Page 33 of Hidden Desires
THE NEXT MORNING, as Bingley and Darcy sat over their coffee, Foster appeared at the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Hurst have arrived. I showed them to their rooms.”
“Please ask them to meet me in the sitting room,” Bingley said, lifting his brows toward Darcy. He did not attempt to rise. “Darcy, if you would be so good.”
Darcy stepped to his side without hesitation. “This is unexpected,” Bingley said, shaking his head. “Why visit now? She refused the invitation when I first leased the property.”
Charles’s other sister was a handsome woman, almost beautiful, with a slim, graceful figure, which she emphasized when she knew others watched.
Her every motion revealed her awareness of her own elegance, and her bearing left no doubt she believed herself superior to all but the highest ranks.
Like Caroline, Louisa held no affection for those she judged beneath her, ignoring or belittling them without remorse when she was among her friends.
Darcy had no fondness for the woman, having seen her cold disdain often enough to resent her presence. Only his loyalty to Bingley prevented the rebuke she deserved.
“Charles,” Louisa said as they entered the room, “we came as soon as we could. I apologize for the delay; we were away and did not find your note until yesterday.”
“What note?” Bingley asked. His shoulders lifted, and his gaze moved from his sister to her husband. “I sent no such thing. What is this about?”
Louisa looked to Caroline, who stepped forward, her expression composed.
“I thought it prudent to inform them of your accident. You had not written yourself, and the situation required prompt attention. If your condition had deteriorated, it would have been necessary for someone to be present to take charge of the situation and handle all the necessary affairs.”
“My condition has improved,” Bingley said, frowning, “so there was no cause for alarm. Why did you imagine otherwise?”
Caroline’s chin lifted a fraction. “You were unwell, confined to the house in a district where you had few acquaintances of suitable standing. I could not stay here alone, uncertain whether you were properly attended. It was only natural to ask Louisa to come.”
“It was natural to alarm them without my knowledge?” Bingley asked.
She hesitated, her lips pressing together before she spoke again. “If you must know, I also received word that certain families had taken the liberty of helping beyond what was proper. I believed your friends here might attempt to impose on your generosity.”
Bingley studied her in silence for a moment. “That is not the whole of it. What was your true purpose?”
Color rose in Caroline’s cheeks, though her voice stayed level. “If you insist on knowing, I thought Louisa’s presence might persuade you to reconsider your plans. You cannot expect to remain here indefinitely, tending tenant fields and—”
“—and keeping company with people you deem unworthy,” Bingley finished, his voice quiet but firm. “That is it, is it not?”
She looked away, unable to deny the truth.
He drew a slow breath. “This is the second time you have presumed to involve others in matters that concern me alone. First, you summoned Darcy without telling me, and now you have brought Louisa and Mr. Hurst to bolster your objections. I will not have it.”
His gaze moved between them both, unflinching. “I am content here and have no intention of returning to London until I choose it for my own reasons. You will not persuade me otherwise.”
His voice stayed calm, but there was no mistaking the finality in it. “If you cannot accept that decision, you are free to depart whenever you wish.”
Louisa inclined her head, her tone mild but watchful. “Caroline was quite concerned you might have been persuaded into arrangements unsuited to your recovery or your position. We thought it best to see for ourselves.”
“I have no complaints about my recovery or the care I received,” Bingley said. “The apothecary’s diagnosis was sound, and his treatment brought relief. Miss Bennet attended to me whenever her father visited Netherfield, which lifted my spirits, and Bennet’s advice on the estate was of great use.
“Though I remain confined to the house and garden, the days pass with more ease and interest than I expected. I would not trade it for any arrangement in London.”
“The pain is talking,” Caroline said, patting his arm and turning to her sister. “It has clouded the poor man’s judgment.”
Grasping her brother’s hand, Louisa gave it a quick squeeze before turning to his friend. “Mr. Darcy, you must have seen a change in his behavior since you last saw him.”
He considered Bingley for a moment. “He is in pain, and that has altered his temper somewhat. No man would remain unchanged under the same strain.”
Her gaze sharpened, prepared to seize on the opening his statement had given her.
