“For what?” he asked, still good-humoured, though less at ease.
“For your happiness,” said Caroline. “And for your prudence.”
Bingley’s smile faded slightly. “I do not know that the two are at variance.”
“They may be,” she returned, “when one is too easily satisfied.”
He regarded her more steadily now. “You speak in riddles.”
“Then I shall be plain.” She drew nearer. “Before you left Hertfordshire, your attentions were… very particular.”
Bingley coloured faintly. “I admire Miss Bennet. I do not deny it. She is a very pleasant young woman.”
There was a brief pause.
“But she is pleasant to everyone.”
The words, lightly spoken, did not at once strike.
Bingley hesitated. “She is… naturally amiable.”
“Exactly so. Amiable. Gentle. Always the same.” Caroline’s tone softened – almost persuasive now. “Tell me, Charles… how are you to distinguish?”
He frowned slightly. “Distinguish what?”
“Whether her regard for you is of any particular nature.”
Mrs. Hurst added, more quietly, “Jane Bennet would never encourage a man improperly, but neither would she discourage him.”
Caroline continued, watching him closely. “She smiles, she listens, she receives attention with perfect sweetness. What if she is instructed by her mother?” She paused, then added with delicate emphasis, “You have seen her.”
Bingley said nothing.
The doubt had found its place.
“You may admire her,” Caroline went on, “but admiration is not enough to secure happiness. You must be certain – quite certain – that she returns your feelings. She can offer little beyond it.”
“I believed…” he began, then stopped.
“Believed?” Caroline repeated gently.
He turned away a little. “I thought her partial to me.”
“She may be,” said Caroline. “In her way.”
“In her way?”
“A very general way.”
Silence fell.
Caroline saw that she had struck home and pressed further. “And then there is another consideration.”
Bingley looked up again.
“You must think of your situation.”
“My situation?”
