Despite the chiding words, her tone was mild. Undeterred, Caroline plunged onwards, lest Georgiana become so absorbed again that she forgot her guest existed. “Do you know if your brother intends to pack any books to take with him?”
“On his first trip alone with his new wife?” Georgiana’s eyebrows rose until they almost disappeared into her hair. “Why, I have no idea. They will be busy touring England and... er... Well.” She cleared her throat, a pink tinge blooming on her cheeks. “I hardly think they will be doing much reading.”
Caroline turned back to face the fire, repressing a sudden urge to hurlThe Mysteries ofUdolphointo the flames; Emily and Valancourt and their ridiculous obsession with sunsets could burn in hell for all she cared. “I have no doubt they will be reading plenty, for Miss Elizabeth Bennet loves a good book, does she not?” Despite her best efforts, the words came out rather bitter. “I seem to recall a certain conversation in which she made plain that she felt her fondness for reading made her very superior to—”
“If you are so concerned about my brother’s literary habits, then why don’t you ask him about them tonight?”
Startled, Caroline spun so fast, the book almost slipped from her fingers. “They are coming here? Tonight?” she exclaimed. “Why did you not tell me?”
“Theyare not,” she corrected. “Only Fitzwilliam is returninghome to Pemberley. I received his letter this morning, but he was clear that—”
“I have not heard any news from Charles on the matter,” Caroline interrupted.
Her brother was married to Jane, the eldest Bennet—Elizabeth’s older sister and the only Bennet whose company Caroline could tolerate for more than a single minute. Charles was not the world’s most constant letter-writer, but he ought to have updated her on his plans.
“As I said, only my brother is coming home,” Georgiana repeated patiently. “I believe Charles plans to stay with the ladies at Netherfield, so that they may spend a last week or two with their parents before the party rejoins Fitzwilliam at Birmingham, whereupon both couples will travel together to Bath for several weeks. At least, that is the plan at present, as far as I know.”
Whenever Caroline thought about Mrs Bennet—which was thankfully not often—she couldn’t help a shudder of revulsion. It was bad enough that poor, sweet Jane was saddled with dreadful sisters, but to have an ill-tempered old goat of a mother was really too bad.What are the other sisters called? Catty? Libia?She frowned, trying to remember.Something like that.And then there was the short, serious one who played the pianoforte well enough but had all the social graces of a half-cooked goose. Really, in comparison, Miss Elizabeth Bennet seemed almost desirable company.
Almost.
“Charles puts up with such ridiculous things, does he not?” she said, unable to help the note of sourness which infused her voice. “Sometimes I wonder about him.”
“Some people,” Miss Darcy said, the book rising from herlap as slowly and steadily as a sunrise, to take up residence once again directly in front of her face, “occasionally put themselves in situations of varying degrees of discomfort for the sake of others whom they love.” The book lowered only slightly, just enough for Caroline to see beautiful dark eyes narrowed in exasperation. “As you will see tonight, when I will no doubt be called on to entertain an entire party when I have not the least desire to do any such thing.”
Caroline was no longer listening. She tossed the book onto the nearest table—no point returning this one to a shelf when she had no idea which section it had come from in the first place—and stood up. “How large a party? And what on earth for?”
“Merely a few select friends, who wanted to wish my brother congratulations on his marriage.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful.Now she was going to have to spend an entire evening hearing every single detail about the Bennet sisters and their recent felicities. “Could they not have written letters?”
“One would think you disliked parties almost as much as I.”
“I merely...” Caroline hesitated, but there was no real explanation she could give which did not invite either further questioning or reveal some vulnerability which she was not prepared to do at any time of day but certainly not before lunchtime. “Well, I suppose I ought to go and get myself ready.”
“For tonight?” Georgiana glanced at the clock. “The party is not for another six hours.”
“One can never be too prepared, my dear,” Caroline declared, before sweeping out of the room.
