Page 4 of What Comes Between Cousins

“L OUISA, WE HAVE A PROBLEM .”

Though she would much rather have attended to her book, Louisa Hurst looked up at her sister, wondering what bee had gotten into Caroline’s bonnet this time.

“Our brother, Louisa,” said Caroline, her annoyance bubbling over into her voice when Louisa did not immediately respond.

“What about Charles?” asked Louisa, though she knew very well why Caroline was angry.

“Oh, Louisa,” said Caroline in a tone of longsuffering. She dropped down into a chair nearby with little elegance and sprawled there as she glared at Louisa. “Can you not open your eyes? Have you not seen how he cannot tear his eyes away from the eldest Bennet?”

“No, I have not missed them,” replied Louisa, wishing to return to her book. “What of them?”

“She is unsuitable,” snapped Caroline. “We will have to do something about it.”

Louisa sighed and lowered her book. Her oblique inference that she did not wish to speak of the matter had not deterred Caroline a jot. With a deep breath, Louisa girded herself for an unpleasant conversation.

“Charles is his own man, Caroline. There is nothing you may do to direct him.”

“I have directed him in the past.”

“You think you have. But when has Charles ever listened to either of us when he believed himself to be right or when he truly wanted something?”

Caroline’s returning glare was mutinous, but she did not reply. Though Louisa did not wish to encourage her sister, it was perhaps best to divert her.

“I do not think we need to concern ourselves, Caroline. You know how often Charles fixes his attention on a pretty woman for a few weeks before he loses interest. It is likely this is just another one of his infatuations.”

“And if it is not?”

“Then there is nothing to be done.”

“There is everything to be done,” snapped Caroline. “Miss Bennet is an amusing sort of girl, but she is in no way suitable to be our sister.”

“She is a gentleman’s daughter.”

“But she has no fortune or connections. She will not raise our position in society. Charles needs to think of these things, and if he will not, we need to consider them for him.”

A headache was forming behind her eyes—Louisa was certain of it. It was often thus when speaking with Caroline. She had a way of taking a pleasant day, drawing a thunderstorm in by the force of her displeasure, and raining on the good moods of everyone in her vicinity.

“Charles may do as he pleases,” said Louisa again, once again picking up her book. “If he decides Miss Bennet’s worth is more than the sum of her dowry, then he has every right to make that choice. You cannot direct him, Caroline. I beg you do not even try.”

Then, in a gesture which was a clear indication that the conversation was over, Louisa raised the book and began reading. For a few moments, she almost wondered if she had persuaded Caroline to leave the matter be—or at least induced her to take her complaining elsewhere. Then her sister spoke again.

“I think I might like to invite the Bennet sisters to dine with us, Louisa.”

Taken aback by this non-sequitur, Louisa looked up at her sister. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, not all the Bennet sisters. The youngest are positively hoydens, and I will not endure them in this house. But perhaps Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth might be invited. Brother has informed me that the gentlemen are engaged to dine with the officers two days hence. Without the gentlemen present, we would have the opportunity to become acquainted with the sisters without interference.”

It was all Louisa could do not to roll her eyes. She knew exactly what her sister was about. Inviting them when the gentlemen were not to be present would allow Caroline to interrogate Miss Bennet without Charles’s presence to monopolize her attention. She no doubt wished to discover something about the girl which was objectionable, which she could then use to ensure fascination with her was fleeting. Furthermore, she wished to avoid putting her in his company more than was necessary, and this would give her the opportunity to do so while obtaining the information she required.

“I think Charles would rather be present when Miss Bennet visited us, Caroline.”

“Nonsense,” said Caroline waving Louisa’s concerns away. “He will understand. The gentlemen will have much to talk about with the officers. Surely he cannot begrudge us our ladies’ conversation.”

Louisa resisted the impulse to shake her head, no matter how sorely she was tempted. “I am certain he will not.”

“Excellent!” said Caroline, rising to her feet. “I will write to Miss Bennet, inviting her and Miss Elizabeth to dine with us.”

Then Caroline rose and quit the room, leaving Louisa watching her as she departed. Only when she was gone did Louisa give in to the impulse to shake her head. There had never been any chance of deflecting Caroline, she reflected. Caroline was all bluster and implacable will—she was not easily, nor quietly, defied.

