After an hour with his man of business, Charles Bingley arrived at his home on Curzon Street. Caroline had not been sanguine about the fact the house was not in Mayfair, but she had ceased her complaints when he had indicated she was free to live elsewhere. Regardless of his younger sister’s pretentions, the house suited him very well and he was sure it would suit Jane as well. Unlike Caroline, Jane did not have a pretentious bone in her body.
Before he was able to head for his chambers where his man was supervising the filling of the bathtub, the butler handed his master an express which had been delivered minutes before his arrival.
Bingley entered his study and after closing the door, he sat behind the desk. He broke the seal with urgency seeing it was from his future father-in-law. His worry was some ill had befallen his angel.
He opened the letter which looked rather thick. When he unfolded it, he noticed there was another letter contained in it—a letter of pink pressed paper, the kind he had purchased for Caroline. His suspicions were screaming that his sister had done something she should not have.
He read the cover letter first.
8 December 1810
Longbourn
Bingley,
The enclosed note was sent to Jane by your sister this morning. It speaks for itself. Allow me to assure you Jane is well and is more than confident in what you have between you that she believed not a word contained within.
You will soon understand why, not only you, but your friend Mr. Darcy needs to be made aware of what was written as well.
The whole of my family sends their wishes of happiness to you and Jane. Per Jane’s wishes, the engagement will not be announced until you return to Hertfordshire.
Regards,
Bennet
He unfolded the letter written by Caroline. Even had she not signed the despicable missive with her name, he would have recognised both her script and her signature scent detectable on the paper. By the end of the reading, Bingley was as furious as he had ever been.
As he was now aware, his family and Darcy were on their way back to Town. He would wait to hear what his sisters had to say for themselves before he informed them he knew the truth.
One thing confused him. Why would Darcy cooperate with his sister? Unless of course, his friend was still waiting for him at Netherfield Park. Bingley had been clear with Darcy of his intention to return to Netherfield Park as soon as may be.
He realised his sister would have ordered the house closed. He took time to write a note to Mr. and Mrs. Nichols reversing his sister’s orders and informing them his sister was no longer mistress and would never be again. Also, he would write one to Bennet.
He smiled as he wrote, not because of the situation, but because Darcy thought he was not able to write legibly. He only did that in missives to that particular man because he knew it kept his friend on his toes and it was a way of ribbing Darcy by making him decipher his letters.
In the second missive, Bingley made sure he expressed his outrage at his sister’s perfidy and reiterated his commitment to his fiancée. He also related how happy he was no one at Longbourn had believed his sister’s lies.
As soon as the expresses were ready, Bingley instructed his butler to send the courier to Netherfield Park and then on to Longbourn. The man was to be instructed to wait at Longbourn to see if a reply would be forthcoming.
With that done, Bingley made his way up to his bathing room where the hot bath was awaiting him.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
As much as he was able, Darcy ignored Miss Bingley’s chattering—most of it vitriol aimed at the Bennets. Miss Bingley was calling Miss Bennet—a lady she had called herdear friendin the near past—a fortune hunter. Darcy did not see—he did not want to admit he saw—any affection for his friend, but as far as he was concerned none of the Bennets could be accused of being fortune hunters. That could not be said about the over-dressed, over-scented woman sitting opposite him. Not only was she a fortune hunter, but in addition, an inveterate social climber as well.
Until the first stop about halfway to London, Darcy had looked out of the window on his side of the coach, even if he was not seeing anything. He had rebuffed every attempt from Miss Bingley to pull him into her conversation with her sister. By the time they left the coaching inn, the feelings of guilt, which had begun the minute he had agreed to aid Miss Bingley and decided to prevaricate to Bingley, had filled him with dread. Was he risking his friendship if Bingley ever discovered the truth?
Then again, how would that occur? Darcy was cognisant of the fact his opinions and advice held great sway with his friend. It was what made him confident he would be able to convince Bingley to remain in London and not return as he had planned to do. This knowledge did nothing to assuage the feelings he was betraying Bingley’s trust.
Since the departure from the stop and in order to keep from having to respond to the shrewish harpy, Darcy rested his head against the squabs in the corner and pretended he was asleep.
At least Giana and the Fitzwilliams would be aware of his coming. Just before they departed, he had given his courier a letter for his sister and requested she inform the Fitzwilliams of his imminent arrival.
Hurst did not keep a carriage, so with Bingley having taken his own into Town, there had been no choice other than having the Hursts and Miss Bingley in his coach.
He had roundly refused Miss Bingley’s entreaties to call at Curzon Street when they arrived. He would give Bingley respite until Monday. The man deserved to enjoy the sabbath on the morrow without his illusions of future felicity being destroyed.
The only problem with feigning sleep were the emerald-green eyes which he could vividly see in his mind’s eye as soon as his eyes were closed. If nothing else, Miss Bingley’s underhanded tactics had taken him away from the temptation represented by Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
