Chapter I #2
“Not as such,” said Elizabeth, “though I am confused. You claim your brother needed to return to London for business, but what business consumes an entire month?”
The way Mrs. Hurst regarded her, Elizabeth was certain she was trying to determine how much she should say.
“I shall not sport with your intelligence, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mrs. Hurst. “When Charles returned to London, he expected to complete his business in four or five days.”
“Yet it has been more than a month, and he is still in London,” challenged Elizabeth.
“Let us simply say that my sister did not enjoy Hertfordshire and persuaded him to remain in London.”
“Was it only Hertfordshire of which your sister disapproved?” asked Elizabeth after considering her response for a moment.
“Perhaps it was not,” agreed Mrs. Hurst. “There are many things of which Caroline does not approve, but that does not mean that her family agrees.”
“Then you have returned because of that disagreement?”
Mrs. Hurst smiled and nodded. “It may seem strange to you, Miss Elizabeth,” said she, “but I also enjoy the country, though Caroline does not. My sister has a strange notion that the highest of society spend their lives impressing those with whom they mingle.”
“That is nonsensical,” said Elizabeth with a snort. “No one who has the option prefers to spend summer in London rather than their estate.”
“I cannot disagree,” said Mrs. Hurst. “Regardless, I appreciate the country and have returned to keep house for my brother.”
Elizabeth remained silent for a moment. “Then you do expect him to return.”
“I shall not attempt to speak for my brother, Miss Elizabeth.”
“And what of Miss Bingley?”
“As I suggested before, my sister is visiting with friends—I do not expect her to return for some time.”
Elizabeth nodded, but she knew there was no recourse but to state her case.
“Mrs. Hurst, please allow me to be frank. Jane has suffered since your party’s departure from Netherfield. I would not wish to see my sister hurt again.”
Mrs. Hurst’s softening features were still a surprise to Elizabeth, even with this woman’s behavior that day. “Then she is in love with Charles.”
“I shall make no such claim,” replied Elizabeth. “However, I will say that Jane has told me that she considers Mr. Bingley the most agreeable man of her acquaintance.
“But it was not only the abandonment,” continued Elizabeth quietly. “It was the humiliation of being the target of the neighborhood’s sympathy for blasted hopes. It was the thought that Mr. Bingley did not care for her when he gave every impression of admiration.”
The compassion from Mrs. Hurst was unmistakable. She turned to Elizabeth and touched her arm, displaying a concern that Elizabeth could not remember the woman ever showing.
“Let me assure you, Miss Elizabeth, that I have no intention of allowing my brother to hurt your sister. You may not credit it, but I respect your sister very much, and I know Charles does as well.”
She squeezed Elizabeth’s arm and turned away, pulling on her gloves. “If you do not believe me now, I hope you will at least allow me to prove myself in the coming days.”
“So long as it does not lead to further heartbreak for my sister, I shall offer that chance.”
“Then we are agreed,” said Mrs. Hurst, saying nothing further. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe the carriage is ready.”
Elizabeth assented and allowed the woman to depart. Before the door closed behind her, however, Mrs. Hurst cast one more look at Elizabeth.
“I cannot promise what will happen, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Hurst, “but I believe all will be well.”
“That is all I can ask,” replied Elizabeth.
When the woman departed, Elizabeth turned and, not wishing to return to the chaos of the sitting-room, turned her steps toward the stairs and her bedchamber. Before she could reach them, Jane stepped out from the hall and regarded Elizabeth, a mix of curiosity and knowing in her eyes.
“Lizzy. Mrs. Hurst has departed?”
“She has,” agreed Elizabeth, knowing her sister had seen something of her purpose.
Jane regarded her, appearing contemplative. “Have you said what you wished to say?”
“Let us simply say that Mrs. Hurst and I understand each other.”
With a nod, Jane turned toward the stairs with an obvious invitation for Elizabeth to join her. “You must tell me what you spoke of, Lizzy, for I am most interested to hear it.”
“And you suppose that I will share?” teased Elizabeth.
“If I pester you enough,” replied Jane.
Their laughter echoing through the house, they climbed the stairs to Elizabeth’s room, already deep in conversation.
Elizabeth was not certain what she should share with her sister, but she thought she could appease Jane for the moment.
The next days would prove whether Mrs. Hurst was in earnest. Though she could not have imagined it before that morning, Elizabeth was almost convinced that the woman was more of a friend to her brother’s interest in Jane than she could ever have supposed.
