Chapter Twenty
Bingley's Choice
Caroline tried.
Of course she did.
London offered opportunity, distance, and all the familiar arguments. When Bingley traveled to town in November to settle business connected to Netherfield, Caroline suggested remaining through Christmas. She spoke of society, obligations, concerts, and the advantage of being near Georgiana.
Then she mentioned Jane.
"Miss Bennet is very sweet," Caroline said over dinner one evening, her tone polished enough that someone who did not know her might have missed the warning beneath it. "But I fear Charles has mistaken her general amiability for particular attachment."
Bingley set down his fork. "Have I?"
Caroline smiled gently. "She is kind to everyone."
Darcy sat across the table and said nothing.
That alone was new.
Caroline continued, "You know how easily you form attachments. There is no shame in it. You see the best in people."
Bingley looked toward Darcy. "Well?"
Darcy lifted his glass. "Do you want my opinion?"
Bingley hesitated. "Yes."
Darcy set the glass down. "Then ask yourself one question. If I told you Miss Bennet loved you, would you believe me?"
Bingley frowned. "Yes."
"And if Caroline told you she did not?"
Bingley looked at his sister.
Caroline stiffened.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Darcy nodded. "Then you are asking the wrong people."
Silence settled over the table.
Bingley stared at him. "What should I ask?"
"Miss Bennet."
Caroline gave a short laugh. "Charles cannot simply ask a lady whether she loves him."
"No," Darcy said. "He might propose."
Bingley nearly dropped his wine.
Caroline went pale.
Darcy continued calmly, "If he wants to marry her."
Bingley stood and went to the window.
Darcy waited.
No pressure. No persuasion. No speech about prudence. No list of the Bennets' defects.
After a long time Bingley turned. "I do."
Darcy smiled. "Then go home."
Caroline said sharply, "Charles."
He looked at her. His expression was kind, but not yielding. "I love you, Caroline. You know I do."
Her face softened slightly.
"But I will not let you decide this for me."
"You will regret--"
"Perhaps."
That stopped her.
Bingley continued, "Then it will be my regret."
Darcy felt something settle inside him.
There.
The sentence Bingley should always have been allowed to say.
Bingley returned to Netherfield the next morning.
Three days later he went to Longbourn.
He did not propose immediately. Instead he walked with Jane in the garden for nearly an hour and, with a clumsiness she later found endearing, asked whether his attentions had ever made her uncomfortable.
Jane looked so surprised that Bingley almost apologized and fled.
Then she smiled.
"No."
He exhaled. "Good. Because I hoped--that is, I thought perhaps--"
Jane rescued him gently. "I have been very happy in your company."
Bingley stared. "Very?"
Jane laughed. "Very."
He proposed then.
Jane accepted.
She cried.
Bingley cried more.
Mrs. Bennet screamed when they returned to the house.
Mr. Bennet retreated to the library for ten minutes and came back with suspiciously bright eyes.
Elizabeth found Darcy later in the Longbourn garden.
"It happened," she said.
"Yes."
She smiled. "Without us."
"Mostly."
Darcy raised one eyebrow.
Elizabeth laughed. "I spoke to Jane once."
"I spoke to Bingley several times."
"Then perhaps not entirely without us."
Darcy took her hand where the hedge concealed the gesture. "But they chose."
Elizabeth looked toward the house, where Bingley's laugh carried through an open window. "Yes."
That mattered.
Bingley's proposal did not instantly erase the awkwardness between Caroline and Jane. Jane knew Caroline had hoped for a different future for her brother, and Caroline knew Jane knew. Their first meeting after the engagement was painfully polite.
Elizabeth watched from the edge of Netherfield's drawing room.
Jane finally broke the impasse.
"I hope," she said gently, "that we may eventually be friends for Charles's sake, if not immediately for our own."
Caroline looked at her.
Jane did not smile falsely.
"I know you did not wish this," she continued. "I do not ask you to pretend you did."
Caroline's expression changed. "You are very direct today."
"Lizzy has been a bad influence."
From across the room Elizabeth called, "I heard that."
Bingley laughed.
Even Caroline's mouth twitched.
She looked back at Jane. "I love my brother."
"I know."
"I believed I was protecting him."
Jane nodded. "I know that too."
There was no immediate embrace. No apology grand enough to repair everything.
But the next week Caroline sent Jane a length of lace she had admired in London, without a note explaining why.
Jane wore it at the wedding.
Elizabeth saw.
So did Caroline.
Neither mentioned it.
That quiet mercy mattered as much as any confrontation.