Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) Page 9

  Releasing a highly indelicate sound, followed by a blistering curse and violent yank to close the drapes, Caroline stomped to the rumpled bed and fell across it. Screaming her frustration into the pillow, and adding a couple punches for good measure, offered some relief.

  Eliza Bennet engaged to Mr. Darcy!

  For the thousandth time, that one phrase sent floods of fury and misery cascading through her body. The urge to verbally rave or throw another breakable item against the wall was as intense as it had been when she first reached her chambers after leaving the dining room.

  Somehow she had calmly finished her coffee and breakfast, not tasting any of it, sedately climbed the stairs, and traversed the long corridor at a casual pace. She had even closed the door behind her and silently leaned into the solid surface for a good five minutes before the roiling emotions exploded. The housemaid had dropped the pillow she was fluffing and bolted from the room. Caroline had barely noticed. She had already directed her rage at Anna, her personal maid, who had dashed from the dressing and bathing room the second she heard her mistress’s voice.

  Attempts on Anna’s part to console lasted about thirty minutes before Caroline screamed at her to go away. Clearly Anna was relieved to exit the scene of madness, as was Caroline to have her gone. What good was she, anyway? It was unthinkable to confide in her, a servant, and if Caroline had done so, the result would be worse gossip circulating below the stairs than there probably already was. Not that a woman of Caroline Bingley’s station cared what common laborers thought of her, but her humiliation being a source of amusement added to the insult.

  Flopping over onto her back, she scowled up at the canopy over her bed and pondered the same question she had for hours: How could this have happened?

  Eliza Bennet engaged to Mr. Darcy? It was impossible! All of Caroline’s careful designs destroyed by a nobody from a backwater town. The Bennet women should marry men of their own class. Why steal men of substance far above their pathetic circumstances? What right did she have to pick the one man—the only man—that Caroline wanted? Who was she to come out of nowhere and, in a matter of seconds, snatch Mr. Darcy when Caroline had been cultivating their relationship for three years?

  Upon her first introduction to Mr. Darcy, the same month as her debut into Society, Caroline made up her mind to have him. It was a simple, logical decision, and for two years, she had waited patiently. In truth, she was content not to rush into matrimony. The frivolity available to an unattached female of the ton was extremely enjoyable. She excelled in the flirting, delighted in seductive taunting, and adored the attention from both sexes. While having fun, she learned how the wife of a high-ranked gentleman of the gentry was supposed to act in every situation. Her brother’s friendship with Mr. Darcy played to her advantage, the two of them invariably together for stretches at a time. A comfortable level of amiability grew, and since Mr. Darcy did not seem to be in a rush to find a wife or establish female relationships aside from with her, Caroline saw it as merely a matter of her deciding when she was ready to take the next step. When she did, the familiarity between them would make it easy for her to communicate her willingness to accept the proposal she confidently believed he would offer.

  In fact, it was as they were traveling to Netherfield last autumn, at the end of an exhaustive but wonderfully successful season, that Caroline found herself staring at Mr. Darcy’s handsome profile and contemplating the pros and cons of another year of unencumbered gaiety versus the prestigious amusements available as Mrs. Darcy. She was leaning toward the latter and, while not definitively decided, had been formulating scenarios that would make her intentions obvious. Then, suddenly, Elizabeth Bennet and her “fine eyes” entered the picture. Caroline’s planned agenda was tossed into chaos! Between Charles’s ridiculous admiration of Jane Bennet and Mr. Darcy’s inexplicable fascination with Elizabeth, not to mention being in boring Hertfordshire in the first place, Caroline’s temper had remained on edge for months. Luckily, she had her sister, Louisa, to offer comfort and guidance. Best of all, in the end, Mr. Darcy came around and agreed that the Bennets were unworthy. Together they convinced Charles and returned to London without a backward glance.

  Or so she had thought.

  Jumping out of bed, she commenced another furious pace around the room, her mind whirling over the months since then.

