Chapter VIII
Perhaps it was not laudable, but Louisa Hurst found herself satisfied with her efforts and eager to see what the next days would bring. Had she planned it out in advance, she did not suppose she could have managed it better.
Charles, of course, was in Miss Bennet’s company every chance he got, his interest even surpassing what he had shown the previous autumn.
A casual observer would brand Charles inconstant, possessing a wandering eye, a charge that Caroline had made more than once in Louisa’s hearing.
Louisa knew, however, that Charles was not so fickle.
Though he had been eager to admire pretty ladies in the past, his interest never engaged beyond relaxed conversation and mild flirting.
With Miss Bennet, Charles showed far more mature interest than she had ever seen before.
The greater triumph, and one she had not expected in advance, was Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth’s increasing closeness.
Oh, Louisa had noticed it when they had been in residence before—Caroline’s diatribes on the subject had made it impossible to miss.
Yet Louisa had not expected their comfort in each other’s company to improve with so little provocation.
Perhaps there was something more to Caroline’s fears than Louisa had given credit.
The problem was, of course, how Caroline would react when she learned of it, and Louisa could not help but feel a frisson of unease at the likely scene.
As there was no way to call anything back, Louisa refrained from worrying.
Whatever happened would happen—they would manage it when the time came. Nothing else signified.
Though Louisa did not like to think of it often, she could not help but feel a sense of vindication.
Caroline had long considered herself the power behind the family, one which, though Louisa thought of this ruefully, was not so much untrue as unchallenged.
Charles was not the sort of man to enforce his authority, and Louisa had allowed Caroline to have her way, knowing she would provoke an argument if she did not.
Caroline could be insufferable when she felt herself thwarted—it was always easier to give in.
Despite that, Louisa’s current position in Hertfordshire had come of just such an argument, the first one in recent memory where Louisa had not just allowed her sister to do as she wished.
It had happened some weeks earlier, when Louisa had discovered a second letter Caroline had received from Jane Bennet, of which Louisa had been unaware.
“Jane sent you another letter?” Louisa had asked after Caroline had mentioned something on the subject.
“Last week,” said Caroline, her lip curling in disgust. “I might wonder at her insistence—I would more properly attribute it to her mother than mousy Jane Bennet.”
“What did she say?”
Caroline huffed with disdain. “She expressed her regret that she did not receive a reply to her first letter. Any woman of sense would understand she did not receive a letter because I do not wish to keep the acquaintance.”
Louisa frowned. “You always professed friendship to her.”
“That was when we were in Hertfordshire and there was no one else tolerable.” Caroline shook her head. “Now that we have left Netherfield never to return, a continued acquaintance represents nothing but danger. Miss Bennet is not suitable for Charles—we must guide him to a better option.”
Though Louisa had agreed with Caroline in a general sense, she was uneasy about misleading Charles.
Miss Bennet was not insipid—she was reticent, but Louisa had caught more than one glimpse of depth in her character.
Mr. Darcy had claimed that Miss Bennet’s affection for Charles was not the equal of hers, but Louisa could not be certain.
“Do you not suppose it is best to allow Charles to direct in what manner he will live his life?”
The rolling of Caroline’s eyes spoke to her feelings, which contained far more contempt than Louisa thought proper. “If I trusted Charles’s ability to act as he ought, I might agree. His fascination with such a woman as Miss Bennet tells me all I need to know.”
“Caroline,” said Louisa, reproof in her voice, “that is not sound. Regardless of what you think of the family in question, Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman—by that definition alone, she is suitable.”
In the past, when Caroline had turned her displeasure on Louisa, she had not felt trepidation, exactly, but more a sense of uneasiness that had led to capitulation.
On this occasion, Louisa felt nothing of that—for the first time, her eyes were open to the drawbacks of allowing Caroline to believe she ruled them all.
“Do not say such nonsense!” snapped Caroline.
“There will be no more discussion of this—I will not allow it. Miss Bennet is insipid, her family is repulsive, and any connection between them an abominable notion that would ruin us in society. I shall not relinquish all we have struggled to obtain and watch Charles throw it away on an insignificant country miss.”
