Chapter XI.

"Caroline, what on earth did you mean in plying Miss Lydia with so much wine all evening? Did you intend for the ball to be ruined so?"

Miss Bingley made no form whatsoever of a reply to her sister. Truth be known she was now as dissatisfied as Louisa about how the ball had turned out. She had meant for Lydia's move to grab a sword and be chased around by an officer to be noticed by only two people, not the entire invited population of the ball! What was more, and what was far worse, the very two people she had intended the incident to be noticed by, did not notice it at all! Instead, they had gazed at each other all night.

A knock sounded, breaking the temporary silence of the room. Mrs Hurst bade whoever it was to come in. "The Countess of Saffron Walden and Miss Bennet are here to see you all, ma'am," spoke a footman.

Miss Bingley snorted and sent a look of disapproval to the servant. "Fosset, how many times have I told you not to call me Ma'am. I am Miss Bingley, not a spinster!"

"Yes, Miss Bingley. Sorry Miss Bingley," Fosset replied, before backing out to let the visitors in, so he could return to the peace of the kitchens, and the kind company of the housekeeper.

As Mrs Hurst greeted the visitors, Caroline resumed her seat with the look of annoyance still displayed upon her features. After all that she had attempted in vain yesterday, the arrival of the very two people she wanted never to see again was naturally most distressing. So focused upon brooding as she was, she almost missed her sister's first words of conversation.

"I am afraid it is only we ladies who are in the house today," Louisa began, "for Charles and Mr Darcy have gone to London on business."

Miss Bingley concealed a smug smile. She had nearly forgotten that piece of news. Partly because Charles had chosen to announce to all the nature of said business just before he had left. Said nature had also left her in a fuming state. Still, Miss Bennet did not yet know the nature, and if Miss Bingley had her way, as she was determined to do so, Miss Bennet would never find out.

"Yes, we know," the Countess replied with a small smile. "Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy informed us of their short absence last night."

"Short?" Miss Bingley repeated in perfect wide eyed innocence. "I never heard anything from Charles as towards the length of his stay. Did you Louisa?"

"No," Louisa answered with perfect understanding of her sister's intent. "I do not believe I did either, Caroline."

"That is most strange," a voice suddenly commented, her innocence from a source of perfect truthfulness, "for I am sure that I was in the room with you all at the time, and I heard your brother say that he would be back within a day or two."

Caroline put her cup of tea rather noisily back down on the tray nearby and almost glared at the speaker. She had forgotten Miss Darcy was with them. Her last minute attempt at rescuing the damage of last night would have to be ditched.

At least for now.


Georgiana did not return to the Drawing room after the departure of the Countess and her sister. Instead she slowed down her walk, and watched Miss Bingley make her way to the room that she used for her correspondence.

Catching the door before it could be locked, Georgiana pressed the small, almost unnoticeable dent in the wood. Carefully she slipped inside the little passageway that lay in between the room and the hallway. She and Darcy had discovered these passages when Bingley had showed them the estate plans.

The house had once been owned by Catholic sympathisers in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and the passages for accessing the priest holes had remained unchanged by time. She pressed forward, watching the movements of Miss Bingley's hand, which could be clearly seen from the small hole in the wall in front of her.

Some minutes passed before Miss Bingley exited the room, leaving Georgiana able to slip out of the second exit for the priest hole. The remains of the letter that had been written were quite detectable upon the blotter. Miss Darcy only had to read a few words before the import of it became clear to her.

Instantly she left the room and went to her own upon the first floor. By the window lay her very own Davenport, her last birthday gift from her brother. She seated herself in the chair, laying out the necessary materials for a letter of her own.

Miss Bingley was not going to stop Mr Bingley from obtaining happiness. Miss Darcy would see to that.


"Sir, there is an express waiting for you."

"Thank you Guildford." Darcy took the paper from the footman and watched him depart. Then he turned over the letter to see if he could discern the identity of the author. A second was all that he needed to do so. The name of the sender shocked him to the core. He remembered the last time he had been sent an express from Georgiana; Ramsgate, last summer. Hardly caring for the presence of his friend, Darcy ripped apart the seal and read the information contained within.

