Page 54

“Why could they not remain at Netherfield? Why ever would Mr. Bingley want an estate so far north?” she had wailed.

“Your son-in-law is from the north originally, I believe,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Perhaps he desired to settle closer to his family.”

“But he is such a lively gentleman—surely he would be happier in Hertfordshire, which is so much closer to London! What has Sheffield to offer, I ask you? And it is very cruel to take my dear Jane so far from her mother—I had not believed Mr. Bingley capable of being so cruel!”

“Perhaps Jane wished to live closer to her sister?” Thomas Bennet was doing his best to treat his wife with more kindness, but at times her total want of understanding was quite beyond him.

“Oh fiddlesticks! Can Lizzy help her set up a household or be there when she has her baby? Certainly not!” Fanny turned to her husband with a sudden, frantic gleam in her eye. “We must go to Yorkshire! To this Holloway place, wherever it is. I shall see to the packing…”

“Mrs. Bennet…”

“Quickly—have the carriage readied! There’s no time to be lost!

“Mrs. Bennet, we are not going to Yorkshire.”

“Oh Mr. Bennet—how can you be so cruel?!? My daughter needs me!”

By then, Thomas had had quite enough. “Madam, we shall visit our daughters when we have been invited , not before. Jane is a grown woman with her own tastes and ways of doing things. It’s only right that she be allowed to establish herself as mistress in her new home before her relations descend upon her. ”

“But Mr. Bennet…”

He stood and looked at her sternly. “That’s quite enough, Fanny—no more.

Has it never occurred to you that the Bingleys might desire some privacy from your daily visitations?

” His wife’s stricken look made him feel a twinge of guilt over his bluntness.

He softened his tone and tried again; “Fanny—you’ve taught your daughters well.

Surely you understand that Jane will wish to put her house in order before you visit, to show you how well she learned? To make you proud?”

After some additional soothing, Mrs. Bennet was reassured enough to begin dissecting some other worry. Mr. Bennet, however, had no more patience for his wife’s silliness and tersely departed for his bookroom.

The reality was that Mrs. Bennet was finding her days to be somewhat tedious of late.

Mr. Bennet had no sympathy for her nervous complaints and even her sister, Mrs. Phillips, was not so satisfying as having her own girls constantly arrayed about her.

Certainly their letters provided new fodder to gossip about when she visited the neighbors, but the Miss Bennets had learned long ago to filter out anything that they would not wish repeated in drawing rooms throughout Hertfordshire

The business of Mrs. Bennet’s life—marrying off of her daughters—was necessarily in remission; her eldest three were successfully wed, the youngest was beyond her reach at school, and, although Kitty was still at Longbourn, that girl seemed to have taken up where Lizzy had left off, hiding away in the library or trudging about in the woods and fields with her sketchbook.

And Mary’s wedding had been such a disappointment! What was the use of Mr. Darcy getting a special license if Mr. and Mrs. Tucker married in the drawing room at Longbourn where no one could see?

Although the Darcys, Bingleys, and Gardiners had come up from London for the day and, of course, the Phillipses had come from Meryton, Mr. Bennet had flatly refused to fetch Lydia from her school in the north, insisting that the horses were needed on the farm.

Not that there had been much in the way of eligible gentlemen for her dearest girl to dance with.

The groom had had his brother stand up with him, but though this other Mr. Tucker appeared to have a decent enough living from the Darcy family, he was an awkward fellow and surely her dear Lydia was meant for greater things.

Fanny comforted herself by sending frequent missives to all her daughters, but the rapidity of her thoughts made her communications so disjointed that they often left the reader more bewildered than not.

None of this was known to Miss Bingley, of course, as she unsteadily climbed the steps of her rented carriage and directed the driver to her new home .

When Caroline returned, Mrs. Bullock came to the doorway of the parlor and studied the young lady as she threw her bonnet and cape in the direction of the maid but never paused in her resolute march toward her bedchamber.

Although the situation was entirely of Caroline’s own doing, Agnes Bullock could still feel pity for her.

