Posted on: 2008-10-20

"We didn't send you to Harvard so that you could befriend the impoverished son of a backwoods shoe salesman!"

"Mr. Danner isn't a shoe salesman, mother," said Charles Bingley peevishly. "He started manufacturing his own line of boots back in 1934, and in just five years has gained a foothold in business, just like father did!"

"It's not remotely similar!" cried his mother. "How can you even compare them? Your sainted father lived here in Massachusetts, not in some remote, miserable wilderness--"

"Oregon isn't a--"

"--repairing shoes for a bunch of filthy lumberjacks--"

"The Danners make the best--"

"--in some primitive shack five hundred miles from the nearest civilization--"

"But Portland is a large city, with--"

"--rubbing shoulders with ignorant woodcutters and Mexican fruit-pickers and wild animals and who knows what!" Mrs. Bingley glared at him. "You are wasting your time with shoe-shine boys while our family's status and respectability are dragged down in the dirt!"

Charles sat back in his chair with a sigh, his head already starting to pound. He'd never yet won an argument with his mother, and didn't think he was going to win this one, either.

His late father, the elder Charles Bingley -- dead two years ago this winter -- had possessed an unflappable stubbornness, a sort of grimly determined willpower which had enabled him over the course of four decades to build his manufacturing business from a small shop making wheels and pneumatic tires for horseless carriages into a successful corporation producing over a million motorcar tires each year. Once Mr. Bingley, senior, had decided upon a goal, wild horses couldn't stop him from achieving it. That same indomitable character, that unmatched strength of will, had also allowed him to win arguments with his wife.

Sometimes.

Charles glanced at his 17 year-old sister, Caroline, but any hope of support from that quarter evaporated at once. She was measuring a teaspoon of sugar into her teacup, the endeavor apparently demanding every scrap of her attention. Her studied avoidance of the argument clearly declared that he was on his own.

Lillian Bingley let the silence stretch for a moment, and then, correctly interpreting her son's momentary silence as an implicit surrender, raised her teacup with a satisfied sniff.

Charles sullenly picked up his own teacup, using care to avoid snapping the delicate fluted handle. He had always hated his mother's tea service. The cups were elegant but tiny, with handles so thin that he always feared breaking one simply by drinking from it. They were dainty and expensive and fragile, looking like something a family of British aristocrats might have passed down as heirlooms for the past seven generations -- which was exactly why his mother had purchased them, of course.

Unfortunately, the diminutive cups were so impractically small that Charles never felt he had gotten quite enough tea. One could easily spend two minutes fiddling with the tiny sugar spoon and the doll-sized milk pitcher, getting one's tea flavored to taste, only to find the miniscule cup empty after three gulps.

It was typical of his mother's sensibilities that she thought it more important for her teacups to appear refined than to actually be useful for drinking tea.

"Now let me be completely clear. When you take Caroline to the spring ball next month, you are to introduce her in the very best society. None of your bootblack boys, do you hear? I want her to meet real university men, from good families. The sort that might be of use to us."

"When I -- what?" Charles stammered. "I can't take Caroline to the ball! I've already asked Angela Moore!"

"Moore? Is she related to the Chesterfield Moores?"

"No, her father is a teacher. They live in New York -- in Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn! Charles, you aren't attending the best school in the country so that you can entertain the daughters of school teachers from Brooklyn!"

"But mother, you will adore her when you meet her. She's an angel! Beautiful and kind, with the sweetest smile and a voice like--"

"Yes, well, perhaps you should introduce her to the shoeshine boy. I'm sure they'll get along splendidly. However, you will be taking Caroline to the ball."

"I've already promised Angela--"

"Piffle!"

"But surely you must see that I cannot disappoint her. To withdraw the invitation now, after she may already have declined other offers; what a low thing to do! If father were here, I am certain he would insist that I keep my word to a young lady."

"Your father would say that you have a responsibility to your own family! He worked his fingers to the bone to raise our fortunes, sweating every hour of the day and night, struggling his entire life to improve our place in the world. And then Louisa did her part by marrying Hurst. His friends in society have opened doors for us that were always closed to your father. Now you must do your part!"