His first act afterwards was to sink into a chair and breathe a loud sigh of absolute utter relief. His second was to read the express again. Then, without a word of explanation, he handed the paper over to his friend.

Mr Bingley needed to read the letter three times before he could take any of it in. "How could she do this?" He cried aloud. "My own sister would wish me to sacrifice all my hopes of happiness in favour of a wealthy marriage?"

Darcy merely glanced sympathetically at his friend. They had only just returned to his house in town, having been out most of the morning they had arrived. Bingley had wanted his second and impartial opinion on something, and upon hearing what that something was, Darcy had been only too happy to comply. Now he steepled his fingers together and calmly remarked, "Who is to say that Miss Bennet is not a good match?"

"Certainly not me, Darcy!" Bingley cried, still astonished by the scheming of his sister. "And I did not mean to imply that I believe the opposite."

"Neither did I, Charles," his friend replied, dropping formality to assure him of the seriousness of his point. "I merely wished to point out that your sister does not possess the full facts concerning the nature of Miss Bennet's connections and fortune."

"No, she doesn't," Mr Bingley agreed, "but I still do not see how such knowledge would make her not want me to marry dear Jane!" He sat down opposite his friend. "I understand from Jane herself that she will only inherit a share of five thousand pounds upon the demise of her father and her mother."

"That is not entirely true," Darcy continued. "After the Countess' husband passed away, he left everything to her. She in turn helped to raise a further three thousand per annum on her father's estate, and promised each of her sisters thirty thousand either when they married or when they had reached the age of five and twenty."

"How do you know of this?" Mr Bingley asked, mystified.

"Mr Bennet told me so last night." After the man had announced his judgement upon him, they had talked further while the Countess had been with her sister. During this conversation Darcy had learned many things about the woman he was fast supposing himself to be in love with, and he had fallen even more deeply for her as a result.

"Mr Bennet told you..." Bingley trailed off in incomprehension. "You find the oddest things to talk about with everyone, Darcy!"

His friend merely shrugged his shoulders before getting up and moving to gaze out the window. Charles observed him with the slow dawning of realisation. "And just why did Mr Bennet seek to discuss his second daughter with you?"

His friend did not move from the window. "No reason."

"Really?" Bingley uttered in a tone that implied he knew exactly what the reason could be, and did not need to voice the notion, for his friend would understand that he knew what he knew. Laying the express from Miss Darcy on the desk, Charles leaned back in the armchair, and returned to their original topic. "We shall return to Netherfield tomorrow. Where I intend to give Caroline a lecture that she will not forget!"


Elizabeth laid aside her book and raised her eyes to the window. Gazing out at the prospect of Stoke Edith's grounds, she silently reflected on all that had happened since she had left the house the night before, for the Netherfield Ball. She blushed as the nature of her first recollection came foremost to her mind; that of her dances with Mr Darcy.

Indeed, apart from that time he had spent with her father, and she with her sister, he had scarcely left her side the entire evening. Other than the dances however, they had rarely been alone. After he had escorted her into the supper, they had been joined by his sister, then eventually Jane and Mr Bingley.

Dividing her time between observing the actions of the latter duo and coaxing Miss Darcy into greater confidence to talk, Elizabeth had only heard of her younger sister's incident with a sword afterwards, when she had travelled with her father- who had wished for the silence of her carriage over the noise of his -to Longbourn.

Thanks to his keen observation, Elizabeth had learnt the cause of her sister's antics as well, which was why she had stayed at Longbourn overnight once more, and accompanied her sister to Netherfield the next morning. Unlike herself Jane was too good a person to suspect anyone of guile, and if she had not been with her, Elizabeth had feared her returning with the belief that Mr Bingley would never return to Netherfield, despite his professing the contrary to both of them the night before.

Elizabeth sighed. She wished her sister much happiness in what she knew with almost complete certainty was to come, but she also knew what Jane would wish for her in return. And Elizabeth, as much as she would like to please her sister, did not believe she was ready for any thing of that nature. Furthermore, she doubted that she would be ready for quite some time.