Though part of her had urged Louisa to disagree, she had remained silent and considered what she should do.
Caroline’s announcement of an invitation to visit a friend’s estate had then provided Louisa the opportunity.
Perhaps it was cowardly to proceed where Caroline could not witness it, but Louisa did not consider that for a moment.
Everything she had done after had stemmed from that disagreement, and Louisa could not regret her actions.
“Louisa,” said Hurst the evening that she considered the argument with her sister, “do you not suppose that you are taking your vengeance a little too far?”
“It is not vengeance,” replied Louisa.
He knew about the disagreement, for Louisa had told him of it on the way to Hertfordshire. Gerald did not disagree with her conclusions, but she knew he had a healthy respect for Caroline’s temper.
Gerald regarded her with a dubious expression. “Is it not?”
“The argument played no part of my thinking,” replied Louisa.
“But you waited until Caroline was gone before making your move.”
“I did,” replied Louisa. “It seemed better that way.”
“How?” asked Gerald, genuine curiosity in the question.
“When Caroline learns of it,” replied Louisa, “it will take the wind out of her sails. I dare say the explosion will not be any less because of it, but perchance she will see sense when she realizes she can do nothing.”
“You ascribe far too much sense to your sister,” muttered Hurst. “If her rampage does not bring the stones of Netherfield down around our ears, it will be nothing less than a miracle.”
Louisa sighed—Gerald’s concern was not invalid. “We have let her continue in the delusion about her position in the family for too long.”
“And what of the delusion about Darcy?”
“That is another that has persisted too long.” Louisa sighed. “Caroline may not see it, but it will only do her good to understand that Mr. Darcy was never an option for her.”
“That is the truth,” said Gerald. “Darcy does not speak much, but I have known since he made her acquaintance that he had no interest in a closer connection.”
“Exactly,” replied Louisa. “Thus, the sooner she recognizes this, the sooner she can move to some other more interested man.”
“Will she stay away long enough for it to become a fait accompli? Is she not due to return before long?”
“I am counting on it,” said Louisa. “Mr. Darcy will tell her himself if she protests.”
“Aye, Darcy will not hesitate,” mused Gerald. “Then you mean to do nothing more.”
“Nothing other than try to talk some sense into my sister when the time comes,” said Louisa.
Gerald nodded and dropped the subject.
A CURIOUS THING HAPPENED in the next few days.
Though she could remember a time not long ago when she had not suspected Mr. Darcy of having any good qualities, Elizabeth had learned how wrong she was.
Mr. Darcy was a reticent man, to be certain, a man who spoke little and gave every appearance of severity.
What Elizabeth discovered, however, was that he was not severe—his combination of discretion and his general demeanor just made him appear that way.
“Fitzwilliam has often observed that I give the impression of inapproachability,” said Mr. Darcy once when Elizabeth made a delicate comment about his bearing.
She had phrased it in a way to avoid any appearance of disapproval or judgment.
Much of their history had consisted of disagreements that, while they might not have been arguments, had been cordial on the surface but unrestrained underneath.
At least from Elizabeth’s perspective—she had learned in recent days that Mr. Darcy’s opinion might be different.
“To own the truth,” continued the gentleman, “I have not attempted to correct this impression.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, aware that until recent events had changed her opinion, she might have taken this admission as proof of his proud nature. “Might I assume there is a reason for that which is not apparent?”
Mr. Darcy smiled at her—Elizabeth was not unmoved by the sight. “You may. As you have discerned, I am a reticent man, though I am also a man who tries to adhere to a high standard of morality. It is unfortunate, but morality is not a trait that is in fashion in many parts of higher society.”
With a slow nod, Elizabeth considered this while she watched Georgiana assembled with her younger sisters, getting on well from what she could see.
Jane was with Mr. Bingley as usual, their heads together in private conversation, while Mrs. Bennet sat like a queen on a throne, overseeing her domain with the eye of one who was most satisfied.
Mrs. Hill entered with a tea service at that moment, the sweetness of the tea and newly baked cakes trailing her into the room.
“My father has often spoken of his distaste for society.”