Chapter 23

Drawing Room

The Phillips' House

Tuesday, 18th August, 1812

Bingley found himself, to his surprise and pleasure, along with a measure of unease, sitting next to Jane Bennet by the fire, which was now glowing and crackling enthusiastically. Even though it was still August, the night was cool, and the heat was most welcome.

"Miss Bennet," he said softly, "I hope you are well?"

Jane regarded him solemnly and then smiled a trifle. "I am, at least, less fatigued, and that is a wonderful thing. My sisters have been helping me manage the household, which has allowed me to sleep more."

"I am glad," Bingley said. He hesitated a moment and then continued, "The last time we spoke, you told me that you would be unwilling to allow my sisters to live with us if we marry."

"Yes," Jane said, her expression surprisingly fierce for such a handsome lady.

"I am thankful that I did not need to answer that question immediately, because I required time to think through my response. My mother tasked me to care for Caroline before her death, and I think – no, I know – that her demand has affected me greatly. I have realized that given my sister's substantial dowry, I can look after her without allowing her to live with me. Indeed, I do not think I will live with her ever again, regardless of your decision about my offer, Miss Bennet. She has been directing my life for far too long, and it ends now. As for Louisa, she is not as strong willed as Caroline, but she too can live well enough with no financial support from me."

Jane's expression had softened throughout this recital, and at the end, she heaved a sigh. "I am glad, Mr. Bingley. I am still not ready to accept your offer of marriage, but the matter of your sisters was a sticking point."

"What do you want to do about our ... our ... can we call it a courtship?"

Jane considered for an agonizingly long minute and then nodded slowly. "A courtship, yes. But one or the other or both of us may agree that we will not suit."

Bingley was confident that he would not be ending his pursuit of Miss Bennet, but he merely bowed his head and said, "Certainly. As you wish."

/

Caroline Bingley's Sitting Room

Pemberley

There was a tap on the door, and Caroline, who had been staring blankly at the wall, hastily picked up the book at her side and stared at the printed page.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened to reveal Louisa Hurst, who was carrying her sewing basket.

"Hurst is asleep, and I am not quite ready to retire," the older lady announced. "Do you mind if I sit in here and keep you company?"

Caroline did mind, rather, but she could hardly say no, or her sister would be aware that something was amiss. She always liked companionship in the evening.

"Of course," she said in what she hoped was a casual tone. "I hope that you will not disapprove if I keep reading this book. It is fascinating."

"What is it?"

This was a difficult question, as Caroline had chosen it largely at random from the Pemberley library. She managed a hasty look at the spine and said, "Belinda, by Maria Edgeworth."

It was, in fact, the sort of novel she generally enjoyed, but today her thoughts were too tumultuous to focus.

Mrs. Hurst seemed content with her answer and merely picked out a piece of needlework and began stitching a pattern.

Fifteen minutes went by in total silence, with the older lady working and the younger lady pretending to read, and then Louisa said, "Caroline, is something wrong?"

Miss Bingley jerked in surprise, swallowed, and asked, "Why do you ask?"

Louisa Hurst set down her needlework and regarded her sister with confusion. "Your expression is odd, and you have not turned the page of that book in ten minutes."

Caroline sighed deeply and considered whether to fob her sister off or talk to her. She decided on the latter. Louisa had always been a faithful and loyal sister and might have some idea of what to do.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam has spoken to me twice in the last few days…"

She trailed off, and Mrs. Hurst asked, impatiently, "And?"

"And he tells me that Mr. Darcy will certainly never offer for me."

To her surprise and distress, she felt tears brim in her eyes, and she hastily wiped her eyes with her muslin sleeve.

Mrs. Hurst huffed in outrage. "How dare he discuss such a thing with you? I would have thought as the son of an earl, he would know it is indelicate to speak of such things. Moreover, how could he possibly know? You are beautiful and charming and refined and intelligent and wealthy and…"

"I think he may be right," Caroline blurted, and the tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks. To her surprise, and the shock of her sister, she found herself breaking down completely. She threw her book aside and lifted her hands to cover her face. "I think he is right, Louisa! Mr. Darcy has never had any interest in marrying me! All of the work I have done, all of the hours of practicing the pianoforte and curtseying and singing and … oh Louisa!"

