He walked to her and bowed. “No, you asked for flowers and you shall have them. And I have here my repentance for the terrible way I treated you at Darcy House.”
“There is nothing you could possibly –“ But she stopped when he put the stiff paper into her hand. She stared down at the paper and then looked up at him, wonder in her eyes. “But how?” she whispered.
“My mother.”
“The Countess got me a voucher?”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted you to forgive me,” he said, simply.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Caroline walked past him to sit on the sofa beside Mrs. Bingley. “Jane, look.”
Mrs. Bingley’s eyes opened wide as she looked at the voucher. “Almack’s! Heavens!”
The Colonel sat opposite the two ladies. “Miss Bingley, my mother suggested that you accompany the Darcys. Elizabeth and Georgiana have their vouchers as well.”
“I shall do so, as I am unlikely to know very many people there,” she replied.
“You will know me,” the Colonel said.
“You are going as well?”
“I will attend whenever you attend.”
Caroline tried to frown at him, but a smile kept threatening to break through. “You may recall that you promised never to dance with me again.”
“I have a terrible memory,” he said, confidingly. “I never recall such things.”
“May I write the Countess a note to thank her?”
“I think that would be appropriate,” he replied, gravely.
***
After dinner that evening, Mr. Bingley recalled the conversation he had had with the gentlemen at Darcy House. Should he tell Caroline the bad news about the Baron? She would be furious with him for telling her such a thing. Or should he let her marry the man and eventually find out for herself? But in that case she would be furious with him fornottelling her. He scratched his head, wondering if there was any avenue that would not end up with his sister being furious with him.
Finally, he decided to toss the problem into Jane’s lap. This was more a woman’s area in any case, was it not?
“Of course she must be told!” Jane cried at once.
“Must she, though?” her husband countered. “Here we are on the verge of getting her married off; was that not what we wished for?”
“Yes, but not to a gambler! He does not want her, he wants her money!”
Mr. Bingley just looked stubborn.
Jane changed tactics. “Think, Charles. They would run through her twenty thousand pounds in a year or two, and then who would they come to for money?”
Sighing, Mr. Bingley looked at Jane hopefully. “You are right, Jane. She must be told.”
“And you want me to tell her,” Jane realised.
“It would be best coming from you, would it not?” Mr. Bingley asked, relief plain on his face.
“We will tell her together; after all, you heard the tale, not I.”
