Of Horrors and Fine Eyes

[MISS CAROLINE BINGLEY]

{Tag: Mr Charles Bingley & the Netherfield Party}

Oh, how glorious to be at least in private again if not at home – for Caroline had not yet resigned herself to thinking of Netherfield Park as home! It was a relief to descend on the chaise longue and release her face from that pretence of enjoyment she had been dutifully holding for the better part of the evening. Having held to a false face for so long, one might have thought the exercise of it would not be so taxing. How onerous it had all been and, while she was generally not inclined to agree with any of Mr Hurst’s conclusions with much enthusiasm, a damned tedious waste of an evening. It was thus with a sigh – which might well be mistaken for contentment – that she expressed a little joy at what was to come next. Whatever Caroline thought of an evening, it could not be paralleled at the sheer delight she took in telling everyone else what she thought of an evening.

“Well, I daresay we may have met the entire neighbourhood at once!” she declared with a brimming smile, offering Louisa a cunning little look.

In truth, she had been surprised to find amongst it something at all to recommend the place. Whatever she thought of the eldest Miss Bennet’s family, the young woman was certainly fine of face and tolerable in her manner. That Charles had taken a shine to her was obvious and, while her initial response was one of instant dissatisfaction, Caroline had to own that the situation would have to be subtly managed. Certainly, a greater knowledge of the girl would be necessary to determine just the kind evil with which Caroline might have to cross swords. Fortune hunters were easy enough to dispel. Someone genuinely that sweet of nature with inferiority of connection? Another story altogether.

Which, of course, drew her to another line of thought in the form of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She should have been a fool not to notice the strange interplay that had coloured her night so dramatically. Darcy was not one for idle glances and those he had spared for Miss Elizabeth had been too many for Caroline’s exact comfort. She was not so sure of the inevitability of her connection to Darcy that she was inclined to brush aside such instances – loathe as she would be to admit such to anybody. She had repeatedly reminded herself of his stated ambivalence, for it was an error bordering on heresy to suggest that Darcy did not say what he meant. Still, there nagged at her a something that must prompt a little discussion of the matter. Not willing to start with that opening query, however, she adapted her thoughts to the room at large, targeting her particular focus on her brother.

“Though was that not your particular wish, Charles? It would be a silly thing indeed to pretend that you did not make a fine evening of it. What was it, four or five dances with Miss Bennet?”

Caroline was sure Mrs Bennet had kept a more accurate count.

[MR CHARLES BINGLEY]

A more delightful evening Bingley simply could not recall. His only complaint was that the ball had ended too early for his liking – but he was certain that no amount of time with Miss Bennet would have been sufficient. She had pleased him, and his sisters as well, he believed. He was sure that Caroline would have much to say on the matter, and he did not have to wait long to hear it.

“Sir William was most gracious to us,” Bingley added cheerfully, paying no mind to the ice in his sister's blue eyes. Sometimes he was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice such things; other times, he ignored them willfully. While he could be easily persuaded, that was only when he was conscious of opinions that differed from his, and sometimes he was not... even, especially, when it came to his sisters. Sometimes, he wondered if they spoke just to amuse themselves, or if they actually believed what they said.

His sisters were always so very kind to remind him of propriety. Well, Bingley did not have it in such abundance; he was never unmannerly, exactly, but he didn't consider hiding his happiness or concealing his admiration for someone. “Of course it was!” he cried, somewhat indignantly, when he detected a note of disdain in his sister's voice in regard to his eagerness to meet new people. “How many fine young gentlemen and ladies we saw! I have never been to a pleasanter ball.” This was declared with a sigh of satisfaction.

Of course, the pleasantness of the ball to him in particular had a large part to do with Miss Jane Bennet. She had, he had seen, been worthy of every good thing that he had heard about her prior to their actual introduction. She had been sweet-tempered, and a more angelic creature he had never beheld, as he was willing to tell anyone and everyone. His answer when he was asked the name of the prettiest lady at the ball had been obvious. Perhaps it had been overheard and had already gotten 'round, but he didn't care a jot. Bingley didn't feel in moderation, nor did he care to.

He felt no shame in dancing with Miss Bennet or enjoying her company. He had broken no rules in doing so, not even unwritten rules. “Not so! I danced twice with Miss Bennet, and had a plethora of other partners – Miss Lucas, and Miss Maria Lucas, and...” He trailed off, brow furrowing, nose wrinkling slightly. The names of the rest rather escaped him; how could any compare with Miss Bennet? “I danced nearly every dance, unlike some in attendance, who left some young ladies sitting down without a partner!” This, of course, was directed at Darcy, who had been intolerably aloof, and altogether rude to Miss Bennet's sister Elizabeth. It had been very easy to obey Darcy's wish that he would return to Miss Bennet to dance instead of skulking about with him. “I cannot imagine why the two of you stood so stupidly in the corner all evening. Everyone I met was perfectly charming!”