Chapter Ten The Honeymooners Return #2
The servants froze mid-pour. The candles seemed to flicker in anticipation. Even the portraits on the walls appeared to lean in, waiting for the answer.
Richard stared at his father.
"I do not know."
"Do you not?" Jane asked gently. "Richard... do you care for her?"
Richard stood so abruptly his chair scraped against the floor. "I am not discussing this."
The Earl's fist came down on the table like a gavel. "Sit down, Richard. We are discussing this."
"I will not—"
"You will." Lady Matlock's voice carried the weight of thirty years of managing unruly sons. "Sit. Down."
Richard sat.
The Countess steepled her fingers, never a promising sign. "Richard, darling. Easter is approaching. Your father will not wait forever."
"Three weeks," the Earl grunted. "You have three weeks to secure a wife, or I am shipping you to the West Indies. I have already written to the General. He is expecting you."
Richard's face went pale. "You wrote to—"
"Last week. He is delighted to have you. Says the climate will do you good."
"The climate will kill me!"
"Then marry the girl and avoid tropical fevers," the Earl said, as if this were the most logical conclusion in the world. "Twenty thousand pounds, Richard. It solves everything. And she is not hideous. I have seen her. Bit loud, but handsome enough."
Richard's hands clenched on the table. "I am not marrying Caroline Bingley."
The words exploded from him, echoing off the walls.
Elizabeth grinned. "Then why are you so defensive?"
"Because you are all impossible!"
Robert raised his glass, his grin absolutely feral. "To Richard and Miss Bingley, the unlikeliest match since Darcy and Elizabeth!"
"Hear, hear!" Elizabeth clinked her glass against Robert's.
Jane smiled, soft and knowing. "I think... they would be happy together."
Darcy nodded slowly. "She would keep him on his toes. And he would keep her from being miserable. A fair match."
"A terrible match." Richard flushed with indignation. "We argue constantly. She insults me. She wears colours that should be illegal. She is vain, sharp-tongued, and utterly infuriating."
"And kind," Georgiana added quietly. "She is kind when no one is watching."
Richard's head snapped to face her. "What?"
"She is, Richard. I have seen it. She helped Mrs Woolard's niece find employment last month when the girl was dismissed without references. She did not take credit. She simply... arranged it."
"How do you know this?"
"Because I was there when Mrs Woolard thanked her. Miss Bingley told her to stop weeping and to ensure the girl learned proper deportment."
A smile tugged at the corner of Richard's mouth despite his best efforts.
The Countess saw it. Of course she saw it. "You admire her."
"I do not—"
"You do." She turned to Elizabeth. "What do you think, my dear? Would they suit?"
Elizabeth tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think Miss Bingley would keep him from becoming a bore. And Richard would keep her from retreating into bitterness." She paused. "Yes. I think they would suit very well indeed."
The Earl sighed. "Then what are you waiting for, boy? Court her properly. Secure the match. Do it before Easter, and I will not send you to die of yellow fever."
"How romantic," Richard muttered.
"Romance is for poets," the Earl declared. "You are a soldier. Soldiers take objectives."
"I am not taking Caroline Bingley as an objective!"
"Why not?" Robert asked, genuinely curious. "You have already deployed tactical manoeuvres. You attend events with her. You sabotage her other suitors. You dance with her. Those are offensive operations, Richard. You might as well commit to the campaign."
"I hate the lot of you," Richard announced to the table at large.
"We know, darling," the Countess said, her smile serene. "Now finish your soup. It is getting cold."
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of increasingly pointed comments, thinly veiled observations, and Robert's running commentary on Richard's romantic incompetence. By the time dessert arrived, Richard was contemplating desertion.
When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, he attempted escape.
The Earl's voice stopped him at the door. "Richard."
He turned slowly.
"If you do pursue this," he said, his tone unusually serious, "make it quick.
And secure the dowry. But more importantly—" He paused, looking uncomfortable.
"Make certain she wants you. Not your name.
Not your connections. You. Because a marriage built on anything else is a prison, and I will not have my son shackled and miserable. "
Richard stared at his father, speechless.
"Now get out of here before your mother interrogates you further," the Earl said, waving him off. "And for God's sake, make a decision. The tick-tock is deafening."
In the drawing room, Jane pulled Georgiana aside whilst Elizabeth and the Countess discussed the merits of various charities.
"Georgiana," Jane said quietly. "Do you have Miss Bingley's direction?"
"Yes, she is at Portman Square with her brother. Why?"
Jane smiled, a small, determined smile. "Because I am going to invite her to tea. Tomorrow. Here. With Elizabeth and myself."
"Jane, are you certain? She might refuse you, given the past..."
"She will not refuse me," Jane said with quiet confidence. "And if she does, I shall simply arrive at her door with cakes and refuse to leave until she agrees."
Georgiana's eyes widened. "That is very... determined of you."
"I learned it from Robert," Jane admitted. "He is a terrible influence."
She sat down at the small escritoire in the corner and wrote quickly:
Dear Miss Bingley,
I hope this note finds you well. I am writing to invite you to tea tomorrow at Matlock House at three o'clock. My sister Mrs Darcy will be joining us, along with Miss Darcy. I would very much like your company.
Do say you will come. I have missed our conversations, and I believe you will find the afternoon enlightening.
Yours,
Jane Fitzwilliam, Viscountess Keathley
She sealed it with wax and handed it to a footman. "Deliver this to Miss Caroline Bingley at Portman Square. Tonight."
Georgiana watched the footman leave, then turned to Jane with wide eyes. "What are you planning?"
"I am planning," Jane said serenely, "to help two very stubborn people realise they are perfect for one another."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is. But someone must do it. And I am very good at appearing harmless whilst causing havoc."