Page 2 of The Gossip War
The business sounded like exactly that, though you must equate crime with business for it to make sense. This seemed like a well planned and executed compromise attempt; but I could not for the life of me work out why Mr Darcy would go along. His standing in society was sufficient to ignore the Bingleys or squash them like bugs. He could run them out of London without leaving his club.
Jane surprised everybody. “If I may be so bold as to ask, what business could possibly be conducted at this time of night?”
Miss Bingley was temperamentally incapable of keeping her fool mouth shut. “The business of my engagement. Mr Darcy compromised me.”
Mr Darcy snapped, “Quite the contrary, Miss Bingley—”
Mr Bingley apparently thought Mr Darcy might give the game away, so he did his best to slow things down and move towards his original goal. “Darcy… Darcy… there is no point spreading rumours now. Remember, she will be your wife.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Mr Hurst, bless his little heart, said, “Come, come, Darcy. You enjoyed the milk… time to buy the cow.”
Everyone turned and glared at him, and I thought my prior estimate of his sobriety was wildly optimistic.
Miss Bingley made what I thought was the operative point. “Come now… we would not want to spread rumours which might affect Miss Darcy’s reputation or entry into society, would we?”
There it was! There was the entire explanation in one neat sentence, and it hit me like a bolt of lightning (not that I have been struck by lightning, but I have seen it strike a tree from my window before, which is almost as good).
Miss Darcy, Miss Darcy, Miss Darcy, Miss Darcy… Miss Georgiana Darcy. It all pivoted on Miss Darcy, although I could not work out how.
It seemed obvious that, absent any concerns for Miss Darcy, Mr Darcy would tell the Bingley’s to go hang themselves. He could simply get up at his leisure in the morning, have a nice breakfast, return to London, tell one or two gossips his side of the story and it would be all over. A man of his standing could simply explain it as a mistress who became overzealous, and nobody would bat an eye. The Bingleys would be ruined before the week was out.
The implied threat (not implied but stated outright) was a whole other kettle of fish. I wondered about the ever-accomplished Miss Darcy. I could remember the Bingley sisters blathering on endlessly about her, as if she were their bosom friend. Threatening Miss Darcy was either part of a long-held stratagem, or simply more leverage to use against poor Mr Darcy.
I had not learnt much about Miss Darcy at Netherfield, but from my mother’s gossip I gathered she was about Lydia or Kitty’s age, slightly taller than me (for what it was worth), orphaned early, and under the guardianship of Mr Darcy. Herreputation might be slightly injured by her brother abandoning a compromised woman, but I could hardly imagine her being overly concerned about her brother abandoning a nouveau-riche-upstart-daughter-of-a-tradesman, whose only connexion to the first circles was through the Darcys in the first place. Something did not add up.
Mr Darcy growled. “Threaten my sister again at your peril, Miss Bingley,” but I could tell he was worried. I could tell he was very worried (about his sister, presumably).
The whole group stopped when they met Jane and I, obviously not prepared for such a possibility. I surprisingly found Mr Darcy standing beside my own humble self.
He was slightly too far away to speak privately, so I gently slid a couple steps closer and whispered, “Is that a credible threat, Mr Darcy?”
A small nod was all he managed before the rest of the pack of Bingleys closed the gap enough to make even brief private conversation impossible.
Mr Bingley, looking implacable, spoke stridently. “Come now, Darcy. Be reasonable. You know what must happen next. We must all think of Miss Darcy’s and Caroline’s futures. You must do your duty as a gentleman.”
I wondered how long Mr Bingley had been involved in the plan. Was this whole debacle Miss Bingley’s, with her brother caught in the same trap as Mr Darcy with no alternatives? Had he been playing a long game, cultivating the Darcys for years, hoping Miss Bingley could bring him to the alter by choice, only to finally give up and use more forceful and risky measures? Was he even financially solvent, or was this a scheme to save the family from ruin? I had no idea.
It was obvious the entire family was in on the scheme, as it would have taken them a week just to sober up Mr Hurst. They were all so certain of their success. I had to ask myself why? Whywould they be so certain they could play the Miss Darcy card with impunity?
I was listening to Mr Darcy’s teeth grinding, which sounded like a woodcutter with his axe. I risked a glance and from his profile, I saw a vein pulsing in his neck and his jaw locked in tension. It was clear they had him in an awkward position, and I was unlikely to discover exactly why. For whatever reason, Mr Darcy had yet to work out an escape plan and might even be considering going along. Of course, it was just as possible he was stalling, but he did not have the look of a man with a solution at hand.
The answer, when it came a moment later, was triggered, oddly enough by thoughts of Lydia. If Miss Darcy’s reputation were pristine, nothing occurring at Netherfield would have the slightest effect. But what if it were not? What if she had done something stupid—such as being compromised herself? Her brother would have done his best to cover it up, without a doubt. Any good brother would, and nobody could blame him.
But just suppose the Bingleys suspected? If they knew, then that put Mr Darcy in a terrible position. They could not spread that gossip directly, as they probably lacked proof. If they had proof or even good evidence, they would have handled this blackmail attempt much more subtly, and Mr Darcy would have been trussed up like a Christmas goose and at the alter with none the wiser.
It seemed obvious to me. They were counting on the threat of two similar scandals to bring the gentleman to heel. They did not know the details of exactly what happened (perhaps not even where or when), but strongly suspected there was a danger to the Darcys. He could manage one scandal based on his position in society, but two at the same time would be too much. If they stirred the pot enough, and there was something to be found, it would be eventually. The Bingleys did not have sufficientresources to uncover the scandal, but if Mr Darcy was embroiled in gossip and innuendo, someone in London would. London society would consider it good sport; and unless Miss Darcy was as tough as a blacksmith’s anvil, she would have a challenging time entering society. If she were like Lydia, there would be no concern, but suppose she was more like, say, Maria Lucas or Kitty?
I understood marriages in his level of society were often loveless unions of fortune anyway, and Miss Bingley had a large dowry. Perhaps, Mr Darcy, who seemed disinclined to marry any woman, decided she was no worse than any other wife he might get. He would have all the power in the marriage, and he could just stick her wherever he wanted and visit her at his leisure (if ever). If his estate were not entailed, he could pass it on to a child of a mistress, a cousin, a nephew, or anyone he wanted, really.
I had no idea why any woman would be stupid enough to put herself in the power of someone she had so wronged, but it happened every day in London, and I imagine they never thought beyond the wedding day, or their dreams of gowns, jewels, and redecorating.
It all made sense, but the unfairness grated at me exceedingly. It seemed obvious that if Mr Darcy wanted a society wife, he could have had one at his leisure anytime in the past decade. That he remained unwed closer to thirty than twenty, suggested he was looking for something. If he was looking for something specific, and had known Miss Bingley for years, it was obvious that she was not it. He could easily have a daughter of a peer like his mother any time he wanted, so why settle for an ill-mannered-badly-dressed tradesman’s daughter.
I had no idea what he was looking for—maybe a {gasp} love match? Odder things had happened, even in the first circles.
At that point, my highly overdeveloped sense of fair play kicked in, and I did something that surprised everyone in the hall (most especially me).
