Page 5 of What Comes Between Cousins

W HEN THE VISCOUNT’S carriage arrived, it was hardly surprising that the inhabitants of Longbourn—one in particular—were impressed with it. It was a wide, spacious vehicle, black lacquered on the outside, and covered with sumptuous leather on the inside, a truly fitting vehicle for a member of the peerage. Perhaps the most impressive detail, however, was the coat of arms which decorated the rear of the conveyance, a heraldic emblem both elaborate and inspiring.

“What a beautiful carriage!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet when it pulled up onto Longbourn’s drive. “I have never seen anything so fine!”

“The very rich can well afford such luxuries,” replied Elizabeth. “I am sure the earl must ensure his son has nothing but the best.”

Mrs. Bennet eyed the carriage and then turned back to the sisters before finally looking directly at Lydia. She heaved a sigh, no doubt repining the exclusion of her youngest from the excursion. Then she straightened, evidently deciding there was no reason to focus her energies on what could not be changed.

“Off you go, then,” said she, gesturing at the waiting coach. “Be on your best behavior and give every deference to your hostess and her sister.

“And, girls,” said she when they had begun to file from the room. “Should one of you become ill and be required to stay the night, be aware that I can well spare you.”

The accompanying wink was not in any way a subtle hint, any more than her words were. But they were not allowed to think on the matter any further, for Mrs. Bennet turned and sat in her usual chair, beckoning Kitty and Lydia to her, their attitude one of plotting.

Eager to be away from their mother’s schemes, the three elder daughters exited the house and were assisted into the carriage by a waiting footman. The step was stowed, the door closed, and soon the carriage lurched into motion. It was only then that they gave into laughter.

“It is truly not proper for us to be laughing at our mother,” said Mary.

“It is not,” agreed Elizabeth. “But there are times when I feel that I must laugh, else I will surely cry.”

“Mama does mean well,” said Jane, trying to defend the indefensible as was her usual custom.

“She does,” agreed Elizabeth. “But her execution leaves much to be desired. If we are to stay the night at Netherfield, I am certain it will not be because of our mother’s plotting.”

Her sister nodded in commiseration, and the subject was dropped for the time being. They spoke of inconsequential matters throughout the short journey to Netherfield, each avoiding the subjects which may have been of most interest, such as Mr. Bingley, the gentlemen who were his guests, or even their mother’s actions. There seemed to be little reason to return to their initial subject, so they did not.

“Look, it has begun to rain!” said Mary when they were about halfway to their destination.

Jane and Elizabeth crowded around the window, looking out on the landscape. The rain had begun, and at the moment, it was only falling lightly, coating the earth beyond the carriage in a thin sheen of shining dampness. But in the distance, the sound of thunder rumbling reached their ears, and they looked at one another with interest.

“Perhaps our staying at Netherfield is not so impossible, after all,” said Mary. “Should this weather worsen, it may be difficult for us to return tonight.”

“Let us not put the cart before the horse,” said Elizabeth. “It is possible that the weather will simply pass us by and all will be well.”

Her sisters agreed that it was possible, and the subject was dropped. For the rest of the ride, they were silent, with only the odd comment passing among them. Elizabeth was grateful for the silence, for it allowed her the opportunity to think. She did not know why, but the thought of staying at Netherfield for the night filled her with apprehension. Perhaps it was her imagination of what Miss Bingley would think of them. But Miss Bingley would think of them what she thought, and Elizabeth knew there was little any of them could do to change her opinion, so there was clearly no need to concern herself on that account.

But the gentlemen . . . Elizabeth did not wish for them to think ill of the Bennet family. She told herself that it was because Jane seemed to be making such an impression on Mr. Bingley. But in the back of her mind, she knew that she also did not wish for Mr. Darcy and Lord Chesterfield to abandon their good opinions.

When at last Netherfield rose out of the surrounding trees, they disembarked from the carriage and, protected by umbrellas the footmen held over their heads, they made their way into the house. Elizabeth appreciated the protection, though it truly was not raining enough for them to worry overmuch about it. When they were shown into the vestibule, they were met by the housekeeper, who assisted in divesting them of their coats, and were then shown into the sitting-room where the Bingley sisters were waiting for them.

“Miss Bennet!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “Welcome to Netherfield. And Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary, of course. We are so happy you have joined us this evening!”

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Bingley,” said Jane, speaking for the sisters. “We were happy to accept.”

