Gerald shrugged—Louisa knew he agreed with her. As her husband set little stock in excessive civility, he might have made the same point himself. Only two months ago, Louisa would not have made that point—the thought might not even have crossed her mind.
“It has, I think, damaged our position in society.”
This time it was her husband’s turn to consider what she had said. “That is likely the truth, though perhaps especially among the higher sets. Those of lower standing do not look down on ambition, though they may do so if it upsets their own. The higher sets would not appreciate an upstart trying to rise above her station.”
“It is not irreparable,” asserted Louisa. “Should Caroline set her sights on a more realistic match, I think she can find a husband. There are enough benefits to her situation for the right man.”
“That is true.” Gerald pondered her for a moment. “Do you regret it?”
“Only that I did not act sooner.”
In time, the tête-à-tête ended, and Charles drifted toward the fireplace to stack more wood on flames that had burned low. The glances that Caroline directed at Louisa suggested a wish to speak, and as Gerald noticed them too, he rose and crossed to Charles. Soon they were speaking in low tones, leaving Louisa alone with her sister.
“Are you satisfied?”
As openings went, it was as cold as Louisa expected, and blunt enough to encapsulate Caroline’s peremptory manner perfectly. Though the past years of Caroline assuming she was in control of the family flashed before Louisa’s eyes, it did not bother her at all. Caroline had not yet acknowledged it, but her time of insisting and getting no resistance was at an end.
“Perhaps I am,” Louisa said, keeping her temper in check. Caroline’s expression darkened, but she took no notice. “I am satisfied that Charles will follow his heart. If you think about it, that is all that matters.”
Caroline glared at her. “She will be an impediment in society.”
Louisa’s amused snort came of its own accord. “In what way, Caroline? Jane is so sweet and obliging and incapable of giving offense that I cannot imagine how she could possibly embarrass us.”
“You know what I mean,” snapped Caroline.
“I do not,” said Louisa. “Perhaps you should explain.”
Though her mouth worked, the muscles bunching in her jaw and temples, Caroline did not pursue the subject.
“You have betrayed me, Louisa. Not only did you call Charles back to Hertfordshire, but you encouraged Mr. Darcy and Miss Eliza, and you waited to do all this until I was engaged elsewhere.”
That was nothing less than the truth, and Louisa had no desire to protest otherwise. The timing of her return to Netherfield had been calculated so that Caroline could not interfere.
“Perhaps it was beneath me,” said Louisa, “but I cannot repine my actions. I offer my apologies in advance, Caroline, but had you been present, you would have done whatever you could to interfere.”
Caroline’s stony expression did not alter a jot. “It is hard to listen to a beloved sister explain her betrayal.”
“What if I do not consider it a betrayal?”
“Dress it up however you like,” growled Caroline. “I know the truth.”
Louisa sighed, becoming weary with the conversation. Gerald, she could see, was watching them, expecting Caroline’s poor behavior—it was not an unreasonable assumption. Yet Louisa knew she could handle her sister, could prevent her from doing something she should not. Now that events had proven her strength, Louisa knew she had always had it. Unfortunate though it was, she now knew that it had always been easier to appease Caroline—Louisa would not make that mistake again.
“Caroline, I apologize in advance, but this must be said. These past years a certain lust for advancement in society has crept into our characters.”
Louisa paused to allow her sister to consider it—that Caroline understand what she was saying was essential. When Caroline stared at her, unblinking, Louisa spoke again.
“I have not spoken amiss—that defect has appeared inbothour characters. It is not your burden alone.”
“Is it so wrong to wish for something more?” demanded Caroline. “Do you suppose we should forever be content with less than is our due?”
Louisa shook her head with exasperation. “Listen to yourself, Caroline. ‘Less thanour due’? What exactlyisour due?”
When Caroline did not answer at once, Louisa knew she had penetrated the web of self-importance and entitlement with which her sister had wrapped herself. For the first time, she had some hope that she could induce Caroline to see sense.
“The truth is that we are due nothing,” said Louisa reasonably. “We are who we are, and cannot become someone else. To much of society, we are imposters, those who seek higher rank through our wealth, not birth. Many will not consider us acceptable, even if we were to marry the Duke of Devonshire.”
“What are you trying to say, Louisa?” asked Caroline, her irritation emerging in her curt question.
