Chapter VI
Caroline’s complaints were beginning to irk Louisa Hurst.
It was not as if Caroline had become difficult overnight.
Louisa well remembered her spoiled younger sister as a child, always demanding, always certain she was meant for something better.
There were no true villains responsible for her temperament—it was a combination of their mother’s indulgence, their father’s absence brought about by business concerns, and Caroline’s naturally forceful disposition.
Looking back, it was more than that, though Louisa had never confessed it to anyone else.
Louisa had enjoyed a close relationship with her father, and he had quite doted on Charles, but he had been distant with his youngest child.
Where that led, Louisa did not know and did not care to discover.
Caroline claimed to reverence their father, but she had always deplored his profession—that same profession that had produced her twenty-thousand-pound inheritance.
The business with Mr. Darcy had grown so tiresome that Louisa, in some of her darker moments, wished never to hear the name again.
Yet Caroline, ignoring three years of Mr. Darcy behaving with the perfect measure of politeness and nothing more, was convinced that Mr. Darcy was only waiting for the right time to propose.
Louisa had supported Caroline’s ambitions in the beginning—now she considered them pathetic.
“You did not see him, Louisa,” spat Caroline as she paced the floor of her sitting-room, hands gesticulating like a madwoman.
“What he sees in her I cannot begin to understand, but he is cavorting with the hussy—I know it! It would not surprise me a jot if she were sharing her favors with him, all in an attempt to induce him to lose control of his reason.”
So fatigued was Louisa that she did not even protest her sister’s language or the disgusting charges she so recklessly leveled.
At least it had not been in company where Mr. Darcy could reprimand her then remove her from the estate.
Louisa had never cared much for Miss Elizabeth Bennet—they were too different to become genuine friends.
But she knew Caroline’s charges were groundless, brought on by her insecurity and rage.
“Well, I have not come this far to accept defeat from the likes of Miss Eliza.” Caroline turned on her heel and retraced her path, her shoes clicking against the tile. “She may believe she has won, but I have not even begun to fight.”
“Caroline,” said Louisa wearily, “take care you do not anger Mr. Darcy.”
“Anger Mr. Darcy?” demanded Caroline as if the very notion were ridiculous. “I shall not anger him; I shall be his salvation.”
As Caroline continued to rant, Louisa found her mind wandering.
Though she had often wished she possessed the fortitude to stand up to Caroline and demand better behavior, she did not.
The bitter truth was that Caroline’s disposition was forceful, while Louisa was retiring.
Caroline would do what she wished, and Louisa would offer no more than the token caution she had already given.
A part of Louisa, a small, petty voice she rarely acknowledged, looked forward to the day when all Caroline’s ambitions were revealed for the pretensions they were.
That was not laudable by any measure. But after years of Caroline’s arrogance and casual cruelties, Louisa thought her sister deserved the reckoning.
THE FIRST THING DARCY did when he returned to Pemberley was to ask Mrs. Reynolds for Bingley’s location.
Though Bingley rarely visited the library to peruse its books, Darcy had learned while staying at Netherfield that he sometimes retreated there because his sister spent little time in such places.
It was not a common occurrence, but Bingley would choose it when he wished to avoid her or found her society trying.
Bingley was pensive that morning, unusual given his temperament, but he did not remain silent.
“Darcy,” greeted Bingley with a smile lacking his usual vigor. “I see you have returned. Tell me, how are Miss Bennet and the Gardiners?”
“All well,” said Darcy, knowing that Bingley had guessed his location, if not the reason for his errand.
Bingley regarded him for several long moments. “I find it curious, Darcy, that you are so eager to be in her company. When I consider your dealings in Hertfordshire, I cannot explain it.”
The comment was an invitation to explain, and nothing less. “Remember that I saw her again in Kent, Bingley,” said Darcy. “It has not been four months since I last quit her company.”
“Yet you did not seek her out in the interim.”
“I did not,” said Darcy.
A further comment appeared poised on the tip of Bingley’s tongue, then he sighed and turned away. “As strange as it is to find her near Pemberley, as curious as I find your behavior toward her, the larger issue playing on my mind is her elder sister.”
