Caroline Bingley had just finished readying herself for bed and was about to retire for the night when there came the most awful pounding noise at the front door. She jerked in surprise and then stiffened her spine in anger at the intrusion upon her life. The hour was late enough that no decent person should be coming to call, let alone making such a terrible racket when it was highly likely that the more important members of the household might already be sleeping.
Her own servants took far too long to answer the summons; she would have to have a word with Mr. Bailey, the butler, about such laxness in attention to the most basic of duties. In fact, she would do so now, she determined. Throwing on her robe and checking the mirror to ensure that she didn't appear to be too disheveled, Caroline exited the room and went in search of some servants to correct.
Her emergence was not, she thought primly, vulgar curiosity regarding all that annoying ruckus at the door.
She descended the stair slowly, listening to the exchange taking place at the door. One of the footmen was talking to an unknown person of coarse accent but wearing a fine wool coat, of a similar cut and style to the one Mr. Darcy wore. In fact...
Caroline slowed her steps still further, catching the end of the strange man's words. "...about two kilometers away. The master sent me to ask for Mr. Bingley's aid."
"Who or what is two kilometers away?" Caroline interjected, cutting off the footman's response. "Go fetch my brother," she commanded the servant. "And tell Bailey I wish to see him as soon as possible."
The footman bowed and departed silently and Caroline turned the full of her attention to the remaining man. She raised an eyebrow at him to encourage him to answer her question.
"It's Mr. Darcy, ma'am. The automobile hit some ice and we crashed."
"Oh, dear!" Caroline cried. "He is hurt?"
She hoped it was only that he was hurt and not dead. Had he actually perished in this freak accident, she would be forced to find a suitable replacement. All the work and effort she had put into catching Mr. Darcy would have been for nothing.
"He is well, ma'am. His injuries are minor."
Her fears relieved, Caroline didn't really listen to the rest of the answer, her mind already pursuing the idea that Mr. Darcy would have to come here, certainly, and be given a room for the night at least. If he were more badly injured, he might even been forced to remain for a period of several days. What wonderful luck!
Caroline had not had many opportunities to see him as of late. There had been several weeks when it had seemed that her stupid elder brother had been about to throw away his friendship with Mr. Darcy over some quarrel they'd had. Charles hadn't been very forthcoming about the details, but she had gathered it had something to do with that wretchedly poor Jane Marchrend creature her brother had been seeing. Mr. Darcy was always so good about understanding the propriety of keeping to one's social and economic sphere in one's relationships; perhaps he had reminded Bingley of his duty to marry well.
It seemed possible that if Mr. Darcy were to be here, she could discover more. The last time he had joined them for dinner and Charles had made that appalling statement about his intention to actually marry Jane Marchrend, Mr. Darcy had looked to be on the point of objecting. They might work together to stop the match, particularly if Caroline were able to inform him of the utter unsuitability of the girl's family. She would tell him everything of that horrid dinner she had been forced to endure at the Bennets' unfashionable and cramped dwelling.
Caroline came out of her reverie as she noticed her brother approaching, walking with a hurried stride. Good. The footman must have managed to convey some sense of urgency.
"Oh, Charles! It is the most distressing thing! Mr. Darcy has been in an accident only a short distance away. I fear he must be in danger of freezing on such a night and without his coat." She looked accusingly at the man who had brought the news, wondering how he could take a coat from and then abandon an injured man to perish in the cold. "You must go and fetch him back as soon as may be!"
"Thank you, Caroline," Charles responded calmly, seeming not at all as distressed as Caroline thought he should. "Fitch, will a coach be sufficient to fetch Mr. Darcy back? Is there anyone with him?"
Feeling it unseemly that her brother should know another man's servant's name, Caroline felt it was time to excuse herself from the conversation. There was much to be done before Mr. Darcy should arrive and it would be up to her to see to it all.
"I'll just go and have a room readied for Mr. Darcy," she said by way of explanation for her departure, already plotting to have the servants prepare the one right across from her own. What a delicious opportunity that would be! Wondering if she would dare be brazen enough to leave her door "accidentally" ajar while dressing in the morning, Caroline moved away, paying no heed to whatever it was her brother was calling after her about two rooms.
Honestly, that servant of Mr. Darcy's could have no reason to require his own room. He could sleep in the servant's quarters and never have any cause for complaint. It was his proper place, after all, and even if Charles didn't recognize it, everyone else would.