They entered the room and sat down, and for a time, they indulged in general conversation among the five of them. Once again, Elizabeth was impressed with the way Miss Bingley attended them, with none of the supercilious condescension she had betrayed that first night in company. Mrs. Hurst, by contrast, had always been easy and pleasant—Elizabeth had never seen her in any other attitude. Elizabeth was still suspicious of Miss Bingley’s motives, but she was determined to give the woman the benefit of the doubt unless otherwise provoked.

Before long, they were called into the dining room for dinner. The soup was served, and they busied themselves with the task of eating, interspersed with conversation. It was at that time that Elizabeth began to see through Miss Bingley’s facade yet again.

“The dinner is excellent,” said Elizabeth, speaking up when the main courses had been served. “Thank you once again for inviting us.”

“We are blessed with the services of a wonderful cook,” replied Mrs. Hurst, “and are happy to have you.”

“Do you not know that a whole evening’s tête-à-tête with just the two of us might lead to disagreement?” asked Miss Bingley. “In inviting you to provide us company, we derive as much benefit as you do.”

Elizabeth laughed at Miss Bingley’s words. “For some sisters, that is quite true. However, I could never imagine being at odds with my dearest sisters. Jane is quite too angelic to provoke a disagreement.”

“Do not praise me so, Lizzy,” said Jane. “I am no more perfect than any other person.”

“No, Jane,” said Mary, her expression filled with mirth. “We have years of experience to inform us that you are nearer perfection than anyone else of our acquaintance.”

Elizabeth and Mary laughed at Jane’s obvious embarrassment, and in this, they were joined by Mrs. Hurst. Miss Bingley, however, only watched them, her expression unreadable.

“If only Caroline and I were so perfect as Miss Bennet,” said Mrs. Hurst. “We are prone to disagreements, for, unfortunately, neither of us is so good.”

“We have our disagreements,” said Jane, shooting a quelling glare at Elizabeth. “Do not allow Lizzy and Mary to lead you to believe otherwise.”

“Miss Bennet,” said Mrs. Hurst, “I believe that we have all become well enough acquainted that we do not need to stand on ceremony. Shall we not dispense with formality and refer to each other by our Christian names?”

They all agreed to her suggestion, though Miss Bingley shot a look at her sister, suggesting displeasure. But she did not demur, so “Caroline” and “Louisa” they were. The conversation continued for some time after, and the subjects were interesting and more than a little laughter was shared. It was not until near the end of dinner that the tenor of their discussions changed.

“Now that we have all become such close friends, I would like to know more of you,” said Caroline during a lull in the conversation. “You must not be all of the Bennets, surely—have you any aunts and uncles, cousins, and the like?”

“We are our only near Bennet relations,” replied Jane. “We have a distant cousin on my father’s side of the family, but his branch of the family assumed a new surname some generations back and now go by the name Collins. Our only other relations are on our mother’s side.”

“That is quite interesting,” said Louisa. “The Bingley clan is much larger. We have so many aunts and uncles and cousins that it can be difficult to keep track of them all.”

“We never have that problem,” said Mary. “We are not close to Mr. Collins, and since our mother has only one sister and one brother, there are not enough of us to become confused. And only our uncle has children!”

“Oh?” said Caroline, her eyes gleaming with sudden interest. “They must not live in the neighborhood. Or perhaps we have not been introduced to them?”

“Our aunt lives in Meryton, but our uncle does not,” said Elizabeth.

“And where is his estate?”

There was something about Miss Bingley’s tone of voice which put Elizabeth on her guard. It was a sort of eagerness in her tone, one which suggested she expected to hear some salacious gossip, the type which would be spoken of in whispers, with giggles and surreptitious looks included. Elizabeth could not help but wonder what the woman intended.

But Elizabeth responded with calmness, for the Gardiners were such fine people that there was no reason to be ashamed. “Our uncle lives in London, Caroline, and he is very successful.”

“Shall we all retire to the music room?” said Louisa, interrupting the increasingly tense conversation. “I understand Mary plays the pianoforte?”

“I do,” said Mary, her complexion assuming a rosy hue. That she had not immediately raced to the music room, eager to display her talents, was a testament to her recent growth. “But Lizzy plays with far more feeling than I do.”

“But your technical proficiency is far greater than mine,” replied Elizabeth.

“But Jane’s singing is far more beautiful than either of ours,” said they together, bursting into laughter after.

“Then I must insist on hearing you all,” said Louisa, her smile showing her mirth.

Caroline looked on, her expression carefully devoid of any hint of her thoughts. Elizabeth was certain she was annoyed at being denied her inquisition, but she did not say anything to contradict her sister.

