Chapter Three #2
The following morning arrived with gray clouds hanging heavy in the sky. An expensive but old-fashioned coach came to a stop before the house a few hours after breakfast. Bingley stepped smartly up to the door while Darcy and Richard remained on the steps.
“Tell me again, Darcy. Why are we a part of this welcoming party?” Richard asked.
Darcy sighed. “Because Bingley asked us to greet his aunt.” He had never met Bingley’s Aunt Cleopatra, but he had heard enough to surmise that Bingley was fond of her.
Bingley was now handing an elderly lady out of the coach.
Darcy evaluated her. She hardly seemed capable of bearing the weight of the tremendous bonnet she wore, precariously affixed by a single ribbon tied beneath her chin.
He worried, for a moment, that the weight of it might topple her, but she raised her head to greet Charles without incident.
The woman was barely tall enough to reach even Caroline’s shoulder, and despite her heavy coat, he could see her frame was slight.
Bingley’s smile as he returned her greetings was tender and kind, and Darcy was so engaged with watching his friend that he almost missed the consternation on Miss Bingley’s face as she stood by herself, waiting to be acknowledged.
He nudged the reluctant Richard and they stepped to Bingley for the introductions.
Within a few minutes, the introductions had been made, greetings exchanged, and they were all standing in the entry hall.
“Goodness,” Aunt Bingley sighed, untying her bonnet and removing it.
Darcy was certain, now, that it was half the size of the diminutive woman who wore it.
There was a wide yellow ribbon wrapped around the crown and…
was that a bird’s nest on the brim? “I do so enjoy visiting you, Charlie, but I do not enjoy long rides.”
Charlie? Richard made a sort of choking, stifled sound.
Darcy knew it was impolite, but he was compelled to steal another look at Mrs. Bingley’s hat.
Yes. Definitely a bird’s nest. With eggs glued inside.
As Aunt Bingley handed it off to a perplexed maid, who turned it all about before making off with it, he spied a stuffed bird affixed to the other side.
“I do not know why you insist on wearing that monstrosity,” Miss Bingley said to her aunt.
Darcy tried not to react to the unusual sound of Miss Bingley… whining. For all her faults, she rarely showed petulance, at least in company. In fact, he could not recall another instance of it.
“Because the brim is large, dear, and keeps off the weather,” came her aunt’s mild reply.
Miss Bingley’s pained smile was accompanied by closed eyes and a minute shake of her head. She would not point out, Darcy knew, that they had been in a closed coach. But she wants to, he thought, amused.
“May I, Mrs. Bingley?” Richard asked genially, offering his arm. The older woman gazed up at him and gave him a brilliant smile.
“Oh, you are a gallant one,” she replied with a genuine smile. “You most certainly may.” She accepted his arm and was led into the drawing room.
“Charles,” Miss Bingley said, resigned, “I shall repair to my rooms and then seek out Mrs. Nicholls. I presume you can show our aunt her rooms when she is ready?”
“Of course, Caroline,” Bingley said seriously. “Leave her to me.”
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, and then turned to the stairs. Bingley grinned and clapped his hands together. “Come, Darcy, let us have some conversation with our dear Auntie Cleopatra.”
Our? “I cannot call her that, Bingley,” Darcy remonstrated.
“Oh,” Bingley said with a laugh, “you will. She will insist upon it.”
Outside, the rain began to fall.
That night, Miss Bingley chose to bring up the invitations for the ball, most of which she had written while still in Northamptonshire.
“With this rain,” she said, “it will be best to send a servant around.”
Charles nodded. “We have already invited the Bennets, Caroline, but they should also receive formal notice.”
Miss Bingley’s face grew sour. “I plan to invite a number of our friends from London as well, Charles. We certainly have the room, and it would considerably elevate the ball’s consequence.”
Richard opened his mouth. Darcy stared at his cousin, unnerved.
He tried to communicate without speaking.
Do not mention Elizabeth’s consequence. It is not Miss Bingley’s business and nothing good shall come of it.
His cousin rewarded him with a scowl but remained silent.
Fortunately, Miss Bingley was too irritated with her brother to pay them any mind.
“Choose a few favorites, Caroline. This ball is being held for my Meryton neighbors, a thank you for their kind welcome into the neighborhood.”
Darcy speared his fish and focused on chewing carefully.
It would not do to choke on any bones, after all.
