For 2023 I am working on updating three stories, this one, My Greatest Regret (a modern PP) and Tired of Waiting for You (a Persuasion variation). If you haven't read the others, check them out.
Sorry for the delay, but I had two false starts on this chapter before I found what I was really supposed to write next and from whose point of view, have been adjusting to the challenges of a new job, and my husband and I have been dealing with the realities of his diagnosis of Ankylosing Spondylitis. There is a gene associated with this condition, HLA-B27, and we just found out that our oldest son, the one who has autism, is positive for the gene; it doesn't mean he will get the condition, but it does mean he is at risk for it. We will test the other boys at their next routine doctor's appointments.
Mr. Bingley's POV
30. My Character
I used to always be proud of my character and temperament. With no effort at all, I seemed to secure friends. True, sometimes they simply wanted what I could and would give them, for I always had more than enough and did not mind sharing what I had, and even after my trust was abused, it was hard to cut them off for I could always see their point of view.
When I was a lad at home, it often fell to my parents, and later Louisa and even Caroline, to give others a proper set-down and send them on their way. When I was at school, some of my friends always nominated themselves as my protector, would step in if I needed help. Darcy was one of these. Still, I wasted a fair amount of money helping those who came to me with fabricated or exaggerated stories of trouble.
My father, when speaking to my mother about me, used to say "Compassion is both a blessing and a curse." What followed after . . . well it used to vary depending upon what kind of a scrape I found myself in at that moment. If it was not too bad, Father would be even tempered, saying something like, "On the one hand, we ought to all be kinder to our fellow man; it is good to wish to help. On the other hand, as not everyone is as compassionate as our Charlie; others who have less compassion than he will find a way to abuse his kindness. We must help him toughen up."
My mother would always reply, her eyes soft, accompanied by a slight upturning of her lips, "He takes after me and it is not a bad thing."
My father would continue to grumble and complain that about how that was fine for women to be kind and gentle, so long as they had fathers, brothers and then husbands to protect them, but that as I was their only son that it would be hard for me to serve that role for my sisters if I could not stand up for myself.
My father was a banker from a long line of bankers. They had all grown rich from what I could tell by only giving loans to those who hardly needed them, profiting from success and turning away those who could not easily repay. I was to be a banker, too, but whatever plans my father had in such a direction he soon thought the better of. But fortunately for my father, his fortune was such that he decided I was to be a landowner, with a sensible steward.
Father planned, I suppose, to be the one to pick out the land, to put the steward in place, to set things up so I could not fail. He did not plan to die before the age of fifty, struck down by an angry man who he refused a loan. He killed my father in the twenty paces my father daily walked between the bank and his carriage, stabbed him several times while raving to onlookers.
My sisters were angry, oh so angry. They cursed like sailors, howled like animals. They were also sorely grieved and when the raving stopped they cried and cried. There could be no doubt in the strength of their emotions. My mother shut herself up in her rooms and became like a ghost, seldom venturing out of that portion of the house. The man responsible ended up swinging, which is what was to be expected.
My reactions were quieter, muted. I believe I loved my father just as much as they did, but I did not just think about my father and what my family had lost. I suppose such an event could have hardened my heart, but as we mourned (my father was certainly worth grieving for), my mind at times turned toward thinking of the man's family. However bad their situation was when my father refused him a loan, how much worse it must have been for them with the head of their household dead? I used to imagine crying, hungry children, his widow as a hollow-faced woman with dull marbles for eyes, who let men occupy her for some coin. If I had known who she was or where to find her, I would have given her some money, anonymously of course.
But I never mentioned these thoughts to anyone. I knew I was not supposed to think that way.
My mother did not live another year. Her grief took her more than the mild illness which should have been gotten over in a week or so. My sisters blamed her death on the man who killed our father, and perhaps they were right. I also heard them talking amongst themselves more than once about how weak my mother was, to let her love for Father kill her. They prided themselves that they would never be such fools in love.
When Louisa told me two years later that she wished to marry Mr. Hurst, that he had proposed and she had accepted, there was nothing for me to do than to wish her happy and tell him that I expected him to treat her well. She was older than me, well into her majority, and knew her own mind. But I grieved in private knowing she had no love for him. It seemed to me to be a cold and calculating choice on her part, for he is an oldest son and she shall never know any privation, but he does not make her laugh and her smiles rarely reach her eyes anymore.
As for me, having known the love my parents shared with each other, I always wanted its like, even if it might someday end in tragedy. But being a man, I know I can marry at almost any age. In the meantime, I have always meant to enjoy life and what it has to offer.
It may seem odd that I count Darcy among my closest friends, given how different we are in all particulars, but he is a good and loyal friend. He has saved me from my own foolishness again and again.