They rose together and made their way toward the music room, light conversation accompanying them as they walked. Elizabeth, whose attention had been captured by Caroline’s suddenly changed behavior did not say much, and she noted the focus of the younger Bingley sister’s attention was likewise occupied listening to Mary and Jane as they chatted with Louisa. Elizabeth resolved to watch Caroline for the rest of the evening, for she was certain the woman was again showing her true colors.

Once they had arrived in the music room, Louisa indicated to the housekeeper that they were ready for tea to be served. When she had departed from the room, they gathered at the pianoforte. Though Elizabeth and Mary both displayed their talents on the instrument, it was quickly evident that Louisa and Caroline’s talents far exceeded that which Bennet sisters could boast. It was not until Elizabeth and Jane sang a duet, with Mary accompanying, that the sisters’ true talents were unleashed.

“You do have a lovely voice, Jane,” said Louisa when they had finished singing. “And Elizabeth’s voice complements yours quite well. Do you often sing at events of the area? I am only curious, for I do not think we have been blessed with the pleasure.”

“We do sing at times,” replied Jane.

“But not often,” said Elizabeth with a grin at her elder sister. “Jane does not like displaying her talents before all the neighborhood.”

“That is the truth,” said Mary when Jane made to protest. Mary turned to Louisa. “But I can tell you both have had extensive access to masters, for your playing is very fine, indeed.”

Louisa appeared a little embarrassed. “Caroline is the true proficient in the family, though I do my best.”

“Do not allow her to deflect the praise,” said Caroline, speaking for the first time since they had entered the room. “Louisa is very talented.”

“You play very well yourself, Mary,” said Louisa. “By your words, I assume you have not had much time playing with masters, but for all that, your talents are not insubstantial.”

The two ladies stayed at the pianoforte, playing together and discussing their favorite composers, while Caroline invited Jane and Elizabeth to the sofas to partake from the tea set. They went along willingly, Jane eager to deepen her friendship with Caroline, while Elizabeth was merely curious as to how the woman would conduct herself. After Caroline poured, they sat for some moments, speaking of the sort of inconsequential nothings which often punctuated polite discourse. Before long, however, Caroline’s questions once again became more pointed, and the opportunity was provided to her because of an innocuous question of Jane’s.

“Do you see your family much, Caroline?”

“Louisa, perhaps, misspoke,” replied she. “Hurst usually makes his home in London, as the family estate in Norfolk does not suit his need for society. Since her marriage, Charles and I often stay with Louisa and Hurst. Now Charles will make his home at his estate when he finds a suitable one for purchase. Our relations are more distant, and they are not truly of our sphere.”

Poor Jane was not quite certain what to think of Caroline’s assertions. Elizabeth was under no such limitation; she knew exactly of what the woman was speaking, and she was rather amused at Caroline’s conceit—especially the suggestion that her brother was now a gentleman when he was only leasing an estate.

“What of your family?” asked Caroline with seeming nonchalance. “You said your aunt lives in Meryton and your uncle in London?”

“Yes, that is true,” said Elizabeth, unwilling to distance herself from beloved relations, as she was certain Caroline was attempting to do to her own. “Uncle Phillips is a solicitor in Meryton—his practice is highly successful, as he handles the accounts of many gentlemen in the vicinity of Meryton and other villages nearby. Uncle Gardiner owns an import business in London and supplies many other businesses. He is quite well regarded in London circles.”

That was clearly the information for which Caroline had been waiting. “He is, is he?” The woman’s nose rose several inches in the air, and she looked down its length at Elizabeth. “With his success, I must assume then that he lives in a fashionable area of town?”

“He lives on Gracechurch Street,” said Jane.

“My uncle could afford a more fashionable address,” added Elizabeth, sensing the challenge and responding accordingly. “But the house he lives in is sufficient for his family, and lovely besides. And it also has the benefit of being near his business, which he finds convenient.”

“I see,” replied Caroline. Elizabeth, watching the woman’s sudden transformation as she was, wondered if she would hasten to inform her brother of Jane’s unfashionable relations that very night, or if she would savor her supposed triumph and wait until morning.

Feeling suddenly mischievous, Elizabeth assumed an expression of innocence and said: “Perhaps your father and our uncle were known to each other. Is your family’s business in a similar industry?”

Caroline almost choked on her tea and glared at Elizabeth, her affront a living thing. “You are mistaken, Miss Elizabeth, for we are not involved with trade. My brother’s fortune is unencumbered and unconnected with trade.”

“But it has been accumulated through the auspices of trade, has it not?” asked Elizabeth. She affected a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Your brother is the first of your line to possess an estate—am I not correct?”

