Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of June 2, 2002
Jump to new as of June 16, 2002
Jump to new as of June 22, 2002
Chapter 19
"What if Charles comes looking for me if I do not return?" Caroline fretted. She did not want to be discovered supporting a hopping Colonel and she forgot her resolve not to speak to him ever again. He was the only one around who could answer the question that was plaguing her most. What would Charles think and say? And Darcy? And Hurst? Thank heavens that the worst of them was in the same boat. Had she been with anyone else right now she would have had to fear Colonel Fitzwilliam's sharp remarks as well.
"Who is Charles?" Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired. He was not in the habit of addressing men by their first names or even remembering those. "Is he your beau? I forgot if you ever told me you had a beau. Ladies talk so much that one does not always listen."
Caroline could hardly speak. "My brother!" She had no use for a beau!
"Oh, Bingley! And he would come looking for you, you think? I think you credit him with a little too much decency," he laughed. Given the trouble Caroline always gave her brother, he would be happy to be rid of her for a while. He could not help but miss her, but he would enjoy the peace and quiet.
"What would he think he saw me like this? I shall shake you off if he comes into sight."
"He will not recognise you," the Colonel cackled. She had shaken him off once. Had she forgotten how they had ended up then? He had not. "I think it will be a little beyond his imagination to see this helpful damsel as his sister."
This stung Caroline. It was a serious blemish on her carefully cultivated image and she did not want it. "I am not a helpful damsel!" Being helpful was not sophisticated.
"Hush, hush," Fitzwilliam said soothingly. You know that I know the truth. You are a self-centred minx, do not worry. Bingley, having known you all his life, might be just as perceptive as I am in this matter." Bingley and he might be the only two people who knew the real Caroline.
"I am sure you would not like to hear what I think of you."
"No, I would not. I would rather keep on living under the impression that you like me," he teased.
Caroline made an indignant snorting sound. "Do I give you that impression?" She was certain that she did not.
"You try very hard not to, but I know you do. Well, it is all very useless because I hate you." Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled.
Caroline was startled. "Colonel! You are allowed to hate me, but you are never allowed to tell me! It is bad manners." She felt a strange disappointment. It would be just as much a lie as saying he loved her, but that would feel much better.
"It is honest," he countered.
"Honest is not always good."
"You practise that belief yourself, but I do not agree."
"Are you calling me dishonest?" she cried in an offended manner.
"I most certainly am!" He chuckled again. She did not know what was what and therefore everything she said was a lie.
"You are dishonest yourself if you do!" The colour on Caroline's cheeks heightened and her voice rose.
"I never said anything about the degree of my honesty. I was talking about you," he said in amusement, which increased when he spotted two figures far ahead. His eyes were good enough to discern Darcy in one of the shapes and Darcy's companion had to be old Bingles. That would cause Caroline to have a tremendous fit.
"So you admit that you are dishonest?"
"You are playing a difficult game, Miss Bingley. Supposing I am dishonest, there is no way you could trust any answer of mine. If I said I was dishonest, I could not be honest, but I could not be dishonest either. It is fascinating."
"I do not find it fascinating. I find it confusing."
"It is."
"Will you stop confusing me?" Caroline asked. Suddenly she perceived the two men approaching them and she shrieked. "Oh no!"
While Colonel Fitzwilliam understood her distress perfectly, he did not share it. He could be selfish too. "Our rescue is near!"
"And so is the end of my reputation!"
"Be glad to be rid of that bad reputation," the Colonel said soothingly. "Now you can make a fresh start."
Understandably this was not quite to Caroline's liking. She pressed her lips together and they toiled on. Considering that they had been seen, there was no escape possible anymore and she had to face this with her head held high. She watched the two men come closer at an alarming speed, compared to herself and the Colonel.
"What happened?" Darcy raised an eyebrow. Now that he was not the object of anyone's teasing he had enough courage to be cheeky.
"I twisted my ankle," Colonel Fitzwilliam grimaced. "Miss Bingley was so kind as to support me -- help me walk."
Caroline immediately let go of him. She stood a little to the side, looking very dignified, but not feeling it at all. "Who sent you here?"
"Hah!" said Darcy. "Why do you immediately assume we were sent?"
"Because I know you. You do not care enough about me to come looking for me, even though I might be in terrible danger," she said accusingly.
It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's turn to raise his eyebrows. He did not think he was so very dangerous. However, as the invalid, it was best to stay quiet and polite, because he still needed these people to help him back to Netherfield. Once there he could be as annoying as he wished.
"You left me with him," Caroline continued. "It is too much to assume you suddenly regretted it."
"Louisa began to make a fuss," said Bingley. "I thought you would be safe with Fitzwilliam, but Hurst insisted that we go back." He looked at Caroline and decided he had been right. She had been safe. There was nothing wrong with her.
"Oh well," said Darcy. "It does not signify." He instructed Bingley on how they could carry the Colonel between them.
Caroline walked behind the three gentlemen, because she wanted to be able to address them whenever she chose and it was very inconvenient to have to turn her head every time she wanted to say something.
Colonel Fitzwilliam suppressed the remark that next time Darcy ought to take a companion who was the same size and who walked with the same paces. Right now he was nearly being torn in half, but he could not say so because they would drop him if he did. He could not turn his head because then Bingley would drop him for certain, Bingley being the weak partner in the enterprise, but he was curious to know what Caroline was up to. "Chaps, do we still have Miss Bingley with us?" he inquired.
"I cannot look without dropping you," Bingley said with difficulty. "I do not know."
"Let sleeping dogs lie, Fitzwilliam," Darcy warned in a low voice. "Surely you must have found out by now that she can be extremely irritating? Do not alert her to the fact that she can talk to us."
"Well, it would be callous if you came out here with the purpose to rescue her and then forgot to take her with you just because you were carrying me," Fitzwilliam philosophised.
"Let her walk behind us. She does not bother us then."
"But we can keep an eye on her if she walks ahead of us. And she's quite an interesting lady," he continued significantly in an even lower voice.
"Fitz!" Darcy sounded appalled. "Y-Y-You do not mean..."
"What?" Bingley was clueless.
Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Oh indeed."
"Yes, but it is Caroline!" Darcy still was not completely over his shock.
"You are focusing too much on women's characters, Darcy. Bingley would agree with me that looks are of utmost importance." Colonel Fitzwilliam gave Bingley and inquisitive glance. "Do you rate Miss Bennet according to her looks or her character?"
"Both are excellent," was Bingley's enthusiastic opinion. "I'd give her a ten for both."
"Do not start him on that!" Darcy groaned. "No lady is worth a ten."
