelief, and she ran from the room with alacrity.
Knowing that the carriage would arrive within a quarter hour, Jardine had quickly added the last pins to her mistress’s hair and retrieved a beautiful cashmere shawl before hurrying away to gather with the rest of the servants to await the reckoning.
Jane stood at the door with her hand on the latch for several minutes, slowing her breathing and gathering her strength.
Her heart beat like a hummingbird’s wing and black edged her vision, but slowly she calmed herself until with one last deep breath, she opened the door and floated purposefully toward the grand staircase.
She had descended part way when a whispered, “I think he brought his ladybird!” froze her feet to the steps.
Her heartbeat picked up once more and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as she suddenly felt as if she had been stabbed in the chest. Time seemed to slow as she watched the butler approach the portal, each step taking a lifetime.
He swung open the door, flooding the foyer with the light from the setting sun.
Bingley bounded through the enterance, his usual exuberance on full display, chattering non-stop to the person on his arm.
They did not see Jane at first as she was in shadow compared to the light streaming behind them, and she listened as her husband boasted of all the improvements he had made to the family estate.
The woman, this Lady A, chuckled, low and seductive, and stroked his chest with her free hand and suddenly, everything snapped into place.
Time returned to normal, Jane’s breathing and heartbeat were slow and steady as the marble beneath her feet.
The last tiny shred of affection she had shielded and nurtured in the deepest dark of night, whimpered and died.
She lifted her chin and floated down the remaining step, stopping on the last so that she stood just above them, claiming her power as Darcy had instructed her.
She did not give the woman who was literally suctioned to her husband’s side like a limpet even a glance, staring straight at Bingley with flashing eyes. “You did not inform me that you were coming, Mr. Bingley,” she declared, her voice even and cold as ice. “Nothing is prepared.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed in derision, though Jane could see the glee as well as she rubbed herself closer and whispered something in his ear which made the man flush and reach for his cravat.
“But—” His voice came out in a squeak and he cleared his throat. “But you wrote to Caroline, inviting Arabella, er Lady Arabella to join us.” He shuffled his feet, not entirely comfortable now that it came down to it; presenting his mistress to his wife and all that.
“I was unaware that any of you had decided to leave London, as I never heard from you at all from the moment you abandoned us until now.” Her voice echoed through the marble clad room.
Bingley looked gob smacked. “But— But—,” he turned to look at Caroline who returned his look with a blank one of her own. “I brought the papers to return the estate and accounts to me for you to sign, as you requested! Perhaps—”
Lady Arabella turned to face her fully, releasing Bingley’s arm as she reached for the clasp on her cloak, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, revealing the deeply cut décolletage of her wine-red carriage dress which perfectly framed a very familiar set of emeralds.
She smirked at Jane as her eyes rose to meet hers.
Bingley turned to follow her eye and saw that Arabella had raised her hand to stroke the stones with a proprietary finger.
He was dumbfounded as last he had seen them, Caroline was packing them in her case.
That was the limit-- Jane’s mind screamed.
How dare he insult her thusly in her own home.
She marched forward, the glint in her eye startling the woman into taking a step back.
Before she could react, Jane snatched the necklace from her neck, as Caroline had done, and threw it with all her might down the hall.
Her glare whipped to her husband who gulped as his knees nearly collapsed.
“Get out,” She hissed, the sun turning her hair into a halo of gold and fire. “All of you! How could you bring your whore and her viper with you after everything you have put me through?”
Bingley could only stare, completely in awe of her righteous fury.
Caroline’s face had grown pale for a moment, but glee replaced her frown and she stepped forward, nearly dropping Ellie as the woman’s devious maid tossed her negligently to her mistress.
Her sneer returned as held her, upside down by a leg, and tore away her napkin leaving a scratch from the strait pin on her thigh and setting her to screaming.