The older woman, after staring in complete surprise, managed to lurch to her feet, whereupon she hurried over to embrace her sister. "My dear Caroline, pray do not worry about that ridiculous man's words! I am certain that Mr. Darcy admires you very much!"

"I am certain he does not," Caroline sobbed. She cried for another minute and then was able to sit up and wipe her nose and eyes with her handkerchief. Louisa, who was looking rather helpless, proffered her own kerchief, and Caroline took it gratefully.

"I have known Mr. Darcy for years now," she finally said in a dreary tone. "I have flattered and complimented him, and followed him around and agreed with his every pronouncement, and the colonel says his cousin despises such behavior. He says that Mr. Darcy dislikes London parties partly because so many women hunt him because he is wealthy, handsome, and highly connected in society."

Louisa's face twisted, and Caroline lifted a hand. "I know, Sister, I know. That is exactly why I have been pursuing Mr. Darcy. I do not even really like him much as a person. It is not that I dislike him precisely, but he is a taciturn man and hard to know well. All I have ever cared about is rising higher in society, as our mother wanted."

She rose and walked over to a basin of water. She poured water on a convenient cloth and used it to wipe her face.

When she turned around, Mrs. Hurst was still standing there, gazing at her compassionately.

"What am I to do, Louisa?" she asked piteously.

Mrs. Hurst bit her lip and then said, "If you think that Colonel Fitzwilliam is right…"

"I fear that I do."

"Then you will need to find another gentleman to marry."

/

Bedchamber

The Ram Jam Inn

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth rolled over in bed to stare at her sister, who was, with the candles blown out and only the fire smoldering, entirely in darkness. "Yes?"

"I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Whom do you think I should wed, assuming both Captain Scofield and Sir Christopher wish to marry me?"

Elizabeth shook her head in wonder and shifted onto her back, which was slightly more comfortable. This could be a long conversation. "I believe that both men are fine, honorable individuals, Lydia, so I do not believe there is a wrong answer to the question. Which do you like best?"

Lydia scooted a little closer. "That is the thing, Lizzy; I like Sir Christopher better, or perhaps I should say I think we have more in common. He likes London and parties more than Captain Scofield, and his estate is closer to Town. But I feel rather badly for the captain. Living as a soldier sounds dreadful, and if I marry him, he would not have to go to war again."

Elizabeth blinked in the darkness, wondering whether she had heard what she thought she heard. "What?"

"If I marry Captain Scofield, he could stay here in England."

Elizabeth pinched her leg to make certain that she was not dreaming. Lydia had always been an entirely selfish creature, and for her to focus on one man over another based on their life circumstances was so incredible as to seem unbelievable.

"That is very kind of you," she finally said, "to think of what would be best for the captain's future life, but marriage is until death parts you, and I believe you ought to marry the man whom you find most compatible, assuming, of course, that you end up having a choice."

There was silence for a minute, and then Lydia said, somewhat plaintively, "Captain Scofield is also more handsome than Sir Christopher. Will Mamma be disappointed if I do not marry a good-looking man in a red coat?"

"Lydia, darling," Elizabeth said, shifting a little closer to her sister, "we all grow old and develop wrinkles and gray hairs. I think it is far more important to marry someone you admire and whose company you enjoy rather than someone who looks good on the outside but is not as good a match on the inside. Keep in mind that this is your life, not Mamma's."

Silence again, and then Lydia said, "Mamma says that Father married her because she was beautiful."

"That is true, but do you think they are truly happy together?"

Lydia sighed deeply. "No, they are not. Mamma is worried because of the entail, and Father hides in the library most of the time and makes fun of her the rest of the time."

"Precisely. Mother and Father have little in common, and they do not get along very well."

"Thank you for your insight, Lizzy," Lydia said a moment later and turned away from her. Elizabeth waited until the girl was breathing steadily, and then she drifted off to sleep herself.