Chapter 21
“Da, I am not ready to part with my trophy just yet,” Ben said as the servant who accompanied them on their fishing party prepared to return to the manor house with the day’s catch. How proud and excited the little fellow was over his conquest.
“I see no harm in your accompanying Mr. Hall—assuming your father does not object,” said Carlton.
“May I?”
“Yes, you may. However, you are not to wander off on your own. Agreed?”
Ben readily nodded and then fell in step with the tall, lanky young man who also fondly remembered Ben having once resided at Camberworth. Darcy and Carlton watched until Ben and Mr. Hall were well out of sight.
“Ben loves it here,” said Carlton.
“Indeed.”
“I cannot help but consider that, were my father alive, Ben would still consider Camberworth his home.”
“I find it interesting that you would speak this way, Carlton.”
“I say only the truth.”
The two strode along in uncomfortable quietness.
After a moment, Carlton broke the silence. “I really must thank you for bringing my nephew here today. Perhaps you and his mother will allow me to spend even more time with him, so he and I might get to know each other.”
“I see no reason that will not occur with time. Surely you do not suppose one can establish over the course of a few weeks what normally unfolds over the course of several years.”
The gentlemen continued going on in that way, but for Darcy one purpose was clear.
After decades of estrangement from the elder Mr. Carlton, Henry Carlton had finally returned to Camberworth reclaiming his birth right.
Darcy did not fault him for that. However, Carlton’s return also evidenced a kind of neglect that was reflected wherever anyone would look.
Darcy’s solicitors had unearthed intelligence on Camberworth’s solvency.
In principle, Carlton was a wealthy landowner, but in reality he was in dire need of funds.
If there were a chance in the world that Darcy could acquire the estate, he supposed he would be doing all parties involved a great service.
Darcy said, “You and I have already discussed the fact that there is a provision that allows Camberworth’s entail to be broken, given that all living heirs must be agreeable.
You ought to know that my solicitors have been in contact with Mrs. Carlton.
It seems she is not nearly as concerned with her son’s potential birth right as one might expect, what with your being a single man and a relatively young one at that. ”
“You think you have it all figured out, do you not, Darcy? Well, I have conducted a bit of investigation too. Just as there is no amount of money that would tempt you to part with your dear Pemberley, likewise there is nothing that would tempt me to part with Camberworth. You are wasting your time, for I shall never sell.”
Darcy halted his steps, obliging Carlton to do likewise. His voice resolute, Darcy said, “My years of negotiating various affairs of business have taught me a great many things, one of them being—never say never.”
Lydia would not be satisfied until she and her family were once again invited to a lavish dinner party at Netherfield.
She insisted that, once she became mistress, such affairs would be commonplace.
Why wait? Her behaviour was everything mortifying, and no one could be impressed with her, other than Mrs. Bennet, who, as a consequence of Lydia’s advantageous alliance, was her former self once more.
Throughout the evening, Mrs. Bennet encouraged her daughter in every way to regard anything that brought her displeasure—be it the meals, the furnishings, even a particular servant—as something to be rectified once Lydia became mistress of Netherfield.
There was no want of discourse once the Netherfield party and the Longbourn guests took their places at dinner—at least, not on Lydia’s part.
The bride and her mother could not talk fast enough about how things would be once Lydia became mistress.
Untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless, Lydia personified everything a young woman ought not to be.
And such a woman was to be mistress of this place—one of the finest homes in all of Hertfordshire?
Everyone who would be embarrassed by the unfolding events was exceedingly so, particularly Jane, who often looked at Elizabeth, and no one was happier than the two eldest sisters when, finally, the meal was over.
Elizabeth was appalled, and Jane was embarrassed, and when they could, they spoke on the matter and how it even came about.
“Lydia has always been outrageous with a tendency to place too much stock in her own significance. Now it seems that years of bad behaviour are to be rewarded with Mr. Bingley’s hand.
” Try as Jane might to hide her dismay, Elizabeth knew her sister too well to suppose she was truly unaffected. “I am sorry, Jane.”
