Caroline shot a look at her as she had frequently since her return to Hertfordshire, but she declined to say anything. Louisa accepted her reticence as an invitation enough to speak.
“It seems to me, Sister, that you never understood Mr. Darcy the way you thought you did.”
Again, Caroline returned a hard glance, but she still did not speak.
“The truth, though it may be difficult for you to hear, is that even if you judged him correctly, he still would not have offered for you.”
Louisa could almost taste the bile rising in Caroline’s throat. “I am not blind, Louisa,” said Caroline at last. “Our situation is not perfect. Yet I cannot fathom how a man of Mr. Darcy’s position and judgment can choose...this.”
Caroline waved a negligent hand at the room, a more understated display of contempt than she usually allowed. Time here observing Mr. Darcy had taught her some measure of circumspection—Mr. Darcy had warned her several times that he did not wish to hear her denunciations. Though Caroline’s disdain persisted, she was more circumspect in its expression.
“What, particularly?”
The glare Caroline directed at her spoke to her displeasure, but Louisa did not concern herself with her sister’s ill humors anymore.
“You know of what I speak,” snapped Caroline, though she kept her voice low. “The youngest girls are wild and cannot be seen by anyone in society, Mrs. Bennet is a vile shrew, and Miss Elizabeth treats Mr. Darcy’s attention as if it were a joke.”
“And yet, Mr. Darcy has never appeared happier,” said Louisa. It was a little pointed, but nothing less could get through to her sister.
“Thatis the most curious part of it,” muttered Caroline.
“Tell me, Sister,” said Caroline in an abrupt change of subject, “when shall we return to London?”
Louisa had been waiting for this. Until this moment, Caroline had seemed content to watch and wait, and while Louisa had no notion of Caroline plotting to supplant Elizabeth in Mr. Darcy’s affections, her insistence on witnessing her own humiliation had been rather unexpected.
“What do you wish?” asked Louisa.
“To return to that society in which I can find comfort,” replied Caroline. “I know we must return to Hertfordshire for Charles’s wedding—” Caroline’s lip curled. “—but there is no reason to stay.”
“What of the wedding breakfast?” asked Louisa mildly.
Caroline shook her head. “Mrs. Bennet appears to have that well in hand.”
“Yes, she does,” mused Louisa. “I suppose there is little need for us to stay, though we must return before the wedding.”
Louisa reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “Very well. I shall speak to Gerald when we return to Netherfield.”
With a nod, Caroline turned her contemplation back to the room, and to Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth in particular. What she was thinking, Louisa did not know—Caroline’s thoughts hadbeen a mystery these past weeks. When her sister spoke, she knew she should have guessed what she would say.
“As Mr. Darcy is no longer a prospect,” said Caroline, her tone thoughtful, “I must turn my attention to other men.”
“There are several who have shown interest,” replied Louisa, encouraging that thought.
“Oh, none of them are suitable.” Caroline waved the notion away like an offending odor. “It occurs to me that I have been setting my sights too low, Louisa. Perhaps I might even aspire to a baron.”
Though several responses vied for supremacy, Louisa took the simple expedient of remaining silent. Her sister had not changed in the slightest—even her humbling at the hands of Miss Elizabeth had done nothing to moderate her wishes for a husband.
Time would, Louisa thought, bring her sister’s grandiose plans under better regulation; it was better to allow her to keep her delusions for the moment. When they returned to London, she could undertake the delicate task of guiding Caroline to more modest expectations.
Laughter rose, and Louisa looked across the room at Charles and Jane, who were giggling together like a pair of children. Georgiana appeared to be getting on with the younger Bennets, and unless Louisa was mistaken, she thought the young Darcy heiress’s manners were beginning to rub off on the girls. That was for the best, of course, for Caroline was right—they were far too lively. That Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth sat with their heads together was no triumph for Louisa—Charles had been her concern—but she was still satisfied. She thought well enough of both to wish them every happiness.
It had all turned out as it should. Louisa had not known that when she had determined to return to Netherfield, but nowshe could admire the fruits of her labors. Perhaps her husband would even keep Mr. Darcy’s society as he wished.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK OFMiss Bingley?” whispered Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy, seated close to him.
“As little as I can,” jested the gentleman, though Elizabeth knew it was not entirely banter.
“She has not continued to put herself forward?”