"What if I take Caroline to the commencement instead? That would--"

"Commencement? Don't insult me, boy! What's the point of introducing her to men who are graduating and leaving Harvard the very same day? Your father worked himself into an early grave so that you would have every opportunity, the very best schooling, plenty of money -- and now you can't even be troubled to spend one single night looking after your own sister's future?"

"I want to help her, but--"

"I see little sign of it! However did you become so selfish? I certainly raised you better! After all I have done -- making sure you had the best of everything, paying all the bills for your expensive university, and asking so little of you in return; and never anything for myself, only for your sister, whose security and comfort should be your first concern in any case!"

"Mother, please!"

"Me sick on my deathbed, and now what's to become of poor Caroline after I'm gone?"

Charles groaned, his head falling forward into his hands. "All right! I'll take her! Though Lord only knows how I'll explain this to Angela."

"Oh, I'm quite sure the girl knows how to look after her own interests," said his mother darkly, gesturing for her daughter to refill her dainty teacup again. "Now you must be sure and introduce Caroline to the right sort of people. No cobblers, mind you! All the best families send their sons to Harvard: the most powerful politicians, the richest industrialists, the social leaders of our age. Those are the people Caroline must meet. Surely at a Harvard dance, you can manage to introduce your sister to some men of real quality!"

"I'll be happy to introduce Caroline to my friends," said Charles, his petulant expression rather suggesting the reverse, "but I really don't circulate among those people. I don't choose my friends by how rich and powerful their families are, but rather who is agreeable to spend my time with."

"Of course poor people make themselves agreeable to you. They understand how the world works! Social connections must be used to increase the wealth and stature of your family. These Danners and Moores are friendly to you because the Bingley family is above them, making us a valuable connection for people of that sort! And so this Walter Danner--"

"His name is Will, not--"

"--cultivates your friendship. But you're not supposed to be wasting your time with them! You should be cultivating the people who can help raise our family. You should be trying to meet the Eversons, the Winthorpes, or the Steeles. And of course those families will likewise be looking upwards, trying to meet the Darringtons, the Faulktrels, or the Brandon-Smythes. And they in turn will be trying to meet the Astors, the Guggenheims, or the Annenbergs! Don't waste your time with leather-workers and schoolteachers, Charles. Keep your eyes looking upwards, not downwards! The acquaintances you make must always benefit your family."

"Mother, this is ludicrous! You've got the whole world structured into a perfect hierarchy of social insincerity, in which everyone scorns those below and toadies to those above. Is there any place for true friendship in all this? The whole thing is vicious and mercenary! Will Danner's family may not be rich, but they are hardworking and respectable. Will himself is a good fellow and my very best friend these past three years."

"Never you mind, boy. You'll learn how the world works soon enough. In the meantime, just see to it that you introduce Caroline to some good prospects. Among all your acquaintance, there must be a few men of society, wealth and good family! Grantley Everson's boy goes to Harvard, doesn't he?"

"Those aren't the sort of people I spend my time with. We have very little in common."

"Well then, you have three and a half weeks to find something in common, so that you can introduce Caroline properly at the ball."

Eastbound traffic was light on the expressway, the throaty sixteen-cylinder rumble of their new Cadillac making short work of the road from Springfield to Boston. The car was evidence of his defeat in yet another argument, for Charles had tried to dissuade his mother from the expense of buying a brand-new Series 90 automobile when their father's old Rolls-Royce was still running so well. His mother had been determined, however. "With that ridiculous Hitler fellow gobbling up all those little countries, and talk of another Great War, this just isn't the time for our family to be driving a European car. It looks unpatriotic. Besides, Edith Brantley's husband just got her a new car, and I certainly cannot arrive at her garden party next month in a limousine that's twelve years old."

And so they had a new car, the best that money could buy. Charles glanced around at the luxurious interior and then at Caroline on the seat beside him. Dressed in a stunning ball gown that probably cost more than a year's tuition at Harvard, she completed the picture of conspicuous affluence. When had the trappings of wealth become so important?

"Thank you for inviting me to tonight's ball," Caroline said quietly, breaking the silence between them. "I know you had other plans."

"Hm? Oh, I'm glad to have you here. It's always good to spend time with you, and of course I'm happy to introduce you to my friends. I just wish mother weren't so mercenary about the whole thing."

