Mrs. Hurst’s Return

Chapter I

In every society there exists at least one person whose chief accomplishment is to stand beside someone more interesting.

There was an example of this in Elizabeth Bennet’s family.

Her youngest sister, Lydia, was brash, fearless, and sometimes appeared larger than life, while Kitty, the next eldest, was only accomplished in how closely she followed Lydia’s lead.

Both girls were silly and loud, flouted propriety whenever they could, and constantly appeared on the verge of exposing the family to ridicule.

The other example Elizabeth had observed of this phenomenon of late was Miss Bingley and her elder sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst. That was, until the latter appeared in Longbourn’s sitting-room one fine January morning.

Elizabeth had long considered the other woman unworthy of much consideration.

Mrs. Hurst was a quiet woman who was content to support Miss Bingley in whatever she said, play with the bracelets on her wrist—of which there were several—and look down on everyone she saw, her looks no less judgmental, though quieter than her sister’s.

Though Elizabeth had never doubted her complicity in whatever had induced Mr. Bingley to abandon his leased estate, she had always regarded Miss Bingley as the chief instigator, with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley’s odious friend, lending his support.

“Mrs. Hurst, you say,” mused Mrs. Bennet when Kitty reported the identity of their visitor.

It had long been a custom for whoever was closest to the window to report on the scene outside the house when they heard carriage wheels on the drive.

That morning had been like many others until the surprising visitors arrived—with the cold of the season, the Bennet ladies were often confined to the indoors and engaged in their sundry pursuits.

“Well, that must be a good sign,” said Mrs. Bennet, looking to Jane.

For her part, Jane appeared curious, and perhaps even a trifle hopeful. It pleased Elizabeth to see it—Jane’s spirits had been depressed since Mr. Bingley’s departure. The other girls appeared confused.

Elizabeth did not know what to expect. As her suspicions of Mrs. Hurst’s disapproval of her brother’s attentions to Jane had festered, she had come to think as ill of the woman as she thought of Miss Bingley.

From what Elizabeth knew of her, there was nothing that could explain Mrs. Hurst’s presence at Longbourn, especially without her brother.

Before she could consider it further, Mrs. Hill, their housekeeper, entered the room and announced the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. With a critical eye, Elizabeth regarded the woman, noting that she appeared the same as she had before.

She was of moderate height, shorter than her willowy sister, her hair perfectly coiffed, her dress of costly material though well chosen for her complexion.

Mr. Hurst was also the same as he had ever been—boring, uncommunicative, and appearing as if he wished to be anywhere else.

Then Elizabeth drew back, for she realized there was something different about Mrs. Hurst. For one, she appeared more animated than Elizabeth had ever seen her, civil to the exact degree as she greeted them.

Though it might be expected for friends separated by more than a month to show warmth, Mrs. Hurst was more composed than convivial.

There was also, she noted, a lack of certain embellishments of appearance that had so often adorned the sisters, though Elizabeth supposed a long headdress of feather plumes was not needed for a morning visit in inclement weather.

“I am happy to see you, Louisa,” said Jane when the pleasantries were exchanged. Jane was the only member of the family afforded the privilege of addressing her by her Christian name.

“And I am happy to be returned to the country.” Mrs. Hurst smiled, and Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen the woman wear such a genuine expression. “I enjoy town, of course, but being in the country is also satisfying.”

Mrs. Hurst offered a commiserating smile and added: “There is nothing happening in London now, anyway, as the season is more than a month away.”

“Are your family all well?” asked Jane, a gesture anyone in polite society might make.

Elizabeth almost expected Mrs. Hurst to turn haughty and cold upon hearing it, but she confounded Elizabeth by offering a slight smile.

“We are, Miss Bennet, I thank you for asking.” Mrs. Hurst paused, then added: “Caroline is in Surrey visiting with some friends, while Charles is still in town.”

“Then I hope you will give them my regards when next you write to them.”

Even this did not pierce Miss Bingley’s complacency. “I shall be certain to do so, Miss Bennet.”

The visit continued from there, Mrs. Hurst talking chiefly with Jane, though not quite so much with her mother.

Mrs. Bennet watched it all, interjecting comments here and there, displaying her eagerness though no open impropriety, which was a relief.

