I thought you might wish to visit us for Christmas. Our acquaintance here in Meryton are not numerous, but we are likely to be invited to more than one event and you would be quite welcome to join us.
There, would that not sound appealing to an old woman living alone?
I hope you will come to us here at Netherfield.
Your affectionate nephew,
Charles Bingley
Mr. Bingley made a fair copy of the letter, then wiped his brow, wiped his pen, and sanded his message.
***
Less than a week later, Mr. Bingley received a reply.
Dear Charles,
I would very much enjoy a visit to the country. You may expect me in time for Christmas; it will be a rare treat to spend the holiday with family.
Aunt Beatrice
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aunt Beatrice arrived as she had promised. Mrs. Hurst showed her to an elegant room in the family wing, and told her that she had but to ask for anything she might require, and it would be provided at once.
“You are serving as mistress here, Louisa? Good, good. I could not imagine Caroline doing so.”
Mrs. Hurst bit her lip, but could not help asking. “Why is that, Aunt?”
“Why, she thinks of no one’s comfort but her own! No need to look sour, Louisa, you know it is true.”
Mrs. Hurst could not think of anything to say that was both kind and true, so she simply said, “Tea will be ready downstairs in twenty minutes’ time; does that suit you?”
“Quite well, thank you.”
Mrs. Armstrong came downstairs in exactly twenty minutes and was given the prized seat nearest the fire. She enquired after everyone’s health, thanked her nephew heartily for the invitation, and then peered around the room in some puzzlement. “I do not see Caroline. Is she not well?”
“She is – she is not feeling quite the thing, Aunt, and thought it better should she see you again when she is more herself.”
That subterfuge was used for the remainder of that day and the start of the next day, but by the next afternoon, Mrs. Armstrong demanded to know just what was going on. For, she added, “I may be old, but I have never been, nor am I now, particularly stupid.”
The whole thing then had to be explained to her – Caroline’s rudeness, Mr. Bennet’s ultimatum, Caroline’s tantrum that resulted in her voluntarily confining herself to her room. Mrs. Armstrong listened in silence. At the end of the tale, she shook her head and said, “So that is why I was invited here for the holidays, is it? To take her to Scarborough with me?”
She pursed her lips as Mr. Bingley, stammering, sought to explain that no, he had very much wanted to see his aunt. When he fell silent, she pursed her lips and said, “For the sake of family harmony, I will accept your explanation. But why on earth would I invite this – this harridan! – into my peaceful establishment?”
For this, Mr. Bingley had a ready answer, one which had come to him late one night after more than on brandy. “I am aware, dear Aunt, that your husband left you in somewhat straitenedcircumstances. Caroline would, of course, contribute to your household expenses.”
Everyone in the household held their breath, waiting to see if Mrs. Armstrong would take this monetary bait. After a long minute, she began to laugh, saying, “Well, Charles, I see that you are not particularly stupid either. For you have hit upon the one thing that would tempt me to accept your proposal! I have turned down your generous offers of charity in the past, as you know, but this would not be not charity, as that money would be well-earned as well as hard-earned. Now tell me how you propose to get her to accept her new situation? Or do you plan to simply tie her up and toss her into my carriage when I depart?”
Mr. Bingley, to whom this comment had been addressed, looked abashed. “I hardly know, Aunt. In truth, she may refuse to go, in which case she will have to go to London and live on her own.”
Mrs. Armstrong shook her head. “That will not look good, Charles, particularly if you open Bingley House when you next visit Town and she is not part of your household. No, far better that she should come to Scarborough, though it will not be entirely pleasant for either Caroline or myself. Does she know that I am here?”
Mrs. Hurst answered, “She does, yes. She summons me to her room periodically to tell me how dreadful her situation is; then she asks for the news of the household.”
“You do not succumb to her importuning, I hope?”
Mr. Hurst said, quickly, “She does not, for I accompany her on these visits.”
