Ooops or Consequence & Consequences Chapter 18, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Again, thanks for all your comments, encouragement and support.

Here is something else you have been waiting for

Enjoy.

~~~o0o~~~

While Bingley looked around for his sister, he remembered his manners, which her rudeness had temporarily driven from his mind.

Since he was not acquainted with his host, he asked a servant to point out the Duke to him. The footman looked around, and spotting the gentleman, indicated his employer.

Bingley exclaimed, 'but that is Mr Bennet.'

'That, Sir, is Lord Thomas Bennet, the Duke of Barrington.'

Bingley remembered the speculation at the club regarding the new Duke. How he was from Herefordshire and had quite recently come into the title. He realised that someone must have mixed up Herefordshire with Hertfordshire.

He suddenly wondered to the reason why Mr Bennet, the Duke, had not responded to his letter. Had he been absent when the letter arrived and the letter had subsequently gone astray, or, more likely, the Duke did not consider the son of a tradesman a suitable husband for his oldest daughter.

Mr Bingley vacillated whether he should approach the gentleman. In the end curiosity and manners won out. He would greet his host, and perhaps he could ascertain what had happened.

He approached the Duke, and when the gentleman looked at him, he bowed. 'Good evening, Your Grace. I wish to thank you for your invitation, but also apologise for our tardiness. There was an accident with my sister's toilette.'

The Duke smiled sarcastically. 'Good evening, Bingley. What was it? Too many uncooperative feathers?'

'I am unable to say since I am no expert on ladies' attire.'

'Lucky you. I have to listen to chatter about fashion from seven ladies.'

'In that case, I offer my sincere commiserations. But if you will allow, I would also offer my congratulations on your new position. I had not realised your connections when I was a Netherfield.'

'To be honest, my family had almost forgotten the connection, until the old Duke was on his deathbed. He had been the Duke since well before I was born.' The Duke carefully observed Bingley who was fidgeting. He considered toying with the boy for a while, but he did not have time for such amusements. Instead, he asked, 'what is on your mind, young man?'

Given a chance with such a direct question, Bingley blurted out, 'why did you not respond to my letter?'

'Which letter? I received none from you and I was quite carefully watching out for any message.'

'I wrote to you in the middle of December, since I had been delayed in town.'

'What was the delay? Hmm?' The Duke asked with a raised eyebrow, although he had his suspicion.

'My sister was very much engaged in society and needed my attendance.'

'I quite understand, Mr Bingley. It would be insupportable to discommode a lady in her pursuit of amusements, away from the savages in the countryside.'

Bingley slowly realised that the Duke was taking him to task for his inability to control his sister. His sister, who had been excessively vocal about her objection to the Bennet family. Caroline who had not wanted to return to Netherfield under any circumstances.

Would she have gone so far as to intercept his mail? The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he had discovered the reason for not getting a response from Mr Bennet.

Bingley's eyes sought out Lady Jane in the crowd. The second set had finished, and she was again pleasantly chatting with her dance partner from the first set.

'Am I too late to make my apologies?' he asked quietly, almost to himself.

The Duke followed Bingley's gaze, and answered just as quietly, 'I am afraid so, by about two months.'

Bingley looked at the couple for another minute before turning back to the Duke. 'That was why you invited me tonight.' It was a statement, not a question.

'I wanted there to be no misunderstandings.'

'Thank you, Your Grace. I think I will go and find a drink now.'

'I would recommend some fresh air instead.' The Duke nodded towards the door to a balcony.

'That would probably be wise, but at the moment wisdom escapes me. My Lord.' Bingley bowed and went in search of refreshments.

~~~o0o~~~

Lady Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam were leaving the dancefloor when they encountered a virago in bright orange.

Miss Bingley had toured the rooms in frustration. She had searched for Mr Darcy, who was certain to be at such an exclusive event. But he had proven elusive, as did her brother. She realised that she did not know anyone who could introduce her to the rest of the guests, although she had thought that she had seen Miss Elizabeth on the dancefloor at one point. But even if that country Miss was at this function, she would not prevail on her for any introductions. It would simply be too humiliating.

Eventually she did notice two familiar faces leaving the dancefloor. Miss Jane Bennet on the arm of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Miss Bingley approached the couple.

'I had not realised that standards had slipped so badly that they allowed country mushrooms into the homes of the quality,' she sneered.

'Please Miss Bingley, moderate your voice,' pleaded Jane, not wanting anyone to spoil the ball.

'Why, Miss Bennet? Are you afraid that people will realise that as a country nobody, you do not belong in such an exclusive gathering?'

'Even if Lady Jane were only the daughter of a minor country gentleman. A lady with her genteel manners is always preferrable to the unmannered daughter of tradesman with delusions of grandeur,' declared Colonel Fitzwilliam.

'Why are you calling her Lady Jane? I will have you know that she is nothing but a penniless country chit, and if she is calling herself Lady, she is giving herself airs above her station,' huffed Miss Bingley. 'Lady indeed. Lady of the night, perhaps…'

'You have said more than enough,' thundered the Colonel, while in the background could be heard, 'it takes one to know one,' in a stage whisper.

'You are obviously an ignorant cit not to know whom you are insulting. Lady Jane Bennet is the daughter of Lord Thomas Bennet, the Duke of Barrington.

'That would be me,' interjected the Duke, who had arrived on the scene and waved away the attempt at a bow by the Colonel, and the murmured, 'Your Grace'.

'It seems there has been some mistake with the invitations. I could have sworn I invited the Ringleys not the Bingleys.'

Caroline stuttered, 'M… M… Mr Bennet?' She looked around wildly. 'B… b… but… you are… a nobody.'

