I do not own the characters and/or plot of Pride and Prejudice. Thank you and good night. :)
Watching the trees promenade slowly past the carriage window, she thought to herself what a bore the country had been. The most tolerable company had come from Jane Bennet, of all people. Sweet, sweet Miss Bennet. Who tied her ribbons with care and sipped her tea with the pinky slightly raised.
Caroline Bingley sighed and almost thought to slump back in her seat. It was only the sight of Mr. Darcy that prompted her to keep her back straight. His eyes flickered from his book to look at her for an instant. An instant was all it took. She looked like she always looked. Beautiful, yet stiff and somehow cold. Nothing that merited acknowledgement of any sort.
"I wonder what you will miss more, Mr. Darcy," she said, pouncing on the opportunity to be noticed. Her hand flew to a stray strand of hair and she blinked her lashes while seductively twisting it round her finger. "The charming squeals of Mrs. Bennet or Miss Elizabeth's wild hair? The former was more frequent, to be sure. I fear its absence may never be filled, but I do wonder what you think."
"Be quiet, Caroline."
Her hand dropped back to her lap and she looked to her brother.
"Charles," she pleaded, swallowing her hurt, "you simply must invite Miss Bennet to join us in town. There would be no sense in losing such a delightful acquaintance so close to Netherfield."
"The invitation would be more proper coming from you," he murmured, not even suffering a glance in her direction. His eyes were set on the passing scenery. Thinking of what, she couldn't possibly imagine.
"I am sure it would please her mother more to hear from you."
"If my business in London is so great, then I shall have no time for letters," he said, tightening his grip on one of the curtain tassels.
"Caroline, hold your tongue," Mr. Darcy scolded again, looking up from his work.
"Yes, of course, Mr. Darcy," she agreed unhappily, "so that we might all brood on the countless oaks and demure fashions left behind. It is a long way to London, Mr. Darcy. I hope your reading interests you."
Again, she nearly thought to slouch, to cross her arms angrily in front of her breasts, and maybe even throw out a pitiful pout. She refrained, however, and took to playing with the embroidery on her dress instead.
It was a long way to London.