Page 8 of Resilience

Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “I hope, if I may be so bold, that my sister and I shall see more of Longbourn and Meryton. Perhaps you would join us. You seem to be an excellent local guide.”

“I would be delighted to join you and Miss Darcy whenever you like. Perhaps Jane and Mr Bingley would like to accompany us as well. Miss Darcy says that you both keep very early hours. Perhaps you would like to see Oakham Mount at sunrise? I walk there each morning, and though it may not equal the peaks of Derbyshire, it is well worth a visit.”

“We will consider that an invitation on the next fair morning. Perhaps we shall ride over and meet you there.” Darcy’s voice was warm as Miss Bingley emitted a strangled sound and her fork ground against her plate with a loud screech.

“Oh!” Mrs Bennet winced from across the table, murmuring to Mary. “I do hope my Wedgwood will survive Miss Bingley’s manners.”

“It is time to examine the breast bone of the goose,” Mr Bennet announced. The footman at the sideboard had removed enough meat from the bird to reveal what they sought, a longstanding prediction that dated back hundreds of years.

The platter with the remnants of the goose was laid upon the table before Mr Bennet, who regarded the breastbone solemnly. If the breast bone of the bird was white or blue-tinted, a harsh winter with a great deal of snow could be expected. If the bones were brown, a mild winter could be anticipated.

“The bones are rather mottled this year, a bit of this, a bit of that,” Mr Bennet observed. “I believe we might have a variety of weather this winter. I think I will send word that the tenants should begin their preparations early, lest unseasonable conditions strike unexpectedly.”

“Mr Wynford sent a boy reporting similar findings from the tenant feast, sir,” Mr Hill informed him.

“Heavens, you country folk do take your superstitions seriously.” Miss Bingley’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes, we do.” Georgiana answered Miss Bingley tartly, to the raised eyebrows of that lady and Mrs Hurst, and the amusement of Elizabeth, Lady Priscilla, and Darcy.

1 There was a superstition that the devil, or “Ol’ Nick,” would spit on or otherwise defile blackberries after Michaelmas, making them poisonous to harvest, and so the last of the blackberries were traditionally harvested and baked into pies for the Michaelmas feast.

Chapter Four

“Jane Bennet, whatever are you doing out in this rain? Get in, I will take you home!” Caroline Bingley cried from her carriage as her driver scrambled down to open the door and hand Jane in.

“Thank you, Miss Bingley, but I was very near to my aunt’s home. I am supposed to meet Lizzy there. She had an errand at the bookshop for my father.” Miss Bennet attempted to restore order to her soaked appearance.

“No doubt. I am not surprised to hear of Eliza in a bookshop. Well, I am certain that your aunt will show her every civility.” Caroline pursed her lips. “Meanwhile, you are soaked through and shivering. Netherfield is closer than Longbourn, I insist that you simply must accompany me to Netherfield. We shall have you warm and in the lap of comfort in a trice!”

“But Lizz-” Jane began to object.

“Now, Jane, do not be difficult. You are likely to die of cold, while you must admit that your sister is shockingly robust,” Caroline said. “And do not forget how close the two of you are. I am certain that Eliza would urge you to look after your health.”

Jane hesitated, giving Miss Bingley the opportunity to pound on the roof of the carriage with her parasol, which she had taken with her on her outing to the village before the weather turned suddenly. The carriage departed, with Jane not seeing what Caroline saw from her advantage.

Elizabeth Bennet was chasing the carriage through the rain as it pulled away down the market street.

Caroline Bingley was bored enough to scream in Hertfordshire. To make matters worse, Louisa recently announced that she was with child, and though her character had not changed precisely, she had become a great deal more quiet and restful of late, and would not be concerned by Caroline’s complaints.

Caroline must have someone to gripe to, or she would scream. Jane Bennet was mealy-mouthed enough to put up with most of what she said, and would probably be easily led, if Caroline gave her the proper encouragement.

It would not be the first time she was obliged to befriend one of her brother’s angels, only to intentionally lead the young lady into vicious behaviour towards other young women, a tactic certain to alter Charles’s view of the lady every time. Just because the entire village was buzzing about the dowry of ten thousand the young lady had–really, is that what passes for well-endowed in this dreary backwater–did not mean the beautiful woman was at all suitable. Charles did not understand that he was not–in Caroline’s opinion–wealthy or important enough for a stunningly beautiful wife–with nothing else to recommend her–to bring him consequence.

Even Mr Darcy, a man who was probably worth at least four times her brother’s wealth once one considered all of his holdings, had married for status, wealth, and property the first time he entered that state. His first match brought him so much wealth and consequence added to what he already possessed, he would be certain to please himself when he succumbed again. Caroline must be sure that she kept the most beautiful women out of his hands until he finally settled upon her.

Miss Bennet had instantly responded to Charles’s attention at the assembly, and Caroline only needed to encourage her to moon over him, while eventually persuading her to behave in a manner that Charles would view with distaste. Obviously, this must take place before he became too serious about the chit. Charles would leave her harmlessly behind when they departed the area, but in the meantime, Mr Darcy would never look at Miss Bennet due to his friend’s interest. Caroline did not realise that Mr Darcy never had any interest in the women Caroline had played this game with, and that no redirection of beautiful females to his friend would ever make him turn to her.

At least Jane Bennet would give her someone to talk to with Louisa lately being so disobliging. Caroline bustled her new friend into the great hall at Netherfield Park.

“I am showing Miss Bennet to the Willow Room, Mrs Nicholls. Send someone in to make up the bed and a fire, and a maid to borrow a nightgown and robe from my sister. Your feet appear to be of a size with mine, Jane. Mrs Nicholls, ask my maid Mrs Harper to send my new house slippers, the fawn ones. Have a hot bath filled in Miss Bennet’s dressing room and assign her a maid. She has taken a drenching, as you see. Have my brother and the men departed?”

“Yes, Miss Bingley. Mrs Hurst has retired to her room and ordered a tray for dinner,” Mrs Nicholls answered.

“That is nothing new. Louisa has lately been retiring earlier than we did as children. She needs her rest, poor dear.” Caroline led Jane Bennet up the stairs. “I am expecting a new niece or nephew. My sister finds her task exhausting, and I cannot blame her.”

“Of course.” Jane Bennet was wide eyed. “The gentlemen are not at home?”

“Charles and the men accepted an invitation to dine with the regiment,” Caroline explained. “Since Louisa has retired, and you are soaked through and ought to stay by the fire, shall I join you in your room for dinner on trays? You must be used to the company of your sisters, and I should hate to leave you on your own. You simply must spend the night. I will not hear of you leaving. I am certain that if you attempted it, you would surely die of pneumonia, or consumption, or something equally dreadful.”