Page 112 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“I have.”

The two words silenced Caroline better than arguing would have. Elizabeth felt heat rise into her face, though Louisa had not addressed them to her. Louisa had not said Darcy loved her or that he admired her. She only refused to pretend that nothing was visible.

When Mary began to play, Elizabeth welcomed the distraction, though Caroline’s silence was difficult to ignore. Louisa’s warning stayed with her.

In the dining room, the gentlemen did not remain long over their wine. Bingley returned first, as if every minute away from Jane needed an apology. Hurst came contented, Bennet entertained, and Darcy last. His entrance brought Caroline to her feet, and she spoke before he crossed the room.

“Mr. Darcy, we were discussing the dangers of country attachments and we need your opinion. Are they durable, or the effect of too little variety?”

Bingley frowned. “Country attachments? What a strange subject.”

“Not strange at all,” Caroline said. “One must account for the speed with which people in small neighborhoods attach consequence to every politeness.”

Darcy's eyes moved to Elizabeth, then back to Caroline. “While I cannot speak for every neighborhood, I think whether an attachment is durable or not depends on the people concerned, not the number of houses within visiting distance.”

“How fair-minded,” Caroline said.

“Not fairness, caution. General rules applied to particular affections are seldom exact.”

Bingley laughed. “Darcy makes affection sound like a matter for surveyors.”

“Surveyors might do it more justice than gossip,” Bennet said.

Caroline’s smile thinned. “So we should draw no conclusions from what we observe?”

“We should draw fewer for other people than for ourselves.”

The answer was calm, but it struck home. Caroline understood it as reproof. Elizabeth understood it also, and could not decide whether to resent his presumption or approve his restraint. He had not defended Jane in terms that would expose her or defended Elizabeth at all; he refused to accept Caroline’s contempt as judgment.

Bingley, innocent of half the conversation and uneasy with the rest, went to Jane and asked whether she would play but she declined. Mary offered to continue, and Mrs. Bennet praised her daughter's accomplishments until Bennet asked whether one song might satisfy both talent and mercy.

While Mary played, Lydia whispered to Kitty, who sat too subdued to enjoy it and too proud to leave. Caroline kept her attention on Darcy, though he gave her nothing she could challenge, while Louisa watched her sister with growing fatigue and Hurst slept.

The evening should have ended there, in music and small discomforts, but Mrs. Bennet, eager to improve what she believed already prosperous, began to speak of future visits.

“We shall be very dull when the regiment leaves,” she said, “though I am sure Netherfield will never lack society. Mr. Bingley is too agreeable not to be invited everywhere.”

“I hope Netherfield may also invite,” Bingley said. “I have been thinking of a small dinner next week, if my sisters approve.”

Caroline’s permission was the last thing he had considered until he said it, and alarm crossed her face before she could hide it. “A dinner?”

“Yes. Nothing large. The Bennets, the Lucases perhaps, and whoever else makes the party comfortable.”

Mrs. Bennet looked triumphant, while Jane lowered her eyes.

Louisa answered before Caroline could refuse. “We can arrange that, Charles.”

Caroline turned on her. “Can we?”

“Yes,” Louisa said. “If Charles wishes.”

Hurst opened one eye. “A dinner at Netherfield is always possible. The cook knows her business.”

“There,” Bingley said, pleased. “That settles it, then.”

It settled nothing, but Caroline no longer controlled the direction of events. Elizabeth almost pitied her, though not enough to forget the contempt behind her alarm.

When the Netherfield party rose to leave, Mrs. Bennet detained Bingley as long as she could without seizing his coat. Jane stood nearby, listening to every promise of another visit while hiding her hope. Bingley promised all that he could without offering marriage. To Mrs. Bennet, that was all but the same thing. To Jane, it was enough to keep her silent.