Note: This is partly in response to the "I Pity the Fool" challenge from MightierThanTheToothbrush. See if you can determine who are the fools and who is simply playing the fool.

Chapter 18 – Playing the Fool

"Charles! You have to escort me to the Clayforth Ball tonight! You cannot expect me to attend without a proper escort! Besides, Miss Clayforth was heard to say that she found you quite handsome. You must go!'

"Silence, Caroline! Your voice right now is like a knife to my brain. I've already spoken with Hurst and he has agreed to act as your escort. I have spent the last three weeks listening to you and shepherding you from soiree to ball to card party and every event in between that you just had to attend. I am done for now. Let me rest and overcome this headache, then we'll see about what else we can attend." He ignored his sister's glare and turned back to his study. Just before shutting the door, he turned back, "And stop wasting your time looking for a wife for me and find yourself a husband!"

There was more screaming outside his door, but as he had firmly locked it and he was the only one to possess a key, Charles could not care less. He smirked, but then startled when he looked up to find his valet looking at him, "Oh! My apologies, Harris. It seems that I've locked you in here with me..." he glanced back at the door where an angry termagant was pounding on the other side and shouting most unladylike things. "It appears that you are stuck here with me for a while. Wouldn't be safe to open the door before she departs for the evening."

Henry Harris, Bingley's valet, nodded in his usual unemotional and nonjudgmental manner, "It is a matter of little concern, Mr. Bingley. I stepped in to borrow a book. As you can have no other duties for me at the moment, I shall read in here." And having said that, he settled in a comfortable chair and lost himself in the book he had chosen.

Of course he only seemed to be focusing on his book. Had Charles taken a moment to peer at the title, he would have wondered about the man's choice. After all, why would his valet have an interest in books about power looms? But Charles Bingley was too lost to alcohol and despondency to concern himself with such matters.

Four weeks ago he had left the most beautiful angel in England in order to see to several important matters of business... and to commission an engagement ring. He had just completed the latter task when he returned to find his sisters, his elder sister's husband, and his best friend Darcy encamped in his sitting room. They should have been at his leased estate in Meryton, Netherfield, waiting his return.

For the next five hours they argued, cajoled, and made his life miserable trying to talk him out of returning. "Jane is not worthy of your attentions!" "Her family is horrible!" "They are an embarrassment!" "She only wants you for your wealth!" "Can you imagine such a mother-in-law?" The assault went on and on, but Charles Bingley held steadfast... and then Darcy spoke up, "Charles, I can see no trace of affection on her part. I know that you care for her, but she looks at you and smiles at you no differently than she does to every other man. I am sorry to say this to you, but I believe that it is so."

It had been a knife to his heart and to his confidence that his sisters jumped on with both feet and continued to drive home until, defeated, Charles had crawled up to his bedchamber and lost himself to a broken sleep.

Since then his younger sister Caroline had been relentlessly demanding his escort to every silly gathering she could secure an invitation to, throwing pretty young women at him constantly. Charles had had enough. Sighing, he reached for the decanter on his desk and poured himself another drought. He never noticed how attentively his valet watched as the master drank down the concoction.

Charles opened his top drawer and extracted the little box that had only arrived that day. Opening it, he looked at the ring and took another drink.

oOoOOoOo

Charles Bingley awoke to an even worse headache and an unusual fuzziness. This was bad enough, but the rocking of the carriage was making him nauseous. He sat up, ignoring his valet who was seated across from him and used his traveling cane to thump at the roof. Before the carriage had come to a complete stop, he was out of the door and heaving by the side of the road.

This went on for several minutes even after there was nothing left to expel. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Harris offering him a wet cloth. Charles took it gratefully, wiped his mouth and sat back on the road, completely disregarding any damage to his attire. Harris aided him again by offering a canteen. Charles washed his mouth out and then consumed the rest of the cool water in one continuous gulp.

As awareness began to seep in, Charles finally asked, "Where are we?"

Henry Harris pretended confusion, "Why, on the way to Meryton, by way of Hertford."

"Meryton! Hertford!" Charles exclaimed, "First of all, Hertford is nowhere near Meryton! Secondly, why are we going to Meryton?"