  In all honesty, Caroline had recognized Charles’s melancholy over losing Miss Bennet and experienced moments of empathetic sadness. She did love her brother and desired his happiness, primarily because his positive emotional state benefitted her. But she remained convinced that Jane was wrong on every level, and that Charles would come to the same conclusion in time. Gradually he seemed to emerge from his heartache, and as the season progressed, he embraced the activities as fully as in previous years. If not quite the effervescent young man as before, his temperance and maturity was regarded by many, particularly prospective fathers- and mothers-in-law, as advantageous. Caroline and Louisa agreed that in time he would fall in love with another, as he had dozens of times before Jane Bennet.

  As for Mr. Darcy, indeed this past year he had been withdrawn more so than typical. He had spent the bulk of his time away from London, and when in Town rarely left his townhouse on Grosvenor Square. Charles visited with him, although not as often as previous, but Caroline had not once been invited. Their encounters at various social events in Town were few, brief, and in the company of so many other people that Caroline had spoken barely a word to him. Once she had pondered whether his strange behavior had something to do with Elizabeth Bennet, but despite his irritating infatuation, they had left Hertfordshire with no further mention of either Bennet sister occurring in the months subsequent, so she failed to account for a minor interest in a country girl being the cause. Then, distracted by balls, operas and plays, dinners, shopping, garden parties, and other endless festivities with her friends in London and elsewhere, Caroline ceased fretting over it. To her way of thinking, nothing had truly changed. Her plan to become Mrs. Darcy had merely been postponed. With the fall season of shooting and hunting, they would dwell at Pemberley as they had in the past, and everything could then be settled between her and Mr. Darcy.

  Clearly she had been outrageously mistaken. Unbeknownst to her, Elizabeth Bennet had managed to evilly cast a spell over Mr. Darcy. Caroline did not know how or when, but somehow the chit had dug in her claws and tricked a man of uncommon intellect and sense into proposing. There could be no other explanation than a devious ploy. What could a country girl who had never set foot in London Society possibly have to offer a man of means such as Mr. Darcy? What did she know of managing a fine household or hosting a social function or conversing with a dignitary?

  Caroline fell into the chair near the fireplace, shuddering at the vision of Elizabeth as the Mistress of Pemberley. A tragedy! Again she deliberated writing to Louisa. Just as the prior dozen times, she relinquished the idea. Her sister’s sympathy would be soothing, and perhaps together they could work a miracle in devising a plan to break the two betrothals, but Louisa was in Bath on holiday with Mr. Hurst. Unfortunately, Caroline was alone in her misery.

  Mr. Darcy engaged to Elizabeth Bennet. How could it be? Caroline frowned, honestly baffled. What did he see in her?

  She possessed few discernible accomplishments and argued with him abominably. She was ordinary and unremarkable! She did not own a single fashionable gown, not one piece of fine jewelry, nor lone garment of fur. Half the time her hair resembled a bird’s nest of coarse twigs, and it was unlikely a drop of cosmetics had ever touched her skin. How Mr. Darcy could claim Elizabeth Bennet the handsomest woman of his acquaintance was an unsolvable mystery, so it must be the result of an enchantment. Grudgingly, Caroline granted Elizabeth was not hideous to look at or utterly lacking in manners. Admittedly there were scores of worse examples within the eligible ladies of Society, even those with purest bloodlines. But in no respect could she compare to the majority of women in his circle.
/>
  In no way does she compare to me.

  The thought knifed through Caroline’s mind painfully, leaving in its wake an odd restoration of clarity. Shifting her gaze to the tall mirror propped in the corner she critically examined her reflection. High emotion of any type affected her fair complexion in a negative way—that being one reason Caroline had long ago fostered an icy core, to prohibit mood swings—so at the present her cheeks were blotchy and eyes red. This, however, did not hide the facts. Physical appearance was one measure of worthiness, accomplishments and elegance being among the others, and in every point imaginable, Caroline was simply stating the obvious—as anyone with a modicum of rationality would agree—when she claimed her superiority over Elizabeth Bennet.

