Chapter 7
During the supper hour, Charles cursed his bad luck as Caroline peppered him with endless questions.
Was the beef roast cooked to his satisfaction? Would he care for more potatoes? Should she call for more rolls? Did he prefer green peas to green beans? Was the fire too warm? Should she instruct the servants to light more candles?
In her entire life, Caroline had never cared one whit about Charles’s comfort or meal preferences, but she went out of her way to ensure that Darcy had everything prepared to his liking. How infuriating.
At least Darcy appeared content to sit with Miss Elizabeth.
Now having a full understanding of what Darcy had endured this past month, he supposed he owed his friend an apology. He knew Caroline hoped to impress Darcy with her skills as hostess and potential mistress of his house, but she was making a dashed nuisance of herself.
However, upon further consideration, he decided to use this situation to his best advantage. “My chef makes the best roast turkey,” he said, despite having no idea if this were true.
When Caroline’s eyes brightened at this observation, he suspected the chances of having his favourite dishes served rather than Darcy’s were quite excellent.
At the end of the meal, Caroline rose from her chair. “Come, Louisa and Miss Eliza,” she said. “Let’s leave the men to their drinks.”
The ladies obediently followed her out of the dining parlour.
“Well,” Darcy said once the footmen had cleared the table and left the room. “That went reasonably well.”
“I must apologise, Darcy,” Charles said. “I can’t imagine how you’ve endured Caroline’s relentless questions this past month. She never gave me a moment’s peace.”
“Now you’re beginning to understand what your neglect has wrought.”
Charles cringed at this reproach. “She never listens to me, or Henry either.”
“You must take a firmer stance, Charles, or she’ll take advantage of you.”
Henry barked out a laugh. “That ship has sailed.”
Darcy relinquished his chair. “Change places with me and sit at the head of your table. We’re drinking your wine, after all.”
Charles changed seats, while Darcy and Henry sat on either side of him. “We’re still no closer to figuring out how to solve our dilemma, Henry,” he said as he filled the wine glasses. That burden weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“I’ve been thinking – you’ve probably been cursed by the dark arts,” Henry said with an uncommonly serious mien.
“Witchcraft?” This suggestion was unfathomable to Charles.
Henry vaguely waved his hand in the air. “Evil spirits or some such thing.”
Darcy scoffed. “Preposterous.”
Henry drew his brows together. “How else can you explain it? Nothing in the natural world caused this mix-up?” he said, pointing to Charles and Darcy. “No, I tell you, it’s devilry.”
“Maybe so,” Darcy said, “but that brings us no closer to finding a solution.”
Henry lit a cigar, blew out a puff of smoke, and leaned back in his chair. “Well, no. I suppose you must find the devil if you are to reverse his spell, or hex, or whatever he’s done.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in such things, Henry,” Charles said.
Shaking his head, Henry took up his glass. “Never did before, but can’t deny it now,” he said, then swallowed down half his wine. “Look on the bright side. One of you could have switched with me instead.”
Darcy visibly shuddered. “Thank the gods.”
Charles grumbled as he refilled Henry’s glass. Tonight was certainly not the first time his brother-in-law had succumbed to Bacchus’s persuasion. Once again, Henry was in his cups.
“How is Miss Bennet?” he inquired.
“Still unwell, I’m afraid,” Darcy said in a grim tone. “Miss Elizabeth is quite worried.”
His mind reeling, Charles despaired at the hopelessness of his situation.
“Is there to be no end to the trouble laid at my door?” he wondered aloud.
If being in the wrong body were not bad enough, Miss Bennet was gravely ill, and Caroline was flirting with him.
His present circumstances were past all endurance.
Since neither Darcy nor Henry offered any solutions, he finished his wine and suggested that they join the ladies in the drawing room.
***
When the men entered the drawing room, Darcy lamented Miss Elizabeth’s absence, but he supposed she must be in the sickroom tending to her sister.
He had been taken aback by her sombre demeanour at supper, so unlike her usual liveliness.
She reminded him of those dark days at home this past summer when Georgiana had been forced to come to terms with losing her first love.
