Chapter 13 #2
“I adore picnics,” Elizabeth said warmly. “If your brother approves, I would be delighted.”
“Miss Bennet?”
“Yes?”
“Would you be willing to call me Georgiana?”
Elizabeth turned in startled pleasure. “I would be overjoyed, so long as you call me Elizabeth.”
“Very well, Elizabeth,” the younger woman said shyly. “I am glad that you are my friend.”
“I am honored and delighted to be your friend, Georgiana. I do suggest that we act more formally when we are among others.”
“Why?”
“I fear that Miss Bingley might be envious of our friendship. I am not afraid of her pouting and indignation, but she could make the situation uncomfortable for Mr. Darcy, Jane, and Mr. Bingley.”
Georgiana’s expression cleared. “I understand, Elizabeth. That is very wise.”
/
“Caroline, Louisa, I hope you are well?”
His two sisters had taken refuge from the late morning heat in the Hursts’ private sitting room, where the open windows provided a welcome breath of fresh air.
“We are, Charles,” Louisa said, lifting her head from her knitting.
“Where have you been all morning?” Caroline asked sharply. She was working on a complex piece of embroidery and had just made a mistake, which always made her more fractious than usual.
Charles shut the door of the room behind him and advanced a few feet before saying, “I rode with Darcy earlier this morning, and then Jane and I wandered the rose garden for some time. I also wrote a few business letters before seeking you out. I wished to tell you that we are quite certain that Jane is expecting a child.”
“That is wonderful news!” Louisa exclaimed, casting a smug look at her younger sister. “Congratulations, brother! I am very happy for you, and Hurst will be as well!”
“Thank you, Louisa,” Charles said gratefully, and turned an expectant look on Caroline.
“Yes, congratulations!” the lady said with a saccharine smile. “Do convey my felicitations to Jane if you see her before I do.”
“I will,” Charles said enthusiastically. “I expect you will see her at dinner, but it is not a definite thing. You have both likely observed that she has been excessively fatigued; the child is making her both tired and ill, and there are times when she is not well enough to be in company.”
“When will the little one be born?” Louisa asked curiously.
“It will likely be after the New Year.”
“Oh, you have plenty of time to think up a good name,” Caroline exclaimed. “Perhaps you can name her Cecilia, after our mother.”
Charles blinked and said, “Perhaps, though of course the child might well be a son.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Caroline said with a roll of her eyes. “Given that Mrs. Bennet birthed five daughters, it is almost impossible that Jane will bear a son with her first pregnancy. Perhaps if you are very fortunate, you will one day produce an heir.”
Her brother’s cheerful expression shifted to one of disapproval. “As to that, the Bingley fortune is not entailed away from the female line.”
“Nor does it hold that merely because Mrs. Bennet had only daughters, Jane will as well,” Louisa said impatiently. “Do not be ridiculous, Caroline.”
“I am not being ridiculous in the least! If Charles had married Miss Winton, or Miss Clarissa Yardley, both of whom have three or four brothers, it is far more likely that the first child would have been a son.”
“Caroline, really, the things you say! You are being completely absurd!”
“I most certainly am not!”
Charles, forgotten in the sudden quarrel between his sisters, hastily slipped out of the room and crossed the corridor to the sitting room he shared with Jane.
His beautiful wife was sleeping at the moment, and he picked up an agricultural book and prepared to learn more about Tullian drills and raising turnips to feed sheep.
After reading a few, admittedly dull paragraphs, he put the book down and stared out the window toward the western horizon, his fingers tapping absently on the arms of the chair.
He felt disturbed for some reason, and he knew not why.
Before his marriage, he would dismiss such feelings and busy himself with something else.
But when Jane had discovered how Caroline, and to a lesser extent Louisa, had fought against their marriage, she had confided that she finally understood Elizabeth’s warnings against assuming the good intentions of those around her.
Bingley knew that he, like Jane, was overly prone to believe the best of everyone.
Certainly that was preferable to always assuming the worst about his fellow members of mankind, but it was unwise.
There were villains in his world, and he, Charles Bingley, now a husband, soon to be a father, had best learn to accept reality, not an overly optimistic fantasy.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and allowed his thoughts to drift here and there, seeking the source of his distress.
Two minutes later, he sat up straight. He was upset by Caroline’s response to Jane’s pregnancy!
He had spoken the truth to both his wife and sisters that he cared not whether the child was male or female.
His greatest prayer and hope was that Jane and the babe would both survive the birth in good health.
But it was equally obvious that Caroline meant to be deliberately insulting in her prediction that Jane would bear only daughters.
Bingley’s frowned as he mulled over his younger sister’s behavior and words in the last days, weeks, and months.
He had, he decided, grown far too accustomed to his sister’s cutting words toward Jane, Elizabeth, and the entire Bennet family.
He was generally an easygoing soul, which had served him well at Cambridge while he made his way socially amongst the sons of gentlemen and nobles.
His dear wife was also blessed with the sweetest of dispositions, and had treated both her new sisters with great kindness in spite of their earlier attempts to cut her out of their lives.
Louisa, to her credit, had embraced Jane as a true sister as soon as the new Mrs. Bingley had signed the wedding register. Caroline, on the other hand…
Charles Bingley grimaced and shook his head.
It was not fair to Jane that he continually ignored Caroline’s insolent remarks toward and about his wife, nor was it fair to Elizabeth who, to her credit, had always behaved with outward courtesy toward Caroline, though there were times when Miss Bennet used her sardonic wit at Miss Bingley’s expense.
Darcy, too, must dread the sight of his sister, not because Caroline was ever rude to the host of Pemberley, but because the lady longed, above all things, to be mistress of this great estate, and thus pursued and flattered him with unremitting enthusiasm. It had to be exasperating.
He was master of an estate now, and the head of his household. If he could not manage his younger sister, he would doubtless struggle to be a good overseer of his tenants and a wise father to his children. He needed to do something about Caroline.
His first impulse was to consult Jane, but then he discarded that idea.
Ordinarily, he would go to her for advice, but given that Jane was pregnant and struggling, it would be unkind to talk at length about Caroline’s attacks on the Bennet family.
Nor did he wish to discuss the matter with Elizabeth; the second Bennet daughter could be fiery in defense of her elder sister, and he did not wish to ignite that fire when the whole party was cooped together at Pemberley.
He would speak to Darcy; his friend had a powerful intellect and was sensible, along with being more cynical about the true motivations of those around him.