  Standing, Caroline walked leisurely toward the mirror. She gazed discerningly at her figure. Elizabeth, with her tanned cheeks, dull brown hair, small breasts, and skinny body hidden under drab gowns lacking style, could not hold a candle to the vision of feminine perfection seen in the silvery surface. Caroline did not understand why a lushly beautiful woman caused men to universally transform into drooling dogs incapable of thinking with a body part above the waistline, but it was a fact she intended to exploit.

  The answer is simple, really. Caroline replaced her anger and despair with cold calculation and determination. Now was not the time to be depressed or wallow in pointless regrets. Impossible it may be to turn back the clock and remedy her error in not ensnaring Mr. Darcy when she had the chance; however, until he stood in the church and repeated vows before God, the tragic deed was not final. Caroline Bingley was, above all, a woman who knew what she wanted—that being Mr. Darcy—and she was willing to do whatever it took to get him.

  Her superior attributes had been right under Mr. Darcy’s nose for three years, figuratively speaking. All Caroline had to do was pointedly express her preference and blatantly remind him of her sophistication and exceptional qualities. If that involved placing her finest assets literally under his nose, she would do that too.

  In the morning, she resolved to emerge from her chambers set on a course to steal Mr. Darcy away from the impertinent upstart wholly unworthy of him.

  Caroline Bingley was a woman on a mission.

  * * *

  Jane and Lizzy were waiting on the Longbourn porch when their two gentlemen rode into the yard. With bonnets, shawls, and gloves donned, their purpose was evident. After a rushed greeting and a brief time for the men to pay respects to Mrs. Bennet, arms were secured and they were steered down a winding path west of the house.

  It was a trail Darcy had never walked, and normally he would have paid keen attention to the ground and passing terrain. Instead, he happily trusted Elizabeth’s familiarity and awareness of any hazards.

  What man of sound mind would inspect trees or flowers when the beautiful woman he loved was holding on to his arm and positioned inches away from his body?

  “You and Miss Bennet appeared most anxious to begin your walk. Dare I presume our company was a significant factor? Or were you merely anticipating the delight of escaping the confines of Longbourn?”

  “It is true that I prefer being out of doors rather than within, so I do look for any excuse, no matter how implausible, to escape. Today you gave me a decent enough reason.”

  “Decent enough? Well, I shall have to be satisfied with that!”

  Darcy smiled at Lizzy’s gay laughter.

  “Will you be scandalized, William, to hear that I walk at my own pleasure, braving the elements if necessary, and facing the censure of others upon occasion for my wild ways?”

  “I am not scandalized. I vividly recall your appearance after one such wild walk in the elements and confess I appreciated the picture far too much to censure.”

  “Did you?” Lizzy halted and glanced up at his face. She looked genuinely amazed at his confession.

  “Indeed. Exercise becomes you, Elizabeth. Your eyes were bright and cheeks rosy. A soft sheen bathed your skin, making your face glow. Several tendrils of your hair had escaped your bonnet, and were dancing across your forehead and neck. You were…exceedingly fetching.” To state it mildly.

  “I recall only surprise, and what I interpreted as contempt. Granted, you were silent and grave rather than openly incredulous, like Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but I did not guess appreciation. I apologize for misinterpreting.”

  “An apology is not needed. I was surprised, Elizabeth, for I had never met a woman who would think of walking so far, let alone do it. I questioned your judgment in traversing muddy fields unescorted, in the early morning while the mist remained, and under the threat of further rain. I still believe it an unwise course under most circumstances and hope in the future you will appeal to me before setting out in such a manner. Nevertheless, I soon comprehended your level of comfort in the countryside and that I was wrong to question your capability. Most touching to me was the devotion to your sister. This I can readily understand.”

  “Yes, I suppose you can.” She glanced away from his eyes, her gaze falling on Jane and Mr. Bingley as they disappeared around a bend in the trail. Suddenly she laughed. Darcy lifted a brow questioningly when she looked back at him.