I have never wished to be like Darcy, though, although there is much to admire about him. He is a very intelligent man who excelled in every academic subject, and of course is quite tall which adds to his commanding presence, possesses a handsome face, has noble blood flowing through his veins and has the status my father wished for me and my sisters.
But I cannot admire Darcy's suspicious eye, always questioning others intentions, or his bluntness. I understand that he does not wish to put up with any nonsense, but he does not have to be so mean about it. Also, he has always guarded his purse with a gimlet eye, has not had the generosity that I think he should. Yes, sometimes I might give money which is not used in the manner intended, but I have also not turned away my friends who have truly needed my help.
Regarding Miss Jane Bennet, I did intend to return from London after concluding my business and believed it only a matter of time until I proposed. However, I thought the better of it after my sisters and Darcy joined me and argued against such a match, although my heart disagreed. I believed myself in love and thought Miss Bennet might return the sentiment or at least be growing fond of me, but according to them she was just another person who wished to benefit from my purse. Their combined efforts were quite persuasive and soon had me doubting myself.
Caroline told me, "Jane Bennet is certainly a sweet girl and I would see her well disposed in marriage, but with her relatives in trade, meager dowry and the family estate entailed away, that is unlikely and I would not see you burdened with the care of that entire family for someone who sees nothing but your income. You are so amiable, so eager to please that any woman would be fortunate to be married to you. It behooves you to marry someone of near equal fortune and elevated rank. Or if you are so lucky as to marry someone with noble blood, she could bring less wealth to the marriage because her status is higher. If you marry such a woman, you will know that although she had equally lucrative options, that she chose you because she wishes to marry you, not your wealth."
I replied, "But I wish to marry Miss Bennet. She is the most beautiful and kind woman of my acquaintance. I am sure we shall get on splendidly, be very happy."
"Be reasonable, Bingley," Darcy replied. "Should you truly wish to marry a woman whose affections are not equal to your own? I saw nothing in her looks that made me think her heart was touched. Indeed, as the eldest of five daughters, she will accept a proposal for their sake, knows she needs to marry well to secure the future of her family."
"What is wrong with that?" I replied. "Can she not both love me and them? Do I not have fortune enough to share it with them all?"
Darcy shook his head. "Have you learned nothing from all the times we have needed to come to your aid, to protect you from fortune hunters and associates who would steal all your money? Miss Bingley has the right of it. In time you would come to resent the burden of caring for so many and once you marry you will be under such an obligation for the rest of your life. But you still may escape, are not committed yet. Stay in London and see if another of better fortune catches your eye. If not this season, then perhaps in the next, you will be ready to try to find your true match."
"Please trust us," Louisa added. "We only have your best interests at heart, can see things more clearly than you can."
"Are you telling me that Miss Bennet is a fortune hunter?" I asked. My sisters looked at each other.
Caroline lightly placed her hand upon my arm in what I believe was meant to be a comforting gesture. She looked me straight in the eyes and answered for all of them. "No, or not for herself. I believe Jane will do what she needs to do to secure any eligible man out of the love she bears her family. That does not mean she is not kind or well bred, but her situation in life is decidedly below your own and she cannot help but see you as a solution preventing her future genteel poverty and that of her family. She may have a certain fondness for you, but I would not see you in a loveless marriage that does not offer you any advantages."
I had to concede that they must know better than me, as they usually did.
After Darcy left, Caroline suggested, "I know she is too young yet, but perhaps in a few years you might court and marry Miss Darcy."
Miss Darcy!" I exclaimed. "She is but a child and a bashful one at that."
"No Charles," Louisa replied, "she may not be out yet, but she is hardly a child. She is a lovely young woman who has blonde hair and blue eyes just like Miss Bennet, but in more refined and noble features."
Of course, as I have long known, what others call noble is sometimes just another word for ugly, except it has money and status attached. In recalling Miss Darcy, she was pretty I suppose although her nose was perhaps a quarter of an inch too long, her chin too sharp and she was taller than fashionable; of the siblings, Darcy was better favored. All of this would have been nothing objectionable to me had I fancied her, but she was nothing to Miss Bennet.
I was drawn from my musings by Caroline adding "But unlike Miss Bennet, Miss Darcy has a handsome dowry, is the granddaughter and niece of an earl. The friendship you share with her brother is certainly another mark in your favor. You must know I had hoped to connect our families through her brother and me, but if that is not to be, this is almost as good. And who knows, one marriage sometimes begets another."
Louisa added, "When you see Miss Darcy next, consider her more closely. She is a gentle soul that would do well with you, for you might encourage her toward more liveliness and she has the Darcy loyalty and honor. She would make an ideal wife in a year or two."
