“If you write a note telling our uncle what you are looking to do, a groom will deliver the missive. His oilskins will keep him and the letter dry,” Elizabeth suggested.
Liking the suggestion, Collins hurried to the study to write his note. A half hour later, a Longbourn groom, covered in his oilskins was on his way riding to Mr. Philips’s office.
Chapter 18
After the third day of rain, it ceased and began to clear up the afternoon of the day before the ball to be held at Netherfield Park. Even though she wanted to demonstrate her abilities to Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley was not happy the rain was ending. It would allow for more than a full day for everything to dry out.
It would have been better had none of the local mushrooms been able to arrive, especially not the two Bennet chits. One, the hated Eliza Bennet had the temerity to use her arts and allurements to turn Mr. Darcy’s head while the older sister had used her own to attract her brother.
She would never allow Charles to marry a country nobody. He was meant for the mousy Georgiana Darcy and her thirty thousand pounds. She, Caroline Maleficent Bingley would do whatever was needed to achieve both aims: Charles would marry the sister and she would capture the brother as her prize.
To that end, a plan was formulating in Miss Bingley’s mind. Charles had mentioned he needed to go to London the day after the ball to meet with his solicitor and man of business in Town. It would be quick work for her to convince Mr. Darcy and the Hursts to follow her brother to London and then she would gain their assistance in convincing Charles not to return to this benighted neighbourhood ever again.
Once they were all safely in Town and away from anyone named Bennet, she would implement her plans for her future. If she needed to compromise Mr. Darcy, so be it.
One thing which frustrated her greatly was the fact that, other than times at dinner and in the drawing room briefly before and after the meal, she was not in Mr. Darcy’s company nearly as much as she needed to be to induce him to offer for her.
Even forcing herself to rise early in the morning and enter the breakfast parlour at an inelegant early hour did not help. After the first time she arrived at that hour, Mr. Darcy was absent thereafter. Much to her disgust she was told he liked to take early morning rides so he broke his fast at an even earlier hour.
Unfortunately, Miss Bingley hated horses unless they were being used to pull the coach she happened to be in. She had been too afraid of the huge beasts to learn and had told one and all she disliked the dirt and smell of the horses hence shechosenot to ride.
Given that fact, she had no way of joining Mr. Darcy for a morning ride which left her with the problem of being severely restricted in the times she was able to demonstrate her suitability for the post of mistress of Pemberley and Darcy House. It was rather perplexing, even these last three days of rain, when Mr. Darcy did not go out and ride, she had not seen him any more than days when the weather was good. She could not understand how that was.
Seeing the sun break through the thinning cloud cover, Miss Bingley was positive there would be no excuse to cancel the ball. As that was the case, she would turn it to her advantage as much as possible.
Being secure in her superiority to anyone in this armpit of society called Meryton, Miss Bingley was confident her fashionable ball gown would give Mr. Darcy no choice but to request the three significant sets from her. How enjoyable would it be to see the moment Mr. Darcy beheld the difference between her own excellent fashion sense and that of Miss Eliza’s who Caroline was certain would arrive wearing a dowdy, very much outdated gown. The pleasure she would garner would be immeasurable while Miss Eliza sat along the wall mournfully, slighted by other men, and she would be standing up with Mr. Darcy for the first set.
Even though he had never danced the first with her, or any single non-family member lady before, Miss Bingley was supremely confident as the hostess she would have that honour on the morrow. Her triumph occurring with the hated Eliza Bennet looking on, would make it that much sweeter.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Wickham was not happy the rain had ceased. The clearing weather meant the damned ball would go ahead and now he needed to find an excuse to miss it. Mr. Bingley had invited all of the officers and not excluded him as he had hoped would be the case. If it had been so, Wickham would have had another excuse to cry persecution by Mr. Darcy, but no, it was not to be. Why had he made that statement to Miss Elizabeth asserting Darcy, not he, would need to be the one to withdraw.
Thinking of Miss Elizabeth, who would have been so much more attractive to him had she been five or six years younger, Wickham could not understand why his well-woven and believable story had not been repeated among the populace of the area.
That fact only added to his bad run of luck, and he was not only thinking of the fact he had already issued many vowels for debts of honour, but in addition, the merchants had politely told him their policy was to provide credit only to local residents who had lived in the community for more than a few years.
As much as he wanted to blame Darcy for this change in his fortunes, he could not. Not only had Darcy not been seen in the town since that first day Wickham ran into him, but he would not have warned the merchants off all officers. Richard Fitzwilliam was after all an officer which supported Wickham’s hypothesis about Darcy doing nothing to hurt all officers.
He saw Captain Carter, Colonel Forster’s adjutant, walking across the parade area with purpose. “Captain, you look like you are in a hurry,” Wickham observed after giving what was meant to pass as a salute.
“I need to find someone to ride to London in order to deliver a dispatch to militia headquarters on the morrow,” Carter related.
“Would the man be able to remain in London overnight and return the following morning?” Wickham enquired.
“Correct. Now excuse me. I must be on my way,” Carter began to turn when Wickham stopped him.
“Do you have a preference for who should carry the dispatch, or will I fit the bill?” Wickham asked hopefully.
“I did not relish taking too long to seek someone for the task while neglecting my other duties. Are you volunteering to pass up a night of dancing?” Carter verified.
“Most certainly, I am.” Wickham found relief. Now he would miss the infernal ball with a legitimate reason for doing so.
After wishing the Captain farewell and agreeing to meet in the Adjutant’s office just after sunrise on the morrow. A much happier Wickham took himself off in the direction of Meryton’s Red Lion Inn.
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The morning of the ball, Elizabeth woke before the sun rose. There had been no rain since yesterday to she was eager to walk out on her favourite paths. She knew the ground would still be moist and would leave her clothing muddier than even the day she had walked to Netherfield Park to be at Jane’s side. At least if she walked out this day, Mr. Darcy would not be there to see her dishevelment. Even though she thought better of him, and believed he was an honourable man, Elizabeth still felt he looked down on her family and those who lived in the neighbourhood.