Harris tilted his head, "Why, Mr. Bingley, we are going to Meryton because your estate is there... and for you to claim your bride, of course. And we are deviating to Herford because you cannot possibly present yourself to Miss Bennet looking like this," he looked suitably horrified at the very idea. It would clearly be an insult to his profession.

"HARRIS! I am asking... No! I mean... WHEN did I give instructions for us to go to Meryton?"

Harris stood up straighter, his face a mask of shock and bewilderment, "Last night, Sir. Of course. It is my understanding that you were only waiting to return until you had the ring. Now you have it and it is time to solicit Miss Bennet's hand." His expression was so completely innocent that Charles wasn't certain what to think.

"I told you that we were to go to Meryton," it was a combination of question and statement. Harris nodded, his face turned down the road. "Certainly, sir... however, for the moment we should get you up and back into the carriage. Another conveyance is coming around the bend and you might look rather... odd sitting on the side of the road like this. Shall we, Sir?"

Charles complied, wiping the dust off of his pants and climbing in. The valet saw him safely seated and then nodded, "I shall ride atop with Peter to ensure he knows his direction to the inn. We should be in Hertford in less than an hour." He closed the door before Charles could reply.

As promised, fifty minutes later Charles was stepping down at a pleasant inn located next to a languid river. "Here we are, Sir."

Charles had slept much of the short jaunt, but he was now lucid enough to ask, "And what did Caroline think of all this?"

"I am certain that I do not know, Sir. I would imagine that she is preparing for her own trip to Matlock."

"Why is she going to Matlock?!" Charles demanded, startling the innkeeper who had stepped out to greet them. Charles had to stand by while his valet saw to the business of securing a room for his master and accommodations for himself and the coachman. Charles only reverted to his usual pleasant demeanor for long enough to return the innkeeper's greeting and to pass through the lightly populated great room of the inn. Once on the stairs and heading towards his assigned room, he again demanded, "Harris, why is my sister on her way to Matlock?"

"Because of your letter, Sir."

"My letter. I wrote a letter. When did I write this letter and what did my letter say, Harris?"

"Unless I am mistaken, you implied that you needed a rest from the events of the last few months, so you decided to take the cure at the hotsprings in Matlock."

"And Caroline will follow?"

"Well, Sir... you might have implied that Mr. and Miss Darcy supported your idea and thought that Christmas at Pemberley thereafter would be ideal."

"And why wouldn't she just go over to Darcy House to confirm my assertion?"

"Well... sir... when Giles informs Miss Bingley that you were collected by Mr. and Miss Darcy personally in their own carriage, there would be no further reason for her to inquire."

Charles actually chuckled, though the action made his head hurt, "So you are telling me that you forged a letter from me. Giles, my own butler, Peter the coachman, are in on this with you? Which other servants have you suborned to your side?"

Henry Harris looked hurt, "I have not idea what you mean, Sir? We are merely conveying you to your lady love, just as you desired."

They had stepped into the room by this point and Charles froze. His shoulders slumped, "But Jane doesn't love me, Henry."

"How have you arrived at that conclusion, Mr. Bingley? Unless I am mistaken, you have not spoken to her."

"Darcy told me so."

"Oh... well that does change things. I was not aware that Mr. Darcy was spending so much intimate time with Miss Bennet."

"What? No! Darcy was not... I spent time with Jane... Miss Bennet; not Darcy. How can you even suggest such a thing?"

"Well, Mr. Bingley, I had always supposed Mr. Darcy to be a gentleman."

"Of course he's a gentleman! Why would you say otherwise?"

"Well, Sir... how did Mr. Darcy manage to ask such a personal question of Miss Bennet without having first spent extensive time with her?"

"He did not spend time with Ja... Miss Bennet! If anything, any time he spent in her vicinity was spent looking out of windows or arguing with her sister, Miss Elizabeth."

"So then, it was you who spent the majority of the time with Miss Bennet, Sir?"

"Certainly."

"Well then, I can only suppose that you have a greater sense of Miss Bennet's feelings than does your friend. It seems odd to me that you commissioned a ring even after you decided that Miss Bennet cared nothing for you."

"I did NOT... I truly thought that she cared for me..."

