Chapter III #2
After the departure of the children, the sitting-room settled into a quiet lethargy one often experienced after a day of such revelries.
Jane and Elizabeth sat together talking in quiet tones, while the rest of the company sat around them, each reflecting on the experiences of the day.
As Jane had not yet decided whether she would go to London, Elizabeth indulged in a little gentle teasing, trying to convince her it was for the best. The surprise when Mr. Hurst spoke up on the subject was akin to that she felt when she saw him in the sitting-room at Lucas Lodge.
“You mean to go to London?” asked he, keeping his voice low so that only Jane and Elizabeth might hear.
Jane appeared uncomfortable at the question but did not hesitate to respond. “I have not decided, Mr. Hurst.”
“Do you often stay with your relations?”
“Jane and I both stay for at least a few weeks every year,” replied Elizabeth, unable to keep the hint of challenge from her voice.
“That is understandable,” agreed Mr. Hurst, offering no trace of judgment. “Caroline, though her home is with her brother, often stays with Louisa and me.” The man paused, then offered a sardonic smile. “To own the truth, I might wish for her presence less, but Louisa enjoys her company.”
Though she had never had a sense of it before, it seemed Mr. Hurst did not appreciate his wife’s sister, though that could just be the man’s general taciturn nature.
“My sister and I are the same,” said Jane. “I always had the sense that your wife and your sister are close.”
“That they are,” said Mr. Hurst. “When do Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner return to London?”
“On the twenty-eighth,” replied Elizabeth. A sudden desire to provoke Mr. Hurst entered her heart, and she said: “Perhaps Jane may encounter your wife and sister there. Miss Bingley was clear in her desire for friendship, so a visit would be only proper.”
Mr. Hurst appeared to understand Elizabeth’s meaning at once and was amused by it, if his chuckle was any sign. “You may be correct, though I shall not venture a guess about her feelings should Miss Bennet present herself on her brother’s doorstep without warning.”
Whether or not Mr. Hurst intended it, Elizabeth interpreted his comment as an admission that Miss Bingley would not appreciate Jane’s coming.
As Elizabeth had always believed that Miss Bingley’s regard for Jane was not so warm as Jane had always supposed, it was a vindication, not that Elizabeth would bring up the subject with Jane.
“As for your proposed stay in London,” continued Mr. Hurst, “I shall offer no opinion, except to say that you can never know when circumstances might change.”
“What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth, suspicion rising in her breast.
“Nothing at all,” replied Mr. Hurst with a nod and more of a smile than she had ever seen from him.
“Just that Bingley is an impulsive man, as you have already apprehended. The business that took him to London was not impulsive, for he had known for days in advance that he needed to go, but his decision to stay there was. Did you not speak to Bingley about this? As I recall, it was something about his being gone in five minutes.”
“Mr. Bingley did mention he needed to return to London,” ventured Jane, a frown creasing her brow. “He did not say how long he meant to be there, but his eagerness to return was plain.”
“That is no surprise, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Hurst. “Then you can expect he might be equally impulsive should he decide Netherfield suits his mood.”
With a nod, Mr. Hurst moved away and, addressing Mrs. Bennet, conveyed his need to return to Netherfield. After a flurry of farewells, the man made his way from the room with Mr. Bennet for company, leaving the ladies within. The moment he was gone, Jane turned to Elizabeth.
“What do you suppose he meant?”
“The inference was that Mr. Bingley might return,” replied Elizabeth, no less nonplussed than her sister.
“Then I should not go to London?”
“I have no answers, Jane. Perhaps the next time he comes, we should ask him more openly.”
Jane frowned. “I am not certain that is at all proper, Lizzy.”
“You may be correct. But at least we would know.”
LATE THAT EVENING—MUCH later than when he left Longbourn—Hurst sat in the study at Netherfield nursing a brandy and staring into the writhing flames. It was nothing less than brooding, an activity in which Hurst rarely engaged. He was not Darcy, after all.
Hurst, despite the impression he gave to the world, was not a man unable to observe—in truth, he was far more observant about the world than any of his family or friends suspected.
He was also more self-aware than anyone thought.
The truth about Gerald Hurst was that he was a man who knew what he liked and did not concern himself with what others thought.
The memory of a particular evening at Netherfield the previous autumn rose in Hurst’s mind, and he almost smiled.
It was after Jane Bennet had become ill at Netherfield and her sister, Elizabeth, joined her at the estate to play nursemaid.
That evening, seated near Miss Elizabeth, she had attempted to make conversation with him, the subject of which escaped his memory.
Somehow, the subject had changed to food, and when she had expressed her preference for plain dishes rather than a ragout, Hurst had responded, though again, he could not remember what he said.
What remained vivid in his mind was how Miss Elizabeth had turned away from him, convinced he had nothing to say to her after she had expressed such an unfashionable opinion.
In reality, Hurst had been tweaking her nose, and she had decided at once that he was a bore.
That last was akin to the truth, and Hurst could admit it himself.
So long as he had good food, smooth brandy, a hunt or a deck of cards, he could be happy just about anywhere—simple tastes for a simple man.
If others branded him a bore for his preferences, it was nothing to Hurst; he liked what he liked and did not give three straws for anyone else’s opinion.