"She expresses herself a bit harshly sometimes, but surely you can see her point of view?"

"Not really. And back when our father was alive, you didn't agree with her either."

"Perhaps not. But father is gone now, and mother's illness has gotten much worse these past three months. She has helped me to see that we can't depend upon our parents any longer, Charles. We must be ready to make our own way in the world, and soon, I think."

"And that means being cynical and dishonest to everyone we meet?"

"You make it sound so tawdry -- but everyone does it! Is it wrong of me, to want a husband who can offer a life of wealth and status?"

"No matter what kind of man he is?"

"A man from a good family, of course."

"By which you mean a rich family. What's happened to you, Caroline? You once wanted a marriage of affection, just as I do. While I've been away at school, your opinion has changed completely!"

"Mother says that affection doesn't last anyway; only money and status can guarantee a lifetime of comfort. You must see how she feels, Charles. She and father struggled for decades to build our family's success. Now she wants assurance that her children and grandchildren will have a secure place in society. She wants to see her descendants enter the top tier of Boston's social circle, rich and respected, without the hardships that father had to endure."

"There are better ways to secure our place than scheming and false impressions. We can increase our wealth and position by being honest, respectable, and hard-working."

"You can be honest, respectable, and hard-working to improve your wealth and position -- but you are a man! You'll graduate from the university, take up the family business, and make yourself prosperous. But how am I to prosper, Charles? What opportunities are there for a woman? From the time I was a little girl, mother has had me learning dancing, art, music, and foreign languages, just as a woman should. I have taken care with my complexion and manner of dress. And now that I'm 17, mother expects me to start looking for a husband, to get married before my youth and beauty start to fade! My entire future -- wealth, home, children, security, and social standing -- all depend upon my husband's name and his station in life. All the work that you put into your education and your business, to improve your place in the world, I must put into a single goal: finding the best husband that I can. Is it so wrong that I want him to be rich and well-connected?"

"Mother has taught you too well," said Charles, bitterness in his voice. "I shall introduce you where I can, but I absolutely insist that you dance once with Will Danner. He's my best friend at Harvard, a very fine fellow, and I've already told him you'll be here tonight. He'll be expecting to meet you. No matter how much mother may sneer at his family, I won't have you slighting my best friend. You can spend the rest of your time chasing rich men, and I'll help you as best I can, but you're to be civil and dance a set with Will Danner!"

"As you wish."

Caroline felt some trepidation as she entered the hall. The Arbella Ball was Harvard's largest social event of the year, and while Caroline had been to numerous society parties with her mother, she had never attended one so grand, nor one at which she knew so few people. She was wholly dependent upon Charles for introductions, and knowing him, she was likely to spend her entire evening with penniless artists, or perhaps classicists of sunny disposition but strained circumstances. Such an evening would be perfectly pleasant, of course, for Charles' friends were always amiable and entertaining; but she knew her mother would be furious with her if she returned home without having met any eligible men. Lillian Bingley was not a woman to be crossed!

The hall itself was magnificent, the enormous room brightly lit and extravagantly decorated. A large band was seated just off the dance floor, which twirled and spun with the elegant chaos of dancing couples. At the far end of the hall she could see tables covered with platters of food and bright floral arrangements, while white-clad waiters circulated through the crowd serving champagne. And what a crowd! Hundreds of handsome young men in tailcoats escorted ladies dressed in all the latest fashions. Caroline was glad at once that her mother had bought her a new sleeveless gown, for a single glance around the room was sufficient to confirm that puffed sleeves were winter's fashion, no longer preferred. All the most stylish women were wearing sleeveless gowns, and Caroline's own attire -- a dress of rich gold color, floor-length but both sleeveless and backless -- was elegant, attractive, and very fashionable. It made her look almost as grown-up as the college-aged girls, and had the added benefit of displaying her youthful figure to great advantage.

Charles guided her through the press of people, smiling and waving at numerous friends. Caroline knew no one, of course. In Springfield she would have known half the people in the room. Within five minutes of walking through the door, she would have been ensconced among her closest friends, gossiping madly. Within ten minutes, she would have known the name, worth, and romantic entanglements of every eligible man at the ball. But here in Boston she was helpless, wholly dependent upon Charles -- who of course was useless for that sort of thing, being more likely to tell her whether a man was clever or friendly than to provide any information of real value regarding his family connections.

