Chapter XIV
It was not a question of whether Caroline would recover. It was how much dignity it would cost her before she acknowledged the truth.
“Caroline is resilient,” said Gerald, not bothered by last night’s setback. “Trust me, Louisa—she will have pivoted by the time she makes her way down for breakfast.”
“I have no concern about Caroline’s ability to redirect,” said Louisa. “Yet I am not convinced that she will accept this defeat at once. If she persists, she may humiliate herself.”
“Whatever else Caroline is, she is not deficient.” Gerald’s expression turned feral, then he shrugged.
“At least, she is not deficient when it pertains to intelligence, though I could mention some of her other qualities that I do not quite like. But she is eminently practical. Now that she has failed with Bingley, she will claim all she wanted was his happiness, then she will focus her attention back on Darcy.”
Louisa could not suppress the huff of disdain. “Little good that will do her. Perhaps she has been too busy to know what has been happening between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, but I have not been so blind.”
“Just so,” said Gerald, too gleeful for Louisa’s liking.
She did not disagree with her husband—Caroline had become so grasping that taking her confidence down a notch would do her no harm. But it would not do for Caroline to see Gerald display such sentiments, for she would not appreciate it at all.
“What do you suppose she will do when she learns Darcy is no longer an option?”
Louisa considered the question. “Unless I am mistaken, you do not expect her to erupt in rage.”
“No, I do not,” replied Gerald. “Remember who we are dealing with, Louisa. Caroline knows that your brother’s friendship with Darcy is what provides her with entrance into a higher set than she would otherwise inhabit.
Though disappointed, and perhaps angry, the paramount necessity to preserve that connection and the benefits it affords will prevent her from making any serious social errors. ”
“Then she will accept it, at least on the surface.” Louisa sighed, understanding her husband’s point. “She may still make catty comments designed to show her displeasure, but nothing that Mr. Darcy would act on.”
“Those would be inevitable, regardless,” said Gerald wryly. “That is Caroline, and no mistake.”
“Then I suppose my role will be to watch her for any hint that our assumptions are incorrect, and intervene if necessary.”
“It will not be necessary, but watch her by all means.”
Though a little earlier than Louisa expected, Caroline descended for breakfast that morning, showing a mask of determination. Gerald and Louisa had lingered over coffee, and were present when Caroline breezed into the room.
“Louisa, Gerald,” said she as she went to the sideboard and fixed herself a plate.
“Caroline,” greeted Louisa, wondering what her sister would do.
A moment later, she joined them at the table, and set to her breakfast with a will. They sat in silence, Gerald amused but watchful while Caroline sated her immediate hunger.
“Where is Charles?” asked Caroline, though in a tone that lacked curiosity.
“Charles left early this morning,” replied Louisa. “He did not say where he was going.”
Though she did not like it, only one who knew her well could have detected the distaste in her apparent apathy. “It is unfortunate that he elected to act against our advice.”
“Our advice?” asked Louisa, sharing a look with her husband.
“Miss Whitcombe,” said Caroline. “I have tried to guide him to a suitable prospect, but he persists. Last night ended any hope of directing him to a gentlewoman.”
Surprised at Caroline’s candor, Louisa considered how best to answer.
Her knowledge of her sister suggested Caroline would ignore last night altogether—before anyone other than Louisa, she would do just that, perhaps spin some tale about her concern for Charles’s peace of mind or her understanding of her brother’s indecision.
She would also embrace Clara again, speak of how she would do well, put the best face on a situation she found distasteful.
“To own the truth,” said Hurst before Louisa could speak, “I suspect any hope of directing him ended months ago.”
“I have no notion of your meaning,” sniffed Caroline with disdain. “Until Charles made his unfortunate choice, I was convinced that I could still reach him.”
“Then you were not seeing things as they were,” said Gerald, his usual bluntness making the comment seem terse. “You never guided Bingley to his future, Caroline. You forced him to declare it.”
Caroline did not like the comment—that much was clear. For a moment, she was silent. Then she ignored the subject altogether, more in keeping with what Louisa might have expected from the beginning.
“It is on my mind to visit Georgiana Darcy this morning, Louisa.”
Gerald directed an expression of triumph at Louisa, but she paid him no heed. “A visit to Georgiana?”