I was not convinced, but the next thing that Louisa added, made me look upon Miss Darcy a little closer. "Also, in personality, she reminds me of our mother. She needs a strong man to protect and guide her, to keep her from harm. Perhaps you can be that man for her."
Of course, despite my sister's efforts to turn my attention elsewhere, in the weeks and months that followed, I continued to doubt the wisdom of not returning to Miss Bennet. I found it hard to be happy. But Darcy, good friend that he is and learning I was still not in spirits, invited us all to Pemberley for the summer.
On the journey there, my sisters tried to convince me that this was the perfect opportunity to get to know Miss Darcy better with an eye toward a future match. I had no such intention of course, but it would have been rude to tell them that, so I agreed I would endeavor to engage her in conversation. Of course I planned to do no more than a man should toward his friend's young sister and ward.
The country air was fine, the riding good, and the house grand, but I struggled to find contentment in the things that would have once given me great joy. Miss Darcy, whomever she might become in a few years, was nothing to Jane and indeed the superficial resemblance of their looks only made me think of my beloved, three days ride away. I needed just the slightest tug to return to Netherfield and attempt to win her hand, but I was restrained by having no one encourage such an action.
My spirits only worsened when I learned from Sir William about Miss Lydia running away with Mr. Wickham and then in his next letter about her returning home from a brothel and how in consequence their father was struck dead. I felt the horror of it all very deeply, could well imagine the Bennet family's sorrow based on the loss of my parents in quick succession, but added to this was the horror of what had befallen their sister.
The intelligence about Miss Lydia foreclosed forever any prospect of me returning for Miss Bennet, and oh how the whole situation grieved me. I well understood the love that caused the women to take her back, despite what it cost them. I would have done no less for Caroline, for Louisa.
However, as much as I understood it, could inwardly laud the love that allowed them to embrace her sister, I felt how it divided me further from Miss Bennet. If our relationship had been a person, well, not only did it appear to be viciously murdered, it had been stuffed into a coffin and was being prepared for burial. With each new bad piece of news concerning Miss Lydia, another nail was hammered in the coffin lid, another shovel full of dirt removed in the digging of the hole.
I imagined Miss Bennet and I at the grave site, weeping. But that was wrong. If Darcy and my sisters were correct, she would not be moved to tears, only repining the loss of my pocketbook.
But the thought of Miss Bennet's tears, whether they were tears from being torn from me, tears for her father, tears for her sister's shame, kept me up at night. I often did not sleep until it was close to dawn and my dreams would contain my wishes of what I wished to do. I would dream of riding for Hertfordshire, coming to comfort Miss Bennet. In my dreams I would sweep her into my arms and onto my horse. No words would be needed. We would just ride toward our future. Other times I dreamed of exchanging vows with her before the congregation in Meryton, the wedding breakfast, and then having her in my bed. However, I always awoke before any happy conclusion.
When I did wake up, I could not retreat back into the joy of the dream, for in waking all my hopes were dashed again. I knew I still desired to marry Miss Bennet, felt I loved her, but I knew I could not claim her as my wife, for it would hurt Caroline's prospects, no matter how large her dowry.
Perhaps others would not have worried so much about how their own marriage might affect their sister. I am not blind. I know what other people think of her, can recognize that Caroline can be harsh and selfish, put on airs, seek to elevate herself through demeaning others. But she is my sister and I know that she loves me. I firmly believe that in warning me away from Miss Bennet, Caroline truly meant to do well by me. I understand how she is. She cannot help that Father's and Mother's deaths made her colder, more calculating. She has a good heart under it all, would never want to see me hurt.
It is her very heart that Caroline seeks to protect by wanting a marriage that elevates her rather than touches her heart deeply. It is too late for Louisa to have that deep love, but it is not too late for Caroline, and I still want that for her. Yes, with love comes the risk of pain, but to me it is all worth it, even if being crossed in love has caused me much suffering.
Hurst, I believe from the kindest of motivations, soon after I received Sir William's second letter, suggested to me that I might form another type of relationship with Miss Bennet. He told me, while I moped, my heart breaking in imagining her misery, "Now is the time, my boy, to claim Miss Bennet as your wife in watercolors. Mark my words, if you do not, someone else will."
Hurst wiggled his hips and smirked. Really, it was more a thrusting gesture, and an evil smile than a smirk, suggesting just what he would have done with Miss Bennet if in my place, but I did not want to think my brother of marriage capable of such depravity, had always ignored the lascivious tales he seemed to feel obliged to share with me, attributed them to youthful exploits, hoped rather than believed that they were no longer occurring.
Hurst explained, "With their father gone and their sister ruined, it is only a matter of time before they marry some impoverished tradesman or embrace another role." He waggled his eyes brows and formed his mouth into a wide "o" which was suggestive of a particular service that some mistresses may provide, at least according to the tales he has shared. "Why not take what you can now gain while avoiding the parson's mousetrap? You can have your cake and eat it, too. Marry a woman of fortune and still find delight with the fair Miss Bennet."
