Page 29

CHAPTER 29

A Confrontation

W hen Bingley found his aunt and sisters gathered in the small sitting room near the music room, the scent of tea and Miss Bingley’s perfume hung in the air, barely masking the chill that seemed to have settled between the ladies.

His aunt was seated nearest the hearth, a bit of needlework untouched in her lap, her sharp eyes watching Caroline with something bordering on disgust, while Mrs. Hurst idly played with her bracelets, a habit of hers when she was nervous.

He cleared his throat and said, rather too cheerfully, “I have invited the Bennets to dine with us on Monday evening.”

Aunt Horatia did not attend him at first. Then, with a resigned smile, she said, “Well, now that it is done, it would be awkward to withdraw. Monday night will suffice though I might have preferred a few more days to settle in. Still, Mrs. Nicholls is quite capable, and I believe we shall manage well enough between us.”

Across the room, seated with her back too straight by the window, Miss Bingley let out an audible scoff.

“I daresay whatever arrangements you make will be more than adequate—for them ,” she said, setting down her teacup with a deliberate clatter.

“That family can hardly be accustomed to true refinement. They will likely be beside themselves simply to enter this house—again.”

She tossed her head and looked out the window, her expression tight with disdain.

Her voice dripped with petulance, and her meaning could not have been clearer.

Aunt Horatia’s voice cut through the room like a snapped ribbon.

“Caroline, that is quite enough.”

Miss Bingley froze, then slowly turned in her chair, clearly startled by the censure.

Aunt Horatia continued, her tone cutting and brooking no dissent.

“Once again, I will remind you that the Bennets are landed gentry. That places them above you in standing. What were they teaching you at that finishing school?”

Miss Bingley flushed at yet another reminder of her status.

“I simply fail to see why we must fawn over a family so dreadfully provincial.”

“You will see it, or you will learn it,” Aunt Horatia said flatly.

Rising in a theatrical flounce, Miss Bingley adjusted her gown as though the mere presence of this conversation offended her sensibilities.

“If you are all so fond of them, perhaps you should invite them to stay at Netherfield permanently,” she muttered, and she swept from the room in a rustle of silk and wounded pride.

“The countess will be so delighted with their company.”

With that parting shot, she swept from the room.

“That girl,” Aunt Horatia said sharply, watching the door swing closed behind her, “needs to be taken down a notch or two. But she will never learn if no one addresses her behaviour.” She turned on Bingley.

“Confine her to her room. Dock her allowance. Send her away if you must. But do not let her continue to spew that vitriol. I understand her motivation—envy—but she refuses to see reason. I have seen how you look at Miss Bennet. Would you really subject her sweetness to that…that harpy?”

Mrs. Hurst, silent until now, folded her hands in her lap.

“Our mother spoiled her terribly,” she said quietly.

“Caroline cannot bear being denied anything. She came here hoping to ensnare Mr. Darcy. When he made it clear he had no interest—none whatsoever—she grew spiteful. She pretends now that he is beneath her , but she cannot abide the thought of him preferring someone else. If he were to show true interest in Miss Elizabeth, I fear how Caroline will act.”

“She may have been spoiled by your mother,” Aunt Horatia replied coolly, “but your mother has been gone for years. My brother did her no favours in her upbringing. Neither of you,” she added pointedly, looking between Mrs. Hurst and Bingley, “have done anything to correct her?”

Turning to Mrs. Hurst, she asked bluntly, “Did you know of this plan to entrap Mr. Darcy?”

Mrs. Hurst lowered her eyes.

“I did try to dissuade her, but not as firmly as I ought. She was obsessed with the idea of becoming Mrs. Darcy. No argument would sway her.”

“With the countess now here,” Aunt Horatia said grimly, “Caroline would be wise to check her pride. That woman does not approve of your sister. It would take little for her to spread word in London about what she has seen—and heard. Even you must admit, Caroline is no better than a fortune-hunter. Mr. Darcy, I assure you, has learnt to spot such women with ease.”

Mrs. Hurst gave another reluctant nod.

“She does not listen to me any more than she listens to Louisa,” Bingley said, his voice low and sulky.

“I tried speaking with her just last week.”

“Then perhaps stop speaking and do something,” his aunt said coldly.

“ Establish rules. Deduct funds from her allowance. She has made a fool of herself—and of you—and still you hand her more money?”

“She asked for her quarterly funds in coin,” Bingley muttered.

“I gave her over two hundred pounds from the safe. She said she preferred coin to letters of credit. I assume she had her reasons, but I did not question her.”

Aunt Horatia stared at him.

“You gave her two hundred pounds without asking why ?”

“She is entitled to it,” he said defensively.

“I could not see the harm in giving her what she wished in this case.”

“Then open your eyes,” Aunt Horatia snapped.

“She disdains everything about this village. She scoffs at your guests. What do you imagine she needed coin for, Charles? To donate to the church? To spend money in Meryton’s shops, which she thinks cannot possibly be the equivalent of those in London? Mayhap she means to return to London.”

“She would never spend her own money to return to London,” he muttered.

“She says it is too vulgar to arrange one’s own travel. Were she to return, she would insist upon a carriage from my stables.”

“She did go into the village yesterday,” Mrs. Hurst said quietly.

“When we returned from Longbourn, I saw her just coming in—her pelisse slightly askew, her reticule clutched tightly. I asked where she had gone, but she said nothing. Her maid offered no explanation. But one of the grooms mentioned to Mr. Hurst that she was seen speaking to militia officers in the street.”

Aunt Horatia’s face turned to stone.