Her jaw working with affront, Caroline appeared to be mastering a great emotion. She did not reply for a short time, in which Jane looked back and forth between the sudden combatants, uncomfortable with the changed atmosphere. For Elizabeth herself, she only watched Caroline and waited for her response, never allowing her ingenuous smile to slip.

At length, Caroline responded with a clipped: “We are not connected to trade.” And she fell silent.

At that moment, a crash of thunder echoed throughout the room, and the five ladies looked up in surprise, as none of them had known it had begun to storm. They rose together and crowded around one of the windows near the pianoforte, looking out on the landscape below. The inky blackness of the night sky made it difficult to see, but as they watched, a few flashes of lightning illuminated the earth, and they could see the rain coming down in waves.

“I am not certain I have ever seen a storm this wild,” commented Louisa. “With such rain, I wonder if you will be able to return to your home tonight.”

The suggestion was less than palatable to at least one of them. “Perhaps we should not be too hasty,” replied Caroline. She shot a suspicious glare at her sister. “If we wait for some time, the rain should slacken.”

“That is best,” said Elizabeth, agreeing with her hostess. She had no more desire to stay the night than Caroline wished them to stay.

“Perhaps the gentlemen will arrive soon and inform us of the situation,” said Louisa.

Caroline shot her sister a hard glance, but she did not reply. The housekeeper was sent for and instructed to refresh the pot of tea and speak with the butler about the weather. Then the ladies once again sat together, only this time the conversation was much less objectionable. They concentrated on their tea and spoke of the weather and how unusual it was to have a thunderstorm in November.

As they spoke, Elizabeth continued her vigil on the behavior of Miss Caroline Bingley. While the woman was as outwardly friendly as she had been at the beginning of the Bennet sisters’ visit, Elizabeth was certain that the true woman had finally made an appearance. She did not speak much and she seemed to be considering a subject which had nothing to do with the conversation. No doubt, she was planning her use of the information she had learned that night. Elizabeth almost snorted—the truth of the Bennets’ connections was well-known throughout Meryton. Caroline need not have obtained the information in such a manner, risking offending them all. Then again, Elizabeth was certain the woman did not worry about offending them. She likely now considered them beneath her notice.

At length, the night grew late, and the time for the Bennet sisters to return to Longbourn arrived and passed, and while the ladies checked the weather through the window, there seemed to be little change. Furthermore, when the butler was queried, he argued strenuously against their returning home. Caroline had just asked the man for the third time—it seemed like she was eager to be rid of them—when there was a commotion out in the hall, and the four gentlemen stepped into the room.

Elizabeth’s quick survey of their countenances revealed that Mr. Bingley was surprised to see them, Lord Chesterfield was not, Mr. Darcy was unreadable, and Mr. Hurst uncaring. Mr. Bingley stepped forward as the spokesman and greeted them with his usual cheer.

“I had not realized you were to invite the Bennet ladies, Caroline,” said he, turning his attention to his sister. “I am surprised you neglected to mention it.”

“You had your amusement for the evening; we had ours,” replied Caroline.

“We have been having a marvelous time, Charles,” added Louisa. “But since it has grown late, we have just been discussing the possibility of their return to their home.”

“Absolutely not!” exclaimed Mr. Bingley. “The night is not fit for man nor beast. Our evening with the officers was cut short for that very reason.”

“Surely it is not so bad,” said Caroline. “Lord Chesterfield’s carriage is sturdy and fine—I am certain they may return to their homes in safety.”

Mr. Bingley turned to the viscount. “You knew the Bennet sisters were to come tonight?”

“I did Bingley,” replied Lord Chesterfield, “for your sister asked for the use of my carriage to convey them here. You have my apologies—I had completely forgotten the matter.”

A frown was Mr. Bingley’s response, but he did not pursue the subject any further.

“I will add my own opinion, though I have not been asked for it,” said Mr. Darcy. The man glanced at Elizabeth, and she was utterly surprised when he winked at her. “You cannot return tonight. It would not do to risk your safety, and the comfort of the drivers and footmen is also to be considered.”

“In that case, I extend an invitation for you to remain the night,” said Caroline, though Elizabeth was certain the woman wished to do anything but.

“That is for the best, to be certain,” said Louisa. She looked the Bennet sisters over. “Jane is taller than I—nearly as tall as Caroline—so perhaps my sister will agree to loan her a nightgown. Elizabeth and Mary are of a height with me, so I should have something which will fit each of you.”

The sisters thanked their hostess and her sister and agreed to stay for the night. And with that, they made their way toward the stairs to retire for the evening. As she went, Elizabeth’s mind was full of Mr. Darcy. She had always thought of the man as a sober, serious sort of individual. She would never have suspected he would actually wink at her. Suddenly, Elizabeth wished to know more of this enigmatic man from the north.

