Page 120 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Upon entering the house, they found Caroline and Louisa in the morning room, and Hurst in a chair near the fire with a newspaper spread across his waistcoat. Caroline rose with a smile that stopped before warmth had time to interfere.

“My dear Miss Bennet. Miss Eliza. What a pleasure.”

Louisa greeted them with less polish and more welcome. “You chose a fine morning for the walk.”

“The ground chose otherwise,” Elizabeth said, glancing at the hem of her gown.

Caroline’s eyes followed the glance. “Country paths do impose upon one’s clothes.”

“They ask less than London streets.”

Hurst lowered the newspaper. “London streets ask for wheels.”

“Mr. Hurst speaks from study,” Louisa said. “He has viewed most of them from a carriage window.”

Hurst considered this and returned to his paper.

Jane asked, “Is Mr. Bingley at home?”

“He and Mr. Darcy went to inspect a tenant cottage on the north edge of the estate,” Caroline replied, watching Elizabeth for a reaction.

“How useful Mr. Darcy has become,” Elizabeth said.

“He has never lacked usefulness,” Caroline said.

“No. It has lacked opportunities for display.”

Before Caroline could decide whether to take offense, Jane turned to Louisa. “Mrs. Hurst, did you enjoy Mary’s song after dinner?”

“I did. She chose a demanding piece.”

“Mary favors music that tests her skill.”

Caroline took the chair beside Jane. “Has Mrs. Long recovered from her cold?”

“I believe so.”

“And the officers remain in Meryton?”

“For the present.”

“Do the Lucases intend another evening party?”

“They have said nothing of one.”

Jane answered each question with care while Louisa watched her sister’s performance with growing fatigue. Before Caroline could begin another, the sound of wheels crossed the gravel outside.

Hurst lowered his newspaper. “Another caller.”

Caroline turned toward the window, but a servant entered before she could respond.

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, and Miss de Bourgh.”

Caroline sprang up, tipping her workbasket against the arm of her chair. One spool rolled across the carpet.

“Lady Catherine?”

The servant confirmed the name.