In her darkest moments Caroline Bingley's mind would wander back to her childhood in Shropshire where the smell of potatoes and cabbages were her constant companions for the entire neighborhood reeked of these poor staples of poverty. Life for their family was little different from all the other families crammed in their tiny houses in the poorest part of the village except that her father owned a small business and the other fathers worked manually at the various estates that dotted the landscape. Not even the plain, dark, cast-off dresses from her sister, Louisa, set her apart from the other girls for that was her life and she knew no other.
She saw little of her father for his shop was located in Ellesmere, a small market town five miles away from their village. There he worked long arduous hours and found his rest on a small cot in the back of his shop. He would return to their house once a month with baskets of treats which made his long absences more endurable and gave Caroline a sense that her family, despite their poor quality of life, was a cut above their neighbors. Her parent's reunion was always joyous but inevitably ended in a tearful parting for her father could not be away from the shop for more than a day.
Then in her seventh year her father returned on a beautiful summer's day and took his family away from the only home she had ever known and brought them to a small house on the outskirts of Ellesmere. There she would finally see how the rest of the world lived and what she saw became the seed of her malcontent. As her father's business prospered and they could afford a cook and maid and fine muslins to clothe themselves it was never enough for Caroline. She always wanted more and her mother fed this appetite with promises of a better life if she would only be patient for it was only a matter of time before they became rich and all her dreams would come true. She would become a great lady and all the men would fall in love with her and beg for her hand in marriage. But patience was not in her nature and as frequently as she could she would punish herself by walking into the center of town to see all the fine ladies decked out in their fine silks and carrying the exquisite parasols that hid their white complexions from the sun. She wanted so much to be one of those ladies and she would be for her mother had promised her that one day she would be rich and much admired and her words were like food to Caroline.
When her mother died so tragically in a carriage accident a year after they left their village, Caroline's grief was but momentary and only for herself for she feared that her dreams had died with her mother. It was left to Louisa to comfort her with reassurances that all her dreams for a bright future would be answered. And now, she could see her future coming to fruition. There was not a doubt in her mind that she would soon be the mistress of Pemberley and finally take her place in the society that she should have born to. It would be the perfect payback for all the years she suffered deprivation during her miserable childhood.
As her carriage entered Meryton she glanced through the window and was not pleased with what she saw. It was too much like the village where she was born and wished never to be reminded of. Adding to her annoyance, her eyes met with those of a young woman who stared back with undisguised appraisal and never lowered her eyes in the accustomed way to show deference to her betters. If that young woman was a sample of what the inhabitants were like, they were nothing less than barbarians. Poor Mr. Darcy. How he would suffer when he realized that Charles had leased an estate in such an uncivilized country. At the first opportunity she would let Darcy know how inferior she thought Hertfordshire to that of Derbyshire.
Elizabeth Bennet had just stepped out of the small book shop as the large carriage moved slowly though the market day crowd. She could only see three people in the coach and no one she recognized. The coach was too large and elegant to belong to any of the inhabitants of Meryton or it's environs and the village was a dead end. It had to be on it's way to Netherfield Park. One of the occupants regarded her with glacial curiosity before turning away and Elizabeth idly wondered if the woman might be Caroline Bingley. According to Georgiana Darcy's exaggerated description of her, she could lower the temperature of a room.
She looked up the street expecting to see at least another carriage but there was nothing more to see. She spent several minutes gazing with pretended fascination at the display windows of the local shops as she waited for another coach to rumble into town but at last gave up. She tried to calm herself as she walked home making the most of her disappointment. It was probably best that they not come across each other in such a brief fashion. Better to meet at an assembly or better still on one of the many paths that wove through the countryside. There were so many places they might meet accidentally where in privacy she might better judge his demeanor towards her. He might even ride up to Oakham Mount where she could be sitting beneath a tree reading. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks but had presence of mind to glance around to make sure she was alone on the road before she let her head hang low in bewilderment. How had this man so insinuated himself into her thoughts, so invaded her dreams? She felt so helpless and frustrated and angry at the hopelessness of her situation. She knew in her heart that he could not possibly feel the same way about her and yet she would not let him go. She'd received a letter from Anne, who promised that she and Georgie were looking forward to seeing her again but there had not been a mention of Darcy or an allusion to her youngest sister. She hadn't heard from Mary either. Surely Mr. Collins had told the De Bourghs about Lydia's defection so why hadn't Anne mentioned it? She didn't know what to think and the process of grappling with all her questions was exhausting.
