Page 35 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“That is not entirely true, Caroline,” said Mr. Bingley, contradicting his sister in company for the first time in Elizabeth’s memory. “After all, we have known the Whitcombes from our childhood. As I recall, you were once thick as thieves with her.”

“That was many years ago, Charles,” said Miss Bingley, and though she gave every appearance of composure, she spoke as if she were forcing it out from between clenched teeth. “You cannot call them anything other than distant acquaintances now.”

Mr. Bingley shrugged, disinclined to pursue the subject. Miss Bingley, believing she had made her point, redirected the conversation to other matters, though Elizabeth did not follow it. From across the room, Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye, and her sister nodded from her position beside Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth was not near enough to see or hear much, but Mr. Bingley remained silent thereafter.

“That is most curious,” said Mr. Darcy, pulling Elizabeth’s attention back to him.

“What is curious, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth wondering if he would betray his knowledge.

“Bingley’s behavior,” replied the gentleman, still watching his friend. “Though Bingley will often correct his sister in private, he rarely does so where anyone can overhear.”

“Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “Do you think your friend is being led, or is he choosing his path for himself?”

Mr. Darcy considered the question for several moments. “Bingley is not a man who allows others to force him toward something he does not want.” The gentleman shrugged. “I know he gives the appearance of a complying temper, but that does not mean he accepts influence. Others may guide, delay, or even persuade him for a time—but he always does what he wishes.”

For a moment, Elizabeth considered sharing what she knew and inviting the gentleman to do likewise, but something informed her that now was not the time. Thus, she remained silent, and Mr. Darcy did not reference the subject again.

Yet she reflected on what Mr. Darcy had said for some time, recalling her opinion from Hertfordshire, contrasted with what was becoming clear now. Whatever Mr. Darcy’s influence over his friend, he was not a man who saw Mr. Bingley as a puppet. If anything, Mr. Darcy appeared unwilling to say anything that his friend might construe as interference.

They stayed that way for the rest of the evening, and in time their previous animated conversation returned. But they said nothing of Miss Whitcombe or Mr. Darcy’s comments about Elizabeth again.

When she retired that night beside Jane, Elizabeth could not help but remember in exact detail what the gentleman had said. That his interest in her might extend beyond ordinary acquaintance had never occurred to Elizabeth and still struck her as astonishing. But Elizabeth could not discount it, nor could she say that the notion was unpleasant.

“This has gone far enough.”

“Clearly, Charles does not agree,” said Louisa Hurst.

“Charles has never understood what is best for him,” snapped Caroline.

Louisa avoided sighing, knowing it would only provoke her—in her present mood, Louisa had no wish to endure Caroline’s petulance. Or more petulance than she already displayed. What Louisa wished was for her sister to return to her room so she could retire, but Caroline had the bit in her teeth, was far too tense for slumber.

“Clara Whitcombe is nothing,” growled Caroline, warming to her subject. “She is unfit, a tradesman’s daughter; she will not do for our brother. We must guide him properly until he abandons her and this temporary infatuation that has overtaken him.

“Tell me, Caroline,” said Louisa, “if the attachment is so insignificant, why is it consuming so much effort to displace it?”

“Displace it?” grunted Hurst. “If you will forgive me, none of your machinations these past weeks has done anything to shift your brother from his purpose.”

“I do not know about that, Gerald,” said Louisa. “To me, Charles seems uncertain of what he wants.”

“Perhaps that is so,” said Hurst. “But he will allow no one to disparage Miss Whitcombe—his response tonight makes that clear.”

“He may defend her as much as he wants,” said Caroline, pacing the room in her agitation. “But he cannot consider her as a potential bride.”

“Caroline,” said Hurst, patience fraying, “all you have said to him has done nothing. Bingley has had ample opportunity to abandon his affection for Miss Whitcombe. Yet he has not. Where does that leave you?”

“I do not accept that,” spat Caroline. “She is unsuitable—she cannot be considered.”

“If you will pardon me,” said Hurst, ice in his tone, “she is no more unsuitable than you or Louisa. Or do you forget your common origins?”

“I forget nothing,” retorted Caroline. “Yet we are climbing society while Mr. Whitcombe continues to manage his business though he has purchased an estate.”

“In the strictest sense,” said Louisa, “Mr. Whitcombe is above Charles in society. He owns property—Charles is yet only leasing Netherfield.”

“Which is why we must take care,” insisted Caroline. “If we guide Charles to a suitable estate and marry an acceptable woman, he will raise our position. Then my marriage to Mr. Darcy will make it unassailable.”

Louisa exchanged a look with Gerald, noting his glance heavenward. Neither was prepared to speak on that subject, for that would infuriate Caroline like no other. If Mr. Darcy were truly within reach, it would not matter who Charles married—Miss Clara Whitcombe would be as good as any other woman, better than Miss Bennet to own the truth. At least the Whitcombes had a presence in London, even if they did not frequent the highest circles.

But Caroline would not see this. Charles’s comment at the party was correct—as girls, Caroline and Clara had been close, though the Bingley business in the north and the Whitcombe business in the south meant they were not always together. Louisa thought nothing had happened to lead to a falling out between them, but preventing Clara from marrying Charles had become something of an obsession for Caroline.