Colonel Fitzwilliam gave a little shrug. "The only good thing I can conclude from this is that Darcy apparently does not fancy Bingley's lady to the same extent. Good. You will not have to fight each other over her. Darcy might perhaps like her sister better and she is definitely not worth a ten, looks-wise." Here Darcy made a small sound that would otherwise be indicative of an imminent serious stroke in elderly people. The Colonel was well aware that with Darcy it meant something different, for Darcy was not yet elderly. "The only reason why I should invite the other Miss Bennet to walk in front of us would be to observe Darcy's gaping, not because I thought her so appealing myself. Miss Bingley is quite another matter."
"I think you ought to show a little more respect, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said through teeth that were clenched either from the exertion of carrying his cousin or his suppressed irritation.
"I have nothing but respect for Miss Bingley's appearance," the Colonel said innocently.
"I meant Miss Bennet!"
"She is undoubtedly sweet, for all ladies who are not extremely pretty must be sweet, otherwise they are to be pitied, but be honest, Darcy, knowing your rating scale, she would score a meagre three for her looks."
Darcy gulped. "I disagree!" He recovered himself quickly, not wanting to reveal too much. "I believe character is important as well! You cannot rate a lady on her looks alone!"
"I have never had any problems with that," the Colonel said amiably.
"So how do you rate Miss Bingley?"
"Ten," he said without hesitation.
"And her character?"
"What do I care about her character, Darcy? Explain to me why it is important. I do not see it. I cannot look at a character. It is invisible."
"But character is important!"
"What for?" Fitzwilliam sounded genuinely puzzled.
"You might want to talk to her," Darcy tried in a feeble attempt.
"I can talk to everyone, regardless of the quality of their character, as long as they are not deaf."
"But it might be nicer if you liked her conversation."
"What has got into you, Darcy? You used to make sense and you used to dislike ladies' conversation. You used to tell me they had nothing intelligent to contribute to any sensible discussion."
"Do not take my words out of their context."
"I do what I am good at. Has your opinion of ladies' minds changed suddenly?"
"Stop questioning me!" Darcy felt increasingly uncomfortable. "Let us talk about your opinions, because they seem to be very strange indeed!"
"Ladies' minds do not interest me very much."
"I cannot believe you made no conversation with Caroline before we arrived. She usually talks endlessly. You must have some sort of opinion of her mind and character by now."
"Well," the Colonel said pensively. "If it was her mind that was operative in choosing her perfume, I should say she has an excellent mind. I do not recall if she spoke to me. I was too overcome by the scent of her perfume and the fact that I had my arm around her shoulders. Remember that I am a soldier. I might not see a real woman for months on end."
"Soldiers ought to be strong enough to withstand the scent of a woman's perfume," Darcy said sarcastically.
"And by that remark you reveal that you have never had to lean onto a woman for support," Colonel Fitzwilliam cackled. "I am a soldier, so at least I was strong enough to hop on one leg despite being overcome. If you were to twist your ankle and had Miss Bennet support you, you would faint!" He cackled some more, imagining the scene.
Twenty
Miss Bingley did not wait for the Colonel to be safely installed in the drawing room with his ankle on a cushion. He would, she was sure, make a show of being an invalid and she was equally sure that very little was ailing him. Very little that did not always ail him, she corrected herself. There was always his mental illness to take into account.
Muttering to herself about his despicable character, she went up the stairs to work on her appearance, for it had surely suffered during her trip through the woods. She cast a glance in the mirror and winced. Horrible! She looked so untidy and blowsy that she quickly looked away again and called for her maid.
But she was informed that her maid was busy tending to Colonel Fitzwilliam's ankle.
This report stunned Caroline so much that she sank down on her bed, quite speechless. Such cheek! Why did he need her maid? She was sure it was contrived. He was doing it on purpose to pester her. She ordered the servant to send her maid up instantly, telling him she did not care about the Colonel's ankle.
Unfortunately this did not work. The poor servant, fearing an outburst of anger, returned to say that Colonel Fitzwilliam said he was a priority and that regretfully he could not release Miss Bingley's maid from her current nursing duties to fix Miss Bingley's hair or some other such insignificant task.
Caroline swallowed. She listened to the servant with an inscrutable face and stared out of the window. Her pride forbade her to run down and make a scene, because that was most obviously what the Colonel was after. However, her pride equally forbade her to take this lying down. It was her maid and he had absolutely no business stealing her servants. Who did he think he was? Her maid was in no position to refuse Fitzwilliam's requests or orders, so Caroline did not blame her, but the Colonel was seriously at fault here.
With a thoughtful expression she began to write a note. Damn him if he thought this charade would lure her downstairs. She was not a dog that came running if one whistled.
Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam, What do you hope to gain by these underhand machinations? I see through you quite clearly. If you had hoped to inconvenience me by stealing my maid, you were quite mistaken. It takes a bit more than that to unsettle me. Regards, C. Bingley.
She handed the note to the servant and resumed staring out of the window, fuelling her anger by recalling all of the Colonel's conversations with her.
After ten minutes or so the servant brought her back the Colonel's reply. She had been waiting for that, hoping he would not ignore her note.
My dearest Miss Bingley, or may I say Caroline now that we share a maid? I know exactly what it takes to unsettle you. I am happy that my injury is causing you so many worries that you would actually condescend to lend out your maid to tend to me. She is quite skilful. I am in your debt forever. Please tell me how I could make up for this enormous kindness. Regards, R. Fitzwilliam.
It would not do to explode in the presence of a servant and so Caroline restrained herself, but for a moment she had some trouble reading the words that danced before her eyes.
Colonel, I shall consider never seeing you again sufficient repayment for this debt.
A vehement reaction was what he wanted, but she could not stop herself. He was making her so angry with that arrogant attitude.
His reply came quickly.
My dearest Caroline, I grieve to hear your decision not to attend dinner to avoid me. Please reassure me by saying you will have dinner sent up to your room. I could not bear to think of you feeling hungry. R.F.
Caroline did not know what she would do if she saw him at dinner. She might throw something at him.
Charles, please send the Colonel out of the house. He is not being nice to me. I hate him. C.
Surely Charles would care about his sister's wellbeing? He would not stand idly by while she was being mocked? While the servant delivered this note to Charles, Caroline worked on replying to the Colonel.
STOP THIS AT ONCE! she wrote down and then laid it aside, only to pick it up again immediately. If you do not release my maid, I insist that you marry her as soon as possible to save her reputation. That would teach him.
