Page 10 of The Work of a Moment

He looked at her oddly. “I met her once when she was a child of six or seven. She was quite shy and clung to her brother. Darcy was devoted to her then, and I would think even more so after they lost their father and had only each other.”

“Mr Darcy is a very good brother,” interjected Jane. “I recall he spoke of his sister with great fondness.”

“If only elder brothers could speak fondly of younger brothers, but we are less inclined to sit on laps and heed their wisdom.” Captain Catesby chuckled.

“And far more inclined towards mud and mischief,” Mr Catesby replied.

“Well, that was Lizzy as well.”

Jane’s joke lightened the atmosphere, and the remaining minutes of the visit passed pleasantly.

Later that evening, cosily ensconced in their shared bed, Jane questioned her sister. “Why did you speak so familiarly of Miss Darcy and press Mr Catesby with so many questions about the Darcys?”

“Did I? I did not mean to. I was, I suppose, shocked to find we had an acquaintance in common, which led to curiosity about Miss Darcy.” Elizabeth was grateful she had blown out the room’s single candle moments before. But much as the darkness hid signs of her embarrassment, it encouraged Jane to be bolder in her speech.

“You were surprised Mr Catesby had only praise for Mr Darcy’s care for his family and friends.”

“Your Mr Catesby is a man of great benevolence. He would not disparage anyone.”

Elizabeth’s hopes of steering the conversation to the topic of her own feelings about Mr Catesby failed. Instead, Jane pressed her point more directly.

“Lizzy, do you recall how Mr Wickham spoke freely and disparagingly of Mr Darcy? It was poorly done, and I pray you will give heed to the opinions of friends, new and old, when you consider the character of a mutual acquaintance.”

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame. She had thought as poorly of Mr Wickham’s behaviour as she had of that exhibited by Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley. Of Mr Bingley, she thought even less. Still, Mr Darcy wore no halo. If he knew Mr Bingley was wicked yet remained his friend and wished to make him his brother, he was a terrible man. If he did not know, he was far stupider than she had believed. Neither alternative was good, especially for his poor sister.

How good it would be to go to Kent, enjoy the company of her friend Charlotte, and think nothing more of either man!

CHAPTER 9

Stupid Girl

Much as Caroline Bingley was relieved to be back in London after enduring an endlessly dull visit to her widowed aunt in Scarborough, she was frustrated by society’s lack of reciprocity. It had always been vexing to be as clever and knowledgeable as she was and overlooked for invitations to the best balls or calls from those dwelling in the finest houses. However, something had changed this morning. Half a dozen cards and invitations had arrived in the morning’s post, and the terribly rich Beatrix Asgill, whose sister was engaged to the second-handsomest man in England, was sipping tea in the small morning parlour in Hurst’s town house.

“I am glad to be returned from the country,” confided Caroline. “When my brother arrives in town, we shall send a card to Darcy House. How I miss dear Miss Darcy.”

Miss Asgill leant forwards to set her cup on the table, her luxurious blonde curls hidden under a dreadfully plain bonnet. “I understand she is to be your future sister.”

A thrill shot through Caroline. Was she the subject of speculation? Had Mr Darcy spoken to a friend of his feelings for her? Had he spoken to Charles? With what she imagined to be a pretty blush and coy smile, she replied, “A lovely prospect, is it not? Mr Darcy has long been a dear friend, but he is discreet on all things, particularly any partiality he may feel towards…” Taking a breath, mindful that giddiness was unbecoming in a lady, she added, “Pray there has not been loose talk of an alliance.”

“There is always hopeful chatter about Mr Darcy forming a lasting attachment, but he has disappointed many ladies—and their mothers and fathers—and seems bent on continuing to do so.” Miss Asgill glanced at her slyly. “His friends seem happy to find wives, though. I understand your brother has secured his blessing to marry Miss Darcy. She is full young. Will she not have a Season first?”

The warm thrumming Caroline had felt moments earlier fled, replaced by cold shock. “What did you say? Charles and Miss Darcy?”

“Well, yes. My sister heard it mentioned two nights ago when she dined with Lady Kenton, whose niece, Mrs Dallish, had been of late in company with a lady who spoke of it.”

Confused, Caroline leant closer. “Dallish, you say? From whom did she hear such a thing?”

Miss Asgill looked at her strangely. “From the young lady to whom you wrote of it.”

“I-I…”

She was not foolish enough to put pen to paper and write that Charles was engaged to Miss Darcy! No, she had done no such thing! No, most of her recent letters had been to her cousin in Manchester and a school friend newly settled with her husband in Norfolk. Perhaps Louisa wrote something⁠—?

Oh. Oh.

Miss Bennet. That stupid girl, so desperate to ensnare Charles! My letter was a drastic measure to put her off, and she is a fool for sharing it. Of course—it must have been her vulgar mother, incapable of understanding wit, who seized on what she thought a prime tit-bit. That inveterate gossip must be responsible for— But how could it have been shared in town?

Caroline blinked. How did a dim country girl like Miss Bennet know the sister of Lady Kenton?