“In what way, Bingley?” asked Darcy, sensing this might lead them toward the subject he wished to discuss.
“Just that I wonder if I should have listened to you,” said Bingley.
He stared in moody silence out the window, but Darcy suspected he saw nothing. Darcy considered saying something at once, but he opted instead to wait for Bingley to clarify.
“You were so certain of her feelings,” Bingley said at length.
Then he grimaced. “My sisters, of course, spoke of her unsuitability, as if the daughter of a gentleman is not suitable for the son of a merchant. That did not sway me so much as the notion that she did not care for me, a possibility I had not considered.”
Bingley sighed and turned away from the window.
“It has been above eight months now—I have come to this realization more than a little late. Though I consider Miss Bennet the most generous woman of her sex, I cannot imagine any woman waiting for more than half a year for a man to return. And I left without a backward glance, without even taking my leave.”
The chuckle that came from his friend sounded mirthless. “To own the truth, I have deliberated on the possibility of asking Miss Bennet about her sister. To do so would be to remove all ambiguity, and I am not certain that I am strong enough to face the truth.”
Sensing now was the time, Darcy said: “If you will pardon me, Bingley, I must tell you something that I should have confessed long ago.”
“That sounds ominous, Darcy,” said Bingley, a trace of his humor returning. “Shall I be furious with you?”
“Perhaps,” said Darcy, unable to summon much levity. “Let us sit—this may take us some time.”
Though Bingley gave him a sharp glance, he did not protest. Once they were situated on the sofa, Darcy reflected for a moment, considering what he should say.
“When I saw Miss Bennet in Kent, I had occasion to speak on the subject with her, and this morning when I went to Lambton, I confirmed what she told me.”
Darcy took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I apologize, my friend, for I was in error in my advice to you in November.”
Bingley frowned. “What part of your advice was not sound?”
“If you recall, I spoke about the state of Miss Bennet’s affections,” replied Darcy, seeing Bingley’s eyes go wide.
“Though I agreed to a certain extent with your sister’s concerns, I did not think those points to be relevant to the subject—if Miss Bennet’s situation meant nothing to you, it was none of my concern.
The state of her heart was the salient point. ”
For several moments, Bingley was so shocked that he could not utter a word. Then he gathered himself.
“In calling it an error, are you telling me that Miss Bennet did, in fact, hold a tender regard for me?”
“Miss Elizabeth has told me that her sister considered you the most agreeable man she had ever met,” said Darcy. “Though she would not promise that Miss Bennet would welcome you with open arms if you returned, she is certain that her sister would not turn you away.”
Bingley rose and began to pace, his sudden animation more characteristic of the friend Darcy knew than the introspective man who had lamented his choices only a moment ago. “Miss Elizabeth revealed her sister’s heart to you?” demanded he. “And you are only now telling me?”
Darcy sighed. “I apologize, Bingley. At first, I did not know what to do, and then I was not certain how to handle it. I knew that I needed to tell you, but the question was how. It was on my mind to suggest that we return to Hertfordshire to look in on the estate—that would give you the ability to judge her for yourself.”
The look Bingley directed at him was no less than imperious and demanding. “Darcy, this is not a communication one makes to an indifferent acquaintance. How did such a subject arise between you?”
This was dangerous ground and a subject that Darcy had no wish to discuss while Bingley was in his heightened emotional state.
Inevitably, Bingley would realize it if he had not already, for Darcy was not of a mind to hide his admiration for Miss Bennet any longer.
Better to tell Bingley at once than to hide it.
“The subject arose because Miss Bennet considered my interference officious, Bingley,” said Darcy.
He offered a wry grin, one that conveyed his appreciation for Miss Bennet’s indomitable character.
“She guessed the gist of what happened after we departed from Hertfordshire, though not the exact reasons for it. One day we discussed it, and she took me to task.”
It was incongruous with Bingley’s character, but savage amusement crossed his features. “I have every confidence in Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s ability to state her displeasure with great proficiency.”
“Just so,” agreed Darcy.
Bingley still appeared suspicious. “That still does not account for her speaking on the matter. She is more than capable of expressing her opinion when she finds it necessary, but I cannot think she would do so without provocation.”