Fortunately, she was saved the trouble of having to find a servant or two on her own, as Bailey crossed paths with her a moment later. She berated him to keep the rest of the stuff under better regulation that they might answer random, late night summons to the front door in a more timely fashion, thus preserving the quiet repose being sought by the remainder of the household.
Dismissing the man to prepare for Mr. Darcy's imminent arrival with a list of tasks that now encompassed not only the preparation of a room, but also of food and drink in case Mr. Darcy should wish it, as well as someone told off to stand in as his valet and to arrange for some clothing. Satisfied that she had thought of everything, Caroline returned to her room and seated herself at her vanity.
She looked over her reflection critically, frowning that she had just gone to all the trouble of removing her cosmetics and taking down her hair and would have to redo everything before she could properly greet Mr. Darcy.
Calling for her maidservant to come and arrange her hair, Caroline applied her makeup herself. She did not normally like to do so, but time was of the essence and, anyway, she had a better hand for it than her maidservant did. She was always having to encourage that stupid girl to not skimp with the application of her eye shadow and rouge.
It took just above half an hour before Caroline was at last pleased with her hair and face. Mr. Darcy had arrived several minutes ago, judging from the commotion that could be heard at the entrance. It was just as well that she hadn't been ready to greet him at the door. Surely that would appear too desperate. In this way, she could saunter down as though she had only just heard the news and was coming to check on him in concern.
To reinforce that impression, she decided against getting dressed. Wearing her robe, she was modestly attired enough and besides, there were enough servants about to provide sufficient chaperonage, not to mention Charles' presence. Glancing over her reflection one last time, she tried on a seductive smile and then discarded it in favor of a worried expression.
Arranging the bright orange straps of her silk nightdress so that one seemed nearly ready to slide from her shoulder and loosely retying the belt on her thin, white robe so that it parted somewhat provocatively at the top, Caroline deemed her appearance perfect.
She started to walk away from the vanity before one final thought occurred to her and she returned to stand before it. Bending over and bringing her shoulders in just like so... perfect! A hint of cleavage, but only a hint. Caroline Bingley was no common tart to be indecent in public, but a little tasteful flaunting of one's assets in the privacy of one's own home was perfectly acceptable.
Careful to maintain her dignified pace as she descended the stairs once more, Caroline followed the trail of busy servants to the front parlor. She paused at the door a moment, seeing Charles speaking quietly to one side with Bailey and Mr. Darcy left quite alone in a chair before the fire.
Mr. Darcy's dark head was drooping towards his chest, his unruly hair appearing shockingly disheveled. Well, he had just been through a traumatic ordeal, she supposed. He was dressed in a tuxedo, as though out for an evening of entertainment. How well he looked in such formal attire! He would make a very handsome groom. From the position as his prospective wife, Caroline knew she must take care not to let him outshine her own beauty on what would be the biggest day of her life.
Fortunately, that wouldn't be too difficult to achieve. As attractive as Mr. Darcy might be, Caroline was not unconscious of her own pleasing face and figure.
Too bad that gentlemen seemed all unaware of those assets at this precise moment! He had not even looked up when she made a small coughing noise to announce her presence so that he might stand and greet her as he was supposed to.
Well, it was true that men were sometimes incapable of tolerating pain to the same degree that women were. She could forgive him this lapse in good manners considering the circumstances. He might even appreciate it if she were to condescend to playing nurse for him. Gathering her self-possession, Caroline entered the room with her arms flung out towards the figure sitting in the chair.
"Oh! Mr. Darcy!" she cried, ignoring Charles' misguided attempts to silence her. "I cannot believe this news. It is so shocking! Why do you sit there in the chair? I am certain we can find you some more comfortable place to rest while you wait for the doctor to attend to you. Are you very hurt? Is there anything I might fetch for you?"
Mr. Darcy's head jerked up at the sound of her voice, but he did not immediately rise even now that she had addressed him directly.
"Do not be so insensitive," he snapped, startling her with how very angry he sounded. "I was well enough as I was before you woke me."
Caroline halted as though she had been slapped, gaping openly at Mr. Darcy for a long moment before she could collect herself once again.
I have heard that some men become angry as bears when they are tired or hurt! I did not think it could be true of Mr. Darcy, but so it is. He must be very tired and hurt to treat me in such a careless manner. But I will forgive him for now and, when he has recovered his usual sense, I will extract my price for tolerating him as I have.