"Good then. That is settled. Now, here are your trunks. I suggest the blue coat be saved for your first meeting with Miss Bennet, since her eyes always seemed to light up when she saw you in it. For our shopping excursion you should wear the green. Oh, and Mrs. Nichols informed me that the Bennets have relatives visiting... an aunt and uncle with four young children... two boys ages twelve and five and two girls ages ten and eight. It being the holidays, perhaps you should consider gifts for everyone."

Charles looked long and hard at his valet before he finally said, "You truly believe that I should propose to Miss Bennet, Henry?"

Henry Harris set aside his innocent, vacuous expression and met his master with serious eyes, "Fortune favors the bold, Charles. Faint heart ne'er won fair lady... and Miss Jane Bennet is as fair as any woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Do you not think that you owe her the courtesy of speaking to her face to face rather than just leaving her alone and wondering?"

oOoOOoOo

Great was the astonishment two days later on Christmas Eve when a leased coach pulled up in front of Longbourn and Charles Bingley stepped out. He did not have to question Jane's feelings, because she was smiling hugely while tears streamed down her face. The rest of the family had various reactions and Mrs. Bennet was the loudest of all, but Charles never heard any of it. His eyes were fixed on those of his lady love.

He could not wait one moment longer. He stepped up to Jane and asked, "Marry me?" She forgot all propriety and threw her arms around him, crying "Yes!" while soaking his blue coat with her tears. After Mr. Bennet succeeded in separating the pair, he dragged the young man off to his study for a short conversation.

Henry Harris smiled and nodded at Peter the coachman, who grinned back in triumph.

oOo

It was another day before Caroline Bingley made her appearance at the Matlock hot springs. She was furious that her brother had left London with the Darcy's without her! Did her brother not understand that she was meant to become Mrs. Darcy?

She stormed around the resort looking for her brother and the Darcys to no avail until a servant misunderstood her question and pointed to the last cabin. Caroline strode with great determination to that structure and threw the door open. There followed much shouting and screaming, derisive laughter, recrimination, and denial, but the facts were undeniable. Caroline had stormed into the sweat cabin and right into the arms of Mr. Alonso Dorsey, purveyor of fine linens and unmentionables. He was wearing said unmentionables when she slammed into him, knocking them both to the floor.

Mr. Dorsey, a short rotund man of nine and forty, was not certain what to think when he found himself laying on the wooden floor holding handfuls of a very shapely woman of four and twenty. Had they been alone, matters might have ended differently, but since Alonso's other guests in the sweat cabin were members of the Ton, there was no escape for Miss Caroline Bingley. She was well and truly compromised. As she had no relatives nearby, the closest important person was sent for.

The Earl of Matlock happened to be making his own visit to the hot springs... ostensibly to promote a bill he intended to introduce at the start of the parliamentary season, but also to spend time with his latest mistress. He knew who Caroline Bingley was and he knew that the chit was constantly throwing herself at his nephew, Darcy. Therefore it was with great glee and personal satisfaction that the earl stood in for the missing Charles Bingley to arrange for a common license and negotiate the settlement for the Dorseys.

oOo

Back in London, Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed and shook his head when he read the express from Charles announcing his betrothal to Miss Jane Bennet. Oh well, I did try to help the lovestruck fool... I suppose that I will have to attend the wedding in January... I wonder what Miss Elizabeth will be wearing. She looks very appealing in red... FOOL! You need to stop thinking about her!

We shall leave the tempestuous tale of Darcy and Elizabeth to be told at some other time. For this story we need only say that Charles and Jane were happily, even blissfully married in January. They only remained at Netherfield until the end of the lease, however, before relocating to the estate they purchased in Derbyshire in order to be close to another pair of lovestruck fools.

Henry Harris, liar, forger, barely passable actor, and true friend, continued to serve Mr. and Mrs. Bingley for the rest of his life. He retired as a rich man, however, because he did actually have an interest in power looms... to be more exact, in investing in power looms. Since he was never tempted to marry himself, he left his entire fortune to Peter, the coachman and his very dear friend.

Author's Note: To MightierThanTheToothbrush: I hope this meets with your satisfaction. Thanks for the challenge.