Chapter XIV #2
Mrs. Bennet appeared to believe it was best to leave well enough alone, for she said nothing further.
That the lady now vibrated with expectation of having a second daughter engaged was not unknown to Darcy, nor to the rest of her family, though he had made no explicit overtures.
It was a fiction he clung to for the moment—seeing the waters Bingley navigated now that he was engaged to Miss Bennet, Darcy had no desire to wade into the current until he must.
“Well, that is curious, to be certain.”
“Oh?” asked Miss Elizabeth of her father, fixing him with a look. “What is that, Papa?”
“Why, that your mother has not seen fit to take you in hand and ensure you ‘capture’ your suitor.” Mr. Bennet fixed Darcy with a wide grin. “I must attribute it to your beau’s tall stature and stern demeanor. Bingley possesses no such protection.”
“Perhaps that is so,” said Darcy gravely, though Mr. Bennet’s wit amused him as always. “What of you, sir? Do you not feel the need to promote your daughter’s interests?”
“No, indeed!” said Mr. Bennet with aplomb. “You are getting on charmingly without my interference, Darcy. Besides, any man knows the perils of getting between a daughter and her suitor.”
The man paused as if in thought, then added: “Well, if you were that scoundrel Wickham, I would need to take a hand. As it is, I am content to observe and laugh at the folly of youth.”
“Papa!” said Miss Elizabeth in that exasperated tone she often used with him.
“I hope, sir,” said Darcy, “that you do not suggest admiring your daughter is folly.”
Mr. Bennet was vastly amused. “Not at all, sir. I hope you will forgive the imprudence of a proud father, but I will declare that Lizzy is one of the most remarkable young ladies in England and dare anyone to prove me wrong.”
“You will receive no argument from me, Mr. Bennet,” replied Darcy, his eyes finding Miss Elizabeth with no intention of looking away.
“Yes, I can see that,” said Mr. Bennet, appearing content.
“Shall we not sit together, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said she.
Darcy led her to a nearby sofa, determined to keep her attention for the rest of the visit. It would not be much longer—of this he was determined. Soon, she would be his forever.
LOUISA OBSERVED THE room, feeling a great sense of contentment, the satisfaction of a task completed well. Content, however, was not an adjective that could describe Caroline.
Though Caroline had grown silent these past weeks, Louisa knew she watched everything.
The reasons for her observation were not unknown to Louisa, though she was uncertain whether her sister yet understood them herself.
When Caroline muttered to herself and looked away from Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, Louisa decided it was time to speak to her sister.
“Is something amiss, Caroline?”
Caroline shot a look at her as she had frequently since her return to Hertfordshire, but she declined to say anything. Louisa accepted her reticence as an invitation enough to speak.
“It seems to me, Sister, that you never understood Mr. Darcy the way you thought you did.”
Again, Caroline returned a hard glance, but she still did not speak.
“The truth, though it may be difficult for you to hear, is that even if you judged him correctly, he still would not have offered for you.”
Louisa could almost taste the bile rising in Caroline’s throat. “I am not blind, Louisa,” said Caroline at last. “Our situation is not perfect. Yet I cannot fathom how a man of Mr. Darcy’s position and judgment can choose . . . this.”
Caroline waved a negligent hand at the room, a more understated display of contempt than she usually allowed.
Time here observing Mr. Darcy had taught her some measure of circumspection—Mr. Darcy had warned her several times that he did not wish to hear her denunciations.
Though Caroline’s disdain persisted, she was more circumspect in its expression.
“What, particularly?”
The glare Caroline directed at her spoke to her displeasure, but Louisa did not concern herself with her sister’s ill humors anymore.
“You know of what I speak,” snapped Caroline, though she kept her voice low. “The youngest girls are wild and cannot be seen by anyone in society, Mrs. Bennet is a vile shrew, and Miss Elizabeth treats Mr. Darcy’s attention as if it were a joke.”
“And yet, Mr. Darcy has never appeared happier,” said Louisa. It was a little pointed, but nothing less could get through to her sister.
“That is the most curious part of it,” muttered Caroline.
“Tell me, Sister,” said Caroline in an abrupt change of subject, “when shall we return to London?”