'True enough, but my great-great-uncle was the Duke of Barrington, and I was the only male in the family who was left to take the title. I just hope my dear Jane finds a good man amongst her peers.' He smiled ingeniously at Miss Bingley. 'But it will certainly never be a man who lets himself be influenced by his social climbing sister.'

The words started to slowly sink into Miss Bingley's awareness. She had separated her brother from Jane believing the chit to be beneath herself, despite the fact that as the daughter of a gentleman, even a minor one, Jane technically had a higher rank than herself. Now she found out that the Bennets had been hiding their light under a bushel.

She could have been the sister of the next Duke of Barrington. She could have been the sister of the next Duke of Barrington. And she had ruined it by thinking that her brother could do better.

The realisation of the consequences of her actions, combined with the frustration of shattered dreams were too much for her mind to deal with. Miss Bingley fainted.

Not one person thought to break her fall.

~~~o0o~~~

Miss Caroline Bingley was slowly regaining consciousness with a throbbing headache. She found that she was lying on a daybed, which was hidden behind a screen.

She did not recognise her surroundings and wondered where she was. It looked like a lavish ladies' retiring room.

Slowly her memory returned. She had made a fool of herself. But how was she to know that the Bennets had a title hidden away behind their rustic exterior.

When she had spotted Miss Bennet at the ball, she had chosen her moment carefully. She approached the chit when she was with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy's cousin. Miss Bingley wanted to ensure that her set-down would get back to Darcy, to make herself look like the defender of status and good taste. Instead, her scheme had rebounded against her.

She was still licking her metaphoric wounds, when a door opened and two women entered while gossiping.

'Did you hear the juiciest bit of gossip? Would you believe that Caroline Bingley, you know, the daughter of that tradesman, had the audacity to warn her brother away from yet another lady with whom he was enamoured. I know, that social climber is trying to pick the highest plum. But I think she is now suffering from delusions of grandeur.'

'Why?'

'Because the latest lady who was not good enough for her brother, or at least her own ambitions, was the daughter of the Duke. Can you believe it? Who does she think he will attract, who will rank higher than a Dukes daughter? A princess perhaps? If she were not already the laughing stock of the ton due to her atrocious taste in gowns, she certainly would have achieved it with this piece of foolishness.'

Caroline Bingley kept as quiet as she could despite tears of shame and frustration streaming down her face. She had certainly cooked her own goose. She would never be able to show her face in town again, and there was now no hope that Mr Darcy would ever consider tying himself to someone as scorned as she was.

Perhaps leaving the country was the only option.

~~~o0o~~~

Unlike several other guests, Colonel Fitzwilliam had a wonderful evening. He even got his wish to be present when Miss Bingley threw her tantrum. Although he had been concerned for Lady Jane, the sight of Caroline making a complete fool of herself had been delicious.

But that had been an hour ago. Now he was seated next to the enchanting Lady Southwell, and thoroughly enjoyed their conversation. He had been correct when he suspected a fiery personality.

She had a rapier wit, and he enjoyed sparring with her, and did not care if he won or lost. As a matter of fact, he had just lost the last argument.

He said into the ensuing pause, 'My Lady, I have to thank you. I cannot remember when I last enjoyed a conversation as much as this one.'

'You enjoy losing an argument, Colonel?'

'I do not care if I win or lose an argument, as long as it was well fought on both sides. Admittedly, in a physical battle, I would care greatly. But I will survive the wounds that you have inflicted.'

Elizabeth looked at the Colonel speculatively. 'Colonel, you are only the third man I have met in my life who enjoyed arguing with me. The first one is my father.'

'Who is the other lucky man who shares this distinction?'

'A friend who shall remain nameless. I would not ruin his reputation by giving away his secrets,' she smiled impishly. 'After all, Colonel, I do not suppose you would want it bruited about that you can be beaten in a debate about politics by a mere woman.'

'As long as I can win debates on military strategy and tactics, I am well satisfied.' He dropped his voice, 'though I will admit that a number of ladies I have known would make better generals than some of the oafs I have to deal with.'

'You have just confirmed my long-held beliefs. One's sex and rank does not automatically confer sense.'

They continued their discussions until the end of the meal. Both left the table eminently satisfied with the encounter.

Elizabeth had enjoyed the honest respect displayed by the Colonel, while the gentleman revelled in the fact that Lady Southwell did not simper.

~~~o0o~~~

Mr Bingley had indulged in a few drinks ensconced in the card-room, when he overheard a discussion between two gleeful gentlemen. While he had not planned to listen, the name Bingley caught his attention. It seemed that he had missed the excitement of his sister making a complete fool of herself.

He considered his options. While the Duke had been pleasant and understanding, he had made it clear that Bingley had lost his chance with Miss Bennet, or rather Lady Jane. Since there was no reason to remain at the ball, he considered how to get his sister out of the house… quietly.

He consulted a footman, who passed him onto the butler, who in turn arranged for a maid to check on Miss Bingley, and lead her out of a side door, where she could enter the carriage without anyone being the wiser.

While Miss Bingley was spirited out of the house, Bingley approached the Duke to make his farewells. 'Thank you for an interesting evening, Your Grace. It has been most educational. Please accept my apology for the incident earlier. I will see to it that such a thing cannot occur again.'

'I wish you good fortune, Mr Bingley,' was the Duke's parting reply.

~~~o0o~~~

A/N

As I've said before, I appreciate constructive criticism.

But there is no need to be abusive or SHOUTING (especially if you are wrong. ooops). If you find my imperfect use of the English language offensive, please feel free to stop reading my stories. After all, there is no need to torture yourself.

Also, while I try to stay close to Regency era (I research a lot of expressions), this is fiction, not an historical account. Think of it as an AU. It is close, but there are differences.

~~~o0o~~~