“Yes, of course. It has been some time since we were in her company—a visit now is good manners.”
“If you wish it, I have no objection,” said Louisa.
“Then I shall leave you to your day,” said Gerald as he rose, though he did not go away until he had directed a sly glance at Louisa. Caroline did not notice, or she affected unconcern—either way, she was silent, and that was all Louisa could hope for.
What Caroline would do when she was forced to confront Mr. Darcy’s interest in Miss Elizabeth was something Louisa thought she had no ability to predict. She hoped her husband was correct—she suspected Caroline would discover it soon.
“Then everything has been settled to your satisfaction.”
Jane met Elizabeth’s eyes and an understanding passed between them. Mrs. Gardiner, who rarely missed anything and had patiently listened to Jane’s account of the previous evening’s events, offered an indulgent smile and waited for a response.
“Satisfaction is perhaps a strong term, Aunt,” replied Jane. “The resolution is, I must suppose, the best outcome for Mr. Bingley, but I still esteem him.”
“You regret the loss of such a promising potential husband.”
“Not that exactly.” Jane pondered everything for a moment. “It makes little sense to mourn a love that never took hold. I suspect that Mr. Bingley would have been an excellent husband, but as it never happened, I cannot grieve what never was.”
Mrs. Gardiner listened, then patted Jane’s hand. “I am pleased at your maturity, Jane. It is understandable to regret what might have been between you and Mr. Bingley, but I would not have you exist in melancholy for weeks mourning what was, after all, nothing more than an idea.”
“I have learned patience, Aunt,” said Jane. “More than that, I have learned that not every story has a happy ending.”
“It also does not hurt that more than two months have passed,” added Lizzy, accompanied by her usual expressive grin. “You spent most of your sorrow before we came to London.”
“It is all for the best, I am sure,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “The question you must answer, however, is how you will tell your mother. Maggie will be most upset to learn that you have been in London for months and still did not catch Mr. Bingley.”
“That is no concern, Aunt,” said Jane, fixing her sister with her own brand of slyness. “If you had seen Lizzy with Mr. Darcy last night, you would know that he will distract Mama the moment he appears at our door.”
“Do not tease, Jane,” said Elizabeth, though she was laughing. “You are not nearly so proficient at it as I am. Besides, Aunt, Mr. Harrington’s behavior gave me a great deal of hope for our dear Jane.”
Before the teasing could increase, there was a knock at the door, signaling Mr. Bingley’s arrival. Mrs. Gardiner understood the significance at once, as she turned and addressed Jane.
“Perhaps Lizzy should stay in the room as a chaperone?” Mrs. Gardiner reached out and touched her hand, filling Jane with the warmth of her affection. “I trust you, of course, but these events suggest we leave nothing to chance.”
“That will be acceptable.”
“Then I shall sit on the far side of the room and leave you to your private conversation.” Elizabeth’s expression grew devilish. “Perhaps you should ensure Mr. Bingley understands that every word of what he tells you will make its way to me.”
“That is enough from you, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
The housekeeper entered the room at that moment, Mr. Bingley following. The gentleman had already doffed his hat, appearing uncertain of his reception, his eyes finding Jane then darting to Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner.
“Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Gardiner, speaking at once to put him at ease. “Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gardiner,” said he, relaxing just a little. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth.”
For several moments, they sat together exchanging banal conversation that opened any such meeting.
Unlike the usual Mr. Bingley, however, he did much more listening than speaking, though to say he listened, given the number of times he appeared miles away, may have been generous.
At length, Mrs. Gardiner took pity on him.
“I understand you require a private audience with Jane,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
Mr. Bingley’s attention snapped back to her, and he nodded. “There are some matters I should explain to your niece, Mrs. Gardiner.”
“Of course. I have matters to attend to elsewhere in the house, so Lizzy may stay to satisfy propriety.”
“That would be acceptable,” said Mr. Bingley, nodding to Elizabeth.
Within moments, Mrs. Gardiner left the room, and Lizzy took herself to the far side near the door as she had promised she would.
Elizabeth produced a book and opened it, though Jane suspected her sister would not read much.
Elizabeth would not try to eavesdrop or overhear what they said, but her curiosity sufficed to render her attention to her book uncertain.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, “though I wish to clarify matters between us, I find myself in the peculiar situation of not knowing what to say.”