  “I was comparing Jane now, walking happily with Mr. Bingley and mindless of our existence behind them,” she explained as she tugged on his arm and resumed walking, “to the Jane earlier, who argued with me about waiting on the step and whisking the two of you away seconds after arriving. She thought our behavior would be condemned as brazen and unladylike. I bullied her along, with help from mama, but did not successfully convince her that Mr. Bingley would be gratified to witness her enthusiasm. What say you, Mr. Darcy? Who was correct, me or Jane?”

  “As I see it, Miss Elizabeth,” he emphasized her formal name, as she had his, and spoke in an exaggerated, stilted manner, “there is a place and time for proper behavior, and one must take pains to never cross into vulgarity. Undue enthusiasm can be most unsettling. Nevertheless, in affairs of the heart, no one, not even a mature man of confidence, would reject an overt display of affection and—dare I say it?—enthusiasm from the woman he loves. As illogical as it seems, the greater one’s feeling for another, the more he needs to be assured the sentiments are reciprocated.”

  His kept his tone of humorously dramatic instruction but hoped that she would detect the truthful revelation, especially in the last two sentences.

  She held her teasing smile but nodded seriously. “I shall keep your words of wisdom in mind, William.”

  “Excellent!” he exclaimed in relief, and then attempted to lighten the mood. “And I shall remember that you have now confessed to desiring this time with me rather than for the single wish for a walk.”

  “Did I confess that?” She succumbed to laughter at his firm nod. “Yes, it is true. I enjoy every moment with you, and intend to make the most of it. I want to know everything about you, which, of course, means that you must talk freely and be prepared to argue with me if I disagree. Are you up to the challenge, sir?”

  “Like you, I never back down from a challenge, my dear. How do you wish to proceed in this endeavor to know everything about me?”

  “How about beginning with recounting your morning? You said you had letters to write, some announcing our engagement, I believe. Did you complete your task?”

  “Nearly. I shall finish tomorrow. There are quite a number, and I am not the fastest writer.”

  “Oh? I heard you write uncommonly fast.” Darcy chuckled at her reference. “Quite a number, was it? Endless possibilities to reveal the mysteries of Mr. Darcy!” The mischievous glint in her eyes was absolutely adorable, and Darcy resisted the urge to kiss her only with great effort. Luckily, to avoid an unseemly display sure to embarrass them both, she returned her gaze to the trail. “Were they primarily business matters then, or personal? I did not think your family large.”

  “My family is more extensive than you realize. Primarily the letters were personal, although I did write to my solicitor in L
ondon, Mr. Daniels, whom I am sure you shall meet someday. The Daniels firm has handled my family’s affairs for decades. He will begin the necessary paperwork pertaining to our betrothal settlement. I sent detailed instructions on that and a few other matters I dropped when I rushed back to Netherfield.”

  This time, it was he who halted their steps, turning to Lizzy and grasping both her hands between his. For several seconds he could not breathe and forgot what he meant to say. They were not physically closer than when walking side-by-side, but the impact of facing her fully was striking.

  “I have to warn you, Elizabeth, that as unappealing as it is for me, and as loath as I am to be parted during this special time, it is inevitable that I travel to London to personally discuss the specifics and formalize the legalities of the settlement. Additionally, I want to arrange estate business now, before our marriage. With proper planning, my steward and solicitor can keep Pemberley functioning after our marriage, for a time at least, with minimal input from me. Once at Pemberley for the winter, I do not wish our solitude disturbed unless a drastic emergency arises.”

  And since it is quite possible I’ll keep us locked in my bedchamber all winter, they better handle it!

  Visions of Elizabeth in his bedchamber were highly pleasant. They were also unsettling and inappropriate. The thought was a fleeting one, but with her standing directly in front of him, the abrupt barrage of emotions were as strong as they had been yesterday evening when entering Longbourn, and again while in the starlit garden last night. Both times his desire to kiss her overwhelmed his reason. Restraint honed over nearly three decades, and the gentlemanly breeding of generations, all but disappeared. Somehow, he needed to smother his baser impulses before his uncontrolled ardor frightened her into rethinking her choice in husband.

  Your ardor did not seem unwelcome. She did not look frightened before, and looks quite willing to be kissed now.