She gave this note to the servant when he returned with Charles' reply. She had not thought Charles would actually reply, since he always gave the impression of finding writing rather bothersome and writing to his sister the most bothersome thing of all.
Oh dear I did not know you hated! him you should have told me before he just asked! me for permission to propose! to you and I granted him that what do I do now I cannot! go back on my words but I would not! have men propose to you whom you hate!! I am heartily!!! sorry for misunderstanding the situation!! charles.
This reply understandably nearly sent Caroline into a fit of spastics. She coughed and choked as she deciphered the scribbles. Then she told herself to calm down. She could get out of this if she stayed calm and reasonable.
My dear Charles, you need not worry. Even though you granted that despicable Colonel permission to propose to me I am still in a position to refuse him and I plan to refuse him quite strongly should he attempt to address me on the subject, which I think he will not if he is clever, which I doubt. Should the so-called invalid be capable enough to climb the stairs in his injured state to speak to me, he will be sure to receive a grave and lasting injury to his ego that will make him feel heartily sorry he ever faked anything. I assure you it will make a twisted ankle seem like the nothing it undoubtedly is. Please relate my words to that vile man. Caroline.
The replies to her notes were a little longer in coming. Perhaps she had given them food for thought, Caroline thought in satisfaction. She did her hair nicely and laid out a gown. If her maid chose to be disobedient she would have to help herself.
You are a heartless creature. I am in tears. R.F.
"As if I would believe that!" she snapped and decided not to waste any more time on corresponding with the dreadful Colonel. As she was getting into her dress, her maid appeared.
"I am sorry for the delay, Miss Bingley," the maid apologised, coming to her aid immediately.
"You have no business helping the Colonel!" Caroline fumed. "It is I who pays your wages."
"But he rewarded me handsomely, Miss."
"Oh! If you would rather be paid by him I suggest that you remain in his service, not in mine."
"He did make me an offer, Miss, but --"
Caroline's heart stopped. Everyone was conspiring against her. Not only was the Colonel being mean to her, he was also stealing her servants. "What sort of offer?" she asked through clenched teeth. Or would it be an offer of marriage? But then she felt her pride resurfacing. "You should accept his offer if it was good."
"Miss...?"
"I am sure he is good at making offers and promises. Whether he is good at keeping his word is another matter. If you got as far as having him make you an offer, I think you would do best by accepting it."
"I am only to do things for him occasionally," her maid protested. "Except if you object, Miss."
"If I were to object, it would mean I felt more affected by the Colonel than I really am, but the man leaves me quite cold, so you may do as you please and I shall not care," Caroline said haughtily. "I simply wish not to be informed of any of your dealings with him."
"My work for you will not suffer, Miss. I am only to work for his wife."
Caroline turned her head sharply. "His wife?"
Twenty-One
"His wife?" Caroline repeated, even more incredulous than before. "He does not have a wife, nor will he ever get one." To her it seemed very unlikely, at any rate. Who would ever want to marry the man? While at first sight Colonel Fitzwilliam might appear to be a pleasant sort of man, immediate further acquaintance would reveal his true evil nature.
"He sounded very confident, Miss," the maid said uncertainly.
"He always does, but the more confident he sounds, the more he is lying." Caroline spoke as an experienced woman.
"I do not think he was lying, Miss. I really believe he has a wife."
"How could he --" propose to her in such a case?
"Perhaps he is planning to take a wife, Miss. He would not need my services for nothing. He specifically said he needed me for his wife."
"How?" Caroline asked sharply. Her maid's faith in the Colonel's truthfulness irritated her a bit, not to mention the fact that a servant should remain quiet. It did not do for her maid to have an opinion about the Colonel. It was unusual for her as well, so this too must be his fault. He was not only stealing her servants, he was corrupting them as well and setting them up against her.
"I don't know." The maid looked surprised. "I do not think the Colonel..."
"Thinking, with regard to the Colonel, is impossible."
"Why do you try then?" the maid muttered.
Caroline said no more. Why did she try indeed? She would gather her strength to strike back at dinner. It was not a problem that she did not know what to do yet. Inspiration would come to her as soon as she laid eyes on the man.
*~*
Downstairs, three gentlemen were having fun. There were four in total, but one of them was a little concerned. Since Hurst and Fitzwilliam were but rarely concerned and Darcy was not the type to show his concern if he felt any, Bingley was the one who was worrying -- some times even out loud, but his fretting was unheeded.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, his ankle bandaged and resting on a low side table, was just being questioned by Hurst about important matters. "Yes, I know what I'm doing," he replied. He was having tremendous fun teasing Caroline.
"Really?" Hurst's doubt was quite audible. "You can only take this teasing so far and before you know it, you will be trapped."
"Trapped?" the Colonel laughed. "Me?" He would not be trapped in a million years. There was a fundamental impossibility in being a trapped colonel. Military men -- if trained well, and he was -- did the trapping themselves.
"Yes, you."
"Whatever happens, I shall not be describing myself as being trapped. Never."
"I think you should be giving some serious consideration to whether you would actually want to be married," Hurst said in a very serious voice.
"Oh Hurst, you old --" Fitzwilliam swallowed the last word, but his point was clear. "Allow us bachelors to have some fun, will you? It's not our fault you had to get married. That was your own fault. You could have stayed a bachelor as well if you had liked!"
Hurst shrugged. Nobody would ever be able to say he had not given off any warning. These fellows were still so immature. He turned away and closed his eyes, dreaming of the lovely Louisa, lace and lavender.
"Well, Darcy!" said the Colonel when Hurst proved incommunicative. "Join me in a toast on bachelorhood!"
Darcy raised his glass. He would rather toast on Miss Bennet, but he lacked the courage to say so, just like he had lacked the courage to admit openly that she was worth more than a three.
"May we remain bachelors forever!"
"Yes," Darcy agreed half-heartedly, thinking of Elizabeth Bennet. He was a coward. Perhaps he should simply go there and propose -- just like that. Would anyone refuse him? Perhaps she did not like cowards, but he was a good person in all other aspects. That might count for something.
"I am sure you would not keep toasting if we all got married around you," said Bingley, who had been temporarily forgotten.
"Who? Me?" the Colonel asked.
"No, Darcy. At least I am thinking about proposing and you have already proposed, even though you have been turned down, but I have heard all married women have turned their husbands down at least once, so it is not significant that Caroline will not have you today. I know you are stupid enough to try again. Darcy would not. He would want to be accepted at once, when that really is not how things go."
Hurst opened one eye and wondered if it had been Bingley or Louisa who had managed to mangle his wise words. It was true that he had said something about Darcy to Louisa and he did not think Bingley could come up with such an observation on his own. Therefore Louisa must have told him. However, it was obviously the case that words were twisted a little every time they were passed on to the next person.