"Besides," Darcy added, speaking before she could make any kind response to even his harsh language, "it was not I who was gravely injured, but it is Elizabeth who needs all our care and attention." He nodded towards the couch to indicate who he meant, and Caroline turned to look, noticing for the first time that there was another person in the room.
Flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, Caroline snapped at her brother, who had dismissed Bailey and was looking on this exchange with entirely too much amusement. "You didn't inform me that Eliza Bennet would be here tonight."
Charles was actually ill-mannered enough to roll his eyes at her. "It isn't my fault if you weren't paying attention to everything Fitch said. Did you at least have two rooms prepared as I asked?"
"Two rooms?" Caroline echoed blankly, unwilling to believe that her own brother could ask such a thing of her. "You mean to have -" she jerked her chin in the direction of the couch "- her stay here tonight? How extraordinary."
Charles looked exasperated and began a pointless lecture about how it was Elizabeth Bennet who was in need of medical care having been the one to be knocked unconscious in the accident.
Caroline stopped listening, feeling entirely flustered by this unwelcome development. What on earth would Elizabeth Bennet be doing in Mr. Darcy's company, alone and so late at night, and dressed in so rough a fashion? What could Mr. Darcy mean by squiring that wretched chit around in the back of his automobile and, when she got herself injured, apparently staying with her while he sent a servant for assistance?
She must have imposed on him in some fashion, Caroline decided. Mr. Darcy was, after all, a true gentleman and even though such persons as the Bennets were decidedly beneath his notice, it was possible that the chit had demanded assistance from him, trading upon the small acquaintance that they shared.
An acquaintance that would never had happened had Charles Bingley not been such a fool for a moderately pretty face.
"Do you hear me, Caroline?" Charles was asking now, looking unaccountably fierce. What was it tonight that was making all these men around her seem so disagreeable and crabby?
Honestly, she hadn't heard a word. "I'm so sorry, Charles. My mind seems to have wandered there for a moment. It must be due to the late hour. What were you saying?"
His reply was circumvented by the arrival of the doctor, who appeared to be neither young nor wealthy and who seemed determined that he should be the center of attention in the room. As he had saved her from having to listen to another one of her brother's tedious lectures, Caroline contented herself with a small sniff of derision as she watched the newcomer approach Elizabeth Bennet's side.
"Shouldn't you be seeing to Mr. Darcy first?" Caroline couldn't help but ask, appalled that the doctor would ignore a man who was so obviously in pain in order to see to a woman who appeared to be sleeping.
"Miss Bingley," it was Mr. Darcy who replied, his face and voice grim, "we have already informed you that it is Elizabeth who was badly injured in the accident. Kindly stand out of the way and let the doctor do his work."
"Yes, Caroline," Charles added, sounding nearly as severe as Mr. Darcy had. "In fact, why don't you go see to getting that second room put in order? Since you are so eager to be of assistance to our guests. I am certain they would appreciate your efforts."
Charles had never before so rudely or summarily dismissed her and Caroline stood for a moment, burning bright with indignation but unable to think of anything to say in reply that would appear gracious or ladylike.
"As you wish, Charles," she managed at last, leaving the room with her spine held straight and her chin in the air. How abominable her brother was to try to embarrass her so thoroughly in front of Mr. Darcy! It was as though Charles had quite forgotten how to be civil when in company.
Ah well, there were always ways to ensure that she could make something better of a bad situation. When Caroline found a servant, she ordered the girl to ready the worst guest room available. It was still superior to anything Eliza Bennet might reasonably expect, but it tended to be colder than the other rooms and one of the windows would rattle in its casements every time the wind blew. On a night such as this, it was certain to be gusting every few minutes. Let the self-involved chit try to sleep through that as easily as she did Mr. Darcy's pain and distress!
Satisfied with her work, Caroline returned to the front parlour where she discovered a most distressing sight. Eliza Bennet was sitting up on the couch, permitting the doctor to examine her head, but actually managing to smile at all the men in the room as though the polite attention they rendered her was somehow her due.
Mr. Darcy seemed more alert now than he had previously, and was leaning forward in his chair, as though to catch any word that the loathsome Eliza Bennet might utter! There was a certain look in his eye that Caroline did not quite like; it seemed too warm. He must be fevered or simply too exhausted to know what he was doing. There was no other explanation for the manner in which he had snapped at her and seemed almost to dote upon Eliza.
