Page 83 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Louisa studied her sister. “You sound certain.”

“I know him.”

“Then why are you troubled?”

Caroline moved to the window. Bingley crossed the drive below, pulling on his gloves as a groom led out his horse. Her conversation had delayed him by less than ten minutes.

“Because I do not want him to make a mistake,” she said.

Bingley mounted and turned toward the road to Longbourn.

Louisa joined her at the window. “You could let him decide for himself.”

“He acts on what he feels. Someone has to think about what comes after.”

“Jane Bennet would make him happy.”

“For how long? Her mother treats Netherfield as though it belongs to the family now, and Lydia and Kitty would bring every officer in Meryton through the door if they could.”

“Charles likes people.”

“He does not have to marry them.”

Louisa almost smiled. “And Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth Bennet would make no man comfortable.”

“Have you considered that is why Mr. Darcy notices her?”

Caroline turned from the window. “He notices opposition. Once the novelty passes, he will remember what she is.”

Louisa picked up the basket again. “You hope.”

“I do not rely upon hope.”

The summerhouse inspection gave Caroline an occupation she could defend as service to her brother. She sent for the steward, changed into walking shoes, and crossed the east lawn with a notebook in hand.

The building stood beyond the trees at the edge of a neglected garden. Ivy covered part of the brickwork, and damp had darkened the stone beneath the windows. The roof sagged near one corner, though the walls showed no crack. A narrow path curved from the lawn to the door and disappeared beneath fallen leaves.

The steward unlocked it. “The frame is better than it looks, miss.”

“So Mr. Bingley was told.”

“He can repair the roof before the next rain. The floorboards near the back wall need replacing, and the door wants rehanging.”

Caroline stepped inside. The room was larger than she expected, with windows on three sides and a small fireplace built into the inner wall. Dust covered two benches and a round table left by a former tenant. The air smelled of damp wood and leaves.

“It could be pleasant,” she said.

“With work.”

“Clear the ivy from the windows, repair the path, and remove everything inside. I want the walls washed before anyone chooses a color.”

The steward wrote nothing down. “Mr. Bingley asked for repairs, miss. Decoration can wait until the building is dry.”

“I know the order in which work proceeds.”

“Yes, miss.”