Chapter 12 : A Friendship Such As This
"Good afternoon." Caroline Bingley curtsied.
Jane and Elizabeth curtsied in return.
"Miss Bingley, how lovely to see you." Jane smiled. "Won't you have a seat."
"I shall ring for tea." Elizabeth said, forcing a smile on her face.
Behind their visitor, Elizabeth threw Jane a curious look.
When the three ladies sat together, Miss Bingley spoke again.
"I am glad I find you rested after last night's ball. You are looking lovely, my dear Jane." And then looking at Elizabeth, she added, "And you as well Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, she instead thanked her and returned the compliment.
"We must thank you again for last night, I am sure we shall be talking about the Netherfield Ball for years."
"Thank you, I am happy to please." She said the words in so simple a manner, so lacking her usual superior air, that Elizabeth was instantly suspicious.
They went on in that way for a few more moments, before Miss Bingley asked a tour of the Longbourn gardens. "I believe I have never seen them, and Charles mentions that they are so pleasant that you spend so much time there."
"Of course, it would be our pleasure." Jane started to rise when Miss Bingley's hand stayed her. "Pray, Jane, if you will not mind, I would like for Miss Elizabeth to walk with me in the gardens."
"Oh, of course." Jane smiled but her confusion showed in her eyes.
Here Miss Bingley smiled forcefully, and Elizabeth thought she saw a touch of her normal self reflected in her eyes. She felt better for this, for it felt like familiar ground.
"It is so that I may ask Miss Elizabeth questions about you, for after last night, I expect you shall be more than just my friend."
Jane blushed and mumbled an excuse to leave them.
They were quiet upon reaching the gardens. For the life of her, Elizabeth could not imagine what Miss Bingley wished to speak to her about, for she believed that what she told Jane was a falsehood. She can not mean to talk about Mr. Darcy! That would be much too forward of her, and completely improper.
"The dahlias were the first to go." Elizabeth pointed to the patch where the once pink flowers bloomed. "Though the crocuses are enough for a spot of color-"
"Miss Elizabeth, I care not for what flowers are dead or alive in your garden."
Drawing in a breath, Elizabeth smiled at her. "Well, you must then direct the flow of our conversation, Miss Bingley, for I find myself at a loss as to what you may wish to discuss with me. I am quite certain you do not intend to ask me Jane's favorite color."
"Surely you must have some idea, Miss Elizabeth." she replied just as smoothly.
"I assure you, I do not."
Here Caroline Bingley's face hardened. "Leave Mr. Darcy alone."
Elizabeth turned red, but with her embarrassment, did she feel indignation as well. "I'm afraid I do not understand your statement."
"Oh, do stop with your innocent act! From the first moment you met him at the Meryton Assembly you have set your sights on him, at every turn you have set out to catch him. Do not pretend otherwise!"
"I have done none of the things you said, Miss Bingley." Elizabeth said through clenched teeth. Out of anger at her companion's audacity, she added, "And if I did, what concern could that be of yours?"
Miss Bingley sneered. "You are a fool, Elizabeth Bennet, if you think that Mr. Darcy would settle for the likes of you, when he can have so much more! He has but to say the word and I-women, the richest, most beautiful women in the ton will accept him. He can choose from whomever he wants!"
"Yes, I do believe, the choice is his. He is his own man."
"Oh you naïve girl." Miss Bingley laughed. "Do you really believe that such an important man, such an important name will not be bound by duty?" She laughed again, the sound grated at Elizabeth's nerves. "The Darcy name is as ancient as it is noble, and an upstart like you shall never be accepted in that family!"
Elizabeth refused to listen to her hurtful words, they were said in pure spite, to do harm. But at the same time, the words pricked at her. Thoughts that had never entered her mind, now cast doubts. Her companion sensed this, and continued on with glee.
"What do you think his uncle, The Earl of Matlock or his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, will say when they find out that he was entrapped by a country nobody?" Caroline Bingley smiled mischievously.
Elizabeth felt her knees weaken, she had not known of those connections. Indeed, she had always thought that Miss Bingley exaggerated in her praise for his family. He was rich and Pemberley was grand, to be sure, but Elizabeth had never given those any thought. She felt her courage falter.
Suddenly, a vision of their joined hands appeared in her mind, and just as suddenly she realized, that his connections did not matter. Should the fact that his lineage was illustrious change the way she saw the man that she had fallen in love with? For those should neither be a benefit nor a detriment, she loved him, whatever his name or his connections. And that was all. Elizabeth lifted her chin.
"I can not pretend to know what they will say. But this is what I am sure Mr. Darcy will say; that he is his own man, and whomever he chooses to marry shall be none of their concern."
"You stupid girl!"
"Miss Bingley, if not for the pity I feel for you at the moment, you would find yourself on the ground." Elizabeth looked at her with hard eyes.
She backed a step away from Elizabeth. "You pity me? I am superior to you in all aspects! How dare you?"
Elizabeth could not help it, she was not a saint. "And yet with all your superiorities, Mr. Darcy hides from you."
Miss Bingley looked as if she had been slapped. Her mouth trembled as she stuck her chin out. "You will never have him."
And with that Caroline Bingley took her leave.
Elizabeth stood watching as she left. Only when she heard the carriage leave did she allow herself to succumb to her weakened knees. She stumbled back and sat on a garden bench.