Not that Mrs. Thistlewaite would allow bones in her fish.
The sauce tonight was something light, lemon in chicken stock?
And… sweet, too? He was going to miss Bingley’s cook when he left for town in a few weeks.
He wondered, suddenly, whether Hurst was mourning the loss.
With his head now turned to his plate, Darcy could not see Richard, but suspected he was also hiding as well as he was able. Neither could help but hear Miss Bingley’s exasperated reply to her brother.
“You cannot be serious, Charles,” she said haughtily, and Darcy winced.
He recognized some of his own attitude in that phrase.
Not anymore, he promised himself. Elizabeth would never allow it.
He found comfort in the idea that she would help him keep his pride under good regulation. She was proud, too, but never arrogant.
Bingley was not in the least affected by his sister’s scorn. “I am perfectly serious, Caroline. Any time you wish, Auntie Cleopatra can take over the preparations for the ball. It would be a shame, though. You have already done so much work.”
“Charles, I—” Miss Bingley started to say, but was cut off by her aunt.
“Oh, that would be marvelous,” Mrs. Bingley said, clapping her hands together. “I have such lovely ideas.”
“Charles,” Miss Bingley said, sounding dismayed. “I have already written several of my friends that I am to be hostess. If they were to arrive to dead birds littering the ballroom, they would think it was by my design.”
“Stuffed, my dear,” the older lady said good-naturedly. “They are stuffed.”
Darcy and Richard looked at one another. Richard’s face was a study. Darcy willed himself not to laugh. Miss Bingley’s reply was strangled and undecipherable.
“The answer is simple, Caroline,” Bingley replied, as though he had understood her. “Do not invite anyone from town.”
“We could place the parrot on the punch bowl,” Mrs. Bingley remarked cheerfully. “So colorful.”
Miss Bingley’s face paled. “Charles, stop her,” she insisted.
“It would appear to be drinking!” Mrs. Bingley said gleefully. “How charming.” She speared a roasted turnip and popped it in her mouth.
Bingley just lifted his shoulders and addressed his sister. “What is wrong with putting the parrot on the punch bowl, Caroline?” he asked, a picture of befuddled innocence.
“Very well. Have your way,” Miss Bingley hissed, tossing her napkin angrily on the table. “I shall not invite any of my friends from London.” She turned away from her brother. “Mr. Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice tight and strained. Then she left the room.
Bingley gave his aunt a small smile. “Perhaps we should allow Caroline to decorate, Auntie,” he told her gently. “She has been waiting for an opportunity to be hostess for a very long time.”
The old woman reached over to pat her nephew’s hand. “Of course, my dear.” Then she picked up her fork and tucked into her fish as though nothing had happened.
“I say, Bingley,” Richard said, his smile bright and his cheeks returning to their normal color, “your family dinners must have been exceedingly entertaining.”
Bingley glanced at his aunt, who appeared not to be paying any attention to the men at all. “You have no idea, Fitzwilliam,” he said, the remaining trace of his smile at odds with his words. “No idea.”
The next morning, Darcy and Richard were sitting in Netherfield’s library while Darcy attempted to calculate precisely how muddy the roads were.
If they were sound enough to support the carriage, he intended to make a visit to Longbourn.
He felt sure Elizabeth was warming to the idea of marrying him and he did not wish to lose any ground with her.
Still, trying to ride through the weather and becoming ill would only make it worse.
He could not risk missing his opportunity to dance with her.
“No,” he said impatiently, watching the rain coming down. “It is not going to improve if I just sit here and watch.” He stood. “I shall take the carriage to Longbourn.” He addressed his cousin. “Would you care to join me?”
“We may find ourselves pushing the carriage instead of being conveyed by it,” Richard warned. “The roads in the country can be…”
“Richard,” Darcy said sardonically. “Do you mean to tell me about country roads?” He strode for the door. “It is only one day of rain, and at this time of year, who knows how long this storm will last. It may be our final opportunity to leave the house before the ball.”
Richard frowned at that and followed him out of the room. “The ball is four days away, Darcy. I cannot be confined to the same house as Miss Bingley for four days.”
Darcy shrugged. “You barely see her now, she is so busy with the arrangements.”
“And arguing with her aunt.” Richard smiled wickedly. “Have you seen Auntie Cleopatra pretend to be hard of hearing when Miss Bingley says something she does not wish to acknowledge?”