“But his reasoning remains clear, and there is no strain in his voice. Your brother understands his condition and retains full possession of his faculties.”
Caroline laughed and tilted her head, though the narrowing of her eyes suggested she sought a new angle to assert herself.
“How delightful to hear a man of such sense argue his point with conviction,” she said. “Few possess the intellect for such discussion, though I know you are one of those rare exceptions, Mr. Darcy.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Caroline continued.
“Charles is fortunate to have a friend like you. With your arrival, I know he will receive better care and the proper attention he needs.”
A quiet laugh turned his head toward Georgiana, who fought to contain her mirth. He shook his head in warning, which only deepened her amusement.
“If you will excuse me,” Darcy said, stepping toward the door, “I am expected at Longbourn to continue my conversation with Bennet.”
He looked to Georgiana, whose expression had returned to calm.
“Are you joining me? Or would you rather stay at Netherfield today?”
“Have you forgotten Elizabeth’s invitation?” Georgiana asked. “I am going with you.”
“I did not forget,” Darcy said with a smile. “I only asked in case you had changed your mind and wished to remain here with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.”
“They have plenty to discuss,” Georgiana replied, shaking her head, “and I would never intrude on their enjoyment of each other’s company.”
Throughout the exchange, Darcy’s gaze had returned to Miss Bingley. Her look of contempt at the mention of Elizabeth did not escape Georgiana’s notice, and her choice to ignore the insult both pleased and impressed him.
“I suppose Miss Bennet will not call today,” Bingley said with a sigh. “She rarely visits without her father.”
“That is no loss,” Caroline replied, glancing at her sister with a smirk. “While she is more personable than the others, the difference is slight. Her only merit lies in a more guarded manner, which her sisters lack.”
“She contributes nothing to your standing, Charles, nor does she equal you in thought or feeling. In London, you were drawn to women of elegance and breeding. They were raised in households where wit and polish were cultivated, not stumbled into. Their families entertained peers of the realm. Their fathers sat in Parliament or managed great estates. Can you imagine any of them setting foot in a home like Longbourn?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Miss Bennet is kind, I grant you, but that charity so many admire is practiced, perhaps even rehearsed. It flatters her, not you. You gain nothing by pursuing her. Believe me, this passing fancy will fade as quick as your others have, if not quicker.”
Bingley said nothing for a moment. “Perhaps. But I sometimes wonder if any of those women or their fathers would have allowed me to court them at all.”
Caroline stiffened. “You are being absurd. Of course they would have. You are a gentleman.”
“No,” he said, his tone firm. “Our father was in trade, and though we were raised above our station, we were not born to it.”
“You make it sound shameful,” she said. “That success, his success, is the only reason you can speak of courtship at all. And you have more than many men with better pedigrees.”
“More coin, perhaps,” he said. “But not more consequence. You may forget where we came from, Caroline, but the peerage does not.”
“People forget when it suits them,” she said. “They overlook what they find useful. You are young, wealthy, and respectable.”
“But not equal,” he replied. “Not truly. And you are wrong if you think any of those fathers would have welcomed me. They would have tolerated me for a time and then steered their daughters toward someone born into the world I was trying to enter.”
Caroline, unchastened, smoothed her cuff and adopted a thoughtful tone. “Perhaps what you need is proper encouragement. Miss Faulkner is still in town. I could write and invite her to Netherfield. She always spoke fondly of you, and I believe she nursed her uncle through a rather long illness.”
Mrs. Hurst looked up with interest. “That is an excellent idea. She has refinement, poise, and a natural air of care. A woman like that would know how to manage a convalescent properly.”
Bingley’s brow rose. “Miss Faulkner?”
“She was often in your company last Season,” Caroline said. “I recall how she sought you out at every gathering and always managed to secure a seat beside you.”
“I remember,” Bingley said, his voice cooling. “She asked whether I preferred a country estate or a London townhouse and then answered the question herself. ‘London, of course,’ she said, ‘there is so much more to spend on.’”
Mrs. Hurst shifted in her seat, but Bingley did not stop.
“She had no interest in my thoughts, my company, or my future. Only my fortune.”
Caroline made a sound of protest, but he raised a hand.