Chapter 1
“I never imagined that our much-looked-for journey of the year should end in such mortification,” Caroline Bingley declared with evident despondence. From the wide stone terrace commanding the sunlit lawns of Pemberley, she observed the cheerful party assembled below, her sister Louisa Hurst seated stiffly beside her.
She had not closed her eyes the whole night. By morning, the mirror betrayed the wretched effects: shadows beneath the eyes and a greyish tone to her face. She arrived late to breakfast, took nothing but tea and a morsel of biscuit, and joined her sister upon the terrace, ill at ease beneath the glare of the sun and oppressed by the recollection of the preceding evening.
The air below was enlivened by laughter, the joyful exchange of voices rising from the park like the rustle of birds through summer trees. Some of the gentlemen had gone to angle in the stream, while Lord Matlock, ever of good humour, remained amongst the ladies, diverting them with accounts of his youth, which, it seemed, even Lady Matlock was hearing for the first time.
“What is Eliza Bennet doing here with the Gardiners?” Caroline asked, her tenth such enquiry that morning. The question, though framed in the exact words, now carried more than an irritation; Louisa discerned the unmistakable inflexion of distress. Her sister had counted on these two weeks at Pemberley as the best occasion to engage Mr Darcy’s attentions. Secretly, she had long cherished designs toward a more intimate relationship.
But yesterday, instead of the gracious evening she had so carefully conceived—complete with a refined dinner and a musical conclusion suited to the setting—Caroline had encountered, seated amongst the guests, the woman she most disliked in the world: Elizabeth Bennet, accompanied by her uncle and aunt. The surprise of it silenced her. Throughout the meal, she had scarcely spoken, limiting herself to the briefest replies when directly addressed.
And with what composure the Bennet woman and her connections had appeared! One might have supposed them the guests of distinction. Even Lord Matlock, usually reserved, was lively speaking and making jokes. Caroline quickly perceived, from his lordship’s indulgent tone, that Mrs Gardiner was the daughter of a former acquaintance, and, far from slighting her lineage, he spoke of the family with warm approval.
As the conversation around the dinner table unfolded, Caroline learnt with deep annoyance that Mrs Gardiner’s family, the Norfolks, were gentry of the neighbourhood, of long-established respectability. Their estate had once adjoined Matlock, and their acquaintance had ripened into friendship during a season of misfortune thirty years before.
“There was a great disparity in age between Miss Norfolk, now Mrs Gardiner, and me,” Lord Matlock began, his eyes bright with recollection. “I was twenty when the fire occurred at Matlock—a lamentable affair. Our father insisted it wasdeliberate, but I have always believed it to be the consequence of carelessness. The flames overtook the bedchambers. We escaped into the night, half-clad, trembling and smarting from the smoke. Mr Norfolk and his men arrived first to assist us, and we were received at Norfolk House. I believe we remained there several days before departing for London. My mother ever cherished Mr Norfolk’s prompt courage and liberal hospitality. Those were days when neighbours were true neighbours; in London now, I scarcely know who lives three doors distant.”
Mrs Gardiner smiled, her manner unstudied, evidently gratified by the renewal of a name long forgotten. It had been more than ten years since she had been addressed as ‘Miss Norfolk.’
“I confess, I cannot remember the fire,” she said with a light voice.
“Quite natural,” replied Lord Matlock. “You were merely a small child. A few years later your family left the neighbourhood, and we lost touch.”
“Indeed. We moved to London, where my father had mercantile concerns. He purchased the house we now occupy with Mr Gardiner and our four children.”
Caroline seized the moment, believing it an opportunity to mark the Gardiners’ want of fitness for such society. “Do you mean Gracechurch Street, where we had the pleasure of visiting you?” she asked, with a tone of studied indifference that in truth concealed disdain for such a neighbourhood.
But her attempt was fruitless. No one appeared discomposed by the mention of Cheapside. Mrs Gardiner answered with composure and a quiet pride. “Yes, Miss Bingley, Gracechurch Street has been our home these many years. My father purchased not only the house but likewise the adjoining ground. Our garden is considerable, and affords ample space for the children’s enjoyment throughout the seasons.”
Lord Matlock nodded in approval. “A great advantage. That is what I find so intolerable in London—our garden is nothing but a narrow slip, and we seldom make use of it. We escape to the country whenever we can. Summer in town is intolerable without some green and the birds’ chirps.”
The conversation moved on, the question of the Gardiners’ address in London being set aside. Even Mr Darcy, once Caroline’s confidant in such matters, glanced at her rather coldly. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was engaged in cheerful conversation with their brother, Charles, who appeared unmoved by his sister’s pointed observations.
Caroline, wounded and humbled, wished only to withdraw; yet propriety detained her, for Miss Darcy had been prevailed upon to perform at the pianoforte, and Caroline must affect attention for the sake of the brother she still hoped to secure.
Music was not her favourite amusement, and that evening the performance seemed without end. Each note from Miss Darcy’s hands was as a blow upon her composure.
Mr Darcy’s eyes were fixed upon Elizabeth; he bent towards her between the pieces, speaking in a tone too low for others to overhear. Caroline felt quite unwell.
When at length the music ceased, Caroline gave her sister a signal, and they withdrew, though the remainder of the guests expressed, somewhat warmly, their wish for the evening to continue. Caroline, however, stood in urgent need of solitude to collect her thoughts and determine how best to proceed under such unwelcome circumstances.
She paused a moment beside her sister before entering her chamber and said, “What am I to do?”
Mrs Hurst merely lifted her shoulders in helpless silence.
“I know not how to behave in this situation,” Caroline said.
“There is far more at stake than your own difficulty,” her sister replied with a shade of reproof in her tone. “We did everything in our power to prevent Charles from encountering Miss Bennet again, and yet, though we are miles from Hertfordshire, here they are, threatening all our endeavours.That familyis everywhere!”
“Did you speak to Charles about his conversation with Miss Elizabeth?” Caroline asked.
“No. Throughout the evening, he remained near Miss Elizabeth. And I have the most powerful apprehension. That young woman is artful. I fear our brother may come to repent not returning to Netherfield last autumn…and to that lady.”
She recalled vividly how Charles had all but driven away another guest eager to sit beside Miss Elizabeth at the dinner table. It was not difficult to discern why he wished to be near her, and their anxiety soon ripened into dread.
∞∞∞
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had every reason to be uneasy. The appearance of Miss Elizabeth had proved no less astonishing to their brother, who, after the first moments of discomposure, had looked about the room in search of another countenance: Jane Bennet’s. Disappointed not to find her amongst the party, he had at once turned his attentions to her sister.
