Page 14 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Caroline pressed her lips together. The sight of her brother at breakfast seldom improved her view of the day.

“Did you ride out?” Louisa asked.

Bingley grinned. “I did. The air was brisk, and the chestnut was fresh. I met two of the Lucas boys on the way to the lane, and the younger almost fell from his pony trying to keep up. I returned by the west meadow.”

Caroline watched him, careful not to comment on the effect of a dawn ride on his appearance. She preferred to let the silence draw his attention to it, which, with Bingley, could take an hour or better.

He set down the cup. “I passed Longbourn and saw one of the Bennet girls walking. I think it was Miss Elizabeth. She recognized me and gave a bow, though I was going fast enough that I may have imagined it.” He reached for a slice of cold ham and paused. “The western pasture is wet in places, but the path is passable.”

Hurst wandered in with his coat thrown across his shoulders and went straight to the food. “Wet ground dries.”

Bingley, with a mouthful of ham, resumed his thought: “I wish to call at Longbourn, perhaps tomorrow. Is it too soon?”

Caroline set her cup down. “It is customary to wait at least a week after an assembly before calling. Otherwise, the house is unprepared, and neither party benefits.”

Hurst, who had loaded a piece of bread with three varieties of meat, did not look up. “You could wait a month, and Mrs. Bennet would still expect you.”

Louisa smiled behind her napkin. “I am sure Mrs. Bennet would not object to a prompt call.”

Bingley looked relieved. “Then tomorrow it is,” he said.

Caroline refrained from sighing. Instead, she steered the conversation to the subject at hand. “If you call at Longbourn, you will see for yourself the truth of what I said after the assembly. The eldest Miss Bennet is pretty, and her manners are superior to her family’s, but I find her too gentle. One could push her into a corner and never hear her protest.”

“She is not so mild as you think,” Bingley said. “Though not in the way you mean, she speaks her mind without arguing or yielding.”

Caroline arched an eyebrow, inviting him to elaborate.

“She disliked the arrangement of the dance at the assembly. The musicians were too slow, she said, and a Scottish reel had more life than a country set. Her candor made it impossible not to agree. The remark alone improved the evening.”

Louisa made a sound of agreement. “I found her pleasant.”

Bingley turned to Hurst, who had moved to the sideboard. “And you, Hurst? What did you think?”

Hurst chewed his food with the leisure of a man who viewed digestion as a competitive sport. “I think the younger ones are too loud,” he said at last. “Miss Mary is the only one who kept her mouth shut, and she looked as though she meant to keep it that way. The rest talked until my ears rang. But Miss Bennet is a beauty. Even you can see that, Caroline.”

Caroline accepted the compliment with a gracious tilt of her head. “I do not dispute her beauty. My objection is to her family. You cannot blame the daughters for their mother, but neither can you ignore her.”

Louisa looked at her hands. “Mrs. Bennet is not genteel, but then neither is Lady Lucas or Mrs. Long.”

Caroline shook her head. “There is a difference between provincial and uncivil.” She let the words settle, then, as if absolving herself, added, “It is not my judgment alone. Miss Elizabeth made the same observation at the assembly. She said her mother talks through every set and keeps her and her sisters forever on guard.”

Bingley’s mouth twitched. “She said that?”

“Yes, to Louisa and me, after the third set. She is not blind to her family’s failings.”

Louisa nodded. “She is sharper than her sister. More aware.”

Hurst, done with the bread, poured himself a glass of the white wine left from dinner and drained it. “Miss Elizabeth was the one who danced with the Lucas boy,” he said.

Bingley considered. “I thought her the best dancer among them.”

Caroline lifted her cup and said nothing.

The door at the other end of the room opened, and Darcy entered with his coat buttoned and his hair still damp from the basin. He crossed the room and took his seat at the table.

Caroline’s gaze flicked to Darcy’s face, then to his hands, which rested on the table, fingers interlaced, as he waited for the coffee tray. She noticed the tension in his jaw, though his voice gave no sign of it.

Bingley turned to Darcy. “Did you see the girl this morning? Miss Elizabeth Bennet was out in the west meadow. She walks a mile or more every day, even in the wet.”