Page 25 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“I see you have the crocuses in bloom, Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Our own beds are just starting, though I believe the frost was harder at Longbourn this year.”

Caroline nodded. “The gardener says the south wall protects them. I hope you will walk the grounds before you go.”

“I would like that very much,” Jane said.

Elizabeth said, “It is always instructive to see what thrives under new management.”

The conversation returned to flowers, and the topic held long enough to allow for the second pouring of tea and the biscuit plate to empty.

After the third cup, Mrs. Bennet lowered her voice. “You may not know, Miss Bingley, that Longbourn is entailed away from my daughters. We have no son, and when Mr. Bennet is gone, the estate goes to a cousin whom none of us can tolerate.”

Caroline replied, “That is very hard, and I am sure Mr. Bennet will see to it as best he can.”

Mrs. Bennet brightened. “It is my only anxiety, and I hope it will not trouble me forever. For the rest, I count my daughters’ health and happiness as blessings.”

Jane said, “Mama is always happiest when we are together. She fears nothing so much as seeing one of us lonely.”

This, Caroline thought, was the most dangerous thing Jane had said: it was impossible to contest, and made her mother’s faults almost endearing.

She glanced at Elizabeth, who had said almost nothing in the past fifteen minutes. Elizabeth heard Jane speak and Mrs. Bennet seize upon a new subject. At last, her gaze went to the window, where the sun touched the farthest hedge and turned it silver-green.

Caroline tried to recall a single word Elizabeth had spoken that was not a response or a redirection, but could not.

At last, the visit neared its end. Caroline called for the servant to bring the coats, and Louisa asked whether the family would care to see the library or the gardens. Jane answered that she would love to walk the grounds, and Louisa offered to lead them.

They left the morning room in much the same disorder as they had entered it: Mrs. Bennet calling for her shawl, Lydia already halfway down the hall toward the garden door, Kitty in tow, and Jane and Elizabeth walking together. Louisa led the way, her embroidery forgotten.

Caroline lingered in the doorway. The room was warm from the tea and the sun, and the daffodils on the mantel stood at a more flattering angle than before. She crossed to the table and straightened the teacup Jane had used, though it needed none.

The visit had gone better than she expected, and worse. Jane was more than she expected, but it was Elizabeth who unsettled her. Not for being easy to dislike, but because she was not.

She considered the arrangement of the chairs and decided to have them reupholstered after all. Something in blue, perhaps, to cool the room.

Chapter 11

CAROLINE HAD INSTRUCTED the housemaid to air the morning room at daybreak, and the result was a light chill that cut through the smell of the flowers and the heaviness of the cloth on the furniture. The sun had not cleared the hedgerow, but a wedge of light caught the glass on the tea service and glared against the silver. She took her place at the head of the small table, her gloved hands resting before her, and surveyed the room before pouring.

Darcy sat to her right, an open letter beside his plate. He was in the room when she entered and greeted her with the same courtesy he offered every morning. Since then, he had divided his attention between the letter and the window, though Caroline had not seen him turn the page.

Louisa sat opposite him, warming her hands around an empty cup while the maid brought in the remaining dishes.

Bingley was late to the table by several minutes and made no apology. He entered with an air of briskness that was not diminished by his lack of cravat or the dampness in his hair from a hurried encounter with the basin. He took the seat opposite Caroline and took a piece of toast before the maid finished laying out the boiled eggs and preserves.

“Good morning,” he said. “Do you think the damp will lift? I hope to ride over to Longbourn after breakfast.”

Darcy looked up from his letter.

Caroline poured tea into her cup, then into Louisa’s, who accepted with a small nod and a visible preference for the warmth over the conversation. Bingley tore a corner from his toast and chewed with the enthusiasm of a man whose thoughts had not aligned with his body.

“You saw them two days ago,” Caroline said.

“Yes.”

“And the Bennets were here yesterday.”

“They were.”

Bingley reached for the butter.