Deprived of any friends from whom to gain intelligence, she was reduced to overhearing the gossip of others. The conversations of the men were useless to her, being focused largely upon sports, politics, classes, and girls. Mixed groups were even less interesting. But there were many small groups of college-aged girls in the room, exchanging exactly the sorts of gossip that Caroline needed to hear, and she tried to pick up what snippets she could as she and Charles wove their way slowly towards the tables of refreshments.

"...turned him down, hoping that Ryan Furlington would ask her, but then he asked Melissa Davies instead, and so Peggy was stuck coming with that toad Joshua Riggs..."

"...Thomas may be the eldest, but from what I hear he's no prize, and all but engaged anyway, to Roberta Dayson-Price. But there's still the younger brother, Edwin, who is nearly as rich and twice as handsome..."

"...his only son, and still unmarried! He'll inherit dozens of steel mills and foundries and such. And guess what else I heard? They say that Trevor Darcy's health is in very rapid decline now, so there wouldn't even be long to wait for the son's inheritance..."

"...desperate to get engaged before the news got out, but Lewis Gershon -- that's George's roommate, you know? -- he told half the football team. By the time he got back from Connecticut, Sadie had already heard all about it, and wouldn't even return his calls..."

"William, my friend," cried Charles, "how good to see you here!" Caroline turned her attention to the man whose hand her brother was energetically shaking -- and was at once taken aback by his handsome features and tall, powerful build. If William Danner is typical of Oregon's young men, then the women of Oregon must be happy indeed! she thought breathlessly.

"...and please allow me to introduce my sister Caroline, who I told you about," Charles was saying.

A pair of dark, expressive eyes flicked towards her, paused, and were joined by a slow smile and a near-perfect set of teeth. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he told her, and the rumble of his voice was so deep and masculine that she could almost feel it resonate within her own chest. "You are even more lovely than your brother's description."

"Thank you," she told him, blushing madly, and for the first time in years found herself at a loss for how to continue a conversation.

"I say, have you seen Angela anywhere about?" asked Charles.

William tore his eyes away from Caroline. "I just saw her over by the punch bowl," he replied quietly, "and she's here with Tom Maddox."

Charles winced. "Will you excuse me a brief moment? I shall return directly."

"If your sister will honor me with this dance, you may have all the time you like," said William, his eyes returning eagerly to hers as he extended his hand in invitation.

When Caroline had promised her brother to dance politely with Will Danner, she had viewed it as a distasteful obligation to be endured for the sake of family harmony. Her greatest hope had been that he wouldn't tread too often on her toes, and that being seen to dance with him wouldn't harm her chances of dancing afterwards with men of greater eligibility. She certainly had not expected to take any pleasure in the dance itself, or in her partner. It must be confessed, however, that she took William's offered hand most willingly, and felt a small thrill as he whirled her out among the other couples.

He proved himself a skilled dancer, guiding her across the floor with smooth athletic grace, and Caroline was grateful as never before for the endless hours of dance lessons that now allowed her to effortlessly match his confident movements. They danced so well, and made such a striking couple on the dance floor, that Caroline could not help noticing the envious gaze of several other fashionable young women turning sharply towards her, doubtless wishing that their own partners could dance as well as hers.

Yes, his dancing was excellent; but his skills at conversation were less satisfactory. She waited several minutes in vain for him to address her. He spoke easily enough to Charles, she thought, but Charles is uncommonly easy to talk to. Perhaps he is withdrawn and uncomfortable in better company? It would hardly be surprising, for he cannot be accustomed to such elegant formal affairs in the Oregon wilderness!

Casting about for something to discuss, she happened to see Charles trudging dejectedly away from the punch bowl. "My brother seems suddenly out of spirits," she said, nodding in his direction.

William followed her gaze for a moment, then glanced around the dance floor until his eyes alighted on a slender blonde girl, graceful and attractive, dancing with a sharp-eyed young man. "You see that girl over there, in the dark blue dress? That's Angela Moore, and she's here tonight escorted by someone that Charles doesn't care for."

