“What do you mean?” blurted his sister, a hint of fear appearing in her eyes.
“If you do not recall what you said moments ago, I shall remind you,” growled Bingley. “You suggested that Miss Bennet was no longer ‘a threat,’ as ridiculous as that statement sounds. You also insinuated that you kept her from me by some means. Tell me what you mean.”
“Oh, Charles,” said Caroline, “I only spoke of our success in persuading you against returning to Hertfordshire in the autumn.”
Caroline was adept at hiding her feelings. However, Bingley could hear the nervous quaver of her voice and could see the darted looks she directed at Louisa for support. Louisa was not Caroline’s equal for conniving, and her averted gaze told Bingley much.
“Caroline,” growled Bingley, “if you think you will mislead me with such obfuscation you must think me deficient. I heard what I heard. It is pointless to tell me otherwise. Now, what did you mean when you suggested you kept me from Miss Bennet?”
“No, Brother, I shall not speak further.” Caroline’s jaw hadthat mulish set that spoke to her intransigence. “There is no need to speak of that woman again, for you are well rid of her.”
“Caroline—” warned Bingley, his dander rising.
“I think that is enough.”
The voice surprised Bingley and caused his sisters to jump in alarm. From behind a sofa set to the side, Hurst rose from where he had been lying, regarding them all with some asperity. Or rather, Bingley supposed he regarded his wife and sister since he did not look at Bingley once.
“The time has come for you to tell your brother the truth.”
“W-What do you mean?” attempted Caroline.
Hurst looked at her with disgust. “You know precisely what I mean, Caroline. You are keeping secrets from him, secrets he has a right to know. Do you suppose your brother will appreciate you continuing to put your desires above his happiness?”
Rising from the sofa, Hurst rounded it and approached, his glare boring down pitilessly on the two women. “Now, Caroline. You will tell your brotherall.”
“I second the notion,” said Bingley. “Tell me what you did.”
No two reactions could have been more different, for while Louisa looked down at her clasped hands with shame, Caroline regarded Hurst with horror. It was the first time in many months that Bingley had seen such an emotion from his sister, for she appeared almost terrified to relinquish her secrets.
“Now, Caroline,” barked Hurst, provoking a flinch from his sister. “Ifyoudo not inform your brother of your machinations,Ishall.”
“What do you know of the matter?” demanded Caroline, finally showing a little spirit.
“That is a good question,” said Bingley, eyeing his brother. “I have never known you to involve yourself with Caroline’s intrigues.”
Hurst chuckled though mirthlessly. “No, I am not involved.But even after three years of marriage, your sisters do not remember to look to ensure that I am not in the room when they plot together.” With a gesture to the sofa he had recently occupied, he added: “It is situated there specifically because the sun shines in the window during the afternoon, rendering it a pleasant location for a nap. I know many things because they do not think to check the room before they set to plotting.”
While Louisa regarded her husband with astonishment, Caroline appeared a little green. Bingley could not help the barked laugh that escaped his lips—they should know Hurst well enough by now to apprehend that he often napped on that sofa. It was fortunate for Bingley that they had overlooked it, though he expected they would not make that mistake again.
It was a herculean task to induce Caroline to confess to what she had done. If Louisa had not been involved, they may have learned nothing, for his older sister did not possess nearly the stamina of the younger, nor was she so convinced of her infallibility as Caroline. In the end, however, they extracted the truth from her unwilling lips. If Bingley had thought himself angry before, it was nothing compared to the fury that roiled in his breast at the knowledge of what they had done to that sweet, unassuming young woman.
“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” snarled Bingley when he had the salient points. “Miss Bennet visited you inJanuary, five months ago now, and after you sent her away promising to visit, you waited three weeks before you returned the civility. Though you will not own to it, I suspect you did so deliberately, and when you were there, you ensured she understood you were severing the connection.
“Not only did you treat her in an infamous manner, but you also treated me as a boy unaware of what he wants in life. Am I some child you must guide by the hand? Do my opinions not matter in the face of your lust for riches and the adulation of themasses?”
“It was—”
Bingley leaned close to her, provoking her to jump back in alarm. “Donotsuggest it was for my good, Caroline.Idecide what is good for me, notyou. Your desires are not formygood, but for what you consideryours.”
Standing up straight again, Bingley regarded his sister, trying to see if she was at all sorry for what she had done. There was no such indication, for though she watched him warily, the set of her jaw spoke to her obstinate belief in the righteousness of her cause.
“Given your deception,” continued Bingley, “I cannot imagine this is all. To conceal Miss Bennet’s presence in town hides the potential that Darcy’s opinion of her was in error.”
“Or it may suggest her mercenary mother was not willing to allow you to escape,” spat his sister. “Or do you forget thatwoman’sbehavior?”
“I forget nothing,” retorted Bingley. “The fact remains that the responsibility to judge her motivations wasmine, and you denied me that opportunity. Given your dishonesty, I must question everything about this matter, for you have proven I cannot trust you. As I recall, you claimed you wrote Miss Bennet a letter, and that she responded. Is this also a lie?”
It was clear at once that Caroline had no intention of answering him, which was proof enough in Bingley’s mind.
