“Well,” Mr. Bingley interrupted, “you must be tired, Caroline, after your long trip. Perhaps you would like to freshen up?”
“Yes,” Lady Charmane remarked, “I always have an extra guest room ready. Mr. Lombart can see you to your room. Please, follow him.”
Nose in the air, Miss Bingley did as requested with an impressive sway of her shoulders, the room silent as they watched her leave.
“Lady Charmane,” Mr. Bingley began apologetically, her hand raising as she silenced him.
“As I said, I always have an extra guest room ready.” Turning to the three sisters she viewed them with a smile. “You all look as if you have had a grand time out of doors. Come, warm yourselves by the fire and I shall send for chocolate–all that vim and vigor deserves a hearty treat. If you would excuse me however, there are a few things I must attend to. I shall see you all at supper.”
“Lady Charmane,” Elizabeth hurried, the woman moving toward the door as if seeking escape. “Perhaps we could speak before or after supper in private?”
“Pardon me, I am late already. Do enjoy your chocolate!”
And with that Lady Charmane left the room, Elizabeth and her sisters no closer to their answers as to why they had been invited or how she and their mother had known one another.
Sitting herself by the fire, Elizabeth frowned, the dancing flames giving no satisfaction save warmth–her questions as busy swirling about as the sparks. Yet, as Mr. Bingley sought to apologize for his sister’s unexpected appearance without admitting that she had been as bold as to come uninvited, the observation of his odd attempts at courting Jane pushed her questions to the side.Right now, all that mattered was Jane and Mary and their time together... because in a few weeks, nothing might be the same.
As the chocolate arrived and the warm vessel placed in her hands, Elizabeth leaned back, sipping it as she enjoyed the company and warmth.
Would that their sisters could be with them and time stand still.
If only for a little while.
Chapter 17
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 5
“Darcy, Fitz,” Bingley announced happily as they entered the room, “come… It happened that my sister Caroline found herself in the area and thought to bring me some papers I might need. She will be happy to meet you, Darcy, I am sure. Here, Caroline, this is Mr. Darcy, the friend I have told you about. Darcy, this is my sister. Odd numbers at dinner I am afraid.”
“A pleasure,” Darcy bowed, his gaze taking in the excessively trimmed lady.
In the jaw, perhaps the brows, there were some familial signs between her and Bingley. Beyond that? Very little. And her displeased expression only heightened their differences… if that countenance proved permanent it would be a sorry turn. As Bingley’s friend he would be expected to spend time in her company; and thus far that did not feel an agreeable prospect.
“Mr. Darcy,” she answered at last, her face twisting as if he were a weed in her flower garden. “My brother has told me much about you.” Turning to the Colonel as if Darcy did not exist, she greeted him briefly before wandering the room in search of someone else to talk to.
“Forgive me,” Bingley whispered to his friends, “she can be rather rude at times.”
“It is not you who needs our forgiveness,” Fitz remarked, his expression a mingle of amusement and anger. “Though I cannot argue the latter point you made.”
With a chuckle and a sad shake of his head Bingley answered, “I would not have expected you to… I fear what her being here may bring about. Imposing on our host is bad enough, but she was not exactly welcoming to Miss Bennet or her sisters. Can you believe she managed that rudeness in the single minute they were in the same room?”
“As bad as all that,” Fitz laughed. “Well, we shall have to do our best to find occupation for your sister away from us and the Bennets. Who here would be of… interest… to your sister?”
“Darcy?” Bingley asked.
“I fear I do not know your sister well enough in these few minutes to give my opinion.”
“She would have us rise in society,” Bingley said simply. “Her passions are for titles. Money. And she excels at pretension… Though I am rather surprised she did not set her cap at you, Darcy, with your wealth.”
“Does she have nothing to recommend her?” Fitz questioned as he tactfully ignored Bingley’s musings.
“Wealth,” Bingley answered. “That is the ‘accomplishment’ she is most proud of. Besides that, she is well educated. She went to the best schools which would allow the trade class in; she learnt French and enough Latin to appear genteel; a little singing and a moderate understanding of the pianoforte; some literature; and all of the accomplishments expected in embroidery and running a household. No. She has fine skills and much to recommend her… but she has too much self-importance, and too little kindness.”
“A pity. Was she always thus?” Darcy inquired as he glanced to see who had entered, the three Bennet sisters lovely in the candlelight.
“No. Well, not so greatly. School began to change her… then with the death of our father, the spark of sympathy and gentleness died out, leaving a stranger in my sister’s place.”
“I am sorry,” Darcy whispered as the three Bennet sisters joined their party. “For you and for her.”