The sound of a cart moving into the road allowed her to move forward again. So the long wait was coming to a close. Darcy would be arriving in the next few days and she would see him again or he would avoid her. Whichever way it went, at least she could stop worrying about it which in a small way was a blessing for there were times she sincerely believed she'd go mad. She had to take control of her life and face what was probably going to be a bleak and lonely life and she had to get on with it. Besides, she had other things to worry her. Lydia had come home at last and though Mr. Bennet swore that he had put the fear of the almighty in her and indeed she had returned in a somewhat subdued state, it hadn't lasted past one day. Back in the bosom of her family with Mrs. Bennet as an ally, Lydia was little changed in her attitude. She was loud and demanding and unashamed. She was also vastly amused at the story that the family had circulated about her adventure. According to them, on the way from Brighton to London her chaperon had convinced her of the evil of this elopement and she, full of remorse, fell ill thinking of how her poor family must be suffering. It had taken her three weeks to recover under the gentle care of her aunt and uncle Gardiner. Elizabeth thought the story preposterous and anyone with a grain of common sense would see it for what it was...pure hogwash. But that was their story and they were stuck with it. That Lydia would be audacious enough to laugh at their attempts to mitigate her egregious behavior had enraged Elizabeth. As for her father, she had grown resigned. Once more he had ceded all responsibility to Mrs. Bennet and turned a deaf ear to Lydia's foolishness. He seemed incapable of controlling his family...not when a glass of port and a good book awaited him in the library. As she neared the gates of Longbourn, she decided it was best not to fight the wind, as Charlotte suggested.
Two hours after Lizzie returned home, her aunt Phillips arrived, spreading the latest news. Miss Caroline Bingley and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had arrived at Netherfield. "Oh sister! I have heard that they are the most elegant ladies, tall and slim and dressed in the finest silks."
Mrs. Bennet squealed in delight. "But sister, have no other men come with them?"
"I have it on good authority that Mr. Bingley is returning with a large party of at least a dozen young gentlemen who are anxious to make the acquaintance of everyone in the vicinity."
"And," Elizabeth asked, "from whom have you received this information, Aunt Phillips?"
"I was lucky enough to run into the Netherfield cook at the butcher shop."
"I see. And I'm sure the cook is a close confidant of Mr. Bingley."
"Indeed she is, Lizzie. The very pulse of an estate."
Elizabeth exchanged a smile with Jane and signaled her sister to follow her. At the doorway she turned and looked at her mother and aunt. "And there," she whispered, "sit two of the silliest woman in England." When they reached the garden Elizabeth thought it best to issue a warning. "Jane, when I was in Kent, I heard a great deal about Miss Bingley...none of which put her in a good light. According to Miss De Bourgh and Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley is rather a nasty lady who thinks herself above the rest of us and I saw her earlier this afternoon as her carriage entered Meryton. The look she gave me was so icy I could not move a muscle for a full five minutes."
"Oh Lizzie," Jane laughed, "I'm sure she can't be that bad."
"I fear she may be worse. Jane, I know very well that the subject of Lydia must come up in each house in Meryton at least once a day. Gossip is our delight. We've been lucky that the village has not shunned us but it would have been too much to ask that their tongues should stop wagging. There's no doubt in my mind that before the day is out, Miss Bingley will have heard of our family's disgrace and from what I've heard of her, she will be loud in her disapprobation and will want nothing to do with our family. Knowing how people normally react to the wealthy, I would not be surprised if our friends follow Miss Bingley's lead."
"Oh, Lizzie, I can't believe our neighbors would turn on us. And I can't believe that Mr. Bingley would allow it."
Elizabeth regarded her sister with affection and amusement, "oh, Jane, I wish I could be more like you. But I can't. I seriously doubt if she'll be anxious to make our acquaintance. And I doubt she'll be overly pleased if her brother shows an interest in you, particularly after she hears about Lydia."
"Perhaps she won't hear about our troubles, Lizzie."
Seeing the disappointment wash over Jane's lovely face gave Elizabeth pause and she quickly added, "Of course I also heard that Miss Bingley is not at all like her brother; that he is a very sweet young man and well liked by all who know him. Besides, everything I was told came from Miss De Bourgh who has never met the Bingleys. She got all her information from Miss Darcy. Georgie is just sixteen and perhaps she still sees everything from a child's point of view."
"Yes. Yes, that is probably the truth of it. We must not jump to conclusions."