"She's pretty enough, I suppose," Caroline replied, glancing dismissively at her, "but Charles could do better. I don't know what he finds so appealing about the daughter of a public schoolteacher."

"Charles doesn't seem to worry about such matters. It's one of the reasons that he's so popular here. He's refreshingly unconcerned with the rankings of social position."

"Yes, he always has been casual in that regard. It drives our mother to distraction. She's forever encouraging him to form more useful acquaintances, and he's always coming home with tales of befriending the offspring of schoolteachers and--"

Caroline caught herself just before the damning word "bootmakers" escaped from her lips. Oh my goodness -- don't forget who you're talking to! He may look distinguished and fashionable, but his family connections are as low as those of the schoolteacher's daughter! After an awkward pause, she lamely continued, "--and other people of diminished circumstances."

She feared that he would have understood her hesitation, and taken offence, but he seemed curious rather than insulted. His dark eyes fixed upon her face, one eyebrow quirked inquisitively. "And your own opinions, do they tend more towards your brother's, or your mother's?"

The question seemed fraught with deeper meaning, and again Caroline hesitated. Before arriving at tonight's dance, she would never have seriously considered Will Danner as a potential beau. A bootmaker's son from the northwest was nothing to her. She had not expected how very interesting he would turn out to be -- such a good dancer, so dignified in his manner and so shockingly handsome, with eyes that brought rosy blushes to her unwilling cheeks! Despite all her mother's lessons, she was strongly tempted in that moment to claim her brother's opinion as her own, and to encourage Danner to pay her further attention. Surely, any woman would be happy at the side of such a fine man!

Her dreamy visions came to an abrupt halt. She would be at his side... but in Oregon. The wife of a humble bootmaker, with no connection to good society. Her friends would abandon her at once, and even her family (excepting Charles, of course) would disown her.

She had never been further west than Ohio; did they even have any cities in Oregon? Were there shops and trains and ballrooms there, or would she be raising her children in a clapboard house next door to a shoe factory?

And of course, encouraging the attentions of Mr. Danner tonight would prevent her from receiving the attentions of other men. This ball was her best chance to meet truly eligible Harvard men. Her mother would be utterly livid if she threw away the entire evening by spending it with the despised Will Danner!

"It is only proper that children should respect the opinions of their parents," Caroline finally temporized, giving him a small smile to lessen the sting, and then promptly changed the subject. "And what about you? Charles tells me that your father has been giving you increasing responsibility towards the family business."

William's smile disappeared at once. Perhaps she had embarrassed him by raising the topic of his father's humble station in the middle of the dance floor? His somber reply certainly seemed calculated to avoid any further mention of the topic. "I have been doing my best in a difficult situation; but let us not permit my father's unfortunate circumstances to mar the pleasure of this dance. I understand that you live with your mother in Springfield?"

The conversation lurched along erratically after that, for there seemed an embargo on every subject. That brief mention of his father seemed to make William even more withdrawn than before, but with great perseverance Caroline was able to keep some conversation flowing. Towards the end of the set, he became again more cheerful and more attentive, and the dance ended nearly as well as it had begun.

As William guided her off the dance floor towards the place where they had last seen Charles, he gave her another appreciative glance. She felt more beautiful each time his eyes caressed her, and it was obvious that he admired her just as much as she admired him. Thus it came as no surprise when he spoke at last. "You dance very well indeed. Perhaps I might have the pleasure of another dance or two, later in the evening?"

If only he were more eligible, she thought unhappily. But he wasn't, and that was an end to the matter. She knew what her mother would expect her to say, and felt real regret as she said it. "I enjoyed our dance immensely, and thank you for the invitation, but unfortunately will not be able to oblige you again tonight."

"Pardon?" he asked, surprise visible in every line of his face. "You do not wish to dance with me?"

From his astonishment, she might almost have thought that he had never been rejected before. The experience certainly appeared unfamiliar to him. Perhaps he has never before raised his sights so high. I'm sure the impoverished schoolteachers' daughters find him very eligible indeed, and dance with him as often as he wishes!