But though the younger Bingley sister possessed a will of iron, so too was the elder possessed of that same core. Louisa’s will was hidden, not openly displayed as was Caroline’s. If Caroline was intent upon having the Bennet sisters to try to ferret out some embarrassing information, well, Louisa was equally capable of thwarting her sister. But it must be done delicately—Caroline would be impossible if she thought Louisa was going against her wishes.

––––––––

I T WAS ONLY BY CHANCE that Fitzwilliam learned of the invitation. Despite his words to Darcy, Fitzwilliam knew well the danger that Miss Bingley posed to his bachelor state, and while he knew he would be required to marry one day, Miss Bingley was not a candidate for the position. Thus, he avoided the woman wherever possible, a determination he found easy to make but difficult to implement.

Netherfield was not one of the great estates. But it was a good challenge for a new estate owner such as Bingley. And, more importantly, for Fitzwilliam’s—and Darcy’s— peace of mind, it was a large house with many rooms and ample opportunity to escape its predatory mistress. The cousins made good use of it, relaxing with Bingley in his study while discussing the estate, playing billiards, or enjoying the library, such as it was, while hiding from Miss Bingley. It was also fortunate that Fitzwilliam’s bedchamber was one of the only guest bedrooms in the house which also boasted a private sitting-room, one more location they could use to thwart the woman’s matrimonial designs.

As the days passed, Fitzwilliam became more familiar with Bingley, and he was forced to agree with Darcy’s assessment of the man. He was not the most diligent individual, a fact Fitzwilliam attributed to his being a young man and it being the autumn season when the harvest was already in and most gentlemen were engaged in their local societies—those who were not in London for the little season. But he was eager and friendly, and Fitzwilliam did not know how anyone could dislike Charles Bingley.

Thus, they whiled away their days, avoiding Miss Bingley, riding when the weather permitted, and indulging in their gentlemanly pursuits. It was, then, surprising that Fitzwilliam was in a position to learn something he was certain that Bingley himself did not know, and then only by chance. It was the name “Bennet” which caught his attention.

“Did I hear you correctly, Miss Bingley? Are the Bennet sisters to come to Netherfield for dinner tonight?”

Miss Bingley appeared guilty, and she attempted to obfuscate. “Why do you ask, Lord Chesterfield?”

“Because I heard you speaking with Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley.” Fitzwilliam paused and made a show of thinking for a moment before he spoke again. “I do find it curious that you would invite them tonight when Darcy and I will be away with Hurst and your brother, dining with the officers.”

Miss Bingley shook her head and made light of his comment, which also confirmed his conjectures. “Why should it be strange, my lord? The gentlemen will dine with other men, while we ladies also wish for some company which we will appreciate. It seems like the most natural thing in the world to me.”

Though it was great fun to tweak Miss Bingley’s nose, Fitzwilliam decided now was not the time to indulge in teasing. “I suppose when you put it that way, it makes perfect sense. Shall you invite all the ladies?”

This time Miss Bingley’s disgust was clear. “I believe the youngest Bennets are too young to make good companions. I actually only considered asking the eldest two.”

“Prudent,” said Fitzwilliam, amused that in this, at least, he agreed with her. “You might reconsider Miss Mary, however. She is, as yet, quite young, but she struck me as an intelligent woman, one who would be well worth knowing.

“Then I shall take your suggestion under advisement, sir.”

“Very well,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Then I would be happy to further assist you this evening in promoting your friendships with the lovely Bennet ladies.”

“That is not necessary, Lord Chesterfield,” was Miss Bingley’s quick response.

“Nonsense!” said Fitzwilliam, gesturing expansively. “I am quite happy to help.”

It appeared Miss Bingley was curious in spite of herself. “Then what do you suggest, my lord?”

“Please offer them the use of my carriage, Miss Bingley.”

“Will you not require its use?”

“The gentlemen will be traveling in your brother’s carriage. Mine is quite free, I assure you.”

“I do not believe that is necessary,” the woman was quick to say. “I am certain the Bennets own a carriage. Surely they are not that poor.”

Fitzwilliam suppressed a laugh—it seemed his hostess was desperate to avoid showing their neighbors any favor, no matter how trifling. “I insist, Miss Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam. “It is only polite to do so since the invitation is coming from Netherfield. I am certain it will foster excellent relations between you, and I am happy to do my part to assist.”

Since there was nothing she could do, Miss Bingley acquiesced. It was clear, however, that her thanks were as false as her rigid smile. “Then I will be certain to inform them of your largesse, Lord Chesterfield.”

