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“They wish only for confirmation of your receipt.”
“You may give them the confirmation.” Bingley sat down in the armchair, carefully breaking the wax seal that held closed the letter. Opening it, he found two pages, one filled with the script of Mrs. Nicholls, the housekeeper at Netherfield, and the other filled with that of his younger sister. His stomach dropped, for he had feared as much when Caroline had appeared in London.
Twenty-Ninth of November, 1811
Netherfield House
Dear Sir,
I first wish to relieve any concern you may have and assure you that all is well at Netherfield House. Your relations left for London this morning with orders to close the house. I followed the orders you gave before your departure, closing only the sections of the house set aside for your relations. I retained all staff and left your private rooms as they were. If your wishes have changed, pray, only say the word and we shall obey.
Had this been the only request Miss Bingley made, I would not have gone to the expense of sending this letter express. However, only after her departure did one of the maids find that Miss Bingley had left behind a letter directed to Miss Bennet of Longbourn. As was your specific request before departing, I did as you asked and opened the letter to inspect the contents. I must confess, sir, that breaking the seal of Miss Bingley’s private correspondence caused me a degree of discomfort and shame I should not like to experience ever again, for it goes against the rule of honest service to read a lady’s letters. Yet, I forced myself to proceed.
Upon doing so, I found your concerns were justified. I therefore determined it best to withhold the missive from delivery and send it first to you instead, that you might decide its final destination.
I remain, sir, your faithful and obedient servant,
Mary Nicholls
With a sigh, Bingley set down the letter from his housekeeper on the table and picked up the other page.
Twenty-Ninth of November, 1811
Netherfield House
Dearest Jane,
Before we step into the carriages to leave this place, I take up my pen for a moment to apprise you of our sudden departure from Netherfield. I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of that delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that.
When my brother and Mr. Darcy left us a few days ago, Charles imagined his business would be concluded anywhere between three days and a week, expecting to find his townhouse mostly empty and shut up for his brief stay. Mr. Darcy, however, returned straight to London with his sister always foremost in his mind, and has naturally declared his intention of remaining there for the winter.
Though Charles intended to return shortly, we are certain his affairs cannot be settled so quickly, and are convinced that once he reaches town he will be in no hurry to leave it. Unwilling that he should be alone in the half-closed house by himself, we have determined to follow him thither. None of our party will return into Hertfordshire this winter; indeed, we shall all be settled in town for the remainder of the season. Many of my acquaintances are already there; I wish that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd—but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.
I must confess that, though I should miss your company, Louisa and I are scarcely less eager than Mr. Darcy to see his sister again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in us is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable.
My brother admires her greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman’s heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?
Adieu, my dear friend; forgive this hurried scrawl, and believe me ever yours with the sincerest affection,
Caroline Bingley
Bingley had to work to keep the bit of bile that rose in his throat from escaping as he read his sister’s letter. Miss Darcy was a delightful child, but she was and ever would be in his mind, a child. He could not comprehend how Caroline might think such a match desirable, except that it would reflect her own desire for a greater connection to the Darcy family. How glad he was to have been forewarned of his sister’s scheming! If such a letter had reached Longbourn, he could not but imagine what Miss Bennet would have thought of him. For a moment he considered consigning the deplorable missive to the fire, but quickly reconsidered and went instead to the bellpull. A moment later, a footman appeared.
“Is my sister in the house?” he asked.
“Indeed, sir. She returned moments ago.”
“Tell her that I must see her immediately.”
The servant bowed and went to relay the request to Miss Bingley, while Bingley took out his pen and began to write a reply to Mrs. Nicholls, thanking her for her actions and assuring her that she had done just as she ought. He had only just set down his pen when he heard the light knock at his study door.
“Enter,” he ordered.
“You wished to see me, Charles?” his younger sister asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway with none of the certainty of that morning.
“Indeed. I have something I wish you to look at.” He gestured towards the chair opposite his desk. She took the invitation, shutting the door behind her and taking up the seat.
“What is it, Charles?” she asked.
