Page 61 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“You thought what? That I am so desperate, so lacking in pride, that I would resort to such sordid schemes?” Caroline’s hands shook with anger. “I would never—never—stoop to such degradation. What manner of woman do you take me for?”
The raw pain and wounded dignity in her voice convinced Darcy more than any protestation of innocence could have. Whatever Caroline’s faults, she possessed too much pride to orchestrate her own public humiliation.
“I apologise,” he said. “I should not have suggested such a thing.”
“No, you should not have.” Caroline’s voice was cold as winter. “I may be many things, Mr Darcy, but I am not pathetic.”
With that, she swept from the room, leaving Darcy feeling rather ashamed of his accusation.
Moments later, Bingley appeared in the doorway. His lips were puckered, hands stuffed in his pocket. “Good Lord, what happened? Caroline just stormed past me looking ready to commit murder.”
“I asked her if she had placed the scandal sheet notices.”
Bingley’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. I take it she did not react well to the suggestion?”
“She was most emphatic in her denial. And I believe her.”
“Well, I must say I am quite glad it all worked out as it did,” Bingley said with a grin. “Your engagement to Miss Elizabeth, I mean.”
Darcy frowned. “I seem to recall you suggesting I should marry Caroline so we could be brothers.”
Bingley laughed. “Well, I do want us to be brothers, that much is true. But I have always known how much you dislike Caroline. I was merely trying to make the best of what seemed an inevitable situation.” His grin widened. “Besides, we might still end up brothers, since we are both courting Bennet daughters.”
“Charles, you know my courtship is not real.”
“Of course I know. I was there when you told Georgiana and me about your arrangement, was I not?” Bingley’s expression grew more serious. “But the way I have seen you looking at Miss Elizabeth lately… well, it gives me an inkling that all is not quite as it seems.”
Darcy ran his hand through his hair. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Do you not?” Bingley’s smile was knowing. “Very well, my friend. Keep your secrets. But I think you may find that what began as pretence has become something rather more genuine than you care to admit.”
With that parting observation, Bingley took his leave, following his sister to their waiting carriage.
Darcy stood alone in the morning room, forced to confront the uncomfortable truth in his friend’s words. He was indeed looking at Elizabeth with far more feeling than he ought. The realisation was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
Chapter 22
Darcy
Saturday evening at the Gardiners’ house found Darcy adjusting his cravat one final time before knocking on the familiar door. Tonight would test their deception before Elizabeth’s entire family, and the weight of maintaining their charade pressed upon his shoulders. The only people in attendance to know the truth were Mrs Bennet, Mr Morton, and Jane as well as Bingley. Bingley’s carriage was already parked at the end of the street, an indicator he had come to call on Miss Bennet early.
Mrs Gardiner welcomed him with her usual politeness, leading him to the sitting room where the assembled party awaited. Mr Morton sat near the fire, looking distinguished in his evening clothes, whilst Mr Gardiner occupied his chair with a glass of port. Mrs Bennet had abandoned her mourning attire for a becoming lavender silk that brought colour to her complexion, and she appeared more animated than Darcy had yet seen her. He had noted she had not abandoned her blacks and until very recently, even though she could have gone into half mourning some while ago.
From the outside, she was a difficult woman to assess. How had she coped, he wondered?
“Mr Darcy!” Mrs Bennet rose with obvious pleasure, interrupting his thoughts. “How delightful to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mrs Bennet. You appear in excellent spirits yourself.”
Elizabeth entered then, followed by Jane and Bingley, who seemed unable to keep from smiling at each other.
“Where are Miss Catherine and Miss Mary this evening?” Darcy enquired as they moved towards the dining room.
“Gone with Mrs Gardiner to visit our eldest daughter,” Mr Gardiner explained. “She lives in Bloomsbury with her husband and children. We thought it best to keep the party smaller tonight.”
Lydia appeared last, wearing a pale blue gown that suited her colouring. She acknowledged Darcy with the barest of nods, her expression cool but not openly hostile. Progress, perhaps.
The dining room glowed with candlelight, the table set with the Gardiners’ best China. The Gardiner’s cook had outdone herself with the meal—roasted fowl, fresh vegetables from the market, and a selection of pastries that filled the air with tempting aromas.