He’d been ill-prepared to advise her and, if not for Mrs Annesley’s gentle guidance, she might still be in the depths of despair.
She had grown up without the benefit of her mother’s instruction, and her absence still weighed heavily on Darcy’s mind.
“What’s your preference, Mr Darcy?” Caroline inquired, gesturing to the card table she had set up for the evening’s entertainment.
Charles raised his brows in amusement. “Shall we play loo?” he inquired with a satisfied smile.
Although Darcy abhorred Caroline’s habit of ignoring her brother’s right as master of the house to select the game, since she had unwittingly done so tonight, he agreed. The five housemates arranged themselves around the small table, and Charles shuffled the deck.
While they were engaged in the game, Miss Elizabeth quietly entered and sat near the fireplace.
“How is Miss Bennet this evening?” Darcy inquired, knowing Charles would want a report.
“She has finally fallen asleep.”
Charles relaxed his shoulders, appearing relieved by this report. “Will you join us?” he inquired, to which she declined, claiming to be content with a book.
“Please feel free to browse the library,” Darcy said, confident that Charles would extend such a courtesy to his guest.
Caroline released a weary sigh. “I am astonished that my father left such a small book collection. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr Darcy.”
Charles kept his focus on his cards. “Thank you,” he said.
“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.”
Darcy clenched his jaw to maintain his composure. Charles must surely comprehend the result of his failure to correct his sister’s forward behaviour this past month. Caroline had inadvertently turned her brother into the object of her attentions.
“Whose turn is it? I’ve lost track,” Charles said, glancing around the table and ignoring Caroline’s question.
“That’s me,” Henry said with a bit too much enthusiasm, then played a card.
“Is Miss Darcy grown much since the spring?” Caroline inquired.
Charles paused to rearrange his cards. “I suppose so.”
Naturally, Charles could have made no other reply. Other than a few minutes that night at Vauxhall Gardens, he’d scarcely set eyes on Georgiana these past few months.
“I long to see her again. I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners. And so extremely accomplished for her age. Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”
Once again, Charles ignored her.
Darcy could scarcely believe the lengths Caroline was willing to go to impress him. She was making herself ridiculous by complimenting Georgiana and asking all manner of inane questions. Did she suppose that she could win his favour by using this senseless tactic?
Hurst tapped his fingers on the table. “Do you intend to jibber jabber all night or play cards?” he said in an irritable tone.
Caroline huffed in annoyance. “You need not be so cross, Henry.”
Darcy could well imagine what Elizabeth must think of this exchange. How fortunate for her to be excluded from this absurd conversation and how unfortunate for him to be forced to endure it.
The game continued without further interrogations. When the clock struck nine, Elizabeth took her leave and retired for the evening. The moment she had left the room, Caroline scowled. “Miss Eliza has the most shocking manners.”
Naturally, Louisa followed Caroline’s lead. “I’ll never forget her appearance this morning. She looked almost wild.”
Caroline clucked her tongue. “Why must she be scampering about the country? Her hair so untidy and blowsy.”
“And her hem six inches deep in mud,” Louisa said, with a bit too much glee for Darcy’s preference. He could only wonder why her husband allowed such untoward behaviour to go unchecked.
“I thought she looked remarkably well this morning, and if her hem was muddy, it quite escaped my notice,” Charles said.
Caroline started at his comment. “I doubt you would wish to see Miss Darcy make such an exhibition.”
Charles flung his cards to the table and rose. “Nor would I tolerate such snide comments from her about a neighbour’s appearance, but I doubt she would conduct herself in such an unbecoming manner. If you’ll excuse me, I need a walk,” he said with a scowl, then strode out of the parlour.
Although Darcy would never have resorted to such conduct, neither would Charles have done so under normal circumstances. In their entire acquaintance, he had never witnessed his friend lose his temper, but he was glad that Charles had finally admitted that his sisters were insufferable.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he said, collecting the cards strewn about the table. “Surely you must know that you have lost Darcy’s good opinion after that little performance.”
“Regardless of his outburst, I suspect Mr Darcy agreed with me,” Caroline said with a careless smirk.
Darcy stowed the cards into the box. “He’s too polite to disparage Miss Elizabeth. Believe me, he was disgusted by your pettiness.”