It was a fair trade in his mind—he did not judge others for their passions and asked for nothing more than the courtesy of the same lack of judgment.
If they took it into their heads to do so, that was their problem.
Another facet of his character was a strict adherence to his own concerns and a desire to stay out of the business of others.
This had served him in good stead over the years, for by avoiding such entanglements, he kept his life simple, which was what he liked.
Louisa and Caroline were ever embroiled in some intrigue concerning their brother, but Hurst kept away, wishing to know as little as possible of their machinations.
Now, however, he found himself caught in an unpleasant dilemma.
Though Hurst considered himself aloof from his wife and sister’s intrigues, that did not mean that he was unaware of them.
The situation in question, their efforts to remove their brother from Miss Bennet’s influence, schemes predicated on untruth, were now before him, leaving him wondering what he should do.
Under ordinary circumstances, he would not have considered involving himself.
Something about this situation bothered him, though whether it was Caroline’s lies, Bingley’s dejected silence, or Miss Bennet’s palpable sadness, he could not say.
Perhaps it was a combination of all three factors.
Whatever it was, Hurst was contemplating the possibility of involving himself in another’s affairs, something he did but rarely.
Helping Bingley would solve some problems but create others.
Though Bingley had often seemed like a callow youth, ensnared by a pretty face, Hurst sensed something different about this situation.
Bingley’s interest in a woman almost always seemed to die by the end of the first dance, yet his interest in Miss Bennet had lasted for three full months.
Miss Bennet, Hurst knew, did not possess the standing in society that Bingley’s sisters wished for his wife, nor did she possess much of a dowry to tempt a man like Bingley.
Yet, if Bingley chose to ignore the lack of dowry that was his business and no one else’s, and as Miss Bennet was a gentleman’s daughter, marriage to her would satisfy his need to marry a gentlewoman who would give him some legitimacy.
That would not be enough for Caroline, of course, for Caroline wished him to marry an heiress, the daughter of a peer, if she could manage it.
That was, of course, absurd, for no woman boasting such a position in society would deign to allow Bingley to so much as kiss her hand.
To be clear, Caroline and Louisa would not appreciate any hint of bringing Miss Bennet’s true feelings to Bingley’s attention, though, as usual, Caroline would rant and rave, while Louisa would accept it sooner than her sister might wish.
Besides, the deceit sat ill with Hurst, and Caroline’s concern for her own wishes rather than her brother’s was nothing short of selfishness.
Though Hurst would never confess it to anyone, Miss Bennet’s plight tugged at his heart.
It was clear she was unhappy, though it was not in her character to display that unhappiness to anyone who looked.
Her sorrow was quieter, hidden from the casual observer.
Couple that with his knowledge of Bingley’s similar straits, and Hurst could justify interfering on behalf of a good woman and of his brother by marriage.
Then Bingley could choose his own path and not concern himself with his sisters.
The other aspect of this drama was, of course, George Wickham, of whom Hurst knew little other than what Darcy had said.
Darcy was close-mouthed at the best of times, but the little he mentioned about Wickham was enough to raise Hurst’s hackles.
Miss Elizabeth had thought well of the officer, though his behavior at Lucas Lodge had been enough to render her cautious.
From what Darcy had insinuated, the danger to Miss Elizabeth was just a part of the danger to the entire neighborhood.
Hurst had caught glimpses of Darcy’s interest in Miss Elizabeth, never enough to be certain, more like whispers, not intent, but fascination.
Darcy was not a warm man, and he rarely paid attention to any young woman if he could avoid it.
It was not that he had focused his attention on her, but the way they had spoken, that sportive, complex way that made them feel like the only people in the conversation, suggested he looked on Miss Elizabeth as more than just a simple miss in a small country society.
The notion brought a full grin to Hurst’s lips.
Not only would it amuse him to see an impertinent country girl reel Darcy in like a fish on a hook, but Caroline’s screams when she learned of her failure would be almost satisfying.
That was, perhaps, not a commendable stance, but Hurst could not repent of it.
Caroline was nearly insufferable most of the time, her ill humors and ambition to climb the ladder of society quite nauseating.
If she had any chance at all with Darcy, Hurst might act differently, but he had seen Darcy’s lack of interest in her from the first moments of their acquaintance.
It would do her no harm to have her confidence bruised—she may even learn something from the experience and might just set her sights lower where she had some chance of success.
Darcy’s suspected preference for Miss Elizabeth was a simple way to draw him back to Hertfordshire—Hurst suspected that a letter with even the suggestion that Wickham was paying attention to Miss Elizabeth would send Darcy calling for his carriage.
A similar letter to Bingley, revealing Miss Bennet’s state and with just a suggestion of his sisters’ intrigues, would do the same for Bingley.
The trick was to put it in Bingley’s hands rather than Caroline’s—if she intercepted it, Bingley would never receive it—she would also learn the truth of Hurst’s whereabouts.
Hurst was enjoying his freedom too much to allow Caroline to ruin it.
Fortunately, Bingley’s butler was a man who would understand the need to keep it from Caroline.
With that decided, Hurst pulled out some sheets of paper and a pen, beginning to compose his letters at once.
Now that there was no question of what he would do, there was no point waiting, and every need for haste, considering Miss Bennet’s possible retreat to London.
Perhaps Hurst might even derive some amusement from the affair.