Darcy wondered where Bingley had got this wisdom from. "What do you know about it?" he exclaimed, feeling attacked. Was it so stupid to want to be accepted at once? He should think it was very natural. He could not be compared to Fitzwilliam, who was only teasing anyway and who would have been shocked if his proposal had been accepted.
Bingley really did not know anything about it, because he had it from his sister, so he had to remain silent.
"I think, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said coolly, "that it would be a good punishment for you to be accepted at once. What if she now sent down another note, retracting her decision to turn you down?" He looked smug at having come up with this idea.
"Ooooh, she would not."
"What if she did?" Darcy insisted.
"Then I would send up a note retracting my proposal," Colonel Fitzwilliam said immediately. "She cannot accept a proposal that has not been made." He looked smug at his logic.
Hurst opened his eyes and grumbled. "Can't a man have any peace in this house?" He got up from the sofa and left the room, ostensibly headed for a quieter place to take a nap. It did not require all that much time in the presence of these three gentlemen for him to feel extremely old and wise. It nearly made him think he was truly wise. He snickered, for he might not be wise, but he was certainly wicked.
He went up to Caroline's room.
*~*
Caroline stared at him in horror after she had listened to his suggestion. "Never!"
Hurst sighed patiently. He had not expected her to agree instantly. "It will be fun," he coaxed.
"For you! Not for me! And you have enough fun as it is!"
Twenty-Two
Hurst rubbed his hands as he walked away from Caroline's room. He was so caught up in feeling extremely smug that he did not notice his spouse standing in the doorway of their bedchamber, with her hands resting dangerously, if seductively, on her hips.
"Mr Hurst..." she said in a deceptively sweet voice.
"Ahh, my love!" he recovered himself quickly. It must be said that due to his smugness he was not as perceptive as usual and that some extraordinary details about his Louisa escaped his notice.
"Will you come inside for a second?" she begged in a soft voice.
Mr Hurst was not always lazy, but it was one of his best kept secrets that he was actually quite quick on his feet if he liked, under particular conditions and in particular places only. "Of course, Lou Lou."
"Close the door," Louisa breathed.
Hurst pushed it shut with his foot. "Do we have enough time?" he breathed back.
"Oooh plenty of time, my love," she said with a cat-like purr. His fingers tried to loosen his cravat already, but her cool hands prevented him. "No need..."
"Oh..." Hurst became slightly confused.
"First..." Louisa pressed her hand against his chest. "We must talk..."
"Talk?" That sounded a lot less agreeable to Hurst than whatever he had been hoping he and Louisa were going to do. Frankly, talking had very little to do with what he had been expecting.
"Talk, yes," she purred on. "About why my beloved husband..." There were slight undertones of mockery in her voice. "...should be coming out of my sister's bedchamber..." Louisa placed a finger across his lips when Hurst began to protest. "...rubbing his hands...?"
"I can explain!" he said hurriedly, not wanting this opportunity to be wasted. At the back of his mind he told himself that he did not know Louisa like this. One, she would never lure him in this manner. Two, she had never been this sharp. But all these considerations were lost in her gaze.
"Can you...?" Louisa's blue eyes turned a few degrees colder. "I am listening, my love...tell me...after that, we can..." Her eyelids fluttered. "...continue."
"I had a plan to get Caroline a man." It was a great plan and it would certainly work.
Louisa's eyes could not possibly become any icier, nor her tone any sweeter. "A man? You?"
Hurst frowned. "Me? No, no, my darling, not me. Why do you think so?"
"You were coming out of her room," she reminded him softly. "Which man?"
"I cannot tell you." Hurst still had enough presence of mind to say that. He could not ruin his plan by telling Louisa, of all people. Discretion was not a word she had ever heard of. She probably did not even know how to spell it either.
"You shall tell me," Louisa said in this new seductive purr she seemed to have adopted for the time being.
Hurst would not mind hearing that purr more often, but what she was saying was not quite to his liking. He focused on her tone, rather than on her words. "Mmmm..."
"What are your plans with Caroline?" she persisted.
He wished she would stop talking about Caroline. "They have nothing to do with you, Lou Lou. Do not fret about it. Enjoy the moment."
"I am enjoying the moment," Louisa assured him. Her hands slid down to his wrists and gripped those tightly. "I find it...odd..." She loosened his cravat with her teeth. "...that you should be devoting any time to my little sister's love life, to Darcy's love life, even to the Colonel's love life..." The cravat was pulled off with her right hand. "...when your own..." With a sudden fast movement she tied his wrists together. "...is in tatters..."
Hurst had trouble following all her actions and connecting them to her words. "In tatters?" he repeated. "Aren't we doing well?" He had never been seduced as boldly as this before, but it was an experience that he would not mind seeing repeated, although with some modifications. There was an underlying sharpness that he could not quite interpret.
"Well, if you call this well..." Louisa pulled the knot a little tighter. "I disagree. I symbolically tied your hands..."
While people might not have suspected Hurst of knowing the word symbolically or at least of not having enough energy to pronounce it, he himself had never expected his wife to know it. He stared at her in confusion.
"I am taking matters into my own hands."
"Which matters?" he asked, distracted by the fact that she brought his tied hands to her lips to place a light kiss on them.
"All matters concerning love. Are you qualified to handle matters of the heart, Mr Hurst? You believe you are, but are you really? Improvement always starts close to home, need I remind you of that?" Her voice was oh so sweet.
Hurst wondered what on earth she was going on about. There were no matters of the heart closer to home than Caroline that needed any improvement or attention. Caroline was his sister-in-law, after all. She was as close to home as it could get.
"I am taking over," Louisa decided, in a more authoritative tone.
"But Caroline and I --" He had instructed Caroline in a quite detailed manner about what she had to do. If Louisa now disrupted these plans, Caroline would find out and she would never do anything and nothing would ever happen.
"Are not married," she said immediately.
"That has nothing to do with it." It was perfectly acceptable to amuse oneself in this manner.
"Oh no?" Louisa raised her eyebrows. She would show him that it had everything to do with it. Everything.
*~*
Caroline wanted to ask Hurst one more question, but he was gone. His plan was good, but she did not know if it was really going to work as quickly as he seemed to think. She would do her best, however, and she drew in a deep breath before she went down to dinner and the execution of Hurst's plan. He had said he would support her, but for most of it she was on her own.
She hoped she would find neither Darcy nor the Colonel in the drawing room, but they were both there. That was a slight problem with respect to her plan, but it was nothing she could not handle. She forced an arrogant smile and sat down.