Caroline knew she must remind him of what was right and proper. Going further into the room, she greeted the other woman with an affectation of warm regard. "Ah, Miss Bennet! How good to see you awake and alert. It seems not long since I last had the pleasure of your company. Tell me, how is your family? Have they at last managed to air their little house of that awful smell?"
"Caroline!" Charles hissed, moving a step closer to her as though he would actually lay his hands on her. "Recall yourself. This is not a social call and you are being very rude."
It was really all too much. Mr. Darcy had not so much as glanced up at Caroline when she had entered the room and he seemed entirely blind to the rough manner in which Charles was persisting in treating her. How could Eliza Bennet be holding all of Mr. Darcy's attention, dressed like a ragamuffin and with blood all down her face?
Sparing a brief moment to be concerned that the wretched girl might have actually gotten blood on the couch cushions, Caroline began to back out of the room.
"I can see you are too ill-tempered to permit me to try to make conversation with anyone tonight," she said to Charles, as if she were bored of the whole affair. "Since I was just about to seek my own rest for the evening before all this disturbance happened," - Caroline laid special emphasis on the word 'disturbance' and looked straight at Eliza Bennet as she did so - "I shall simply retire for the night now. I am certain everyone will be in better spirits in the morning after they've gotten some rest."
Turning with dignity, she left the parlor and ascended the staircase to gain her bedroom. Once there, she again went through the ritual of taking down her hair and removing her cosmetics, but this time she was careful not to remove all of them. Feeling very defiant, she decided to leave her door partly open, and even as she climbed into bed, she had no intention of actually resting. She would wait up, feigning sleep, until she heard Mr. Darcy go to bed across the hallway.
As she whiled away the minutes, Caroline entertained herself with lovely daydreams regarding how it would be when the two of them met in the hall when she would, by chance, be heading down towards the kitchens in search of some warm milk. Or, no. This was Mr. Darcy. She would tell him she was so fraught with worry for him that she could not sleep and must, therefore, seek the distraction of a good book and was on her way to the library to fetch one.
Alas for Caroline, such happy events were not to be! For when she at last heard footsteps approaching the room, they were accompanied by a male voice that belonged to neither Charles nor Mr. Darcy.
"Now, Miss Bennet," the voice said, "I believe you have suffered a concussion as you had trouble remembering new information just now. Your headache is to be expected, of course, but we need to monitor it to make certain it does not persist too long. If you have any trouble with dizziness or vomiting, Mr. Bingley will know to send for me.
"The best thing you can do right now is just to get some rest. I'm going have someone check on you every few hours, mostly just to monitor how you're progressing."
"Thank you," came Eliza's voice.
Angry and frustrated with both herself and her brother for having so neatly botched the scheme - Caroline knew she should have told Charles explicitly which guest was to go in which room! - Caroline ground her teeth in futile rage as she listened to that horrid doctor give instructions to a maidservant to wake Eliza Bennet every two hours.
When she reflected that at least the other woman still would not get a good night's rest, Caroline almost cried in frustration when she realized that neither would Mr. Darcy.
She had been wrong when she had told her brother everyone would be more pleasant on the morrow. All her plots had been thrown so awry that it seemed now that no one at all would get a good night's sleep and least of all, Caroline.
A/N: I think I might be spoiling you all. But this chapter practically wrote itself once my beta suggested I do it from Caroline's pov. Hope you enjoyed it as much as we did! (I realize that makes me sound like I don't have a writing plan, but I really do. I think I have about eight more major plot points to cover before I'm done.)
Last chapter sparked a number of passionate responses, some I was quite surprised at. I really wish more of you had PM's enabled. As I can't PM, I won't bore everyone with replies here, though I do want to respond to one such review, from Erika. Thank you! That is exactly the sort of criticism I hope for. My thought in writing it had been that Darcy's vision showed him the outcome (Elizabeth being even more badly injured than she was) that would have occurred had he tried to interfere. When I do major edits, I will be sure to go into more depth there.
Speaking of edits, I just took the time to compile all my documents into one great big document and gave it a once-over. I'm horrified at the sheer amount of continuity errors I found. So that is something else I will eventually address and a very good reason to not take over two years to write a simple story.
That's more than enough from me, as usual. I'm going to go camp out in Elizabeth's thoughts as she deals with all the recent events. /twirls imaginary mustachio and cackles madly