Page 103 of Compromise & Consequence
“Anyone with eyes in their head knows where my attentions lay.”
“Very true. I believe you are grateful for that little incident last November, where your wife quite literally fell into your arms.”
“Every day. I have no idea where Elizabeth and I would be if that had not happened.”
“You would still be stalking the edges of the ballroom, glaring at all the simpering debutants. Your wife, on the other hand, would be finalizing her travel plans to Spain.” Ashton slapped him on the back. “She would not have remained a single woman for very long once she set a dainty foot in that country. Some Spanish lord would have swept her off her feet.”
“No, her plans for traveling to Spain would have changed. Did you not hear that the Spanish ambassador died a few days after Christmas? He was interred at Westminster Abbey and his wife, the Duchess, left almost immediately for Spain. Even if we had not married, Elizabeth could not have traveled with her.”
“Then, there is hope that the two of you might still have connected and fallen in love.”
“I suppose, although I am not sure how, or where we would have met again.”
“Darcy, all things happen for a reason. If you were meant to be together, you would have stumbled across her somewhere. Who knows? You said her cousin holds the living at Hunsford and married a close friend. For all you know, you both might have been in Kent at the same time. Or, she could have gone on a trip to northern England with family and stopped to tour Pemberley and you were home that day. Never doubt the vagaries of Fate.”
“What an imagination you have, Ashton. You should take pen to paper and write a book.”
“My scenarios may be farfetched, but they would make for a grand story. Just imagine. Two people struggling with their pride and prejudices while falling in love.”
Darcy only shook his head and continued to watch hiswife dance. He would not change a thing that occurred to bring Elizabeth into his life. Ashton’s fanciful imaginations left too much to unplanned coincidences. He would take the consequence of their compromise any day over the chance of never winning his wife’s tender heart.
***
It was a truth, universally acknowledged, by nearly everyone of thebon ton, that Miss Caroline Bingley was incapable of arriving at a much-feted social event on time, especially if it honored her greatest enemy. Because of this personal peccadillo, she entered the house of Matlock halfway through the first set.
Charles immediately set out to find his angel and Caroline went to the lady’s retiring room. By the time she had handed off her outerwear and exchanged her shoes for dancing slippers, the first set was nearing completion with a good ten minutes left before the dancers took their bows and curtsies and departed the floor. She was somewhat dismayed that no one had seen her grand entrance, huddled as they were about the various doors and archways that fed into the ballroom.
Spotting three ladies, and Caroline used the term loosely even though she curried their favor to advance her social agenda, she made haste to where they stood, craning their necks to look over the crowds. She tapped the closest lady with her fan to draw her attention.
“Miss Goodman, such a crush. What has everyone so enthralled?”
The three misses turned to face her and Miss Goodman said, “Have you only just arrived, Miss Bingley?”
“Yes, and I am quite perturbed there was no one to greet or announce my arrival.”
“Miss Bingley,” drawled Miss Whyte. “An earl and a countesswill not stand about waiting for you and your brother to arrive. They have far more important guests to greet and speak with.”
“That may be,” Caroline said, raising her chin in defiance, “but I am a friend of Mr. Darcy and as such should be treated with more respect.”
“I recall you saying you would be the next Mrs. Darcy.”
This came from Miss Grantley, whom Caroline had counted as a somewhat close confidant.
“I can say with great authority that Mr. Darcy did not seek marriage to that social mushroom. Eliza Bennet compromised him on the terrace at my own brother’s ball. It was quite disgraceful.”
She expected the three women to bombard her for more information because gossip was their social currency. However, they all stood, mouths slightly agape, looking over her shoulder. Caroline half turned to see who stood behind her and missed seeing the three ladies drop into respectful curtsies. All she saw was a middle-aged man in immaculate eveningwear glaring at her. On his arm was Eliza Bennet, her eyes sparkling as though she were laughing at some inner secret.
Because there was somewhat of an audience starting to gather, she gave Eliza the barest of nods with her head for a greeting. She did not even acknowledge the old fool who trotted about with her. Surprisingly, the man spoke to her without introduction.
“You know Mrs. Darcy?”
“Much to my detriment,” she sneered, not caring if everyone knew she despised the country miss with fine eyes and hems six inches deep in mud.
“Who is this woman?” the man demanded, and a reed-thin man stepped forward and said, “Miss Caroline Bingley, Sir.”
The man looked down at Eliza.
“You and your husband are familiar with Miss Bingley, Mrs. Darcy?”