“There is no need, Miss Bingley. I am happy to be of service.”

Fitzwilliam paused, his amusement with Miss Bingley and her airs having run its course. But the woman’s attempt at mirth had prompted his annoyance, and he would not allow her to disparage a good family without response.

“I would, however, caution you, Miss Bingley, lest you espouse any misapprehension. Though I do not know the exact extent of Mr. Bennet’s wealth, I suspect that Longbourn has an income of more than two thousand per year. That does not make Mr. Bennet wealthy, but it is not an inconsequential sum. I am certain that Mr. Bennet does, indeed, own a carriage.

“My offer to send a carriage for their benefit does not stem from a belief that they cannot afford it themselves, but because I wish to be neighborly and because it is good manners.”

“You are quite correct, Lord Chesterfield,” said Miss Bingley hastily.

“I am sure I am.” Fitzwilliam paused and considered the woman, before continuing: “I also wish to thank you and your brother for extending the invitation to me to join you here, Miss Bingley. I am quite at home in such society and find it to be to my taste. The Bennets and the others of the neighborhood are good people, and I have been happy to make their acquaintance.”

“We are happy to have you with us,” replied Miss Bingley, though she appeared confused by his declaration.

With a bow, Fitzwilliam turned and left, intending to find his cousin. With any luck, Miss Bingley would now avoid any overt castigation of local society. Anything which limited her venom was welcome, in his opinion.

––––––––

W HEN THE INVITATION arrived from the ladies at Netherfield, those to whom it was addressed received it with varying emotions. Jane, who had come to esteem them—and more particularly, their brother—was eager to go and become better acquainted with them. Elizabeth, though Miss Bingley had been pleasant the past several times she had been in her company, was nevertheless cautious, and not only because of Lord Chesterfield’s words on the subject. Mary was only surprised to have been included in the invitation.

“There is no mistake,” said Jane to Mary’s request for clarification. “The invitation is for all three of us—Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary—to attend Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst at Netherfield for dinner tonight. The gentlemen are dining with the officers, and the ladies wish to come to know us better and request our attendance. The viscount’s carriage is even to be dispatched for our use.”

“That must be Lord Chesterfield’s work,” said Elizabeth.

Jane directed a level look at Elizabeth. “Why is that, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth laughed and touched Jane’s hand. “Miss Bingley can hardly offer the use of a viscount’s carriage without his consent, Jane. I was not attempting to censure Miss Bingley or make any comment to her detriment.”

Mollified, Jane nodded. “Please restrain your usual wit when it pertains to Miss Bingley, Lizzy. She has been all that is pleasant to us—that you must confess.”

“She has,” replied Elizabeth. “I know nothing ill of her, other than a slight haughtiness the night of the assembly. She has been quite civil since then.”

With a beaming smile, Jane nodded, and the subject was dropped. Elizabeth had not told Jane of her conversation with Lord Chesterfield, and she did not intend to. Not only would her sister not believe any ill of Miss Bingley, but there did not seem any reason to try to sink the woman’s character. She had been pleasant, after all.

“The question is, who will attend?” said Mary into the silence. “I am not truly known to Miss Bingley—I wonder why she has seen fit to invite me as well.”

“You have spoken with Mrs. Hurst several times,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps she has influenced your inclusion.”

Though Mary was skeptical, she bowed to the persuasion of her sisters and agreed to accompany them. Thus, Jane quickly applied to their father for permission, and with that in hand, the reply was swiftly dispatched. Now it fell to them to inform their mother.

It was fortunate that Mrs. Bennet had not been present when the missive had arrived. It was Mrs. Bennet’s custom to retire to her rooms after breakfast to rest her nerves, as she termed it, before returning to the sitting-room to welcome any morning visitors. Whatever the reason, Elizabeth had a hearty respect for her mother’s ability to meddle, or even worse, to insist on actions which were not at all proper. At the very least, she might have snatched the letter from Jane’s hands to read herself, one of the numerous ways in which the Bennet matron showed her lack of understanding of polite manners. The communication would thus be made at luncheon.

“Invited to Netherfield for supper?” cried the woman when Jane informed her of it. “Oh, I knew how it would be. Mr. Bingley has taken a liking to you and has influenced his sister to invite you, so he may come to know you better. What wonderful news this is!”