Even so, it was not healthy for the young lady to hide away in her bedchamber for days on end and wallow in her misfortunes.

“Miss Bingley; once you have washed off the dust from the street, please join me in the parlor for tea.” She laced the petition with just enough force that Caroline, in her current miserable state, could do little more than nod weakly.

Mrs. Bullock had already warned the lady’s maid to be quick about her duties and was pleased when Miss Bingley appeared before the tea was entirely stewed. “So, I gather from your unhappy countenance that your outing this morning was unsuccessful?”

When Caroline kept her eyes averted and sipped her tea without responding, the older woman tightened her lips. “You went to visit Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, but found them gone from home, perhaps?”

That caught Caroline’s attention. “You knew?!?” she sputtered. “You knew they had left town but chose not to inform me!!! What was it to be, a lesson in mortification? I assure you madam—I’ve endured quite enough embarrassment of late—you need not go out of your way to arrange for more!”

The older woman actually laughed aloud. “Don’t be ridiculous, child.

I knew nothing of your plans until you had already sailed out the door with your nose in the air.

When I came back from my errand, the maid informed me that you had called for a hackney and I guessed the rest. You informed me of nothing.

Had you done so, then yes, I could have saved you the trip.

” Her clipped tone made it clear what she thought of Miss Bingley’s manners.

Caroline spat back, “Once again, I shall remind you that I did not hire you—you may leave at any time, as far as I’m concerned!”

Mrs. Bullock’s eyebrows rose very high and she carefully placed her teacup on its saucer.

“You wish me to leave? I can do so immediately—your brother has secured my salary for six months, and he and Mrs. Hurst made it absolutely clear that I may exercise my own judgment if your behavior exceeds that with which I can live.”

After a long minute of silence in which she received no reply, Mrs. Bullock stood and turned to go, but at the last moment, compassion and a distaste for failure welled up from her old Scottish soul and made her hesitate.

“Do you truly not understand the precariousness of your situation? You’ve made poor choices, aye, but fundamentally, you still have your reputation.

If I leave, how long will it be before all of Society knows you are living here alone, a single lady unchaperoned?

Your servants have no loyalty to you, and without a doubt they will tell their friends.

From there…” she wa ved her hand in the air.

“Of course I know—I’m not stupid,” exclaimed Caroline. Sounding more exhausted than angry, she rubbed her face with her hands.

Mrs. Bullock studied the girl for some minutes, waiting for her breathing to steady. “Perhaps I may be of assistance. But first, do you want me to stay?”

After a deep, ragged breath, Miss Bingley whispered something but it was muffled by her hands.

When her companion did not respond, Caroline raised her face and found those sharp green eyes studying her expectantly.

She shut her eyes for a moment, knowing what was being demanded, but finally managed to utter a “Yes, please,” through clenched teeth.

The older lady regarded her for almost a full minute with a serious expression but finally nodded before ringing the bell. “Very well. Let’s have a fresh pot of tea and we can discuss your options.” To the maid who responded, she added an order for scones.

When the tea things were in place, she spread one of the scones with a liberal layer of jam and held the plate out to her charge.

In a frank tone, she began the conversation.

“Well, now that you know that the Bingleys have left for the country, and, of course, the Hursts remain in Somerset, so there is no family for you to visit… unless you wish to contact your Yorkshire relations?”

By this point, Caroline was quite desperate for a confidante. “Heavens preserve me from that fate—not only are they still in trade, but they talk about it constantly, as if they are proud of it!”

When Mrs. Bullock next spoke, her tone expressed all of her disapproval.

“Miss Bingley, your own father was proud of his success in trade. All of your pretty dresses and bonnets and fripperies… this very life of leisure which you take for granted… is entirely due to the success of Bingley and Sons, and that has prospered from the sweat of your own father, your uncles and your grandfather, to name just a few.”

Noting Caroline’s horrified expression, Agnes gave her a firm look.

“My own husband invested in your family’s business, and I met your father on several occasions.

He was an excellent man. Your vanity as a gentlewoman has done you no favors; you might try a bit of pride in your family’s accomplishments, instead. ”