“I—we—have done you a favour,” Miss Bingley asserted.
“What pray tell is that?” Bingley responded with cold steel in his voice.
“Louisa and I agree…” Miss Bingley was somewhat shocked when her older sister interjected.
“Caroline, this was all you,” Mrs. Hurst insisted. “You made the decision to close up the house, you did not tell me the truth, and it was you who said those unflattering things about Miss Bennet and the rest of her family. I simply listened to you.”
“Louisa, I cannot believe you would not support your own sister,” Miss Bingley screeched. She took a beat or two to calm herself. “It matters not, I know for a fact Miss Bennet and her family only saw you as a way to ensure when they are thrown out of that pitiful hovel in which they reside that your fortune would save them. Look at their connections! They wanted to align themselves with a superior level of society they would never reach on their own.”
“Did you at least take your leave of the Bennets? I had told them I would return in a few days after all,” Bingley queried.
“We did not have time to see them, but I did write a letter to Miss Bennet explaining we were decamping for Town,” Miss Bingley related.
“Did you know about this letter, Louisa, Hurst?” Bingley asked the couple on the divan.
“Until my wife told me we were departing, I was unaware of any of this,” Hurst stated.
“The first I heard of a letter Caroline wrote was when she informed you right now,” Mrs. Hurst averred. To herself, she said: ‘I hope this is not another lie, Caro. If you did write it, I pray you did not say anything which will redound on yourself.’
“So, you do not know if a letter was sent or not?” Bingley questioned his older sister.
“I do not,” Mrs. Hurst confirmed.
“I am telling the truth,” Miss Bingley insisted.
“You did not tell Louisa the truth, so why should I believe you sent the letter?” Bingley pushed. He was having fun, the letter was locked in his desk drawer, so he knew full well it had been sent.
“The footman I sent was one of the two who arrived back with the cart carrying the rest of our trunks,” Miss Bingley stated triumphantly. “Ask him if I had him deliver a missive to your precious Miss Bennet.”
“Which footman is it?” Bingley queried. He knew full well his sister would not be able to name the man.
“How am I supposed to know, he is a footman!” Miss Bingley returned in frustration. What did her brother care who the footman was.
Bingley rang for his butler and asked him to verify with the two footmen who had returned with the cart if Miss Bingley had sent one of them to deliver a note to Longbourn that morning. Not too many minutes later, the butler returned and nodded his head to the master.
“At least we know you were truthful in that. What did you tell her about why we had departed after my saying I would return?” Bingley demanded.
“I conveyed your best regards to Miss Bennet and told her we knew not when you would return to the neighbourhood, but I was sure you would return at some point,” Miss Bingley dissembled.
“If that is what you told her, then I wonder what she will make of your having closed the house,” Bingley asserted.
Mrs. Hurst did not miss how her sister’s face blanched. She had obviously lied about the contents of the letter and had been caught out. It was almost as if Charles knew what the letter contained already…no, that was impossible, was it not?
She was sure her brother was about to trap Caroline in another lie. Louisa was rather surprised when he changed the subject.
“So, what makes you think Miss Bennet is after my fortune?” Bingley asked calmly.
“Surely you know they have none of their own? They have but one thousand each, and that is only when that crass woman who is their mother dies,” Miss Bingley sneered. “The estate is entailed and they will be turned out as soon as the father is in his grave. Without you or some other rich fool, they will be living in poverty.”
“Louisa, Hurst, from the time she visited Netherfield Park when Miss Bennet was ill, did you notice Mrs. Bennet behave with anything but propriety and decorum?” Bingley looked at the couple on the divan. Both agreed they had not. “Were we not informed at the ball the heir is to marry the middle Bennet sister, Miss Mary?” The Hursts nodded. He looked back at his squirming younger sister. “Why would you think they would be turned out of their home when Mr. Bennet goes to his eternal reward? It seems to me their future is secured.”
Miss Bingley was flummoxed; she knew not how to answer. This was not going the way she determined it would. “Even if I have been abandoned by my traitorous sister,” Miss Bingley shot her older sister a venomous look, “at least wait for Mr. Darcy to share his opinions on Monday. Have you not told us many times how he never gives you bad advice?”
As he very much wanted to hear what Darcy had to say, it was no hardship to agree with his sister’s suggestion. The butler announced dinner. There was no more talk—much to Miss Bingley’s pleasure—of the Bennets or Hertfordshire for the rest of the night.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Dinner at Matlock House had not been enjoyable; the food had tasted like ash in his mouth. Darcy’s guilt was tormenting him. He had been poor company which had prompted him to cry off soon after dinner telling them he was tired from a long day which included travelling.