Louisa had been waiting for this. Until this moment, Caroline had seemed content to watch and wait, and while Louisa had no notion of Caroline plotting to supplant Elizabeth in Mr. Darcy’s affections, her insistence on witnessing her own humiliation had been rather unexpected.
“What do you wish?” asked Louisa.
“To return to that society in which I can find comfort,” replied Caroline. “I know we must return to Hertfordshire for Charles’s wedding—” Caroline’s lip curled. “—but there is no reason to stay.”
“What of the wedding breakfast?” asked Louisa mildly.
Caroline shook her head. “Mrs. Bennet appears to have that well in hand.”
“Yes, she does,” mused Louisa. “I suppose there is little need for us to stay, though we must return before the wedding.”
Louisa reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “Very well. I shall speak to Gerald when we return to Netherfield.”
With a nod, Caroline turned her contemplation back to the room, and to Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth in particular. What she was thinking, Louisa did not know—Caroline’s thoughts had been a mystery these past weeks. When her sister spoke, she knew she should have guessed what she would say.
“As Mr. Darcy is no longer a prospect,” said Caroline, her tone thoughtful, “I must turn my attention to other men.”
“There are several who have shown interest,” replied Louisa, encouraging that thought.
“Oh, none of them are suitable.” Caroline waved the notion away like an offending odor. “It occurs to me that I have been setting my sights too low, Louisa. Perhaps I might even aspire to a baron.”
Though several responses vied for supremacy, Louisa took the simple expedient of remaining silent. Her sister had not changed in the slightest—even her humbling at the hands of Miss Elizabeth had done nothing to moderate her wishes for a husband.
Time would, Louisa thought, bring her sister’s grandiose plans under better regulation; it was better to allow her to keep her delusions for the moment. When they returned to London, she could undertake the delicate task of guiding Caroline to more modest expectations.
Laughter rose, and Louisa looked across the room at Charles and Jane, who were giggling together like a pair of children.
Georgiana appeared to be getting on with the younger Bennets, and unless Louisa was mistaken, she thought the young Darcy heiress’s manners were beginning to rub off on the girls.
That was for the best, of course, for Caroline was right—they were far too lively.
That Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth sat with their heads together was no triumph for Louisa—Charles had been her concern—but she was still satisfied.
She thought well enough of both to wish them every happiness.
It had all turned out as it should. Louisa had not known that when she had determined to return to Netherfield, but now she could admire the fruits of her labors. Perhaps her husband would even keep Mr. Darcy’s society as he wished.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF Miss Bingley?” whispered Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy, seated close to him.
“As little as I can,” jested the gentleman, though Elizabeth knew it was not entirely banter.
“She has not continued to put herself forward?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “No. If anything, she has appeared puzzled.”
“Oh, aye,” replied Elizabeth, shaking with mirth. “She is the far superior option, is she not? Do you not feel chagrinned at your lack of discernment, Mr. Darcy?”
“Superior?” snorted Mr. Darcy. “No, Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bingley will no doubt make a creditable wife for the right man, but I have never had any interest in her.”
Elizabeth sighed, though she fixed the man by her side with a mischievous grin. “I might never have thought your taste was so deficient, sir.”
“Not deficient, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Perhaps it differs from what most men in my position prefer.” The gentleman shrugged. “Then again, I do not suppose most would consider Miss Bingley either.”
“I dare say they would not.”
Elizabeth shifted just a little closer to Mr. Darcy. “When we were walking, we spoke of keeping our own counsel.”
“We did,” agreed Mr. Darcy.
“Then I think the time has come to speak more of such things.”
Mr. Darcy watched her, a slow smile coming over his face. “Dare I hope that an application at this time would be met with a favorable response?”
“To discover that, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth archly, “I believe you must take a leap of faith.”
“Then I shall do so at the first available opportunity.”
Elizabeth sighed and leaned a little more toward him.
Seeing Mrs. Hurst watching them, she offered a slight nod, the woman responding in like fashion and appearing pleased.
Elizabeth considered the other woman, reflecting on how much her opinion had changed these past months.
It would be no trouble to count her among her acquaintances, for Elizabeth was sensible to the good the woman had brought about by returning to Hertfordshire.
For that, she suspected she would always be grateful.
THE END