“Why in God’s name would she do that ?”

“I do not know,” Bingley said, bewildered.

“Although she thought I could not hear, she said clearly enough: if she cannot have Darcy, she will not let another woman have him either,” Aunt Horatia said grimly.

“Two hundred pounds is more than enough to bribe someone into a foolish—or ruinous—act. One sister compromised, and the others would bear the stain. Caroline may think such a scandal would be enough to turn Mr. Darcy’s affection from Miss Elizabeth.”

Bingley stared at her.

“She may be unpleasant at times, but she would not go so far as to destroy another woman.”

Mrs. Hurst coughed delicately.

“She has whispered rumours in the past about ladies she feared might gain Darcy’s interest—small insidious things, just enough to muddy their reputations.”

“It is society’s way,” Bingley mumbled.

“Ladies gossip. It is not the same as arranging…ruin.”

“You are correct,” Aunt Horatia said icily, rising from her seat.

“They are not the same. It is far worse to arrange for the ruin of another.”

Pacing the room, she considered the different possibilities.

Her youngest niece had become vindictive and cruel, and if she would whisper rumours about a woman to deflect Mr. Darcy’s attention, it would not be too much of a step to think of ruining someone.

It would not take much to injure a family’s reputation.

Merely a whisper of wrongdoing could potentially harm the entire family.

“We need to discover which officers she spoke with,” Aunt Horatia said after a few minutes.

“Does Gilbert recall which groom?” she asked her elder niece.

Mrs. Hurst shook her head in response but said nothing.

“Charles, you must do something to ensure that Caroline cannot cause anyone actual harm,” Aunt Horatia said.

“I do not care if that means you must restrict her to her rooms until we discover what she is about, but she needs to be contained. Tell the grooms not to ready a horse or a carriage for her without notifying you first. Someone ought to watch her, to ensure she does not meet with any of the officers again in case she does intend to arrange something. ”

“She will be unbearable to live with if I do any of those things,” Bingley sighed.

“If you do nothing, your inaction may well cost you Mr. Darcy’s friendship,” Aunt Horatia said sharply.

“I will speak to the countess about what we have learnt so she may take whatever measures are necessary to protect the Misses Bennet. You may be certain she will inform Mr. Darcy and the colonel as well. Can you truly imagine how any of them will react if it becomes clear that you allowed your sister to deliberately harm innocent young women—and did nothing to stop her? At the very least, Mr. Bennet is a friend of Mr. Darcy’s. Even if Mr. Darcy has no firm intention of offering for Miss Elizabeth, it is difficult to believe he would look kindly upon a man who stood by while the reputation of an entire family was ruined—particularly when he might have prevented it.”

“What would you have me do?” Bingley asked again.

Aunt Horatia shook her head at her nephew’s ineffectualness.

“Start with informing the servants she is not to venture into the village unaccompanied. Tell the grooms they are not to saddle a horse or ready a carriage at her order. Who pays for her maid?”

“I do,” Bingley answered.

“Then tell her you expect her to keep you informed of any of Caroline’s actions,” Aunt Horatia told him.

“If you are paying her salary, she owes you her loyalty, not Caroline.”

Bingley attempted another half-hearted protest. “She will be angry if she finds out.”

“So?” his aunt retorted.

Hanging his head, Bingley gave in.

“I will see what can be done without Caroline’s knowledge. As you suggested, I will start by speaking to the grooms and save Caroline’s maid for later. However, I doubt I will be able to get the funds back from her. ”

He exited the room, followed a moment after by Mrs. Hurst, who had been silent for the last portion of the discussion.

At least she seems to realise her own complicity in Caroline’s behaviour, Aunt Horatia thought as she watched her niece and nephew depart.

Scowling at her nephew’s lack of resolve, she was faintly gratified to see him taking at least a few necessary steps to check his younger sister.

To his credit, his first and most sensible act had been to relinquish the running of the household; she meant to discover precisely how that decision had come about.

She suspected Darcy’s influence though it seemed whatever firmness had prompted the change had since waned.

Still, it was a beginning, however belated.

Settling back into her chair, Aunt Horatia fixed her gaze on the now-closed door.

No one in the Bingley family had ever truly checked Caroline.

She had been allowed whatever she wished, first by her mother, then by her father—whose indulgence stemmed from a misplaced guilt over the early loss of her mother.

Charles lacked the firmness, and Louisa the inclination, to correct her.

Unchallenged, Caroline had grown into a woman who mistook manipulation for charm and scorn for discernment.

She would have to be handled carefully.

Public humiliation had made her vicious, and any further direct rebuke might drive her to reckless extremes.

What Caroline required was someone who could take charge of her—someone capable of imposing limits she could neither ignore nor twist to her advantage.

Removing her from society entirely might cause a minor scandal, but Caroline was not well enough liked within the ton for it to leave any lasting damage.

Some might even applaud them for it.

Aunt Horatia decided she would need to speak to Mr. Darcy.

She suspected he had been the impetus behind Charles’s decision to invite her there and to install her as temporary mistress of Netherfield.

Lady Matlock might also be enlisted—her title carried weight with her niece, and she had already demonstrated a lack of patience for Caroline’s pretensions.

If Caroline could not be made to behave, then she would simply be given no opportunity to behave poorly at all.

Her lips pressed into a thin, resolute line.

She would not sit idly by while her niece jeopardised the reputation of one of the Bennet girls—and, by extension, the entire family.

It was high time someone reminded Caroline Bingley what it meant to conduct oneself with sense—and to enforce consequences for her poor behaviour.