“A female, of course you would fail to produce a son!” she snorted. “We shall see who has the upper hand now! If you do not do as I say I shall…”
She was unable to finish as Mary, who had hurried from the library at the sound of her niece’s distress, dashed forward and wrenched the babe from the madwoman’s arms. Jane had frozen for a moment at the sight of her sweet baby’s blood dripping onto the floor, but the sound of Ellie’s cries set her in motion.
To others it likely looked as if she had lost her mind, for she attacked her craven sister-in-law with clawed hands and the speed and accuracy of a dervish, leaving deep gashes on her face.
Caroline screeched and covered her face, in a belated attempt to protect her looks, as she fell to the ground.
Jane wrenched several large chunks of hair from her head until she found a patch that held strongly enough to allow her to physically drag the woman from the house and, with a kick, she rolled her down the front steps.
“If you EVER lay a hand on my daughter again, I shall bury you in the west field and no one will ever find you!” Jane promised with a vicious cry.
Lady Arabella was quick to retreat from the foyer as the footmen had stepped menacingly close, following her from the house to ensure that she did not approach their mistress.
Bingley stood like a lump, frozen in disbelief.
Mr. Yates, who had arrived at a run when he heard the commotion of Ellie’s and Caroline’s screams, chivied his former employer out the door behind the ladies leaving him where he stood, looking about like a senseless bovine who had suddenly found itself on the moon.
“None of these persons are welcome here,” Jane decreed as she turned away. “If they attempt to return, confine them in the coal cellar and send for the magistrate to arrest them for trespassing. I will be with my daughter if I am needed.”
Lady Arabella flinched away as Jane passed her without further acknowledgment and entered the house, the heavy door snapping shut behind her.
She lifted her skirts and ran down the steps, leaping over Caroline’s still wailing form, and rushed to her carriage, calling for her footman to open the door.
He did as she asked, nearly bowled over in her haste to enter the equipage seeking safety.
When the Ivy Well footmen drug Caroline forward, she pointed a finger at them and yelped, “I refuse to take that in my carriage! She will ruin the cushions!”
“Arabeeeella!” Caroline sobbed, what hair she had left falling about her face in disarray.
“No!” she growled. “You have played me for a fool! You claimed that chit was a mousy, easily intimidated woman who we could belittle and torture and instead you have exposed me to Boadicea with a flaming sword! That,” she pointed at the house, “was no cast-off wife!
It is obvious that she has no use for her hapless husband who has been led around London by his—"
“Enough!” cried the butler, nodding for the footmen to toss the screaming virago in the carriage before slamming the door. “You there,” he called to the driver. “You heard my mistress, you had best not dawdle as the magistrate is our close neighbor.”
The man whipped up the horses, and the carriage nearly came off it wheels as they took the corner toward the road.
Bingley had not moved at all, even when the footman wrapped the lead of his horse, which had been tied behind the carriage, about his arm as he had not taken it.
The laughing servants returned to the house, leaving him to his own devices, all of them despising the man even further.
The horse shook his head, pulling Bingley forward and waking him from his stupor.
He looked about and finding himself alone, slowly climbed onto his horse and looked up at the house, which seemed as forbidding as his wife.
She was not the Jane he remembered, and he could not understand what had happened to her to turn her into this unfeeling ice queen.
“I must see Darcy! He will help me and speak with her!” Bingley cried and kneed his horse forward. He rode down the path toward Pemberley at a reckless speed and the poor mount was lathered and heaving for breath as he galloped up to the house three-quarters of an hour later.
He threw the reins of the belabored horse to the boy at the door and bounded up the steps. “Forbush!” he bellowed, “Where is Darcy? It is an emergency, man!”
“The master is in his study with—"
Bingley rushed away before he could continue. “Darcy!” he cried as he threw open the door to the study without knocking. “You must assist me! Jane has lost her mind!”
Darcy had quickly stepped in front of his wife, automatically protecting her from the unknown threat. “Bingley,” he barked, “What on earth are you about, bursting in here like that!”
“Something has happened to Jane! We arrived home and she was not even pleased to see me at all, claiming to have not received notice of our coming!
