“Confirmed?”
“Yes, miss. A short note to London would settle the arrangements very quickly. If Mr. Bingley approves the house closing, he may also advise how he wishes the servants’ contracts to be handled.”
The implication was unmistakable.
Caroline sat very still.
Mrs. Nichols continued with mild composure.
“I would be happy to send the household requirements to Mr. Bingley by post this morning.”
For a moment, Caroline said nothing. At last she replied, with a thin smile, “That will not be necessary. You may write it, and I will take it with me tomorrow.”
“As you wish, miss.”
Mrs. Nichols curtsied and withdrew, already resolved that a note must be sent to Mr. Bingley directly.
Caroline remained at the table, her expression considerably less composed than before. The household, it seemed, had suddenly become very inconveniently attentive.
Mr. Darcy did not return. The clock advanced steadily toward eleven.
Caroline’s patience, which had been strained since the ball, began to give way entirely. She had intended to speak with him directly – to remind him of the advantages of returning to town, of Georgiana Darcy’s expected arrival, and of the superior society that awaited them there.
Instead, he appeared determined to bury himself among tenants and hedgerows.
Very well.
If Mr. Darcy chose to delay the conversation, she would not allow the day to be wasted.
She went to the parlour, sat at the writing desk, and unfolded a sheet of paper.
Miss Bennet must be informed.
The letter required little invention. Its substance had already been formed in Caroline’s mind since the evening of the ball. London would, of course, be mentioned immediately; the superior attractions of the capital could hardly be overstated. Georgiana Darcy’s arrival must also be introduced – a circumstance which made the journey not merely convenient but necessary.
Miss Bennet might feel some disappointment, certainly. Caroline was not entirely without compassion. But such country attachments, when removed from daily encouragement, seldom endured.
And Mr. Darcy – she was perfectly certain – would see the wisdom of the arrangement once it was presented to him properly. He had never shown any serious inclination toward the Bennet family beyond common civility.
Her pen moved swiftly across the page.
When the letter was finished, she sanded it with satisfaction and folded it neatly.
By the time Mr. Darcy returned from his excursion, everything would already be settled.
***
The house had grown unusually busy for so early an hour.
Darcy had only just returned from his walk with Mr. Harding, the estate manager, when he entered the side passage and heard voices near the servants’ staircase. One of them he recognised at once as his valet’s.
“…which is precisely what I cannot determine,” Fletcher was saying with quiet perplexity. “Mr. Darcy has given no instruction of the sort.”
Mrs. Nichols answered in her steady tone. “Nor has Mr. Bingley, which is the difficulty.”
Darcy paused. Packing? He stepped forward. “Mrs. Nichols? Fletcher?”
Both turned at once. Fletcher straightened immediately. “Mr. Darcy.”