“I do not think that Mr. Bingley has influenced his sister in this matter, Mama,” replied Jane in her usual calm voice. “In fact, Miss Bingley informs me that the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.”

Mrs. Bennet’s face fell for a moment. “Mr. Bingley shall not be present?” She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “But this is still a good sign, for it shows Miss Bingley’s favor for her brother’s choice. And no doubt Elizabeth and Lydia have been invited as well by the influence of the cousins.”

“Elizabeth has been invited, yes,” said Jane. Elizabeth, though amused at her mother’s antics and wishing she could speak herself, decided it was best to leave it to Jane. “But Lydia is not included in the invitation. Instead, Miss Bingley has invited Mary to Netherfield.”

“Mary?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Why, in heaven’s name, would she invite Mary?”

Grasping Mary’s hand in quiet support, Elizabeth shot an annoyed glance at her mother, the mirth of the previous few moments forgotten in the face of this new insult to her younger sister. Mary, for her part, seemed unaffected by her mother’s ill manners—it was not as if she was not accustomed to them, after all.

“I do not know why I was invited, Mama,” said Mary, her tone affecting unconcern. “Lizzy suggests that it is because I have become friendly with Mrs. Hurst.”

But Mrs. Bennet was shaking her head, the motion becoming firmer by the moment. “No, no, no, this will not do at all! We cannot send Mary when Lydia is the focus of the viscount’s attention. He will think she is slighting him.”

Even Lydia found Mrs. Bennet’s statement to be nonsensical, if her unladylike snort was any indication. Mr. Bennet only watched his wife from across the table, his amused grin testament to his enjoyment of the spectacle. He did not essay to correct his wife, leaving his daughters to the task.

“I am sure that Lord Chesterfield knows of the composition of the party which has been invited,” said Jane, her tone reasonable. “It is his carriage which is to be dispatched for our use, after all.”

It was clear that Mrs. Bennet was at a loss. “For Lord Chesterfield to send his carriage, it must be a compliment to Lydia.” She paused and thought for a moment before her eyes widened. “It must also be a compliment to Jane. For Mr. Bingley’s carriage must be in use to convey the gentlemen to their dinner, and he must have persuaded Lord Chesterfield to send it to take our girls to Netherfield.

“But Miss Bingley must be mistaken in her invitation, for surely Lord Chesterfield intended that Lydia be invited—not Mary.” Mrs. Bennet nodded once, determination gleaming in her eyes. “Then we must inform them that Mary is indisposed tonight and that Lydia shall take her place.”

“Mama!” exclaimed Jane, which was only a small portion of the cacophony which erupted at Mrs. Bennet’s statement. “We cannot impose on Miss Bingley in such a fashion.”

“Whether a mistake has been made, I cannot say,” added Elizabeth, though privately she was certain there was no error. “But we cannot simply substitute another when the invitation is quite specific in including Mary. Lydia cannot go, or we will be imposing upon them.”

“Nonsense, Lizzy,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “My mind is quite made up. Lydia shall go in Mary’s stead.”

“Lydia shall not go.”

All eyes turned to the Bennet patriarch. He was still watching the scene with amusement, but now there was a hint of resolve in his countenance, which set his wife to glowering. Elizabeth suppressed a sigh of relief—she knew her father took far more amusement in his wife’s excesses than he should, but he usually acted to curb the worst of her improprieties, when it could affect the family’s reputation.

“Lizzy and Jane are quite correct, Mrs. Bennet,” continued Mr. Bennet. “The invitation specifies that your three eldest daughters have been invited to Netherfield, and it is they who shall go. Even if one of them should come down with a fever between now and this evening, you shall not substitute Lydia where she has not been invited.”

“But, Mr. Bennet—”

“No, Mrs. Bennet. There is a point where even the desperation of securing husbands for your daughters must give way to the needs of polite behavior. Jane seems to be getting on with this Bingley fellow well enough.” Mr. Bennet paused and smiled at Jane, which she returned, though not without embarrassment.

“You should allow matters to proceed naturally, Mrs. Bennet,” said he, turning his attention back to Mrs. Bennet, who was sitting, watching him with the sullenness of a child of five. “If Jane is meant to marry Mr. Bingley, then I am certain she shall. Your other daughters, also, have charms aplenty. And you never know, Mrs. Bennet—it may be Mary who has caught our good viscount’s eye.”