Elizabeth smiled and nodded her agreement watching her sister's concern dissolve into expectation. Jane was so eager to see the world as it did not exist except in novels. She made a mental note not to look into the mirror for at least a week. She would hate to think her own face reflected so much hope. Elizabeth read the society pages and knew that what the highborn did was tolerated with a wink and a nudge. With those on the lower ladder of society, ostracism could come swiftly. Caroline was reaching high to snare the master of Pemberley; she would not endure her brother attaching himself to a country nobody.
That evening at dinner Mrs. Bennet would not shut up...except for when Lydia added her excited comments. Mother and daughter could not contain their delirium at the prospect of rich, handsome young men coming to the area. Kitty had the grace to look uncomfortable and Jane grew silent. Mr. Bennet continued to eat at a leisurely pace.
Before the thought formed in her mind, Elizabeth addressed her mother in as reasonable a tone as she could muster, "do you really think that wealthy men of the gentry will be interested in a fifteen year old who ran away with a soldier and lived with him in the slums of London? Of course I admit I don't know that much about high-born men, but I shouldn't think they'd want to be seen in the company of what some would call used goods...especially when they are guests of Miss Bingley who is such an elegant lady who dresses in only the finest silks." The silence which greeted Elizabeth's remark was terrible and she took a gulp of her wine and continued before she lost courage. "And Mama', did I not tell you that the honorable Lady Catherine De Bourgh will be visiting Netherfield Park? She is the most formidable woman I have ever met. If she is displeased with the company her fellow guests keep, she will most certainly speak to Miss Bingley and Miss Bingley who respects nobility above all else will probably not hesitate to return to London taking her brother with her...along with all the rest of the handsome men who are so anxious to meet us." She dared not to continue...not because she had nothing more to say, but she could hear the tremor in her voice and refused to dissolve into angry tears.
t was rather comical to watch Mrs. Bennet trying to speak...her lips were moving but not a sound escaped her mouth. Lydia, however, had no problem in voicing her anger. "How dare you speak to me like that? Who do you think you are? Mama', tell her to apologize!" Unfortunately Mrs. Bennet still had not found her voice. She was also, Elizabeth suspected, seeing all the rich men leaving the area en masse.
Lydia turned to her father, "Papa'?"
Mr. Bennet drained the rest of his wine and leveled a look at his youngest daughter, "what would you have me say, Lydia? You brought this on yourself. And you arrive back home without an iota of remorse or shame. Innocence in our society is a highly valued commodity and you are no longer an innocent. What you are is an empty headed, loud-mouthed girl who has gone from being a petty annoyance to a very large headache. Now go to your room and read a book...if you can read." Mr. Bennet left the room and moments later they heard his library door close behind him. A few moment later Lydia threw her napkin down and followed him.
Hours later Tamsin Lydia Bennet stood at her window gazing out into the distance watching the flickers of light in the tiny village of Meryton. All the respectable citizens would have returned to their homes hours ago leaving the less honorable natives to enjoy the various amusements offered by the town. In the hall she heard the steps of her sister Kitty move past her door, not stopping until she reached her own room. Her alienation now seemed complete. None of her friends had come to visit her since her return and Kitty no longer felt a need to stop in for a chat before they retired. Elizabeth had made her feelings crystal clear at the dinner table and the rules now imposed upon her by her father simply were unacceptable. After all, she would celebrate her sixteenth birthday in five days, yet the party planned for her would be a dull affair with only her immediate family and the Phillips attending. She was forbidden to go to town unless accompanied by her father and assemblies were absolutely prohibited. They were intent upon crushing her spirit and she would not have it.
She had always been a free spirit unwilling to adhere to the rules that governed a woman's life. As far back as she could remember she wanted out of the village life and into a place where the only rules she had to adhere to were the ones she made for herself. She remembered the day of her thirteenth birthday when in her own mind she had become a woman. On that day she threw away all childish things starting with the name her father had given her. Thomas Bennet had named her after his long dead twin sister, Tammie, but she never thought the name suited her. From that day on she refused to answer to anything but Lydia, which had a more sophisticated sound to her ears. Well, if loss of innocence was sophistication, she was that, alright. At least Wickham had done that much for her. He had also taught her what pleased a man and she had proved herself an apt student. She would never be the same young girl who had gone to Brighton.
She opened her closet and rummaged for the small box which had been the only gift that Wickham had presented her with during their one week tryst. Checking to make sure her door was firmly locked, she sat down at her dressing table and opened the small chest. She sighed with pleasure as she regarded the contents. There was several bottles and jars containing red and white powder pellets and red lip pomades. Pencils of kohl and an assortment of brushes completed her makeup kit. She hadn't had much time to try to improve on mother nature but she knew exactly who she could apply to.
