“Your brother was explicit in his directions, and in this instance, I find myself in agreement with him,” he replied blandly. “There is little for you in London, Caroline, and your only purpose in going would be to create trouble for Mr Darcy. Your brother told me of your ambition to marry that gentleman, and of the lady he has now married—a lady who, though above you in station, you have apparently disparaged with great constancy. No, there is no reason for you to go to London, and I have no intention of permitting it.”
“You have no right to permit or forbid me anything,” she insisted. “I am of age, and I am entitled to the use of my own funds.”
“After the payment of your lodgings and board, together with your maid’s wages, there is little remaining to you for this quarter. Enough, perhaps, for the coach, but not for the lodgings you would require once you arrived. Nor, as I understand it, have you any house in London where you may properly stay.”
“I shall stay at Claridge’s,” Caroline declared.
“You will stay nowhere,” her uncle returned, “except in the lodgings that have already been taken for you here in Scarborough.”
Try as she might, she could not persuade her uncle to permit her to go to town. She therefore spent the next several mornings writing letters to anyone she could think of who might be induced to listen, determined to disparage the new Mrs Darcy wherever she could. She wrote of Elizabeth’s hoydenish manners, her dreadful family, and every insinuation she thought likely to sink such a woman in Society.
It did not occur to her that the new Mrs Darcy might not be at all troubled by her reception in town. Nor did she suspect that her brother, having expected some such attempt, had already taken precautions against it. He had expressly instructed both her maid and her landlady to send any letters she wrote directly to him at Netherfield; and if any proved proper to be posted, he would see them senton himself.
It was an indignity Caroline would have felt most keenly, had she known of it. But as she would never condescend to step into a post office herself, and would always entrust such errands to a servant, she had placed every letter precisely where her brother had intended it to go.
Thirty-Two
Wednesday, 23 September 1812
Mr Bingley did come to dinner at Longbourn a few nights later. In the time between attending church on Sunday and fulfilling his engagement on Wednesday evening, he visited quite a few homes in Meryton, learning all the news there was to be learnt and making his apologies for his failure to take leave of his neighbours the previous November.
“Business kept me away longer than I had planned, and of course, my sisters felt it necessary to follow me to Town to keep me company,” he said more than once, with all the amiable regret he could command. “I have often reproached myself for not paying my respects before I quitted the country last autumn, and I do hope you will forgive me.”
“Oh, we all knew you must have had your reasons, Mr Bingley,” Mrs Philips assured him, though her expression suggested that she would very much like to know what those reasons had been. “Only, you must allow, it did seem very sudden. My poor niece was very disappointed at the loss of your company, and although she had thought Miss Bingley afriend, it seems she was not so much a friend as Jane once believed, given what my sister has said about that lady.”
Bingley coloured at the thinly veiled criticism of his sister, but answered with all possible civility. “Miss Bennet has always deserved admiration. My sister… well, my sister will remain in Scarborough at present while I do what I intended to do last autumn and learn how to manage this house properly.”
That reply, unfortunately, only increased the interest of his listeners, who peppered him with all manner of questions about his sisters, his intentions at Netherfield, and how long he meant to remain in the neighbourhood.
In the course of his visits, he heard not only all the gossip, but also every detail of the goings-on in Meryton. There were a few whispers related to his supposed jilting of Jane Bennet, though none quite so bold as Mrs Philips had been, but far more speculation concerned Lydia Bennet’s sudden removal from Brighton and the marriage between his friend and Elizabeth Bennet.
“No one will give a complete answer as to why Lydia Bennet was sent home in such haste,” one lady declared. “Only that she was in Brighton one week, staying with the colonel of the militia who had been encamped here last winter, back at Longbourn the next, and packed off to school before half the neighbourhood had seen her or even learnt she had returned. It was mentioned that she returned home so quickly for her sister’s wedding, but I think Mrs Bennet would have crowed about the wedding sooner had that been the case.”
“And Mrs Bennet said so little of the matter!” cried another. “That alone tells one something was amiss. I heard tell she took to her bed, although I suppose she cannot have been so very overcome, since Miss Elizabeth was married to Mr Darcy soon after. Mr Darcy would never have married into a family that was entirely ruined, so whatever Miss Lydia had done could not have been so bad as some suppose.”
“Surely the child was only in need of more discipline,” another said, though without muchconfidence.
Bingley was inclined to agree with her, recalling a little of how the youngest Miss Bennet had behaved at the ball he hosted at Netherfield. He had not paid it much attention at the time, but Caroline had had a great deal to say on the subject afterward.
“As you said,” the lady continued, “Mr Darcy would not have married Miss Lizzy if the family were quite ruined.”
“It was something terrible, I am certain of it!” Mrs Philips insisted, lowering her voice with evident relish. “Girls are not sent away from officers and assemblies for want of a governess’s scold. There was something amiss, you may depend upon it. Bad behaviour.”
Bingley hardly knew what answer to make to this, and was relieved when the subject shifted—though only briefly—to his friend’s marriage once again.
“Oh, and Miss Elizabeth and Mr Darcy married in such a small, intimate ceremony,” said another lady. “None of the pomp Mrs Bennet would have found necessary, I am sure. Miss Elizabeth went away with her aunt and uncle, and then before anyone could make sense of it, she was Mrs Darcy and gone again. Along with nearly all her sisters.”
“A very fortunate match,” another added. “Though some say it was made under most unusual circumstances.”
Bingley looked up sharply. “Unusual?”
“Oh, I mean no harm,” the lady replied, though she plainly meant a great deal of it. “Only that it was all very unexpected. First Miss Lydia is returned in something like disgrace, then Miss Elizabeth marries Mr Darcy, and no one can say precisely how either event came about. It is all very odd.”
Bingley was not sufficiently aware of all that had transpired after Darcy left Pemberley, nor what had happened to result in his hasty marriage to Miss Elizabeth. Nor did he wish to ask, for it seemed wise not to do so. He had known Darcy too long to believe him careless of honour, and he remembered Elizabeth Bennet too well to imagine her mercenary or scheming.
Therefore, he ignored such rumblings as best he could and merely said, “Darcy is my dearest friend, and I am very happy for him. Mrs Darcy is a woman of great intelligence and spirit. I can well understand his attachment. I saw them together at Pemberley, and it was plain enough that he held her in the highest regard.”
He was, perhaps, exaggerating a little, or at least speaking with more certainty than he possessed, but he would not allow strangers to question his friend’s honour if he could prevent it.
