“You paid far too much attention to Miss Bennet; you are giving rise to expectations.”
“Good; that is exactly what I hope to do,” Mr. Bingley replied, cutting into his ham with considerable force.
“What? You cannot possibly mean that!”
“Why can I not? She is beautiful, kind, well-mannered, gentle – everything I admire in a woman.”
“But the Bennets are of no importance whatever!”
“They are the first family in the neighbourhood, Caroline.”
“In an insignificant country neighbourhood, yes! But have they a house in Town? No. Have they connections of any sort? No. Have they –“
Her brother interrupted her. “I have no interest in any of that, Caroline.”
“Do you realise that such a union will do nothing whatever to enhance my own chances at a good marriage, Charles?!”
“Caroline.” Mr. Bingley’s voice was now severe, as he laid down his knife and fork. “Doyourealise that I do not care in the slightest?”
Miss Bingley gasped. “You do not care about my marriage opportunities?”
“Enough to risk my own happiness? No.” Mr. Bingley glanced at the Hursts; his meaning was clear enough. Lousia Bingley had married Harold Hurst because of his position in society; his father owned a large estate in Suffolk. He had married her for her dowry. That the Hurst union was not a particularly happy one was no secret. Mr. Bingley continued, “My main purpose in matrimony is to secure the happiness of myself and my wife, and nothing more.”
Mr. Darcy, hesitant to interrupt a family squabble but thinking to support his friend, broke in. “I applaud you, Bingley.”
Miss Bingley threw a poisonous look at Mr. Darcy. “Easy enough for you to saynow, Mr. Darcy.” Her tone was equally poisonous.
“Meaning?” Mr. Darcy enquired.
“My meaning is clear enough, I think. Now that you and your sister have lost your opportunities to make important marriages, you claim that happiness in marriage is paramount. Would you have said so three months ago, I wonder?”
Everyone at the table gasped in horror. Georgiana burst into tears, threw her napkin onto the table and ran out of the room.
Mr. Darcy stared at Miss Bingley; she turned red, clearly regretting her outburst. “No, Miss Bingley,” he said, at last. “I would not have said so three months ago.” Then he murmured, as if to himself. “Another silver lining.” He rose from his chair and followed his sister from the room.
“Caroline, I cannot believe what just happened at my breakfast table,” Mr. Bingley declared. “I think you not fit for company, and would prefer that you remain in your room until we decide what is to be done with you.”
Miss Bingley immediately replied. “You cannot do that, Charles.”
“I am the master of Netherfield,” her brother declared, with unusual forcefulness. “I can absolutely do that. Go upstairs, Caroline, and contemplate your behaviour. I will have trays sent up to you.”
Miss Bingley stood up in a fury; her chair fell over behind her, but no one moved. “You – you – “ She could think of nothing to say that would adequately convey her fury, so she finally screamed and then ran out of the room.
A footman stepped forward and righted Caroline’s chair. No one spoke. Finally, Mr. Hurst said, “”Well done, Bingley. Is there more coffee?”
***
Mr. Darcy knocked on Georgiana’s door. “Georgiana, I must speak with you.”
The door opened. Georgiana’s eyes were red, her cheeks tear-streaked. “Is it true that you cannot make a good marriage because of me?”
“No, of course not.” He hoped that she would believe him.
“But I know that your reputation will suffer because of that newspaper! Will it not?”
“Georgiana, it does not matter.”
“Of course it does! We are expected to make good marriages! I knew that I had lost my chance, but now everyone knows that you lost your chance as well!”