"Sir," she said, firmly but not unkindly, "my brother does not always pay attention to the realities of our world, but a young woman in my position cannot ignore them as easily as a young man can. The demands of society are just as real as a factory's ledger book, and equally unforgiving of mistakes."

"Mistakes? I am having difficulty understanding you. What mistakes?"

"I do not wish to give insult. You are an excellent dancer, and I have enjoyed your company more than I should, but a young lady must be careful where she cultivates her friendships. In this case, I think it would be appropriate to keep our acquaintance on a more formal footing, Mr. Danner."

"Oh, I'm not--" said William, but then suddenly stopped and drew a sharp breath. "Ahem! I'm not sure precisely what you mean, Miss Bingley, but things are becoming somewhat clearer. Do I understand correctly that you are disinclined to dance with the son of a boot manufacturer, but might accept a similar invitation from a man of greater consequence?"

"Sir," she replied, her voice growing cooler, "I hope you do not think to judge me, as I should be sorry to think you a hypocrite. Are not you yourself choosing to cultivate acquaintance with people of wealth here at Harvard, rather than spending your time within your family's regular circle of acquaintance in Oregon?"

"I see your point," he replied, his voice growing equally cool. "I suppose it is lucky for me that your brother is not so particular about his friendships. Or perhaps he is merely more skilled at hiding his true intentions beneath a façade of pleasant company?"

"No, in such matters Charles is utterly hopeless, exactly as he appears. He has no care for the rules of society, and would happily marry the first schoolteacher's daughter who catches his eye. That's why it falls to me to ensure our family's place in society. But come, let us not part with bitter words! Although you move within a lesser social sphere, you have been a friend to Charles these past three years. I shall not forget it, and if Charles invites you into our company in the future, I shall always take care to greet you with the politeness that your friendship deserves."

"I appreciate your assurances of civility, Miss Bingley, and your honesty as well. Thank you. I shall certainly never forget the valuable lesson you have taught me this evening."

They found Charles not far from where they had left him, speaking with another of his many friends. William thanked her gravely for the dance, shook hands again with Charles, and promptly excused himself. Caroline looked after him with real regret, for his good looks, athletic figure, obvious intelligence, and dignified manners were tremendously appealing. It would almost be worth it, to have a man like that one. If only he had more money, or a better place in society!

She turned with a sigh to Charles, satisfied at least in having fulfilled her obligation of dancing with his friend, and he smiled happily at her. "Did you have a nice dance?"

"Oh, yes! William is a marvelous dancer, and good company besides," she replied truthfully. "Much better than I expected."

"I'm glad you are having so much fun! Hopefully you will like your next partner equally well. Caroline, may I introduce my friend Will?"

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance," replied Caroline automatically, her well-trained manners concealing her sudden confusion.

Will might have been tolerably handsome, if not for his uncommonly prominent ears, an overabundance of freckles, and a very unfortunate haircut. His manner in addressing her was so timid that Caroline could only surmise he was accustomed to rejection more often than acceptance when asking pretty young ladies to dance.

"It's a pleasure to m-meet you," he stammered. "Would you c-care to dance?"

Caroline glanced quickly toward William's tall, dignified form, now vanishing into the crowd, before turning back to her new partner. "Yes, thank you, that would be lovely," she told him absently, her mind spinning like a child's top.

Will's face lit with surprise and pleasure, and he quickly downed his remaining half-glass of champagne and stepped away to the nearest table to divest himself of the empty glass.

"Charles, how do you come to have two close friends, both named Will?"

"Two? No, just one."

"But I already danced with Will!"

Charles laughed. "Oh! That William is not an old friend, but a new acquaintance. I only met him a few weeks ago! Everyone said he was snobbish and unfriendly, but he's really a lot nicer than I expected. Smart as a whip, too! But Will Danner, here, is the one I've known for the past three years, and he's my very closest friend and the finest fellow in the world."

Danner was trotting back, nearly within earshot, as Caroline hissed to her brother: "That first man I danced with -- what's his surname?"

"It's Darcy," Charles told her in some confusion. "Didn't I say so when I introduced you? He's Trevor Darcy's son. You know, the famous industrialist?"

