Chapter Forty-Eight
As the carriage headed back toward Netherfield, Georgiana glanced at Miss Bingley. She had become very pale, and seemed much absorbed in thought. Georgiana shrugged and looked away; she did not much care.
But Mr. Bingley was troubled by the expression on his sister’s face, and he made it a point to visit her in her room before dinner.
“Yes, Charles?”
“What is wrong, Caroline?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“I have known you all your life, Caroline; something is disturbing you.’ He hesitated, and then said, “Tell me first, though, how did you know that Darcy was here?”
Caroline turned to her wardrobe, opened the top drawer and produced a small note.
Mr. Bingley opened it and read it. Looking up at his sister, he protested, “But this was in my basket, Caroline!”
“No, actually, it was on the floor. One of the maids found it and knew I would be interested in its contents.”
“And brought it to you. Oh, Lord, my messiness has caught up with me!” He laughed merrily.
“Why did you not tell me he was here?” Caroline asked.
“Because – because – well, you make him uncomfortable, Caroline.”
“Do I?”
“Yes; you are desperate to marry him, and he is desperate not to marry you, and so he is always on his guard when you are here. I am sorry, I do not intend to hurt you, Caroline.”
“No, you are right to tell me.”
“Am I? You are not upset?” Mr. Bingley peered anxiously into his sister’s face.
“I am only upset at myself. I think I have been foolish. Do you think he is cleverer than me, Charles?”
“Who, Darcy?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Bingley laughed. “Of course he is, Caroline. He is the cleverest man I know. How he finds the time to do all the reading and studying he does, on top of running the estates, I cannot figure out, but he does.”
“And do you think he will require cleverness in a wife?”
Mr. Bingley was suddenly serious. “I hope he does, Caroline.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is under a good deal of pressure to marry well, meaning a young lady with a large dowry, preferably from a titled family. But if she is not also very clever, well-read and interested in books, then he will never be happy with her. He will do his duty, of course; he will support her, give her children, and so on, but he will never be happy. And, as a result, neither will she.”
Miss Bingley had a sudden glimmer of understanding. “This is why you like Miss Bennet? Because she is similar to you?”
He smiled, beautifully. “She is indeed. We are both social creatures, more interested in people than books. She is so gentle, so kind, so good!”
“And so are you, Charles,” Caroline said, unexpectedly. “You are gentle, kind and good. No one says such things about men, I think, but you are all those things. The two of you would be good together.”
“I thought you would fight me on it, Caroline,” he said, bemused.
“I thought I would as well,” she admitted. “But I would have been wrong. I will be happy to have a gentle, kind and good sister.”
Ah, Mr. Bingley thought. Mrs. Bennet must have spoken to my sister quite seriously this afternoon! “And will you leave poor Darcy alone?”
“I will. You are quite right. He could never be happy with me, nor I with him. I regret having wasted so much time in pursuit of him.”
“I am proud of you, Caroline!”
“Thank you, Charles. I have a good deal to think about, so if you do not mind, I will take a tray in my room tonight.”