But I know Caroline replied to her invitation, and the baby!
She did not tell me that she had given birth!
I would think that as the father I had a right to be informed!
And then there was some mix up with the jewelry cases because when she saw that Arabella was wearing some emeralds that I had gifted to Jane—"
“Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy!” Elizabeth bellowed, red and shaking.
Darcy immediately turned to meet her furious gaze and nodding to her unspoken demand, marched to Bingley’s side and planted him a facer, knocking him to the ground.
Bingley blinked up at him from the floor while holding his broken nose. “Whaaa—"
“You brought your mistress to Jane’s home? To meet your first child?” Elizabeth barked in disbelief.
“Well, I mean, she seemed pleased with the idea when she wrote to Caroline.” Bingley mumbled through the blood, looking beseechingly between the two like a cowed pup.
“I may hit you again, Bingley.” Darcy growled. “How could you disrespect your wife in such a manner?”
“But Caroline said—”
“And you were the contemptible ass who believed your viper of a sister?” Darcy cut him off. “We have spoken repeatedly about your sister’s lack of kindness toward, or any kind of affection for, you and especially Jane.” Darcy glared at him, making him cower back.
“She has belittled, undermined, and attacked Jane every second of your laughable marriage!” Elizabeth spat.
“How could you treat my dearest sister in this infamous manner? She is the kindest, most compassionate woman to have ever lived and you have opened her up to public scorn and mockery, very public! It was in the papers, Mr. Bingley! Do you think that Ivy Well is so remote that none of the neighbors receive the London papers?”
Bingley flushed brightly. It was obvious to him now that his hopes that the London papers had not reached Derbyshire were in vain. “Oh,” he muttered.
“If I did not wish for my niece to grow up with her father, I would call you out!” Darcy leaned menacingly over the prone man.
“Darcy,” Bingley cringed away. “It is perfectly acceptable for a man to have a mistress, you know that.”
“Not to me!” Elizabeth cried, her attempt to kick at him thwarted by her skirts. “And not to Jane!”
“And I thought not to you,” Darcy agreed, “for you well know I would never betray my own wife in such a manner.”
“But it was her idea!” Bingley whined. “She did not wish to deprive me of—" he looked at Elizabeth and blushed. “Well, anyway, and she encouraged me to find a— a— physical er, connection because ours is on a more spiritual plane, and—”
“Do you even hear yourself speaking?” Elizabeth scoffed.
“I— I—"
“And what was your thinking that you would deprive your loving wife of even a single correspondence?”
“But she wished to save time by having Caroline… read... them… to me…” he trailed away.
Darcy and Elizabeth just looked at him, and he began to feel as if he was the stupidest man on earth. “Go away, Mr. Bingley. If Jane is unwilling to house you, I am as well.” Elizabeth snarled.
“Darcy, please,”
“Mrs. Darcy is the mistress here and visitors are welcomed or refused at her whim.” Darcy replied repressively, calling for the butler who he knew would be waiting for orders out of sight in the hall. “Mr. Bingley is leaving, see that he finds his way, please, Forbush.”
The man nodded and latched his hand around the defeated man’s arm, hauling him to his feet, not even releasing him when they entered the hall, making the whole scene even more humiliating to the stunned man.
Knowing that their master would never countenance the abuse of a horse, the stable had taken his animal and were in the process of cooling him down, so they had to wait for a Darcy horse to be saddled for Bingley.
“Mr. Bingley, I strongly suggest that you take a room in Lambton for the evening. We shall trade the horses in the morning if you have not foundered your mount,” Mr. Forbush frowned mightily at him. “You would not want to be thought a horse thief.”
Bingley shook his head earnestly and mounted, turning away without another word.
Darcy had not supported him, he did not know what had become of his world.
Nothing was as it ought to be. He did not even care that the last of the sunlight might allow him to arrive safely.
“It would serve them right if I was injured leaving the estate,” he muttered.