Caroline Bingley stood in the Netherfield study and held the letter she had just completed. She waved it vigorously in the air, when the ink dried, she folded it and sealed it.
Summoning her maid, she held the letter in her hand, almost caressing it.
"I need a servant to deliver this posthaste. It must be given directly to the hands of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, he must ride straight to Kent."
When her maid left, she went straight to the decanter of brandy that her brother always kept full. She had drank it before, he never knew of course. She filled the glass and without preamble downed a large portion of the drink.
Darcy intended to go to Longbourn ahead of Bingley. When Dawson, his valet, told him that his friend was still asleep, Darcy had decided that he would not wait, he simply could not wait anymore, he had to talk to Elizabeth, he had to tell her what it was that his heart wanted; her. And so it was with part nervousness and part anticipation that Darcy dressed.
Dawson had left him in his chambers while he finished his very late breakfast. He was about to reach for the door when it opened quickly and in came an anxious looking Dawson.
"Sir, I have just been from the kitchens."
"Good god, Dawson, if you are going to gossip, please spare me." Darcy laughed good-naturedly.
"Sir." Dawson's countenance was grave.
Suddenly nervous, Darcy gripped his shoulder. "What is it, man?"
Dawson spoke as quickly as he could. "Miss Bingley's maid was beside herself with alarm, she went to the kitchens to ask help from Mrs. Clive." Dawson swallowed. "Miss Bingley was found inebriated in the study, she apparently had too much brandy."
Darcy felt himself relax, laughing, he said. "That is unfortunate, but why is that my concern?"
"Sir, in her state she told her maid things."
A feeling of foreboding entered Darcy. "What things, Dawson?"
Dawson did not meet his master's eye.
"Spit it out man!"
"She said that she did something to save you from Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"What? What did she do?"
"That is all the maid said, sir."
Darcy paced the room thinking. What could Caroline Bingley have done? Damn the woman!
"Where is she now?"
"Still in the study, sir."
"Wake Bingley, she has finally gone too far."
Where was Bingley? For the sake of his friend, Darcy kept his temper in check, but he could no longer be patient with Miss Bingley, he must find out what she did.
When she had seen him enter the study, she had looked at him, her eyes full of anger. At first it had seemed as if she had perfect control of her senses, no influence of the brandy she still had in her glass. But as she spoke, Darcy realized that she was completely drunk.
"I have accepted, sir, that I can not have you. But I will not accept that you will be wasted on that country chit! Choose anyone else from the ton, for god's sake! They will line up for you! I can accept that! But not her!"
Darcy had flinched at her words, had he known the extent of Miss Bingley's feelings for him, he would have found ways to discourage her long before, he would not have had Charles in mind.
"When I wrote to your aunt. I told her all your follies and how Miss Elizabeth Bennet has entrapped you."
Damnation! That was it. Darcy wanted to shake her. Using the last of his control he continued. "And what presumption, pray tell, promoted you to do that?"
"I was only looking out for your best interests, Mr. Darcy, she sees you only as a way out of her small world, can you not perceive that? She has entrapped you, feigning affection, and innocence, and friendship and-and love! That does not exist! Not in our world, neither does it in her ambitious little world! You will see that I am right. Your aunt will make you see that I am right."
Darcy's mind was a barrage of thoughts.
"When did you write to my aunt?"
"Just as I got back from calling on that chit. I had a servant ride to Kent, to deliver my letter directly to Lady Catherine." She waved the glass in the air, spilling its contents.
Just a few hours, he could still intercept the letter.
"She will be exposed for her true ambitious, pretentious self! Lady Catherine shall expose her!"
Then in a sudden burst of tears, Caroline Bingley, threw herself at Darcy and clung to him.
"Oh, Mr. Darcy I beg you, do not waste yourself on her! I can make you the best wife, I, who know your place, your worth in society!"
Enough! He needed to leave, he needed to stop that letter from reaching Kent. He knew the extent of Lady Catherine's wrath. He could weather it, it would not break him. But it was Elizabeth he was most concerned for. He did not want his aunt anywhere near Elizabeth. When—if she accepted him, he would face Lady Catherine on his own and tell her of his choice. She would accept his decision, and if she did not, then he would bear the loss of an aunt. But he would do all that he could to shield Elizabeth from Lady Catherine.
Miss Bingley's arms tightened around him. Darcy could see that intoxicated, jealous, and spiteful, Miss Bingley was well beyond the reach of rationality. She could be dealt with better once she was sober. Darcy's patience was wearing thin, he wretched her arms from around him and forcefully sat her down.
Glumly, she plucked at the ribbons on her gown. When she looked up, Darcy had already left the room.
A/N:
Hello, everyone!
First, I want to let you know that five minutes after posting, I went back and I edited (cut out!) a good part of the ending in this chapter. I was not satisfied with how it tied up with the rest of the story. Unfortunately, I did not delete the chapter while I edited, so it was still up.
And so to confirm my thoughts, when I saw the comments, some of you had the same thoughts as I did. The original did not feel right.
I plan to put the revised part in the next chapter. Thank you for being patient! You are the best teachers! :)
P.S.
Apologies for any typos, omissions, etc. I wanted to post this as soon as possible. Will check and edit later on today. :)