“Mrs. Hurst, please allow me to be frank. Jane has suffered since your party’s departure from Netherfield. I would not wish to see my sister hurt again.”
Mrs. Hurst’s softening features were still a surprise to Elizabeth, even with this woman’s behavior that day. “Then sheisin love with Charles.”
“I shall make no such claim,” replied Elizabeth. “However, I will say that Janehastold me that she considers Mr. Bingley the most agreeable man of her acquaintance.
“But it was not only the abandonment,” continued Elizabeth quietly. “It was the humiliation of being the target of the neighborhood’s sympathy for blasted hopes. It was the thought that Mr. Bingley did not care for her when he gave every impression of admiration.”
The compassion from Mrs. Hurst was unmistakable. She turned to Elizabeth and touched her arm, displaying a concern that Elizabeth could not remember the woman ever showing.
“Let me assure you, Miss Elizabeth, that I have no intention of allowing my brother to hurt your sister. You may not credit it, but I respect your sister very much, and I know Charles does as well.”
She squeezed Elizabeth’s arm and turned away, pulling on her gloves. “If you do not believe me now, I hope you will at least allow me to prove myself in the coming days.”
“So long as it does not lead to further heartbreak for my sister, I shall offer that chance.”
“Then we are agreed,” said Mrs. Hurst, saying nothing further. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe the carriage is ready.”
Elizabeth assented and allowed the woman to depart. Before the door closed behind her, however, Mrs. Hurst cast one more look at Elizabeth.
“I cannot promise what will happen, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Hurst, “but I believe all will be well.”
“That is all I can ask,” replied Elizabeth.
When the woman departed, Elizabeth turned and, not wishing to return to the chaos of the sitting-room, turned her steps toward the stairs and her bedchamber. Before she couldreach them, Jane stepped out from the hall and regarded Elizabeth, a mix of curiosity and knowing in her eyes.
“Lizzy. Mrs. Hurst has departed?”
“She has,” agreed Elizabeth, knowing her sister had seen something of her purpose.
Jane regarded her, appearing contemplative. “Have you said what you wished to say?”
“Let us simply say that Mrs. Hurst and I understand each other.”
With a nod, Jane turned toward the stairs with an obvious invitation for Elizabeth to join her. “You must tell me what you spoke of, Lizzy, for I am most interested to hear it.”
“And you suppose that I will share?” teased Elizabeth.
“If I pester you enough,” replied Jane.
Their laughter echoing through the house, they climbed the stairs to Elizabeth’s room, already deep in conversation. Elizabeth was not certain what she should share with her sister, but she thought she could appease Jane for the moment. The next days would prove whether Mrs. Hurst was in earnest. Though she could not have imagined it before that morning, Elizabeth was almost convinced that the woman was more of a friend to her brother’s interest in Jane than she could ever have supposed.
AS THE CARRIAGE ROLLEDthrough the northern end of Meryton before reaching the road to Netherfield, Louisa Hurst looked out the window at the town. Caroline had decried it as insufficient, but Louisa had never seen it as anything other than a small market town, one not unlike any other such place. Of course, Louisa had not missed what Caroline had not said, that the neighborhood was not suitable to a womanof her quality. Caroline was conceited in that way.
Louisa shook her head at the memory of her sister’s more blatant vanity. Caroline was unrecognizable from the young girl she had been. Louisa could remember a happy, carefree Caroline, one who had laughed and played with Louisa as girls. The woman she was now was all haughtiness, ambition, and covetous lust for position, wealth, and the adulation of society.
Unfortunately for Caroline, Louisa understood what her sister ignored. No matter how high Caroline climbed, whether she married Mr. Darcy or a peer, she would always be the daughter of a tradesman and, therefore, unacceptable to many in society. She might become a duke’s wife, but she would never achieve the full measure of respect such a position would entail for a woman of “proper” breeding.
Whereas Caroline dreamed of wealth and advancement, Louisa contented herself with those things that brought her happiness—good friends, a privileged life, and marriage to a man who, though he had his faults, appreciated her for herself. Louisa hoped to get her sister back one day; not the innocent girl she had been, but a woman who valued those things that brought happiness in life.
“Louisa,” rumbled Gerald, drawing her attention to him.
“Yes, Gerald?” asked she, though she understood what he wished to say.
He eyed her for a moment, then reached out and grasped her hand, a show of affection more treasured because it was rare. Not an emotional or demonstrative man, most thought him indifferent or focused on his concerns. That was in part the truth, but not everything. Gerald did not show it often, but he was a caring man, often putting her concerns before his own.
“I hope you will not blame me if I express the hope that you know what you are doing.”
“And you do not think I do?” asked Louisa, arching an eyebrow at him.
