Chapter XIII
Sensing doom, Caroline Bingley waited for the response to the letter she had sent in the waning days of the year, impatience gnawing at the edges of her composure.
The wait was interminable, first a day, then two, edging up through listless afternoons spent with only her uninteresting sister for company.
Inside, she seethed at the delay, wondering if the stupid woman was delaying her response on purpose, and tried to determine if that was a good sign or otherwise.
As the waiting eroded the limited patience she possessed, Caroline grew more snappish, though she did not recognize it herself.
All that mattered was discovering where Charles had gone and whether her intuition was valid.
The longer the delay for the letter to arrive, the more unsettled Caroline became, until it led to a spat—Caroline’s contention of a tête-à-tête between sisters leading nowhere beneficial was nothing less than the truth.
How it all began, Caroline could not say after the evening, though it was some drivel her sister had been saying for days now.
Louisa claimed Hurst would return with Charles in tow—and they would all be as they were, an assertion Caroline distrusted the longer they went without word from their wayward menfolk.
Caroline tried to ignore her sister, but when Louisa did not cease, Caroline finally lost her temper.
“Oh, stop nattering on about nothing, Louisa,” snapped Caroline, a little more sharply than she had intended. All she wanted was peace from Louisa’s continued harping on the subject.
Louisa assumed that injured look she always adopted when Caroline reprimanded her and turned sulky. “There is no need to be unkind, Caroline. If you do not wish me to speak, I shall not bother you.”
“When you have something useful to say, you may say it. Until then, I would appreciate your silence.”
Outrage bloomed in Louisa’s eyes. “Do not speak to me that way! I am your elder sister and will not tolerate it.”
The sneer came easily to Caroline’s lips. “You have not been the leader between us since we were girls, Louisa. Do not assert your authority now.”
“It is not a matter of authority,” growled Louisa. “It is respect.”
Caroline turned the full weight of her glare on her sister. “When you can keep your husband on his leash, then you may speak of respect. Until then, please keep your mewling to yourself.”
“I do not care to hear anything further from you, Caroline,” spat Louisa. “You may sit and stew in your own juices, but I shall not endure you any longer. Good night.”
And with those words, Louisa swept from the room, Caroline’s glare following her.
The moment Louisa disappeared, Caroline ceased to consider her, the thoughts and reflections that had plagued her these past days returning.
The following day would mark a week since she had dispatched her letter to Netherfield, and if Mrs. Nichols did not respond, Caroline would need to assume the woman was ignoring her.
What she would do if proven correct, Caroline did not know.
The woman was an employee of the estate’s owner, not answerable to the current tenant save in matters of gross insubordination, and even then, Charles would need to demand her removal.
If he and Hurst were at Netherfield, they were keeping their presence a secret from Caroline and her sister, which presented many connotations Caroline did not wish to consider.
Charles would not act against Mrs. Nichols even if Caroline demanded it.
One benefit of Louisa’s withdrawal was the quiet in which to think.
Then again, that quiet was not welcome, for it allowed Caroline’s fancies to soar off to unwelcome destinations and suggest calamities only a fevered mind could imagine.
By the following morning, Caroline was quite drained and feeling the need to lash out.
The staff gave her a wide berth, though Caroline did not even notice it.
When the post came that morning while Caroline was at the breakfast table—Louisa was still sulking in her room—Caroline noticed the letter postmarked from Meryton at once.
With a cry of triumph, she snatched the letter and opened it.
By the time she had reached the second paragraph, Caroline knew that everything she suspected was true.
Her scream of indignation echoed throughout the house.
CONTRARY TO CAROLINE’S mean-spirited thoughts, Louisa was not sulking in her room, nor was she wallowing in self-pity over her sister’s unkindness.
Rather, Louisa was enjoying the reprieve from her sister’s company, for Caroline had grown intolerable these past days, snapping at nothing, displeased by everything.
Why she was so displeased, Louisa could not say—wherever Charles and Hurst were, there was nothing they could do about it, so why should she worry?
In a dark corner of her mind, Louisa even applauded Charles’s escape, for it was high time he went his own way.
That morning when she woke, Louisa found she had enjoyed the solitude in her room so much that she sent her personal maid with a request to the housekeeper to provide a tray instead of joining Caroline in the breakfast parlor.
