Betty gave her best imitation of a wicked grin and nodded enthusiastically. “More ’en enough by double!”
“You and Justin are the keys. You say he delivers coal in Mayfair. Can he inquire and discover all the town gossip about the Bingleys with none the wiser?”
“Aye, course he can!”
Jane knew it to be true since Justin was a worse gossip than Mrs Bennet.
She delved into her reticule and found enough coins to set the lad to work and arranged to see them in the park a week hence. She promised to bring more funds, in smaller coins, while Betty promised to bring more gossip.
“This will be good sport,” they said together as they grasped hands before going their separate ways.
The Comeuppance
“Darcy, I need your help!”
Fitzwilliam Darcy looked up from his book with a resigned sigh, wondering what made his friend squeak like one of the younger Bennet sisters. He was weary of helping the man constantly while avoiding his rapacious sister. He thought if he were married, or had more friends, he might sever the acquaintance, as Bingley was sometimes more trouble than he was worth.
“What crisis has your sister caused this time?” he asked with a resigned sigh.
“What makes you think it is my sister?”
“It usually is,” he said, his voice becoming harder.
Bingley helped himself to a glass of brandy, to Darcy’s annoyance, but at least he was unlikely to be required to carry the man out, as he would with Hurst if he had the poor sense to admit the glutton into a room with the finest spirits.
Bingley slammed the brandy down in one gulp, making Darcy wish he had filled the bottle with rotgut gin. He had no notion whether he was more annoyed by the interruption, Bingley’s latest difficulty with his sister, or the waste of perfectly good liquor.
“London is awash with rumours about Caroline,” Bingley said in a near panic, then added in a rush, “and you!”
“What do you mean?” Darcy roared, barely resisting the temptation to slam down his own glass. This would require a clear head.
Bingley grimaced and eyed the brandy decanter hungrily but desisted when Darcy growled and snapped, “GET on with it!”
“There was not a whisper out of Hertfordshire these three months, then over the course of a fortnight, the whole town is abuzz with rumours and innuendo. The gossip says Carolineleftyour bedchamber…several times… in the middle of the night… and not exactly dressed for company. It further asserts as undisputed fact that we left in November because her maid was obliged to let her gowns out.”
Darcy growled and lunged for the brandy.
After filling and draining a glass, he finally said, “So, the rumours suggest that Isampledher dubious charms?”
“That is about the sum of it!”
“You may as well finish.”
“The story circulating is that she left Netherfield because she missed her courses. Now every matron and debutante in London examines her figure like a naturalist with a new species, and her modiste’s business has doubled overnight, presumably with gossip hunters.”
“That cannot be all,” Darcy sighed in resignation.
“I suppose the rest is the ironclad pronouncement that I am a rake, and I abandoned my latest angel without a word when I discovered she would not yield her virtue without a ring.”
Darcy chuckled grimly. “I suppose you deserve that, since you go through angels faster than I do cravats, and you leftyour sisterto notify the lady you would not return—if you considered her at all.”
“I suppose so, but… well,damn it,Darcy, I left her becauseyoutold me to.”
Darcy lost his temper and hurled his brandy snifter into the fire, which produced a sudden flare of flame, and bellowed:
“Blast it, Bingley!Isaidthat her mother was mercenary, her younger sisters were nearly feral, andI could notdiscern any signs of affection. I watched her forone evening… in company…while you talked to her for six weeks. What did you do? Did you return and take leave of her? Did you write to her father? Has she been pining away for you for months? How was she to know you abandoned her? I suggested you be certain beforeyoumarriedher. I did not suggest you kick her into the ditch without a word.”
“Caroline wrote to her,” Bingley said in a whining voice that made Darcy want to strangle him.