Twenty-three
Darcy had not even marked her entrance, lost in thought as he was. He looked up with a start when Caroline sat down next to him, but when she did not speak, he fell back into his reverie.
Caroline, who was thinking about Hurst's plan and how to start carrying it out, was set on ignoring Colonel Fitzwilliam, even though he was looking at her.
"You have not yet inquired about my ankle," the Colonel spoke up when he could no longer bear being ignored.
Politeness fought with her determination to ignore him and Caroline sighed when politeness won and she had to answer. "Your ankle is obviously not better, or else it would not be lying on a pillow. Why do you want me to be stupid and ask questions about it anyway?"
"Perhaps I was hoping you had some compassion."
"You hoped in vain." Caroline turned to Darcy and lowered her voice, placing one hand on his arm. "I am so very grateful that you came to rescue me. I cannot tell you enough. Please do not hesitate to ask if you ever want me to do anything for you. I will do it gladly."
Darcy had gone back for her reluctantly and he now hesitated with a pained expression on his face. Should he lie or tell her the truth?
"I would not abuse your cousin to you, but I do not really like him. I was really in distress, being left alone with that man in the woods."
Well, since Caroline herself did not appear to be very truthful, Darcy supposed he was under no obligation to be honest either. "W-W-We thought you might be," he said weakly, unable to tear his gaze away from Caroline's eyes. There was something about them that was quite unsettling.
Caroline's other hand gripped his arm as well. "I was so..." She sighed again and he bosom heaved visibly. "...happy to see you."
None of this was to Colonel Fitzwilliam's liking. He could not hear a word and that was really the worst of it. When Darcy placed one of his hands over Caroline's, he nearly gasped. The woman was chronically dishonest and Darcy was taken in? He was not even wrapped around her little finger once, but twice or thrice. Darcy was such an idiot. This proved it again. The Colonel did not even have to guess what was being said -- it would somehow be against him.
Darcy found Caroline's grip too tight and he wanted to remove her fingers, but that took some effort to do politely, especially since they entwined very naturally through his.
Colonel Fitzwilliam decided he wanted nothing to do with dishonest women and he made a tremendous effort to stay silent. He had been thinking she would start arguing with him and he could have dealt with that. This was something he did not know how to handle.
Darcy reflected on how easy it would be to propose to Caroline right now. She would accept him and he would not have to go through any fears of being rejected. This was how it was supposed to be, but how come it was with Caroline? Or did that mean he cared more for Caroline than he had been thinking? Had he ignored what was right before his eyes?
The idyllic scene was interrupted by the arrival of Bingley, who seated himself by Colonel Fitzwilliam. "How is your ankle?" he asked.
"Why did whoever taught you manners not teach your sister any?" the Colonel inquired.
"I know I am so well-mannered that everyone else's manners seem unpolished in comparison," Bingley said modestly. "Therefore you must not compare my sister to me -- it would be too hard on her. Perhaps you should compare her to yourself."
Colonel Fitzwilliam refused to do that. He returned to Bingley's first question. "My ankle is fine. I hope I shall be able to walk again in a day."
Bingley looked pleased to hear it. "That would be wonderful. I know you cannot sit still."
"Yes, why did Hurst not break his ankle? I am sure he would not have minded," Fitzwilliam complained. "He is a dull fellow if ever I saw one!"
"I'd rather have an active brother-in-law," Bingley confessed. "The dull ones are dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Fitzwilliam sounded sceptic. "Hurst?"
"Ask Caroline! Oh. I forgot she would probably not give you a decent answer. Take it from me, he wants to get rid of her. He thinks her a bit annoying at times."
"Don't we all!"
"Not all," Bingley said shrewdly, with a sideways glance at Darcy, who was still listening to what Caroline was earnestly telling him. Darcy knew very well how to get rid of unwanted attentions in an effective manner. It followed that he did not find Caroline annoying.
The two men sat in silence for a while until Louisa arrived. She had once been as active as Caroline, Fitzwilliam remembered, but through her marriage to the indolent Hurst she had become chubby and slow. He watched her sit down with a sigh as if this was a great effort. However, she was a good person, he reflected, because she called Caroline away from Darcy.
"What," said Louisa to her sister, "do you think you are doing?"
"Your husband thought --" Caroline began.
"You should not be listening to him."
"Why not? He was quite sympathetic to my plight." He had given her some advice on how to deal with the Colonel.
Louisa's mouth fell open in indignation. "He -- your plight? I'm his wife."
"I am sure he's sympathetic to yours as well."
"So far he has only been sympathetic to his own." Louisa thought Hurst was probably still lamenting his situation, but she had no time to feel sorry for him. She had to solve the Caroline problem first. "What did he tell you to do?"
"Who?"
"My husband."
"Nothing. He gave me some advice, that is all."
"Advice?" Louisa laughed scornfully. "Since when has he been qualified to give advice?"
"Well, we seem to think alike where Colonel Fitzwilliam is concerned." They both believed the man to be a foolish idiot who desperately needed to be taught a lesson.
Louisa raised her eyebrows. "I think you are wrong there. At least I hope so. He might be thinking he knows what you are thinking, but Mr Hurst's insight in the female mind is highly overrated."
"Louisa, I do not understand you," Caroline said in dissatisfaction. "I do not want to discuss Mr Hurst with you. You should not be feeling jealous if he talks to me just because he never talks to you!"
Jealous... Louisa repeated that word to herself and she glanced at the three gentlemen who were conversing at the other side of the room. Jealousy was a powerful emotion, to be sure, but one that should be handled with delicacy and tact, not really in the haphazard manner it was being employed right now. Without any sensible interference this method would certainly miss its goal.
*~*
"What did Caroline say to you?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked Darcy. He was immensely curious and hoped they had not just been planning their wedding. Their chat had been long enough for it.
"That was private, Fitzwilliam," Darcy answered. He would feel silly if he related the conversation, since he had hardly spoken and he had only stupidly listened to her grateful and adoring chatter without knowing what to say.
"Private?" the Colonel looked somewhat desperate. He knew Darcy well enough to distrust his private conversations with women. He never had them, that was why.
"That doesn't make sense," said Bingley after a moment. "Caroline is not the sort to keep private conversations with Darcy private." She would be quick to reveal their intimate friendship.
"Oh?" Darcy could not recall any former private conversations with her.
"I know exactly what you're wont to discuss with her in private."
"Oh?" Darcy said again. He still could not think of any occasion on which he had held a really private conversation with Caroline. Had he missed something? "Why don't I know about that, Bingley?"
