CHAPTER TWENTY
Caroline Bingley Is Corrected
Caroline Bingley postponed her return to Netherfield for as long as pride allowed.
She had expected Charles to tire of Hertfordshire once Darcy improved. Instead he remained. Worse, his letters became infuriatingly cheerful.
Darcy continues to mend.
Jane sends her regards. Miss Elizabeth and Darcy quarrel over books daily, which seems to improve them both. Georgiana is here and quite happy. Netherfield feels like home again.
Caroline read the final sentence three times and disliked each word. She arrived in early January with Louisa and Mr. Hurst. Bingley met them in the hall.
“Caroline.”
“Charles.” She looked around. “You have altered the flowers.”
He stared. “Welcome home.”
Louisa kissed his cheek. Hurst asked whether there was luncheon. For the first hour all remained civil. Then Caroline learned Georgiana was spending the day at Longbourn. “Again?”
Bingley buttered a piece of bread. “She likes the Bennets.”
Caroline laughed. “Georgiana Darcy likes Lydia Bennet?”
“Yes.”
“That is impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“And Darcy permits it?”
“Darcy does not ‘permit’ Georgiana to like people.”
Caroline stared at her brother. There was something different in him. He was still Charles—warm, smiling, eager to please. But the easy current by which she had always guided him no longer moved in her direction.
She set down her fork. “I suppose Miss Jane Bennet has encouraged this intimacy.”
Bingley looked at her. “Do not.”
Caroline blinked. “Do not what?”
“Speak of Jane as though she is scheming.”
“My dear Charles—”
“No.”
Louisa became very interested in her soup.
Bingley folded his napkin. “I have not spoken of your letter because I was angry, and I did not trust myself to do it well.”
Caroline’s face tightened.
“Now I shall.”
“Charles, surely this is unnecessary.”
“You lied to Jane.”
“I assumed Darcy—”
“You wrote that he was already in London.”
“He was expected.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Caroline flushed.
Bingley continued, “You also wrote as though I intended to remain in town, as though Georgiana and I—” He stopped, glanced toward Louisa, then went on. “As though my life were yours to arrange.”
“We were protecting you.”
“From what?”
“An imprudent connection.”
Bingley laughed once, without humour. “Jane Bennet is an imprudent connection?”
“Her family—”
“Our father was in trade.”
Caroline’s mouth closed.
Bingley leaned forward. “Do you imagine a few years of income have erased that? Do you think the Gardiners’ warehouse is vulgar but our father’s money refined itself on the way into the bank?”
Louisa looked up sharply. Caroline went white, then red. “That is cruel.”
“No. It is true.”
Mr. Hurst, to everyone’s surprise, said, “He’s right.”
Louisa turned to him. Hurst shrugged and drank his wine. “Bingley money was trade money. Good money. Bought excellent wine.”
Bingley nearly smiled.
Caroline did not. “You have changed.”
“Yes.”
“Because of her.”
“Partly.”
She looked wounded. Charles softened, but he did not retreat. “I love you, Caroline. I will always love you. But you do not get to decide whom I court, whom I marry, or what truths may be told to them.”
Her eyes glistened. “I thought you would be hurt.”
“I was hurt. By leaving.”
That struck home. Silence settled over the table.
At last Louisa said, “Caroline, we did deceive him.”
Caroline turned on her. “You agreed with me.”
“Yes.” Louisa’s voice was tired. “And I was wrong too.”
Mr. Hurst reached for more bread. Caroline looked from one sibling to the other and discovered, perhaps for the first time, that being the loudest advocate of a plan did not make her its victim when it failed.
She left the room.
Bingley exhaled.
Louisa said, “She will recover.”
“Will she?”
“She always does when there is a mirror nearby.”
Bingley laughed despite himself. That afternoon he went to Longbourn. Jane found him in the hall removing his gloves. “You look troubled.”
“I spoke to Caroline.” Jane’s expression remained gentle. “How did she take it?”
“Poorly.”
“I am sorry.”
Bingley stared at her. “Why?”
“Because you love your sister.”
He stepped closer. “Yes.”
“And because disagreeing with someone you love is painful even when necessary.”
Bingley’s throat moved. “You always understand everyone.”
Jane smiled. “No. I merely try.”
He took her hand. This time, when he looked at her, there was less uncertainty in him. “Jane.”
Her eyes lifted.
“I am trying too.”
“I know.”