I cried out "No, never. I could never debase Miss Bennet in such a way and she would never accept such an offer from anyone. I would still marry her even now, knowing my affection for her is one-sided, if I could do so without tainting Caroline by association, but we are too near to our origins to risk it."
Hurst shrugged, "You will find that there is very little that money cannot buy. If it cannot buy Miss Bennet's companionship, it can instead buy Caroline a suitable husband. You can always double Caroline's dowry, buy her husband an estate."
I shook my head. "I should not like to see her married to someone who shall not love her but merely see her as a means to an end."
I looked away then, scared that I was insulting Hurst. I well knew he had married Louisa for her dowry, as while he was the eldest son, his father was miserly and disagreeable, and with Louisa's money he had been able to purchase his townhouse, and as part of our agreement I paid a larger sum then needed for Caroline and I to reside with them as well.
As if he could well sense my thoughts, Hurst responded. "Louisa entered into our arrangement with open eyes, and Caroline is no more looking for love than Louisa. Caroline wishes for status, ideally on the arm of a handsome man, but if he has a title, she will settle for a portly man, the higher his status the uglier and more disagreeable he may be. For a Duke he could be nigh on sixty, with no hair or teeth and perpetually smelling of boiled cabbage which along with gruel forms his pap.
"I am fortunate that Louisa did not look so high. Still, although we were both practical, Louisa and I have grown fond of each other and I believe us content enough. Love could not earn me my independence and love could not make her a member of the gentry."
I did not think it could be as easy as giving more of my fortune to my sister, but our conversation did give me an idea. I resolved that if Caroline made a match and was wed soon enough, I might still have a chance to pursue Jane Bennet. Therefore, I offered to fund a lavish wardrobe for Caroline for the next season, encouraged her to seek a love match.
Caroline and I attended the season together. Louisa remaining home as it stretched on, given her expectation. Although Caroline went to the society events she could (I went with her as I had promised her and Louisa to look for a wife, although it was a form of torture because none could compare to Miss Bennet), as the months went on I despaired in her lack of serious prospects.
Perhaps I was torturing myself, but I kept exchanging letters with Sir William. I no longer asked after the Bennets but he told about them every time without fail. Thus I learned of Miss Lydia's gravid state and then after she birthed the child, the suspicions that his father was certainly no Englishman. Sir William also bragged about his son's generosity towards his kin and then the anticipated date of his occupation. As he never specifically said that Mr. Collins intended to throw them out, I had hope their cousin would take pity on them, but also recalled that the Miss Bennets had two uncles to host them.
When Caroline concluded the season with no more prospects than before, for she had soundly rejected a third son who made his living through the church, I despaired that Jane would have a husband and a brood of children before Caroline would meet her match. Still, I could not be so selfish as to seek my happiness at the expense of her own, to foreclose a high match for her. So I languished in torment, though I did my best to hide it. Still food had lost it's flavor and not even the fairest debutante my sister had befriended and persuaded to dine with us could raise my interest. I well knew myself to be love-sick and nothing could relieve me of it.
When I thought of the Bennet sisters being divided between their male relatives, I always imagined that she might stay with the uncle of trade who lived near Cheapside. I hoped and prayed for Jane to live there. I could not recall his name or the street where their uncle lived, but as the time grew near when the Collinses were to move to Longbourn, I found excuse after excuse to visit that part of town, hoping I might encounter her or at least one of her sister's there.
It was a miserable existance, but I did not know how to turn it around. Imagine my surprise when Colonel Fitzwilliam called on me to ask for a loan to marry Miss Ellizabeth! It was as if I had been living in a dark room, but the light was suddenly turned on. Perhaps I had been underestimating the damage an association with the family would have. For if an Earl's son could marry one daughter, surely I could marry another and be in good company. I reflected on the matter for many hours. The next day I told Hurst of my plans and how I would sweeten the pot for Caroline, too, and begged for his silence until the following morning. I did not consult with my sisters for I did not want to be talked out of what I was finally determined to do.
As I rode for Hertfordshire, the cadence of my horses hooves upon the dusty road coincided with my imaginings of each shovelful of dirt that was removed from the grave, the hoisting on the coffin, the prying of the nails out of the lid. When finally the lid was free, I opened the coffin and out stepped Miss Bennet, as alive and beautiful as I recalled. I took her by the hand, dropped to one knee, declared my ardent love and asked, "Dearest Miss Bennet, will you marry me?" Unfortunately, in real life, things were not to be so simple.
A/N: Any predictions/wishes for what will come next?
