Chapter VIII #3
When she retired that night beside Jane, Elizabeth could not help but remember in exact detail what the gentleman had said.
That his interest in her might extend beyond ordinary acquaintance had never occurred to Elizabeth and still struck her as astonishing.
But Elizabeth could not discount it, nor could she say that the notion was unpleasant.
“This has gone far enough.”
“Clearly, Charles does not agree,” said Louisa Hurst.
“Charles has never understood what is best for him,” snapped Caroline.
Louisa avoided sighing, knowing it would only provoke her—in her present mood, Louisa had no wish to endure Caroline’s petulance.
Or more petulance than she already displayed.
What Louisa wished was for her sister to return to her room so she could retire, but Caroline had the bit in her teeth, was far too tense for slumber.
“Clara Whitcombe is nothing,” growled Caroline, warming to her subject. “She is unfit, a tradesman’s daughter; she will not do for our brother. We must guide him properly until he abandons her and this temporary infatuation that has overtaken him.
“Tell me, Caroline,” said Louisa, “if the attachment is so insignificant, why is it consuming so much effort to displace it?”
“Displace it?” grunted Hurst. “If you will forgive me, none of your machinations these past weeks has done anything to shift your brother from his purpose.”
“I do not know about that, Gerald,” said Louisa. “To me, Charles seems uncertain of what he wants.”
“Perhaps that is so,” said Hurst. “But he will allow no one to disparage Miss Whitcombe—his response tonight makes that clear.”
“He may defend her as much as he wants,” said Caroline, pacing the room in her agitation. “But he cannot consider her as a potential bride.”
“Caroline,” said Hurst, patience fraying, “all you have said to him has done nothing. Bingley has had ample opportunity to abandon his affection for Miss Whitcombe. Yet he has not. Where does that leave you?”
“I do not accept that,” spat Caroline. “She is unsuitable—she cannot be considered.”
“If you will pardon me,” said Hurst, ice in his tone, “she is no more unsuitable than you or Louisa. Or do you forget your common origins?”
“I forget nothing,” retorted Caroline. “Yet we are climbing society while Mr. Whitcombe continues to manage his business though he has purchased an estate.”
“In the strictest sense,” said Louisa, “Mr. Whitcombe is above Charles in society. He owns property—Charles is yet only leasing Netherfield.”
“Which is why we must take care,” insisted Caroline. “If we guide Charles to a suitable estate and marry an acceptable woman, he will raise our position. Then my marriage to Mr. Darcy will make it unassailable.”
Louisa exchanged a look with Gerald, noting his glance heavenward.
Neither was prepared to speak on that subject, for that would infuriate Caroline like no other.
If Mr. Darcy were truly within reach, it would not matter who Charles married—Miss Clara Whitcombe would be as good as any other woman, better than Miss Bennet to own the truth.
At least the Whitcombes had a presence in London, even if they did not frequent the highest circles.
But Caroline would not see this. Charles’s comment at the party was correct—as girls, Caroline and Clara had been close, though the Bingley business in the north and the Whitcombe business in the south meant they were not always together.
Louisa thought nothing had happened to lead to a falling out between them, but preventing Clara from marrying Charles had become something of an obsession for Caroline.
“The problem is not Charles,” mused Caroline. Then her face turned sour. “Or not Charles only. It is interference, distraction, and perhaps even poor influence. The situation is not lost; we can correct it, but we must act.”
Louisa did not think Caroline had spoken, expecting a response, but she offered one all the same. “If you have a way to do that when all else has failed, I am eager to hear what it is, Caroline.”
“I shall think on it and let you know what I decide,” said Caroline, sweeping from the room.
As the door closed behind her, Louisa heard Hurst chuckling. She turned to him, with a question on her tongue, but Hurst anticipated her.
“This is admirable, Louisa,” said he, still savoring his mirth. “Caroline has bent all her attention to your brother and Miss Bennet, but she has missed the true danger.”
“Do you speak of Mr. Darcy?” asked Louisa with a frown.
“Have you not noticed how often Darcy is with Miss Elizabeth?” asked Hurst.
“I have,” said Louisa, “but I have seen no overt preference on his part.”
“That is because Darcy is not an overt sort of man. Trust me, Louisa—Darcy’s interest in Miss Elizabeth is not benign and will not please Caroline. But she will not see it until it is too late.”
Louisa said nothing more, though she thought on the subject for a time.
There was no question of warning Caroline, for Louisa had long since looked on her sister’s obsession with Mr. Darcy as a lost cause.
Though she had seen nothing of what Hurst had said of Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, she resolved to watch more closely.