Bingley looked puzzled at that. "I don't know." Then his face brightened. "She is such a close friend of yours that you no longer make a distinction between private and ordinary talk, but you have never really realised that she was such a good friend, because she is my sister."
Colonel Fitzwilliam felt his ankle acutely and he winced. "I thought," he said with a grimace, "that Darcy fancied Miss Bennet?"
"Hmm, I think he has better chances of confiding in a friend than in a woman he argues with," said Bingley. "It must be horrible. I could not fancy a woman I argued with, or the other way around."
"Because you do not argue," Darcy remarked. "It can be fun."
"Sure." Bingley kept the rest of his comments to himself. He was too modest to say they were stupid, because that meant he thought he was cleverer than they were. It would not do to say so, even if he began to feel very convinced of that fact.
Twenty-four
Louisa observed the people in the room after Caroline had gone back to sit with Darcy. Surprisingly, the only who did not need help was Charles. The rest were hopeless and some were not even aware of it. This really called for action, even if she had only intended to help herself. Because, really, having a problem like Mr Hurst, could one feel any enthusiasm for taking on several others?
But she could handle it if they were all as easy as Mr Hurst. After all, she had not even ordered him. No, she had advised him to think and what had he done? He had stayed in his room. So tractable.
Surprisingly so. Perhaps it was best not to rejoice just yet. Louisa was a little acquainted with her husband. Not too much, understandably. Yet now she realised a deeper acquaintance might have been useful.
She glanced at the three gentlemen. Bingley -- he was her brother, so he did not count. Darcy -- she would give him a four out of five. Then Fitzwilliam -- a different four, but a four nevertheless. That only left Hurst... He was more difficult. For a while Louisa dwelled on the possible existence of an obligation to award one's husband the highest available marks. There could not be such an obligation. Suppose one had married an idiot or if by a trick of fate she had married Darcy. If she considered him a four now, how could she possibly consider him a five if she were married to him? That was a bit problematic. And what to do with Mr Hurst?
Louisa decided there was no need to think about that, assuming he was awarded the obligatory husband-marks. It did not really matter how much that was. She could not alter it.
*~*
"Your sister," Darcy whispered to Caroline. "Looks a bit reflective." They were still sitting quite chummily together.
"Perhaps you have always been too reflective yourself to notice she can indeed look reflective," Caroline suggested. It sounded very much as if she admired a reflective Darcy.
He basked in this admiration. "Yes, well..." Perhaps it would be rather nice to have a wife who appreciated his silent moods. To be truthful, Darcy dreaded the long summer evenings alone with a wife. In the winter when it got dark early they could at least go to bed, but the summer would be a problem. Would he be expected to entertain her? Women always expected to be entertained with lots of conversation and he was not sure he was good at it. At least Caroline would not mind the occasional spell of silence.
*~*
Mr Hurst paced his bedroom in considerable distress. Thinking was an evil thing, especially if Louisa had ordered him to do it and he had no clue what to think about. She had forgotten to tell him that. He was thinking all the time, but only about what he ought to be thinking, which was probably not what she had meant. And he was thinking about Louisa herself, which was probably also not what she had meant.
"Lou Lou," he whined and fell onto the bed. Strangely enough she had not commented on that nickname.
After feeling extremely sorry for himself for a while he remembered he was Mr Hurst who did not engage in emotional business. He was a secretive schemer, not a sappy sentimentalist.
However, he had always believed his wife to be a sappy sentimentalist and not the secretive schemer she had now proved herself to be. Things were wrong, definitely wrong.
*~*
Louisa beckoned Caroline over again. Her sister came reluctantly. "Why can you not come to me?" Caroline complained.
Louisa had some trouble moving. "Please, dear. My back is bothering me and I'm tired. Listen. What do you think of the gentlemen?"
There was an automatic rebellious reaction upon hearing that word. "Which gentlemen?"
"The ones in this room." Louisa could predict that her sister would deny that there were any in this room. She had become that sort of girl lately. That change in behaviour could be traced back to the beginning of her acquaintance with particular people.
"Plural?" Caroline's glance passed over Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy. Really, to have them all qualify as gentlemen would be totally ridiculous.
"I see three."
"I see one," Caroline said stubbornly.
"I know which one," Louisa answered. They would perhaps not agree on which one, but Caroline was a bit silly at times. She had not really come of age mentally yet. "But I still see three of them."
"Compared to Mr Hurst, certainly. Yes."
Louisa let the insult pass. "What sort of mark --"
Caroline wrinkled her nose. "Mark?"
"Will you just let me finish?" Louisa asked in exasperation. "How would you grade the gentlemen here? On a scale of one to five."
"Why on earth do you want to know?" Caroline was not at all eager to grade anyone, least of all any gentlemen present in this room.
Louisa smiled a superior elder sister smile. If there was one thing she had learnt from Mr Hurst it was never to reveal too much. "Oh, nothing in particular. I only want to determine your relative level of stupidity."
"Stupidity? Excuse me. What does my stupidity have to do with the fact that these people are not gentlemen?"
"Everything, but if you choose not to answer I shall draw my own conclusions."
*~*
Hurst suddenly realised everything might be going wrong downstairs. He had not wanted to let Louisa in on his plan. Would she be able to do everything to him and also steal his secrets? No, he had to keep something to himself.
But what if Caroline was not sticking to the plan? They might be in this situation forever.
And what if Louisa's plan was the complete opposite of his? No, it could not be. Louisa would not care about anything like that. She would not want to meddle.
Was this what he was supposed to be thinking about?
*~*
Bingley was still feeling extremely clever and while that lasted he told himself he might as well have some clever thoughts. He saw Louisa whisper to Caroline and he saw Darcy whisper to Caroline. There was a pretty big similarity here, he could see that. Now what was it?
Suddenly he had it. It was Caroline!
Unfortunately it was beyond him why everyone suddenly wanted to talk to Caroline. Well, the Colonel might not be getting the chance, but he most certainly wanted to. Bingley could see that. He leant towards him. "What would you say to Caroline if you could whisper in her ear?" he asked in a soft voice.
That was apparently a difficult question, because Colonel Fitzwilliam considered his words carefully and slowly. "You think you would like to know, but in fact you do not."
"You think you do not want to tell me, but in fact you do."
"Bingley..."
"Oh, you like that name, don't you?" Bingley looked delighted.
"Bingley..."
"Yes?"
"Why must you choose this moment to act clever?" the Colonel inquired. He really disliked cleverness that was ill-timed.
"Because I have a plan," said Bingley.
