All of Meryton society seemed to enjoy the first dinner party thrown by the Bingley’s so much so; it felt as if the wedding festivities merely continued five months after the couple's nuptials in the small village. Despite her mother's strongest attempts, her well-practiced eldest daughter appealed to her father for assistance in sending the Bennet family home at nearly two in the morning.
Exhausted, the two Bingley women agreed to Charles' invitation to the parlor for a quick nightcap.
“Charles, you cannot be serious to consider another year here. Please tell me you will give up the lease.” Caroline accepted a glass of sherry from her brother and wrinkled her nose at her brief sniff of the odor.
“Caroline, this is Jane's home. We've spoken about your attitude. Why did you come to Hertfordshire? I thought you wished nothing more than to remain in London.”
“Oh, well . . .” Caroline avoided her brother's question by trailing off with her eyes resting on the tired Jane Bingley. Sensing weakness, Caroline attacked. “What say you, dear Jane? Do you wish to keep Netherfield as your home?”
Startled, Jane struggled to remain tactful. “That is, I do love our home. But . . . I . . .”
Concerned, Bingley reached down for his wife's hand. “Dear, what is it? Tell me and I shall make you happy.” He kissed her hand gallantly as Caroline rolled her eyes.
Jane sighed. “My father and mother are so angry at Lizzie, and I worry for her. She will be alone in London as soon as she returns from Kent. And I have not had one letter from her since I sent my news.”
Caroline Bingley carefully inspected the finishing on the chair she sat in, intently tracing the floral pattern with her finger.
“You've had not one letter?” Charles cocked his head to one side. Elizabeth's letters arrived like clockwork when they were in Bath. It was strange indeed for no post to arrive in almost a month since they had left Bath and begun to travel; though with all of the shuffling it was possible the letters were lost.
“Not one in weeks. And . . .” Jane looked down at the carpet, ashamed to admit her distaste for her own mother. “Once my mother knows, she will become most unbearable. I should very much like to be in London when Lizzie returns from Kent.”
Charles Bingley frowned. He would tell the ladies of the abuse he endured from Mr. Bennet that evening when the sexes separated after dinner. But the man's rant and accusations against his closest friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, did not sit well with the affable Bingley. Like his Jane, he desired peace. He saw no reason why the family ostracized one daughter, for no worse sin than refusing a suitor, and fawned over another.
Setting his empty glass on the table like a judge's gavel sounding a decision had been made, the young man of not yet eight and twenty puffed his chest. “Right, so to London we go. Shall we leave on the morrow or the next day?”
Jane laughed and covered her mouth, smiling beguilingly at her husband above her. “You did always say as soon as your mind was made up you'd just as soon leave as stay.”
“Indeed.” He bowed.
“But let's not throw the entire house into an uproar. Besides, I don't fancy sharing rooms at an inn and the Hurst town home might be a bit, imposing.”
Charles blanched. He had never before had to consider travel at a moment's notice with a wife, and it jarred him that the two did not mix well. Of course he could not expect Jane to move from a large estate house to a suite of rooms! How silly she must think him!
“I shall send a letter to my solicitor to inquire about a home to lease. You are correct that I too have no desire to stay with the Hursts.”
“And you Miss Bingley? Do you plan to remain with us or go back to your sister? I understand how sisterly affection might pull your heartstrings in that direction and would not feel offended if you leave us in London.” Jane smiled sweetly to her sister-in-law.
Caroline left her glass for a servant to manage instead of returning it to the sideboard, and rose with a yawn. “Oh, pardon me, I am so utterly fatigued. I should hate to make you feel unsupported, Jane, in your new marriage. I suspect I shall remain with you and Charles.”
The two ladies exchanged smiles; each knowing the other did not mean it. Bowing her head slightly as she announced she would retire for the evening, Caroline caught the movement of her brother's hand to Jane's midsection. Another brat was surely on its way and Caroline needed to move fast if she was to make her move on Darcy.
After locking her bedroom door and dismissing her maid, Caroline pulled a treasured teakwood box her father presented her on her sixteenth birthday from one of his business contacts. Inside held an odd assortment of items that Caroline cherished – a letter from Darcy to her brother she had managed to pilfer from his office with a compliment on her hosting, a handkerchief he had once given her when she cried at a play – and also items Caroline wished to protect. Moving the Darcy items to the side, Caroline pulled the letters from Elizabeth Bennet to her sister Jane and read them once more, memorizing the details, word-for-word of the plans for Elizabeth and Darcy to travel to London in a week's time.