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T HERE WERE TIMES WHEN Louisa considered herself to be positively prophetic. She waited in her rooms before retiring, knowing Caroline would almost certainly seek her out, more than likely to complain about the presence and imposition of the Bennet ladies. Perhaps Louisa could not claim the talent given her knowledge of her sister, but she certainly felt like it.

“Those Bennets are so artful,” exclaimed Caroline almost as soon as she had entered the room.

“How so, Caroline?” asked Louisa. “You can hardly accuse them of controlling the weather, so they may forward their nefarious purposes.”

“Of course not!” snapped Caroline. “But did you see the way their eyes lit up in avaricious satisfaction when I issued the invitation?”

“The only thing I saw was relief that they would not be required to brave the elements,” replied Louisa.

“Oh, it was there.” Caroline’s frown was very nearly a sneer. Louisa, who had always known that Caroline considered her to be a simpleton and a bore, ignored it as she usually did. There was little to be gained from taking offense, especially since Louisa had grown less concerned with her sister’s opinion over the years.

By now Caroline was pacing the floor. “I wanted to keep Jane Bennet away from Charles! I am most put out by this turn of events.”

“Then you should not have invited them,” replied Louisa. “It is November and the weather is always unpredictable. Should we have been inundated by a snowstorm, or had the viscount’s carriage developed a fault, the result would have been the same.”

Caroline paused and seemed to think of something, then she sat down on the nearby chair, looking at Louisa with determination. “Perhaps Charles being in Jane’s company again is not ideal, but I have gained the information I needed. The Bennets only have two relations worth any mention—both are Mrs. Bennet’s siblings. Her sister is married to the solicitor in Meryton, and her brother is a tradesman in London!”

The way Caroline’s lip curled in disgust at her mention of the Bennets’ uncle suggested she found even the chore of pronouncing the word to be foul. Louisa almost shook her head—it seemed Caroline had forgotten yet again that the Bingleys were descended from a long line of successful tradesmen.

Then Caroline’s countenance darkened again. “Do you know Eliza questioned me about our connections to trade? The impudent chit actually asked if our father might have been known to her uncle. How is such disrespect to be borne?”

“Our father was, indeed, a tradesman, if you will recall.”

“But Charles’s wealth is completely unencumbered from trade.” Caroline’s eyes bored into Louisa’s. “We are completely unconnected.”

“Except for our extended family, all of whom are all still heavily invested in the family business.”

Caroline missed the wryness in Louisa’s tone. Instead, she sniffed and turned her attention back to her original purpose in coming.

“The question is, how do we use this information? While Jane Bennet is a sweet sort of girl, her ties to trade make her completely unsuitable for our brother, even if her lack of dowry did not already disqualify her.”

“I would caution you, Caroline,” said Louisa, “not to make assumptions. We have no knowledge of the Bennets’ circumstances. We have nothing more than suppositions—do not think you know of the extent of her dowry without firm information.”

“One only has to look at them and to be in company with Mr. Bennet to know,” sneered Caroline. “But be that as it may, this news of their connections seals the matter. Charles cannot be allowed to marry the girl. He must marry an heiress and assist in raising the Bingley family name in society.”

“Oh, Caroline,” said Louisa, shaking her head. “You may attempt to turn Charles away from her if you wish, but I have never known either of us to be able to sway him when he wished for something.”

“We must!”

Louisa shook her head. “I have no notion how deep Charles’s feelings for Miss Bennet run, but he will do as he likes, as he always has. I suggest you do not interfere.”

For a moment, Caroline glared at Louisa, and then she rose with a huff and quit the room. Louisa watched her go, wondering at her sister. It had always been difficult to like Caroline, for she had been obsessed with their family’s position in society since long before she should have thought about such things. Louisa had done her best to prevent Caroline from making a fool of herself, but it was difficult at times, especially when she set her sights on men who would never offer for her.

With a sigh, Louisa rose to her feet and quit the room, passing through the sitting-room to her husband’s bedchamber. Caroline did not know she spent most nights with her husband—she would have berated Louisa if she had known, for fashionable couples did not sleep in the same bed.

“Your sister has gone to bed?” asked her husband when she slipped under the counterpane.

“She has.”

“And was it as unpleasant as you thought?”

Louisa shrugged and settled into her husband’s arms. “Nothing more than Caroline being Caroline.”

Hurst grunted and fell silent. Soon Louisa had joined him in sleep, the concerns for her wayward sister forgotten until the next day.