Twenty-five
However, Bingley was as yet the only one who had publicly announced that he had a plan and most people's acquaintance with Bingley was of such a long standing that they were inclined to underestimate his kind of plans.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had not known Bingley for very long and he also had a plan, somewhere deep down. Despite its depth, he was worried. "What sort of plan?"
"You are stupid if you think I would tell you!" Bingley laughed and rubbed his hands. He leant towards Fitzwilliam again and said in a loud whisper. "One day you'll thank me for getting you a wife!"
"Bingley," the Colonel said advisingly. "I'm perfectly capable of procuring my own wives, thank you."
"So you are experienced in that field then, Colonel?" Bingley showed a side of him that not many people had ever seen. He knew he had it, but it did not always come out when he wanted it to. It was a pity that Jane was not here to see it, though. He would have liked to impress her.
"Tolerably." Fitzwilliam tried to stay cool.
Bingley feigned shock. "What have you done to your wives?"
"Not telling."
"For a man your age to have outlived several wives is highly suspicious," Bingley decided. "I think you have just ruined your chances of obtaining access to my sister. She will not end up in the Fitzwilliam family graveyard."
"Bingley," said the Colonel. "Perhaps it is a moot point, but even if I had had the intention of marrying her and I had taken her as my only wife and, God help me, she would die, she would have ended up in the Fitzwilliam family graveyard as well."
"True, but it is better for her to lie there alone."
"She should not marry a Fitzwilliam then. They all lie there and she would not be the first one. Look, Bingley," Colonel Fitzwilliam said decisively. "This conversation has taken a strange turn. I am not sure I like it."
"I know why."
"Why?"
"Because you cannot bear to think of her dead."
Colonel Fitzwilliam grunted a reply and limping left the room. There were no sensible people here. If Darcy had not been in love, he would have been a good companion, but the way things stood now he was useless. Where was Hurst when you needed him? He heaved himself upstairs and checked all the rooms.
Hurst was pacing a hideously frilly bedroom and he looked surprised when the Colonel opened the door. "Was that you who was bouncing up the stairs?" he wondered.
"Yes, what did you think?"
"My wife. I can usually hear her coming up. She has become a bit heavy on her feet lately."
"I limped."
Hurst eyed the Colonel. "Doesn't seem to have cost you any trouble."
"Military men do not pant," the Colonel said proudly. He turned when he heard skirts rustle behind him. "Good grief!" he exclaimed. Why were they creeping up on him?
"Take note, sister," said Hurst. "Military men do not pant, but they have bad hearing."
"Military men are good actors," Caroline said icily. "They may not pant when they believe themselves to be limping alone, but they do sigh and grunt when a lady is accompanying them." He had definitely made some noises back in the woods. He had only been acting, that despicable man.
"So? Does that prove anything?" the Colonel asked in a clever tone. "Is panting the same as sighing and grunting? I believe there is a slight difference."
Caroline gave no answer.
"At least you saw that a limp is always a limp, lady or no lady." He paused for a moment. "Why do you stop answering me when I have won?"
"You have won. What else is there to say?" she shrugged and turned to walk away.
"Stop!" Fitzwilliam turned too, but too hastily and he forgot his ankle. Accidentally he placed it on the floor and it hurt. However, being in the middle of a turn he could not stop his upper body from swaying. He crashed to the ground and he lay helpless on his stomach.
To his great disappointment Caroline did not come back. She glanced over her shoulder and descended the stairs as if nothing had happened. It was Hurst who helped him back up. "That hurt," the Colonel admitted. "That hurt."
"The ankle?" Hurst inquired. He set Fitzwilliam down on the frilly bed.
"That was just a stab. It passes. Pain inflicted by a woman will last forever."
"A woman? Don't military men have adequate defences against women?"
The answer was surprising. "No." The Colonel paused. "Do not tell anyone. It is our biggest secret."
"But which woman hurt you?" Hurst asked.
"Caroline!"
"That is not a woman. That is a...Caroline. Oh right. Yes, she is a woman."
There was a low grunt. "I knew she was a woman, but I did not know she could hurt me."
"Forever," Hurst said helpfully. He was beginning to forget his own concerns. This was a little amusing. "How did she hurt you?"
"She walked away."
"Had you tried to stop her?"
"Yes. I said stop!"
"That is hardly going to make a woman stand still!" Hurst snickered, happy to find a fellow victim of feminine disobedience. Saying stop had not worked on Louisa either. He had been thinking it was his fault.
"What was I supposed to say?" the Colonel asked in frustration.
Hurst held up his hands. "God only knows. Whatever makes a woman stand still is quite incomprehensible to us men. I think there is a very random principle at work." And it also looked as if his plan was beginning to work. The poor Colonel was becoming rather desperate.
Twenty-six
Since dinner was uneventful and boring, people expected the night to be just as uneventful. They were wrong.
First Louisa had some exciting adventures, although Louisa always kept such things to herself. Nobody knew these things were about to happen and she did not want to tell anybody just yet. She was just struggling with the aftermath when Netherfield was disturbed by visitors in the middle of the night.
Longbourn had gone up in flames, at least part of it had, and the Phillipses could not offer the entire family a place to sleep. Mrs Bennet, although at first glance extremely distressed and tearful, had been quick to realise who would benefit most from a stay elsewhere and she had suggested that Jane would be best off at Netherfield. However, even Mrs Bennet realised that under no circumstances Jane could go alone or with one or more of her sisters, but that she would have to be accompanied by her parents.
Mr Bennet was all for imposing on the inhabitants of Netherfield, never feeling quite at home at the Phillipses' house. He foresaw a greater chance of peace and quiet at Netherfield and he would need that, what with his wife's current distress. The Longbourn library and his family had been spared. He saw no reason to be distressed about anything.
Mrs Bennet herself was dying to experience the greater luxury for a few days and so it was decided that she and Mr Bennet would go there with Jane while the four youngest girls would stay with Aunt Phillips.
Elizabeth was put out. She did not want to admit it, but she had been looking forward to seeing a half-dressed and concerned Darcy waiting to welcome and comfort the homeless. Instead, she would have to share a room with three sisters who would be whining about the possible loss of their favourite bonnets. The good thing was that her mother would not be there, but she would be making some very bad impressions on Darcy.
Jane felt sorry for her sister, but her pleading to take Lizzy as well did not work with her mother.
"Jane, Elizabeth will be in your way! Why don't you see that?" Mrs Bennet had hissed. "Mr Bingley will not dare to monopolise you if you are with Elizabeth." And Mr Bingley would most certainly monopolise Jane if everyone else stayed away from them.