Caroline gasped and went pale, eyes widening in horror. She opened her mouth, but for the second time of the evening, found herself at an utter loss for words. She was still gaping like a fish when Will Danner seized her hand and whirled her, stumbling and awkward, onto the dance floor.

"Um, Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Bingley."

"I just wanted to say how very much I enjoyed our first dance together, and if you're still... I mean... well I have no partner for the next dance, if you..."

"So you'll grant me the dance as William Darcy that you denied me as Will Danner?"

"Well, that is," Caroline stammered and blushed beet-red in humiliation; such a pointed question simply could not be answered truthfully. "I just didn't realize who you were!"

"Then we have each learned something important about the other, Miss Bingley. Earlier tonight, you promised that you would always be courteous to me, regardless of my diminished social sphere. I now extend that same promise to you. Please rest assured that when we are in company together with your brother, I shall always treat you with the politeness that you deserve as his sister."

"But sir, if I had only known, I truly wouldn't have--"

"Good evening, Miss Bingley."

"Wretched, idiot girl! The opportunity of a lifetime -- wasted by your bumbling stupidity! I spent years of hard work preparing you for an advantageous marriage, and you repay me with this?" The glare on Lillian Bingley's face was frightful to behold, and Caroline's eyes -- already red and puffy from crying the entire way back from Boston -- began overflowing with tears at once.

"Oh, stop that sniveling! Your face has gone all blotchy!"

For the next several minutes, Lillian's wheezing cough and furious muttering were the only sound in the room, excepting an occasional quiet sniffle from Caroline. Finally Lillian leaned back against the cushions, a speculative gleam coming to her eyes. Waving Caroline into the chair nearest her bed, she handed her a fresh handkerchief -- her own being thoroughly soaked by this point -- and spoke in a calmer tone. "Sit down, girl. We may be able to salvage something out of this yet. Now did you not say that he was attracted to you at first?"

"I think he liked me very much," she sniffled. "He looked at me so warmly, and even asked me to dance again! Until I ruined everything..."

"Yes, yes. You offended his pride. And if we are to secure him, you must rectify that mistake!"

"His pride? It wasn't a matter of pride at all," sobbed Caroline. "He found me snobbish and mercenary. And... mother, don't you see? He was right! He was the man of my dreams, but in my arrogance I threw him away. Oh, if only I had trusted my heart!"

"Your heart? What has that to do with it? Stupid child! You listen to me, and you listen well. You are going to follow my instructions to the letter, and we'll see you married to William Darcy despite your clumsiness!"

"After my mercenary display tonight, I don't think he'll ever look at me the same way again. He certainly won't marry me!"

"Don't you want him?"

"He's the finest man I've ever seen," Caroline replied wistfully, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"And so very rich! Now listen closely, girl. By refusing his offer to dance, and suggesting he was beneath you, you have offended his pride. Men cannot abide that! If you mean to secure him, you must assuage his ego. Salve his pride at every opportunity! You must praise him -- his cleverness, his appearance, his clothing, his home, his knowledge of business, his skill at everything he does. You must show that you think highly of him, that you respect and adore him! You must make him forget that you ever refused him that dance."

"But he complemented me on my honesty! If I praise him at every turn, won't he just think me false and deceitful?"

"Men always believe it when pretty girls praise them. They are stupid that way."

"Well it hardly matters, for I am not likely ever to see him again."

"Of course you will. In fact, we shall make certain that you are frequently in his company. I shall speak to Charles about it tomorrow! You just remember your part. Defer to his opinions. Learn his tastes in all things -- music, food, society, art, literature, and politics -- and adopt them as your own. Laud him to the skies, praise everything he does. Show him that your manners are compliant, well suited to a society wife. And whatever you do, don't ever disagree with him again. Obviously the man doesn't like strong-willed women!"

"But what if his good opinion, once lost, is lost forever?"

"Ridiculous! Men are foolish, fickle creatures who don't know their own minds. Just flatter him properly, and he'll fall into our hands like ripe fruit."

"Oh, mother!" cried Caroline, a meager and desperate hope blossoming upon her tear-streaked face. "I would do anything to win him back!"

"You just do what I tell you, girl, and you'll be engaged by the end the year."

"I will, mother! I promise!"

FINIS