“She and I married six months ago in a private ceremony.”
There was a long silence. The Hursts traded glances. Finally, Mr. Hurst said, “Odd that we knew nothing of it, as I think we were all together six months ago.”
Mr. Bingley merely replied, “Odd indeed.”
Another silence. This time it was broken by Mrs. Hurst. “You expect us to believe this Banbury tale, Charles?”
“Louisa. Hear me well. Miss Darcy is now Mrs. Bingley. She is in the family way and we both look forward to having a child early this coming spring.”
“But you were seen paying attention to Miss Bennet!” his sister insisted.
“So? Would I be the first married man to carry on a small flirtation with a beautiful female?”
“I suppose not,” Mrs. Hurst allowed.
“Excellent; here are the details of our history.” And here Mr. Bingley told them the details he and Georgiana had agreed upon: when they had married, where the ceremony had taken place, and why they had briefly separated – Darcy family matters, of course – until their happy reunion this past week in London.
“I suggest you memorize all of this,” Mr. Bingley told them. “And if Caroline ever hears a word to the contrary, I will know that you have betrayed me. You recall our discussion about never putting her interests above mine, I trust?”
Both Hursts nodded.
“Very well. Louisa, Georgiana is full young to be the mistress of a household, but she is, in fact, mistress here. I hope I can count on you to assist her in learning and executing her duties.”
“Of course, Charles.”
Mr. Bingley expressed his gratitude and departed, leaving his sister and brother by marriage to speculate on whathad happened to turn their mild-mannered, even-tempered, wouldn’t-say-boo-to-a-goose brother into this entirely new individual.
***
That evening at dinner, Mrs. Hurst told her new sister that they had been invited to attend a wedding at the end of the week.
“Oh?” Mrs. Bingley replied. “Who is getting married?”
“The eldest daughter of Sir Lucas and Lady Lucas. Her name is Charlotte.”
“I recall Miss Lucas,” Mr. Bingley said. “Who is it she is marrying?”
“A Mr. Collins. He is the heir presumptive to Longbourn.”
“Oh! Darcy mentioned that he had met the man. Turns out he is your aunt’s rector, my dear,” Mr. Bingley said, turning to his wife.
“My aunt?”
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“He is her rector! What an odd coincidence!” Mrs. Bingley spoke easily, but she was thinking furiously. Was it a good idea for her to meet this man? Doubtless he would report back to Aunt Catherine that she was now married and with child, and Aunt Catherine would be livid that she had not beeninformedof, not to mentioninvitedto, the wedding. And, of course, Aunt Catherine would be even angrier at the idea of her niece marrying the son of a tradesman! Would life ever stop being so difficult?
But wait. No-one here in Meryton knew she was a Darcy except Mr. Bingley and the Hursts. Surely… “Charles!” she said.
“Yes, Georgiana?”
“It would probably be best if I were introduced simply as Mrs. Bingley, not as…”
“Ah. Of course,” Mrs. Hurst said, quickly. “Your maiden name is no one’s business. I take it you have never met this Mr. Collins?”
“No, and I would prefer that he have no tales to take back to my aunt.”
“We will protect you,” Mr. Hurst said, unexpectedly.