Mrs. Bennet looked on Mary with evident skepticism, but Elizabeth had focused on Lydia, who she was certain could not allow such an assertion to pass her by. She appeared ready to comment, but she caught sight of Elizabeth’s fierce scowl and restrained herself, though not without a huff of annoyance or contempt. For her part, Mary had turned to her father with a shy smile, while Mr. Bennet nodded. Though he did not pay much attention to Mary, he could be counted on to compliment her at the oddest times.

“Very well,” said Mrs. Bennet, though there was no grace in her acquiescence. “I suppose it must be as you say.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet, his tone dripping irony. “I knew you would come to see my point of view.”

The subject closed, Mr. Bennet rose and announced his intention to retire to his bookroom, departing with nary a glance back. If he had thought, upon exiting, that Mrs. Bennet’s machinations were at an end, he would have been disappointed.

“Girls, go upstairs and put on your best frocks for an evening visit, but you should also wear stout boots. You will need to leave well in advance, for Netherfield is three miles distant.”

“Why would we be required to leave so early?” asked Jane, clearly perplexed. “It will not take the carriage so much time to traverse the distance.”

“Because, Jane, you must walk to Netherfield.”

“Walk?” cried Jane. “Why ever would we walk?”

“Would you go to Netherfield and not see Mr. Bingley?” demanded Mrs. Bennet. “It looks like rain, and should you walk, you will not be able to return home tonight. Therefore, you will be at Netherfield tomorrow morning, and able to greet Mr. Bingley before you return home.”

“We would look like beggars if we were to do such a thing,” said Elizabeth with some asperity. It was times like this when she wondered if she were truly related to the woman in front of her.

“Besides,” said Mary, interjecting when it appeared Mrs. Bennet was about to release a harangue, “If you recall, Lord Chesterfield has offered us the use of his carriage, which will retrieve us an hour before supper is to begin.”

“He has—yes, of course,” said Mrs. Bennet. “What a compliment this is, and how good of his lordship!”

Mrs. Bennet paused, and she looked from Lydia to Mary. Elizabeth could easily see the course of her thoughts. In the end, however, her husband’s instructions won out, for she grunted with annoyance.

“Then you girls must make a good impression upon not only the sisters, but also Mr. Darcy and his lordship. The next invitation will, I am certain, include Lydia, for Lord Chesterfield was ever so attentive to her these past few events.”

Soon the eldest Bennet sisters were able to escape, and they left, each relieved their mother had not managed to embarrass them. They took themselves up to Jane’s room to choose dresses and prepare for their evening out. Contrary to Mrs. Bennet’s instructions, none of them were of a mind to dress in an elaborate fashion, but they would need to wait until the last possible moment, so their mother could not interfere.

“Mama is determined, is she not?” asked Mary. Elizabeth instantly sensed that the question was rhetorical and did not require a response. She attempted to reply regardless.

“She is. But I have no notion that her ambitions with respect to Lydia and Lord Chesterfield will ever be realized.”

“ That is without question,” replied Mary. “He has talked with her at times, but it is clear he views her as a child.”

“Personally, I do think the offer of Lord Chesterfield’s carriage is a compliment,” said Jane. “But I do not think it is the one Mama dreams of.”

“Oh?” replied Elizabeth. “Then what do you suspect?”

“I think it is a compliment to you , dear sister.”

Elizabeth gaped at Jane. When her sisters started laughing between themselves, she fixed them with a severe frown.

“I cannot imagine of what you are speaking, Jane. Lord Chesterfield has no interest in me.”

“Actually, I think Jane might be correct,” replied Mary. “He does speak with you quite often, and it is clear he enjoys your conversation.”

“Of course,” added Mary, “if he wishes to pay her his addresses, he may need to vie with his cousin for that. It has not escaped my notice that Mr. Darcy seems to enjoy your wit equally well.”

Mary and Jane exchanged a glance, and they burst out into laughter. For her part, Elizabeth did not know whether to be amused or angry. In the end, she chose to ignore her sisters’ teasing.

“Both gentlemen are good men, I am sure, though they are quite different. But I do not feel any danger from either, and I am certain your teasing will come to nothing in the end.”

“Danger?” asked Mary with a raised eyebrow, one which resembled an expression Elizabeth often used. “You consider matters of the heart to be dangerous?”

Elizabeth determined that ignoring their teasing was now the best remedy. But her sisters laughed nonetheless.