A/N: As of December 14, 2021, this chapter has received significant revisions! The plot of what happens does not change, but some of the themes especially regarding our characters have changed, which will be of importance later in the story.

They had barely dismounted in the courtyard and doffed their coats in the entry hall when a shrill voice called out.

"Mr. Darcy! Back from your morning ride, I see."

"Miss Bingley."

"Good morning, Caroline! Got your well-earned rest after a busy week?"

"Yes, yes, and you gentlemen are up so early. Why, Mr. Darcy, I do believe you've reformed my brother. He used to wake at the crack of noon. You are a stellar influence. How can Charles not be moved, when you are so very industrious? I am sure I cannot name another gentleman who goes about his duties so diligently as you."

"Caro, let's not expose my old embarrassing habits to Darcy! I must distract you, and I know just the thing. The ball last night was splendid!"

Miss Bingley, who had begun to roll her eyes when her brother opened his mouth, actually smiled. "I do not imagine you could really appreciate its splendor, given how absorbed you were in something that was obviously not one of my creations."

Charles laughed. "Caught! I am caught. But truly, though I may have had my attentions fixed, it was an excellent ball. The atmosphere was enchanting!"

Caroline, with eyes alight, turned to Darcy.

"The preparations were thorough, and it was managed very smoothly especially given your limited time of acquaintance with the staff. Mrs. Nicholls and you both have earned your approbation— and Mrs. Hurst, of course."

"And the supper? Was it to your liking?"

"I very much enjoyed the courses."

She pinked and stood straighter, chin rising self-consciously. "I daresay though Louisa did help, just a little, it was mostly my doing. My ideas, you know. Though you men have matters of your own to deal with, I do not know that you fathom how great a task it is to arrange such a ball on such short notice. Your compliments are merely indicators of its success, for I could not have allowed otherwise."

"Indeed."

"Our refined taste, though, was really rather wasted on this country town. Although your presence alone deserved every effort. I should do just as well with a larger ball, you know — even better, really, for a grander event in a beautiful home with worthy attendees can only cause the glory of the ball to shine more."

"Netherfield is leased yet. We may still have our pick of an estate to call our own."

"I do not mean just any estate, Charles. Only a manor rich with history will suffice. Pemberley must be a sight to behold in during a candlelit ball — not that it is not always gorgeous! — Did Lady Anne host many balls?"

Darcy looked down before answering. "Once a year at Pemberley, and smaller events in between."

"Oh, how delightful! Have you any record? For surely they were the highlights of the year."

"She kept a diary."

"A treasure! How I should have liked to meet Lady Anne! I am sure she was the epitome of grace, refinement, and accomplishment. No more superior lady— Georgiana must be quite her image."

Sensing that this line of conversation was giving Darcy pain, Bingley turned the subject. "Speaking of Georgiana, shall she ever visit us here, Darcy?"

"Oh, yes! A marvelous idea! I have oft been thinking the same thing. She is such a dear. It would be no trouble to arrange her stay, Mr. Darcy, none at all—"

"No," said Darcy. "That is— she is to spend the Christmas at Matlock, where I will join her. Perhaps she may visit at a later time, but I can give no promises."

"Oh. Well. How about us Charles? Surely we are not to spend our Christmas holed up in this backwater?"

"Hmm... I have yet to give it thought..."

"Say no Charles, for I do not believe I can stand another month here among these… neighbors." She said it with such distaste so as to leave no doubt about her feelings. "Jane is a dear, but it really would not do at all to raise her hopes." With that, she gave a little laugh and raised her voice to a pitch that was unnatural even for her, and pronounced with uncanny accuracy, "Five thousand a year! And very likely more!"

Charles cringed. Worse still was that they all knew, instantly, whom she referred to. To realize that there was no defense could only cause pain. "Caroline, I know you do not get along with Mrs. Bennet..."

She actually snorted. "There is no need to sugarcoat, Charles. She is lowly, mercenary, and—her manners! Atrocious. And don't get me started on the sisters. Did you see Miss Lydia last night, chasing with the officers? Her own father does nothing but laugh at her. Mark my words, if she does not cause a scandal…"

A beat drummed in Darcy's head.

"Caro—"

"And the plain one! Did you see how she exhibited? And not a whiff of talent! There is another one— ah yes, not as bad as that Lydia, I grant you, but why ever did their parents allow them to be out so soon? Are they that desperate? Could they not have waited a year or two? And who is left? Ah, yes, Miss Eliza. Pretty enough with those fine eyes, but her manners are so unfashionable—"

"Caroline."

"—which might have been overlooked if it weren't for her lack of fortune—"

"Caroline, don't—" He whispered and tried to gently pull her to a distance, but she was having none of it. In this vein she continued, never outright disparaging Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but making such comments with a tone of superiority and pity as to hiss doubt into the thoughtful mind.

"Sadly, none of them have managed to catch a husband. I wonder why—?"

"Caroline, there is something I would like to ask you about!" Bingley exclaimed. He tamped down on the inner voice that screamed what was he doing and before he had an answer, his mouth was saying, "Darcy, old chap, go ahead and I'll catch up with you?"

Once the door closed behind Darcy, his younger sister raised her head to him, maroon and fuming. Bingley's hands trembled where they were clasped behind his back.

"Caroline, you ought not— ought not to talk like that."

"What did I say that was not true?" she hissed. "I challenge you to point out any falsehood. No? Ha! You are not blind."

Fear ripping his voice, the older brother replied, "Even so, Caroline, you know I cannot approve of this abuse. Some things are better left unsaid—"

"What is it to me if you do not approve? Are you my master? You cannot manage your own household, much less me. And you," she spat, prodding him in the chest with a sharp nail, "should have waited. How dare you disgrace me in front of Darcy —"

"Darcy does not care to brandish other people's faults about!" he cried, latching on to the one person, the one argument that seemed to move her. "It is one of the reasons he is so quiet— he too believes that silence is an improvement over loose criticism."

Caroline raised her chin angrily. "Then you do not know your friend, do not listen to him, or are as stupidly uncritical as ever." With that, she gave him one last nasty look before sauntering off.

Shakily, Bingley staggered to to an armchair where he steadied himself with his palms down on the backrest. His whitened fingers dug into the plush material, and the sound of his gasping breaths permeated the air.

He never, ever wanted to stir up conflict again.

Finally, when he felt to be master over himself, he went into the hall and found Caroline patting Darcy's arm just as she swept away out of sight.

Neither of them said anything. Each man in his own time closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Another ride?" suggested Bingley weakly.

"I'd rather fence."

Their bodies were battered and aching when they finished.

A/N: What do you think of Caroline?