AS THE CARRIAGE ROLLED through the northern end of Meryton before reaching the road to Netherfield, Louisa Hurst looked out the window at the town.
Caroline had decried it as insufficient, but Louisa had never seen it as anything other than a small market town, one not unlike any other such place.
Of course, Louisa had not missed what Caroline had not said, that the neighborhood was not suitable to a woman of her quality. Caroline was conceited in that way.
Louisa shook her head at the memory of her sister’s more blatant vanity.
Caroline was unrecognizable from the young girl she had been.
Louisa could remember a happy, carefree Caroline, one who had laughed and played with Louisa as girls.
The woman she was now was all haughtiness, ambition, and covetous lust for position, wealth, and the adulation of society.
Unfortunately for Caroline, Louisa understood what her sister ignored.
No matter how high Caroline climbed, whether she married Mr. Darcy or a peer, she would always be the daughter of a tradesman and, therefore, unacceptable to many in society.
She might become a duke’s wife, but she would never achieve the full measure of respect such a position would entail for a woman of “proper” breeding.
Whereas Caroline dreamed of wealth and advancement, Louisa contented herself with those things that brought her happiness—good friends, a privileged life, and marriage to a man who, though he had his faults, appreciated her for herself.
Louisa hoped to get her sister back one day; not the innocent girl she had been, but a woman who valued those things that brought happiness in life.
“Louisa,” rumbled Gerald, drawing her attention to him.
“Yes, Gerald?” asked she, though she understood what he wished to say.
He eyed her for a moment, then reached out and grasped her hand, a show of affection more treasured because it was rare.
Not an emotional or demonstrative man, most thought him indifferent or focused on his concerns.
That was in part the truth, but not everything.
Gerald did not show it often, but he was a caring man, often putting her concerns before his own.
“I hope you will not blame me if I express the hope that you know what you are doing.”
“And you do not think I do?” asked Louisa, arching an eyebrow at him.
“Louisa, I would never injure you by suggesting it,” said Gerald. “But I also know your sister. This business has the capacity to lead to much discord.”
“And yet, I am convinced it is for the best—for Caroline as much as for the rest of the family.”
Gerald nodded, though he did not relinquish his hold on her hand. “Then what is your plan?”
Louisa smiled and turned back to the window. “Perhaps we should wait to see what happens. I should not wish to act with precipitous haste.”
“Which means you will manipulate events to your own liking,” jested Gerald.
“I am insulted you would consider me capable of such behavior!” cried Louisa.
“Do not profess insult, my dear,” replied he. “You are far more devious than anyone—even Caroline—gives you credit.”
“Not at all,” replied Louisa. “I am just unwilling to allow Caroline to have her way for nothing more than her own selfish reasons.”
Gerald chuckled but did not reply.
When they arrived at Netherfield, Gerald stepped from the carriage and handed her down, escorting her into the estate.
With a few words, he retreated to the study—there was not much work to do on the estate in the winter, but she knew he would at least check in with the steward to ensure that all was well.
Louisa, after a moment’s consideration, summoned the housekeeper to have a few words with her.
Mrs. Nichols was as efficient as ever. Louisa knew the woman preferred her as the mistress of the estate—Caroline had been demanding, insolent, and, at times, dismissive of the servants.
She had no power to relieve Mrs. Nichols of her duties—the estate’s owner employed the woman, not Charles.
That was for the best, for Caroline had often lamented the servants’ sloth, though Louisa had seen nothing of it.
When Mrs. Nichols departed, leaving Louisa alone in the room, she sat at the pianoforte, playing quietly.
The activity had always soothed her. Caroline was the superior performer between them and had never been shy about reminding Louisa of her dominance.
Louisa had never made an issue of it—when others heard her play, she received enough appreciation for her efforts to more than satisfy her.
While she played, Louisa considered what she might do.
Now that she had confirmation of Jane Bennet’s affection for Charles, Louisa had no more compunction about the relationship between them.
It was true that Jane was not what they might have wished for, but the most important consideration was that it was Charles’s choice to make.
Caroline had interfered enough—it was time to allow Charles to come to the point if that was what he wished.
The question was what she should do on the matter. There were several ways she might handle it, but Louisa did not know which would prove best.
In the end, she opted to wait and act based on the situation. It would not be long before Charles discovered their presence in Hertfordshire, and when he did, Louisa suspected he would make for Netherfield with all haste. If he did not act as she expected, she could act then.