Caroline huffed in annoyance. “Don’t tell me the same thought didn’t cross your mind when she entered the room this morning.”
“Of course not. I don’t have your uncharitable nature.” In his eyes, Elizabeth’s mud-splattered skirts had done nothing to diminish her appeal. In all honesty, he had been captivated by her appearance. What’s more, although he had noticed her muddy skirts, Charles certainly hadn’t.
Caroline rolled her eyes. “How can you be so tiresome, Charles?”
Darcy turned his attention to the older sister. “Tell me, Louisa. Is that how you secured Henry? By being so mean-spirited?”
Hurst instantly took exception to this comment. “Louisa was the sole of discretion during our courtship.”
“Well then, you must have learned your manners elsewhere, for you couldn’t have done so at home,” Darcy said. Of course, this was pure conjecture on his part, since he had only known the family a twelvemonth.
Caroline and Louisa glared in defiance, but neither said a word to refute his claims.
Hurst finally broke the silence. “Perhaps we should have some music, Louisa.”
Mrs Hurst shot her husband an irritable scowl, but she opened the instrument and played a piece from memory.
Charles returned and secluded himself near the window with the newspaper. The ladies took turns singing and playing, then retired for the evening. After they had gone, Charles cast the newspaper aside. “I apologise for my sisters, Darcy. They had no cause to disparage Miss Elizabeth.”
“In the future, Darcy, I would thank you to refrain from rebuking my wife,” Hurst said in no uncertain terms.
Darcy had no reasonable excuse for his outburst. “I apologise, Henry. I should have exercised better control of my temper,” he said.
“What did he say to Louisa?” Charles inquired.
“Probably no more than I should’ve said myself, I suppose, but I should be the one to reproach her,” Hurst said then released a long, frustrated breath. “I agree that ladies don’t walk unaccompanied in town, but things must be different here in the country.”
Darcy agreed. “It is quite bold, and Miss Elizabeth is rather determined, but there is nothing lacking in her manners.”
Charles released a weary sigh. “I ought to have taken proper control of my sisters but as Louisa’s younger brother, and only three years older than Caroline, I’m not much of an authority figure to either of them.”
“I daresay you might be right.” Twelve years Georgiana’s senior, Darcy had had little trouble guiding her in the right direction. She had been a docile child, eager to please, and until the Ramsgate incident he’d had little cause to correct her. That memory cast him into gloom.
“Shall we drink your brandy tonight, Charles? We missed our nightcap last night, what with all the excitement,” Hurst said with a sly smile.
“Why not?” Charles said, rising. He opened a bottle on the sideboard and generously filled three snifters. After offering the glasses to Darcy and Hurst, he raised his own. “Let’s drink to the devil. May he take pity on us and reverse himself.”
“Hear! Hear!” Darcy replied in unison with Hurst.
After retiring to the master’s chambers, Darcy stared out at the waning moon. One full day had elapsed since he and Bingley had changed places. With no solution in sight, he wondered how long he would be required to continue this masquerade.
Why had it happened? What had caused the switch? To whom should he appeal to reverse it? Did one pray to the devil, or was there some other way of contacting the demon? Perhaps there was some spell or ritual he ought to enact to bring it about.
Bleary eyed, he closed the drapes and collapsed onto the bed.
Drinking a full snifter of brandy might not have been conducive to solving the worst problem of his life, but it certainly had sparked his imagination.
His mind didn’t normally dwell on demons or spells, but this might be precisely what he ought to do.
Did he need to beat the devil at his own game? Had he become the devil himself?
“Mr Bingley?”
Jolted awake by the sound of Henderson’s irritating voice, Darcy groaned. “The devil himself.”
“Hmm. Shall we get you settled for the night?”
Although he hadn’t called for the valet, Darcy knew he ought not to sleep in his evening attire, or Charles’s attire, to be more precise.
He reluctantly rose and submitted to the man’s services.
Thankfully, Henderson refrained from offering his opinion on all and sundry, and made quick work of the process.
Once dressed in Bingley’s nightshirt, he retired and fell instantly to sleep.