Until she met this man, she had never been so confused. How could she feel an attraction when all she wanted to do was disdain the man? And how did her maxim about her courage always rising fit with the way she had bolted from the library full of fear.
Rather than look for the reasons behind these dichotomies, Elizabeth added everything to the growing list of things she held against Mr Darcy.
All Darcy could do was stand where he was and scratch his head. Yes, neither of them was dressed as propriety demanded, but he had never repulsed anyone before, however, it seemed Miss Elizabeth was indeed repulsed by him. Had his ill-advised and completely fallacious words at the assembly doomed any chance of him making her his wife?
More confounding was how was he to deliver an apology if the infuriating woman would not allow him to speak to her? Being that he was awake, he made his way to his own chambers.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Miss Caroline Maleficent Bingley sat on her bed counting the seconds as the time approached one o’clock. Everything was ready. She was wearing her orange—of course—diaphanous, silk nightrail. It was currently covered by her dressing gown, but she planned to drop that item of clothing on the floor in the servants’ passageway just before she entered Mr Darcy’s suite.
She lifted the page with the diagram Kindle had given her and once more studied the route she needed to follow. With her finger, she traced the way again, as she had many times since she had received it from her maid. It was already committed to her memory, but one more time would not hurt. Although servants usually used tallow candles to move about on their way to or from their betters’ chambers, Miss Bingley would not allow herself to suffer the awful smell of a tallow candle; that was going too far for her. It was bad enough she had to walk on the same boards where only servants normally did. Like the servants did, she would leave the candle in a holder before she opened the door, which would lead her to where she wanted to be, and finally get her due.
When the clock on the mantle above the fire indicated five minutes before the hour, Miss Bingley could wait no longer. She checked herself in the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet and was happy with what she saw. She had debated wearing a turban to hold some of her fashionable orange dyed feathers, but she decided no one would believe she had been in Mr Darcy’s bed for some time with feathers still in place.
Before she opened the servants’ door to her chambers, she made sure the vial of pig’s blood she needed was in the pocket of her gown. If she was to claim Mr Darcy deflowered her, there needed to be some visual evidence. The drops of blood had already been sprinkled on her thighs, so all was ready. Kindle had earned a further five pound bank note for acquiring the vial of blood for her.
As she was positive no servants would be in the passageways at this time, Miss Bingley pulled the door open and entered. There was a little silvery light from the moon and stars shining through the one or two high windows she could see. Just like the diagram, which was etched in her mind, she turned to the right and began to walk. She saw the staircase which had been represented on the page. The anticipationbuilt once she had passed the stairs, as she counted off one, two, and then she stopped at the third door on her right.
The candleholder was where she expected it to be, so she forced the beeswax candle into the receptacle. Before extinguishing the candle, she removed the vial of blood from her pocket. As she would not return this way ever again, she shrugged out of her dressing gown, and allowed it to pool at her feet. Next, she slipped her feet out of her slippers. Once she felt ready, Miss Bingley blew towards the flame, it flickered and died. Her hand was on the door handle before the almost blackness descended on her.
As slowly as she was able, she pushed the door open. Thankfully these doors were kept well-oiled so as to not disturb the occupants when maids slipped in and out to bank fires or build them up.
The interior of the room was in pitch-darkness thanks to the heavy curtains being drawn and well shut. Caroline took a few steps and then one of her feet caught on something and she felt herself falling forward. Instinctually she threw her hands in front of herself to break her fall, allowing the vial to fly out of her hand. Before she fell onto what could only be the form of a human, she heard the vial shatter against the floor or a piece of furniture. Thank goodness some drops were on her thighs.
“Bloody hell! Who is attacking me?” a voice, certainly not Mr Darcy’s rang out.
Darcy stood, took the taper next to his bed, walked to the fire, lit it, and then commenced lighting candles. If he was not so angry at the harridan, he would have been guffawing seeing her lying spread across poor Carstens wearing a night gown which, unfortunately, left nothing to the imagination. After all of the times she had been told he would never submit to a compromise, the woman still made the attempt.
Darcy was at the door leading into the hallway in twosteps. He unlocked and opened the door. The footman was standing where Darcy expected him to be. “Please summon the master and mistress as soon as may be,” he requested. The man, who had heard the commotion in the suite, was off in a flash.
Miss Bingley was still trying to understand why she was lying across Mr Darcy’s valet, and what the damned man was doing in Mr Darcy’s bedchamber anyway?
The very indignant valet squirmed out from under the shrew who had just made an inept attempt at compromising his master. He stood and walked over to where Mr Darcy was standing. “What was the noise of breaking glass?” Darcy enquired of his man.
Carstens looked around and saw the light of the candles reflecting on some glass near the one wall. On the wall was a little red liquid dripping down. “Against the wall,” the valet pointed.
Just then Bingley, Hurst, and Mrs Hurst entered the bedchamber. “Darce, are you well?” Bingley verified.
Darcy cocked his head to the pallet where his valet had been sleeping before he had been awakened rudely. “Caroline, what the blazes are you doing in Mr Darcy’s bedchamber and why are you not covered up?” Mrs Hurst demanded. She pulled the coverlet off the bed and threw it over her sister, who was only now standing.
“Mr Darcy took my virtue! He compromised me, so we are engaged,” Miss Bingley attempted to salvage the situation. Derisive laughter was not what she had expected.
“So, this all occurred with Darcy’s man sleeping in the room?” Hurst queried when he ceased laughing.
Darcy pointed to the still open servants’ door. “Miss Bingley, you stole into my chambers a few minutes ago via that door. As you were unaware my valet was sleeping on a pallet near it, you tripped over him. Never were you near to me, buteven had you made it to me, and you had been witnessed by the Queen and the Regent, I still would not have offered for you. How many times have you been informed I would never submit to a compromise? And more than that, you are the last woman in the world I would ever marry! In fact, had you been the last woman alive, and the fate of humanity depended on our union, even then I would not marry or touch you. You disgust me and I have ever only tolerated you due to my friendship with your brother.”
Miss Bingley was about to attempt to garner sympathy with forced, false tears when she saw Miss Elizabeth at the door in the hall. “This is all your fault! Before you distracted him, he would have offered for me!” Miss Bingley screeched as she ran towards the woman she hated; her nails bared to scratch out her eyes.
She did not get close to Elizabeth before Bingley and Hurst grabbed and subdued the crazed woman. It seemed her dreams turning to ash before her eyes had pushed her over the line between sanity and madness.
The noise Miss Bingley had made had brought all four duty footmen to the hallway outside of the suite. “My sister is to be restrained as humanely as possible. As soon as I am able to travel, I will be taking my sister to be examined by doctors for their opinion of her mental state,” Bingley stated.
He did not have to say where his sister was headed as it was clear to all. Bethlem Royal Hospital would not be where he would send her, however, a humane, private sanatorium would be sought for her long-term care. Even as she was now, Caroline was still his baby sister and he would see her well cared for.
Two large footmen lifted Miss Bingley and with the mistress giving them instructions she was taken to a windowless room which had a bed and could be locked from without.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
