Mr. Hurst pushed the door open and allowed his wife to precede him into the room. Caroline wasted no time; she went to her sister and knelt before her. “You must help me, Louisa!”
Louisa was quite uncomfortable. Caroline had never before been a supplicant; she had always issued demands, not pleas. But she managed to reply, “In what way?”
“Do not let our brother send me away from you, Louisa! However shall I manage without you?”
Louisa looked at her husband. “Harold, might we not open the London townhouse and have Caroline live with us?”
“Certainly not.”
“But why?” Caroline turned her attention from her sister to her brother by marriage. “Harold, it would be such fun for us all to be together in London, would it not?”
“No, Caroline, it would not. Moreover, I sincerely hope to never again allow you unfettered access to my wife.”
“She is my sister!”
“I believe this conversation is over. Come, Louisa.” Mr. Hurst extended a hand to his wife, and he led her out the door, closing it firmly behind them. Before they took even one step away, they heard Miss Bingley scream in frustration.
“She is rather accustomed to getting her own way,” Mrs. Hurst ventured.
“Yes, and for far too long.”
Going downstairs, they found Mr. Bingley in the drawing room, his head buried in his hands.
“Charles! Are you unwell?”
“Louisa, I have been blind.” He then recounted the conversation he had just had with Mr. Bennet. He concluded with, “What am I to do with her? For I know she will end up making no choice at all and force me to hire guards to send her north. And then what if Aunt Beatrice will not have her?”
It was Mrs. Hurst who supplied the answer. “Write to Aunt Beatrice and ask her to come for a visit to Netherfield; then she and Caroline can travel to Scarborough together.” She turned then to her husband. “Caroline is my sister, and no matter her faults, I love her! But it is quite clear that she is not conducive to peace in the family.”
Mr. Hurst wrinkled up his brow in thought. “I recall that your Aunt Beatrice attended our wedding, did she not, Louisa?”
“She did; she married a Mr. Armstrong, but he died not five years later. They had no children.”
“Will she truly be willing to take Caroline into her home?” Mr. Hurst wondered.
“We will find a way to convince her; but having her spend Christmas with us is likely to make her a good deal more likely to do so,” Mrs. Hurst said. “She will be reminded that we are all family, will she not?”
“I shall write to her directly,” Mr. Bingley promised.
***
Dear Aunt Beatrice,
It has been far too long since we have seen you. I hope that you are well, as are we. I have recently leased an estate in the county of Hertfordshire; you will recall that it was the dearest wish of my father – your brother - that I should purchase an estate, and this lease gives me the opportunity to see how I like it.
Mr. Bingley tapped the quill against the desk, thinking of how he might continue.
I am engaged to be married, and my youngest sister and my betrothed cannot live together –
No, that made it sound as if angelic Jane was a termagant! He crossed it out.
I am engaged to be married, and I would like it very much if you, as my father’s sister, were to meet my intended bride.
There, that was good.
Our circle here in Meryton is rather limited, and Caroline would do better in a larger city.
Perhaps he should wait until his aunt was actually here, and then try to convince her to take Caroline. He crossed that line out.