Mrs. Hurst, though she responded with ease, reserved her affection for Jane.

Elizabeth could understand—even Elizabeth, who had twenty years of experience enduring her mother found her difficult.

What was absent from the conversation was any mention of Mr. Bingley.

Mrs. Hurst spoke of London and Jane related a few matters of interest, Mrs. Hurst said nothing of her brother, and only referenced Miss Bingley in passing occasionally.

Of Mr. Darcy, she did not speak. The entire time, Mr. Hurst sat beside his wife, trying to look attentive but only appearing dreadfully bored.

During a lull in the conversation, Elizabeth decided to inject a little life and see if she could not induce Mrs. Hurst to reveal something she might not intend.

“Thank you for the amusement you and your family provided for the neighborhood, Mrs. Hurst,” said Elizabeth, knowing it was proper to offer sincere appreciation.

“It was no trouble, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Hurst. “I dare say it was expected, considering how many times your neighbors hosted us during our stay. And Charles was effusive for days after about how agreeable he found the evening.”

Such a comment could do nothing but fan the flames of Elizabeth’s controlled ire. “That is curious, Mrs. Hurst, for Mr. Bingley departed the very next day and has not appeared in the neighborhood since.”

Mrs. Hurst regarded her with a knowing air. “Yes, that is the truth, Miss Elizabeth. My brother returned to town as he had a matter of business that required his attention.”

Elizabeth remained unimpressed. “The business must be substantial to have consumed more than a month.”

“It was,” replied Mrs. Hurst, not batting an eyelash. “At first, our plan was to remain at Netherfield, but we decided to return to town as a party.”

“Then Mr. Bingley does not mean to return to Netherfield?”

“No, I would not say that,” replied Mrs. Hurst. “Though Charles did not vouchsafe the exact nature of his business, I understand he has completed it. Now that he does not need to stay longer, it would not surprise me if he returned to Hertfordshire soon.”

At that, Jane’s cheeks lit up with a rosy blush as Elizabeth might have expected. What she did not expect was for Mrs. Hurst to notice it and give a slight nod of what appeared to be satisfaction.

“Of course, Mr. Bingley is welcome to return at any time convenient,” said Jane.

“Yes, you must tell your brother that we appreciated his presence and wish to enjoy his company again!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet with more eagerness than sense. “It has been too long since we had the pleasure of his company.”

“I shall inform him, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mrs. Hurst, her reply containing no trace of the contempt Elizabeth might have expected.

Elizabeth could not help but wonder what Mrs. Hurst’s game was.

The woman had made it clear that she had no genuine regard for the Bennets, did not consider Jane enough for her brother.

Yet here she was appearing satisfied when seeing evidence of Jane’s affection for Mr. Bingley and hope for his return.

Did she mean to congratulate herself on the successful separation, reveling in Jane’s misery?

It hardly seemed worth it for her to journey all the way to Hertfordshire for no other reason than to bask in her superiority and further break Jane’s heart.

The question of what she could do about it burned in Elizabeth’s mind. Perhaps she could do nothing, but she did not mean to step aside and allow Mrs. Hurst to triumph over her dearest sister without response.

The visit continued, Mrs. Hurst remained pleasant, Mr. Hurst uncommunicative, and Jane’s hope increased with each passing minute. By the time a half hour had passed and the visitors rose to return to their homes, Elizabeth decided what she would do.

With expressions of pleasure and wishes of meeting again soon, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst left the room to return to their carriage.

Elizabeth, hoping to catch them before they left, excused herself soon after.

In this, she was fortunate, for she found Mrs. Hurst waiting in the vestibule, her husband having gone outside to deal with some matter of their carriage.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Hurst, not appearing surprised to see her. With her next words she proved it. “I might have expected you to confront me.”

Elizabeth considered her. “Is that why you sent your husband out to the carriage first?”

The laughter this comment provoked was as unexpected as everything else that had happened that day.

“No, Miss Elizabeth, I did not send him out into the cold. However, I will own that I expected you to make your sentiments known to me, though I could not have imagined you acting with such alacrity.”

“When it pertains to Jane’s peace of mind,” replied Elizabeth, “I do not wait.”

Mrs. Hurst nodded, her expression turning serious. “Then I suspect you have some questions you would like to ask.”