Chapter VIII
Morning at Pemberley was the best part of the day.
In summer, the warm light of the sun streamed through wide windows, and birdsong woke the residents to the coming day.
If one was inclined to sleep late, the light might be an inconvenience, but Bingley was not in the habit of lying in bed until late morning.
Darcy had often commented on Bingley’s ability to find himself at home wherever he was, and he could not disagree.
Contentment had always come easily, a product of a complying temperament and a general sense of satisfaction that had been his companion from his earliest memories.
It was part of him, so he rarely needed to question it, but something he now appreciated, especially when he considered certain other elements in his life to whom ease did not come without struggle.
Caroline did not share the same habit. From her grasping to obtain the highest level of society she could to the simple preference for town hours even when she was in the country, his sister often appeared discontented by the hand life had dealt her.
Bingley had thought many times that she would be much easier if she adopted his philosophy.
But there was no reasoning with her; Caroline’s ambitions ruled her every action.
One could not find contentment with such a harsh taskmaster hanging over her.
The preference for town hours was the reason—or perhaps one of many—that she appeared waspish the morning after the dinner party with Miss Bennet and the Gardiners.
Bingley had not taken his sisters to task often, but after seeing Caroline’s behavior toward Miss Bennet, he could no longer tolerate it.
Thus, he had instructed Caroline’s maid to wake her early the following morning, determined that she would hear him and submit to his instructions.
“In short,” said Bingley after relating his expectations, “I expect you to conduct yourselves as the gentlewomen you aspire to be. If you cannot summon the decency to meet the Gardiners with respect, then at least practice civility. I will tolerate nothing less.”
Hurst, who had ensured Louisa would attend this meeting, grunted his agreement. Louisa appeared a little abashed, though hers had been by far the less egregious of the sisters’ behavior. Caroline was annoyed and mutinous.
“Remember,” said Bingley, not willing to listen to Caroline’s diatribes until he had his say, “Darcy’s patience is not inexhaustible. He will not continue to endure these insults directed at people of whom he thinks highly.”
Caroline huffed, her exasperation clear, but Louisa just nodded.
“If you recall,” said his elder sister, “I have said little of substance. Last night, I spoke with Mrs. Gardiner for some time at dinner, and our exchange was cordial.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Bingley, “and I thank you for it. I will note that Mrs. Gardiner initiated that conversation, and you still give the impression of haughtiness.”
Louisa considered this and nodded. “Perhaps I do,” said she, appearing contrite. “I apologize, Brother, for that was not my intention. When next I see them, I promise that I will do better.”
“This is all nonsense!” exclaimed Caroline, unable to hold her temper. “Miss Eliza is beneath us—Mr. Darcy welcoming her to Pemberley at all is beyond the pale.”
“What a novel interpretation of precedence you have, Caroline,” said Hurst. Bingley could hear the contempt in his voice. “Tell me more—how do you suppose that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the daughter of a gentleman, is beneath us?”
“She is nothing,” snarled Caroline. “She has nothing but an improper family, connections in trade, and an impertinent manner. How you all can look at her with such warmth is beyond my comprehension.”
“Caroline, let us be honest,” replied Hurst, staring at his sister by marriage with undisguised contempt.
“Of the four of us in this room, I am the only one who can claim gentle breeding. Your father was an excellent man, and I respected him, but let us not pretend that you are anything other than what you are—the daughter of a man of trade.”
“How dare you!” spat Caroline.
“He dares because it is the truth,” interjected Bingley. “Despite your attempts to run away from your past, you cannot deny it, Caroline. It is beneath you to try.”
Unable to speak because of her incoherent fury, Caroline glared at them both.
“Let us recall one more thing, dear sister,” added Bingley.
“You are not the arbiter of who is welcome at Pemberley.
Though you scheme and plot and wish that you were the mistress of this estate, you are not, nor will you ever be.
At present, Darcy is the only one who has the power to extend his welcome, and that will not change until he marries.
“Unless you are witless instead of too high in the instep, even you must acknowledge he has welcomed Miss Bennet here, and he has not shunned her relations. It is not your decision to make—it is Darcy’s.”