She slipped into her dark cape and hood and blew the candles out and climbed out of the window and stood for a moment on the narrow veranda which ran along the back of the house. Another moment and she gained the stairs at the end of the gallery and descended. It took her no more than twenty minutes to reach the tiny shack where Kate Winslow lived and worked. She rapped on the door then entered, as was her practice, confident she wouldn't be interrupting a private moment for the red lantern was not lit.
The two young women greeted each other like old friends, which they were. Lydia's natural curiosity about the demimonde had prompted her to make the acquaintance of Kate Winslow a year earlier. Kate had been plying her trade since her mother had passed away two years earlier. It was a loathsome way to make a living but there were few opportunities for employment in such a small community and the money was good. Besides, not a day went by without dreaming of her escape and it was this fervent desire that cemented the two girl's friendship for they both shared the same dream and could talk of nothing but the day they would leave Meryton far behind them.
When she slipped back into her room shortly before dawn, Lydia's plans were made and she climbed beneath the covers and fell fast asleep feeling no remorse, convinced that at any sorrow her actions might visit upon her family would be fleeting at best.
The housekeeper at Netherfield was not a happy woman. She had been serving the owners of that estate for the past twenty years and had stayed on when they decided to retire to Town. She herself had reached a time of retirement but remained at her post until the estate was sold. When she met with Mr. Bingley she formed an instant liking for him and promised that she would stay on as long as he needed her. She hadn't counted on the charming young man having a sister who used her voice like a bull whip and treated her with such disdain...never mind the way she spoke to the servants who worked hard and were good girls from their village. Without a doubt Mrs. Biggs found the new mistress of Netherfield Park the most disagreeable woman she had ever had the misfortune to meet. Over their Wednesday lunch ritual at the local inn she complained bitterly to her best friend, Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper at Longbourn, "Abbie, the woman is a horror! She speaks to me the way I wouldn't speak to a scullery maid.! It would serve her right if I quit and took all the servants with me."
"Is it true that Mr. Bingley is bringing with him a dozen men?"
Mrs. Biggs snorted, "where on earth did you hear that?"
"From Mrs. Phillips who had it from your cook."
Mrs. Biggs rolled her eyes, "there will be ten occupying the park, only one of which seems to matter to Miss Bingley. She can't order the day's menu without mentioning Mr. Darcy and what his favorites are. I think the lady has set her plumed hat for him but I don't think she'll succeed. I met with Mr. Darcy last year when he and Mr. Bingley viewed the estate. He looks like he has too much sense to fall for the likes of a Miss Bingley. At least I hope so. The man who tries to pry her legs apart will find he has lost a valuable part of his anatomy to frostbite."
The two old friends had a good laugh at the expense of Caroline Bingley and continued on in such a fashion until it was time to return to their responsibilities.
Elizabeth hadn't seen Charlotte for several days so on the off-chance that she might find her friend she headed straight for their favorite meeting place. Sure enough there was her dearest friend sitting beneath the tree, her knees pulled up to her chin, her lime colored muslin spread all about her. She wasn't reading but had adopted a wistful pose as she stared at the blue sky. Elizabeth didn't move but continued watching her until Charlotte sensed her presence and stood up abruptly. Elizabeth was shocked to see that her friend had been weeping. She moved forward quickly, "Charlotte, are you ill?"
"Are you always ill when you weep, Lizzie?"
"Of course not., but..."
"Then allow me my tears, Lizzie." At Elizabeth's stunned expression, Charlotte laughed out loud. "Oh dear, have I disappointed you?"
"Of course not, but has something happened? They're not sending you away again?"
"No. Nothing like that. Just feeling a little bit lonely, that's all. No one can talk of anything else but the handsome young men who will be spending the summer at Netherfield. All the mothers are confident they can can marry off their daughters and all the daughters are beyond excitement. They see no reason why all their dreams can't come true. Would it surprise you to know that there was a time when I thought my dreams would come true also? I too had hopes of finding a husband...of having a home and children."
"Oh, Charlotte, can you ever forgive me? I've been so wrapped up in my own problems, I've not given a thought to how you are feeling. I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself "
"There's nothing to forgive, Lizzie. I've just been indulging in some wishful thinking. It will pass and I will be as I ever was."
In London, four carriages stood ready at the Darcy townhouse; three of them packed solid with luggage and servants and the third with Darcy, Bingley and Peter Postlewaite. Richard, with his new sensibilities had offered to stay behind and accompany Lady Catherine, Anne, and Georgiana. They would not be leaving for another three days as their new elegant gowns were not quite ready. The moment their carriage began to move Bingley cried, "we're off! At last!"