“There is no need to apologise to me. If anyone, it is Mr. Bingley who should receive condolences—from all of us.”
Elizabeth threw a glance across the room. There Bingley stood with Darcy. Gone was his amiable smile, and in its place was a look of confusion. That befuddled expression has graced his countenance since the day my husband discovered Lydia emerging from Bingley’s apartment.
“I do believe that is one of the most uncharitable things I have ever heard you say, dearest Jane. It appears that you are just as sceptical of Lydia’s account of events as I am.”
“In truth, I am. However, I find it hard to believe our sister could even conceive of such a scheme, and it is for that reason alone that I am forced to suspend my belief of everything I know and trust about Charl—Mr. Bingley.”
“You were about to refer to the gentleman by his given name. Does that mean—”
“Oh, Lizzy, I know what you are about to say. You are concerned I might harbour a tender regard for Mr. Bingley.”
“Do you?”
“I suppose I shall always think of him fondly, for he is indeed the first man I ever recall loving. But that seems like such a long time ago. So much has happened—as you well know. I have come to consider that our lives are more than a series of random outcomes … all things happen for a reason. The wife of Mr. Collins and the mother of his two daughters is the life I was meant for. Indeed, I am very happy.”
Elizabeth smiled and embraced her eldest sister. “I am happy for you.” Upon resuming her former attitude, she espied her youngest sister skipping across the floor with Kitty bouncing along right behind her. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I believe I shall offer Bingley my condolences.”
“Yes,” said Jane with a hint of mischief in her voice, “and I shall take the opportunity to do the same with Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth’s eyes followed Jane’s. Caroline Bingley sat off in the corner, her countenance a mixture of outrage and disgust—a powder keg if you asked Elizabeth. Heaven help us all.
With the end of the evening fast approaching, Bingley had not achieved his single, most important resolve—to speak with Jane.
Ever since that harrowing day when he went to Longbourn to offer his hand to Miss Lydia, the thought of what Jane must think of him haunted him.
Did she think he did not care for her—that he never cared?
Every occasion that found them in company since that day also found them in the company of Geoffrey Collins.
Rarely did the man leave Jane’s side, and when he did, he never stayed away very long.
Finally, when the carriages were ordered to return the guests to their homes, Mrs. Bennet commanded Collins’s attention, thus allowing Bingley the chance he longed for.
As Jane was crossing the room, Bingley placed himself directly in her path. Nervous but determined, he said, “When I learned you were in London … last year … there was nothing more important to me than seeing you. I had to see you.”
Jane’s angelic eyes registered her confusion. “Oh?”
“I came to see you in Cheapside. You were not alone. I saw you walking with Mr. Collins.”
“Why did you not say something?”
“You looked happy.” Bingley swallowed hard. “As happy as I ever recalled having seen you.”
“Still, sir, you might have made your presence known. I am certain I would have been delighted to see you.”
“If I supposed for an instant that it would have made a difference in how things turned out, then I should berate myself for all eternity.”
“Sir, I know not what to say.”
“Tell me if it would have made a difference. If you had known that I had come to see you in Cheapside as soon as it was made known to me that you were in town, would it have been the means of a different outcome than the one we now endure?”
“Surely you cannot expect me to engage in such conjecture, to raise or diminish hopes, when nothing about our situation is ever likely to change. I am married to Mr. Collins, and you will soon be married to my youngest sister.”
“Please,” said Bingley, his eyes imploring, “one word from you will silence me on this matter forever.”
Geoffrey Collins marched over and stood by his wife’s side. “Pray I am not interrupting.”
How Bingley wished Jane looked at him the way she looked at Collins. She said, “Oh, no, Mr. Collins. Mr. Bingley was simply wishing me goodnight.”
Collins arched his brow. “Allow me to accept your good wishes on both our behalf.”
“Indeed, Collins; Mrs. Collins, goodnight.”
As tormenting as it was seeing the woman he loved being escorted away, the sight of Miss Lydia Bennet prancing his way, solely at her mother’s urgings, rendered him even more dejected. What had he ever done to harvest such misery?