After she broke her fast, Louisa sat down with a book, an indulgence in which she rarely partook, and settled in to be entertained for a time.
That was, of course, when Caroline’s screech rent the quiet in the house.
Louisa looked up from her book, wondering if she ought to go down and discover what had discomposed Caroline.
After a moment’s thought, she decided against it, knowing that Caroline would seek her out if the matter was serious.
Even if it was not, Louisa thought with a cynical sense of disappointment in her sister, she would seek Louisa out regardless, no doubt to vent her frustration or demand Louisa assist her in whatever matter had annoyed her.
What Louisa had not expected was for Caroline to come to her rooms with such alacrity.
“Louisa!” cried Caroline as she barged into her rooms a few moments later. “There is no time to lose. We must leave London at once.”
For several moments, Caroline ranted about betrayal and danger, yet Louisa could make nothing from her sister’s jumbled words except that Caroline had discovered where they had gone.
Louisa regarded her, suspecting the reason for Caroline’s anger, but knowing she would know nothing until she could calm her enough to learn it from her lips.
No one could maintain such a burst of emotion for long, which allowed Louisa to force her sister to speak rationally.
“You have not told me what is wrong, Caroline,” said Louisa when she judged Caroline’s emotion had cooled enough to hear over her complaints. “What has you in such a tizzy?”
The way Caroline turned to her, eyes burning with fury, Louisa felt the urge to take a step back. Caroline had turned into a mad thing, appearing like a devil, so bright was the blazing of her eyes.
“I sent a letter to Netherfield,” spat Caroline, gathering herself for a reply.
“Mrs. Nichols delayed replying for a week, but I have a letter from her this morning at last. Not only are Charles and Hurst at the estate—Hurst has been there for weeks now—but Mr. and Miss Darcy are in residence there too!”
At once, Louisa understood Caroline’s consternation.
Though Charles was there, likely in danger of losing his head to Miss Bennet, the most important matter in Caroline’s mind would always be Mr. Darcy.
As Louisa recalled, Caroline had always viewed Miss Elizabeth Bennet as a threat to her pursuit of Mr. Darcy.
Louisa could not guess whether Caroline’s suspicions were true, but Louisa had seen something of uncommon interest in Miss Elizabeth, though whether the woman returned that interest was a question for which Louisa had never had an adequate answer.
Caroline wished to prevent Miss Bennet from entrancing their brother enough to provoke a proposal, but in her crazed state of mind, she must consider Mr. Darcy on the edge of a similar outcome.
That would be disastrous not only for Caroline’s ambitions, but also for her sense of worth—she would sacrifice Charles if he wished to marry the lowest scullery maid in the kingdom, but she would allow nothing to compromise her pursuit of Mr. Darcy.
“It appears your husband has slipped his leash, Louisa,” sneered Caroline, an offensive comment that raised Louisa’s hackles. “Hurst went off to Hertfordshire, and now our brother has joined him, somehow convincing Mr. Darcy to go there also. We must depart for Hertfordshire within the hour.”
“Oh, Caroline,” said Louisa, tired of her sister’s delusions, “if Charles is already there, do you suppose there is anything we can do to prevent him from doing as he wishes?”
“I care nothing for Charles!” cried Caroline, confirming Louisa’s suspicions. “Mr. Darcy is the concern. That hussy, Eliza Bennet, is even now wrapping him in her web. Well, I shall not surrender to a woman such as she. I will go to Hertfordshire at once and remind Mr. Darcy of his duty.”
“And you suppose his duty is to marry you?” Louisa shook her head. “Mr. Darcy’s duty is what the gentleman believes it to be; since he has had three years to offer for you, he does not consider marrying you to be his duty.”
“Be silent, Louisa!” snapped Caroline. “Prepare your effects, for we shall depart at once!”
“You do not command me, Caroline,” rejoined Louisa.
Eyes blazing, Caroline took two steps to Louisa and grabbed her arm in a painful grip, the sudden violence catching Louisa by surprise. “Do not gainsay me!” hissed Caroline. “I shall not allow three years to go to waste. Mr. Darcy will be mine!”
Overcoming her shock, Louisa wrenched her arm from Caroline’s grasp. “You stupid harpy! Do not lay hands on me, or you will not like the result!”
“I rule this family, Louisa! You will do what I say!”