Darcy exchanged an amused glance with Peter, "I've never known a man to be so anxious to get to work."
"Indeed! Think of the long hours locked in his library, poring over the books. And how tedious it is to list the names of all his tenants who will need a good flogging if they don't perform to his standards."
"Such an onerous part of being a gentleman farmer. All that blood."
"Ah, but the rewards are great, Mr. Darcy, you must admit! After a good flogging there are the assembly balls where he can dance the night away."
"I have not forgotten that aspect I assure you, Mr. Postlewaite. But have you forgotten the long tedious hours in the saddle surveying one's property? How many times I've returned home bent over and unable to keep my legs together."
"There is a simple cure for that, Mr. Darcy. I have found that if you down three or four brandies, then strategically stuff a pillow in your breeches, all will be well. Then you can attend the assemblies and be assured that the crowds will give you plenty of space."
"And will they regard you with admiration?"
"They will regard you...on that subject I have no more to say."
Bingley finally turned from the window, "you're wasting your breath. I'm not listening. You two might better employ yourselves with your books and leave me to my inscrutable thoughts of which I have plenty."
"Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters," Darcy quoted. He opened his book and settled down for a good read for the next three hours. Peter did the same.
Bingley was left to his inscrutable thoughts of Jane Bennet and how she was faring with her sister's fall from grace. The rules of proper conduct were so arbitrary. He knew of several instances where a member of a family had erred in judgment and no real harm had resulted. Men, of course, were automatically exempted from the rules. Dally with a servant and a harsh word from the head of the family was his just punishment. With a woman, a trip abroad until the gossip died down was all she could expect usually. To Bingley's certain knowledge the sins of one errant member were seldom passed on to the rest of the family, but that all depended on the status of the family, how vast was their estate, and how much money they were rumored to possess. The status of the Bennet family would be of such insignificance in Town that the scandal would be little noted and would fade after a moment of time. In Meryton, it was of greater importance and one which he felt sure his sister would pounce on with great delight if it suited her. And knowing Caroline, it would suit her. Anything or anyone who might draw him away from London and Derbyshire would be treated with great cruelty. Making things worse, he suspected that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had drawn Darcy's attention in such a way that would be intolerable to his sister. What should have been a joyous journey back to Hertfordshire was now fraught with peril as he would have to try to navigate between his sister's cold heart and Jane Bennet's gentle spirit.
After an hour Darcy finally closed his book accepting that he could not concentrate. He glanced at Bingley who still had his head turned to the window. As the miles rolled by bringing them closer to Hertfordshire he felt uneasy for his friend. His own problems seemed small compared to what Bingley would have to face if Jane Bennet was the woman he chose as his bride. He'd never witnessed Caroline in a roiling fury for which he was grateful and he could not rely on Bingley's description as it was not in his nature to be unkind. Humphrey Hurst, on the other hand, was a different kind of fish. However, Hurst didn't even try to hide his disdain for his wife's sister so his description of Caroline going off the deep end had to be suspect. Darcy suspected that the truth lay somewhere in between which would be formidable enough. He despised ungoverned anger above all things and would never tolerate it.
Peter had lowered his book to regard the two gentlemen sitting across from him. He had never known two close friends who were so dissimilar in personality so it was rather interesting to see their demeanors so similar now. What should have been a merry party heading for a sojourn in an unfamiliar land had made both men seem troubled though Peter could not imagine why. Bingley kept fidgeting with his cravat and regularly feeling his pulse, while Darcy kept twisting his pinky ring. The plot was thickening and Peter Postlewaite loved a mystery. This should be fun, he thought, before continuing his tortuous way though La Divina Commedia. He lasted for another five minutes before putting the small volume away and closing his eyes for a brief rest. He doubted he'd finish the book. It was more fun to watch heaven and hell unfold in real time than to read about it in a Tuscan dialect.
A scant two hours before Bingley's coach arrived at Netherfield, shock, sorrow and disbelief had descended upon Longbourn. Lydia had not taken breakfast with her family. This was no longer an unusual occurrence as she had not been breaking her fast with her family for the last several days. When she did not appear at lunch, Mrs. Hill was dispatched to her room. When she returned a few minutes later her expression and the letter she handed Mr. Bennet was all they needed to know.
"Dear Papa,
By the time you read this letter I will be long gone. Wickham came for me tonight as I knew he would. We are to be married and I beg you not to interfere again for this time we will not be found. I will write as soon as we are settled.
Your loving daughter, Tammie."