“Brother,” ventured Louisa, “do you know why Mr. Darcy has welcomed her here? I do not dispute his right, but I recall little warmth between them when we were in Hertfordshire.”
Bingley knew much more than either of his sisters; that much was indisputable. Though he wondered how much he should tell them—and what Caroline would do with the information if he told all—Hurst spoke before he could decide.
“Then you were not paying attention, Louisa. Do you not recall how Darcy watched her? What of the debates, Darcy’s long looks, the dance at the ball in November?”
Louisa returned his gaze, uncertain. “Are you suggesting that Mr. Darcy wishes to offer for her?”
Again, Bingley knew the truth—if they were not engaged before Christmas, Bingley had misjudged his friend spectacularly. Caroline snorted her disdain at the very notion, but no one paid her any heed.
“No, Louisa, I suggest nothing.” Hurst rubbed his chin in thought.
“If you want my opinion, Darcy’s behavior at Netherfield was his usual reticence, though altered because he met a woman who intrigued him.
Since Miss Elizabeth appeared here, he has changed.
I suspect those weeks he spent near her in Kent altered his perspective. ”
“Now you are seeing phantoms,” grumbled Caroline. “Mr. Darcy and Miss Eliza? Why, I have never heard anything more ridiculous.”
“That is why you abused her at every opportunity when we were in Hertfordshire,” said Bingley.
“It is the reason for your adamant insistence on shrewish behavior toward her now, even after Hurst reminded you that she will only be here for a few days. Pardon my skepticism, Caroline, but I am convinced you are far more threatened by Miss Bennet than you will confess.”
For a wonder, Caroline said nothing, which, in Bingley’s mind, meant her confidence was far less secure than she pretended. It was just as well—Bingley was becoming fatigued with this conversation, and he had not even come to the point he knew would infuriate her.
“Once more I will reiterate,” said Bingley. “Darcy will decide who is welcome at Pemberley. You have no standing to object. As such, you will keep your opinions to yourself and act with civility. If you cannot do that, it would be best if you remained in your room.”
Caroline’s nostrils flared at that, but Bingley was tired of listening to her mewling.
“Furthermore, you should know that when we depart Pemberley, I shall take you to the north as planned. Once we are there, however, I shall only stay for a brief visit, after which I shall return to Netherfield.”
The way Caroline’s eyes widened in horror and shock might have been diverting in other circumstances. As it was, her stupefaction did not last long enough for his taste.
“That is ridiculous, Charles!” snapped she. “There is nothing for you at Netherfield.”
“Nothing except the woman I love,” retorted Bingley.
“And before you forbid me anything,” Bingley’s dour expression dared her to further object, “remember that I am my own man and may do as I please.”
“Do you mean to ruin me?”
“Marrying Miss Bennet would ruin no one,” replied Bingley.
“Her improper family will make us a laughingstock!”
“The Bennets do not go into society. Yet that does not concern me. The choice of my life partner is mine, and I mean to have it.”
“Brother,” said Louisa, her voice smaller than usual, “you know my sentiments. Though Caroline has spoken out of turn, her concerns are valid.”
“Perhaps they are,” replied Bingley. “But if I decide that having Miss Bennet as a wife outweighs such concerns, it is my choice to make. Besides, I will marry her, not her family.”
Though he might not have credited her ability to remain silent, Caroline seethed but said nothing, allowing Louisa to speak again.
“To Miss Bennet, there can be no objection—she is the sweetest woman I have ever met. If you are set on this path, at least promise that you will be certain of her.”
“Of Jane, I am certain,” replied Bingley, softening a little to his elder sister, who was being reasonable. “Before I take such a step as to offer for her, I will also take care to confirm her sentiments.”
Louisa nodded, though it was clear that she did not agree. “That is all I can ask.”
“That is not all I can ask,” said Caroline, losing a battle with her anger. “Do you not recall that everything you do is a reflection on me? Will you damage my prospects so that you may have your little country miss?”
As Caroline’s anger was not unexpected, Bingley took no notice of her insulting words about Miss Bennet.
“Even if I thought marrying Miss Bennet would damage your prospects, still I would not relent. Should it make your eventual marriage to a duke impossible, I would think it was already improbable enough as to mean nothing at all.”
“Do not be obtuse, Charles,” growled Caroline.