Jane had looked embarrassed and said no more about the subject. She was not going there to secure Mr Bingley's attentions, but because they had no roof over their heads. There was a difference.
Bingley was very concerned when he heard the whole story and he was willing to send for the four other girls as well, but Mrs Bennet was vehemently against this. His attention should be solely on Jane. Besides, her sister Phillips would never look at her again if the girls chose Netherfield over her house, even though her sister would do the exact same thing if she got the chance.
Even Darcy made an appearance. As soon as he heard about the seriousness of the situation he took Mr Bennet aside to discuss matters with him, leaving Mrs Bennet's hysteria to Bingley, who had more of a constitution to deal with that.
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not appear, except to peer over a banister to see who was making such noise. It was an easy choice for him. He could either go downstairs to listen to Mrs Bennet, or he could go back to bed. On his way there he encountered Caroline in her night gown.
"What is going on?" she asked sleepily.
"It's Mrs Bennet."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The Colonel shrugged. "I do not want to get involved." He went back into his bedchamber.
"But something bad must have happened." Caroline was torn between her desire to know and her equally strong desire to avoid Mrs Bennet. Perhaps she was needed downstairs. She was the lady of the house, more or less. It was her duty to receive guests and to make them comfortable, however much she might dislike them. The Colonel was disappointing her, although she had always known he would be like that, she told herself as she descended the stairs.
Caroline viewed the situation. Mrs Bennet was upset and being comforted by Jane and Charles, so that was quite enough. She did not think her skills lay in that area anyway. Nobody had ever said so. Darcy was talking to Mr Bennet and perhaps she might be of more use there. Silently she approached them, but they barely noted her presence, busy as they were.
"-- better in the daylight," said Mr Bennet. "And things might have cooled off then."
Darcy nodded in agreement. "I'll offer you any assistance I can."
"So will I," said Caroline, to impress Darcy. And it worked, because he looked at her. She had no idea what sort of help she would offer, though, but she could always find out about that later.
He stared at her as if he noticed for the first time that she was standing beside him. "That is really good of you, Caroline." He briefly laid his hand on her shoulder.
Caroline was proud and she and Darcy showed Mr Bennet a room while Bingley was still occupied with Jane and Mrs Bennet.
"Well," Darcy began after the door had closed behind Mr Bennet. "I am impressed that you offered your assistance," he said earnestly.
Now she would have to come up with a concrete example of her willingness. "I will lend some clothes to Jane," Caroline assured him. "And my maid." Provided that her maid wanted to serve yet another person apart from Caroline and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"Bingley will have his hands full, I expect. It will be up to you and me."
"I will not let you down."
"It is not about me, though," Darcy reminded her softly. "It is about the Bennets."
She nodded, trying to feel that. "Yes. Er...the Colonel went back to bed."
"I am not surprised by him. I am surprised by you, Caroline." Darcy took a step closer.
"Er...are you?" she asked, her eyes wide open.
"Yes." He did not move. She was a good girl. Why had he not seen that before? He bent forward and lightly kissed her forehead. The reason why escaped him, as did the explanation for his subsequent action. He kissed her lips.
Colonel Fitzwilliam closed his door as quietly as he had opened it. He had seen enough. It pained him to see more and he lay on his bed with his hands over his face, but unfortunately the images were in his mind.
*~*
In another room of the house, Mr Hurst had just fainted because of something his wife had shown him. It was something that had stunned him so much that he had let out a small puff and sagged to the floor.
She looked down on him and sighed. It was sad, really, how her husband was not aware of how useless he was when he was needed and how useful he had proved himself to be when it had not been needed. "Yes, this is what happens when you come here too often," she told him, but he could not hear her and she sat waiting for him to come around.
"What happened?" he asked in bewilderment when he had recovered himself enough.
"You came here once too often."
Twenty-seven
Things were quite unusual in the morning. Not only was breakfast with Mrs Bennet an extraordinary affair, it was also remarkable that Mr Hurst was absent. He had never missed a meal as far as anyone knew.
"Where is Hurst?" asked Bingley, who had been conditioned to leave the best egg for his brother-in-law. His mouth watered upon seeing one particularly large egg. Hurst's absence was not always as good as a permission to take it. It just might be that he was only delayed. And in that case he would protest very vehemently against Bingley's stealing of his egg.
"He's not here. Just take it," said Darcy, who had always found it fairly silly for a man of Bingley's age -- and the master of the house at that -- to be so deferential.
"But --" Bingley began and then decided he had to impress Jane. "Miss Bennet may have the egg."
Jane was not really an egg person and neither did she know what was so special about this egg, but she felt flattered by Bingley's generous gesture. "Thank you, Mr Bingley."
He beamed as he deposited the egg on her plate. His day was brightened to an even greater extent by her gratitude.
Mrs Bennet was possibly even more impressed than Jane and she offered a sensible comment as well. "It must be a good egg!" And Mr Bingley must have good eyes, because all the eggs looked the same. Or could he smell it?
"How so, Mrs Bennet?" asked her spouse. He was under the assumption that it was merely large.
"Well, for Mr Bingley to give it to Jane."
"There is no way he could ever deny that," said Mr Bennet, who saw it as pointless to focus on this point.
"And indeed we do not serve bad eggs to our guests," Caroline cut in.
"Only to ourselves?" Darcy inquired, but she gave him a look that showed him she was not amused by his question. Still, he was gratified that only Jane, Bingley and Mrs Bennet had not understood him and he told himself that this was probably because they had not been listening.
"Speak for yourself."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was seated next to Mrs Bennet as the result of not having been quite awake yet when she sat down, but she had made sure to wake him thoroughly in the meantime. He looked up. "Surely we would have noticed if Miss Bingley had ever been served a bad egg."
"Why?" she demanded immediately.
"Because I am sure you would not like bad eggs."
Caroline chose not to reply. It seemed to her that Colonel Fitzwilliam did not need her assistance in exposing his stupidity. He was clever enough to do that himself.
It was settled that the three gentlemen would accompany Mr Bennet to Longbourn to see what would need to be done. Caroline would have liked some help in keeping Mrs Bennet and Jane entertained, but since Louisa was also absent, this task would fall to her alone. Colonel Fitzwilliam had not wanted anything to do with the matter the night before, but he now very deviously chose to go with the other men -- as if anyone believed he was genuinely helpful. Caroline gritted her teeth. That man really only chose what suited him best. Perhaps he should remember that he was an invalid. "But Colonel, your ankle would surely prevent your going?" she asked sweetly.
"Not if you have not chained it to anything I cannot take with me," he replied, glancing around briefly. Mrs Bennet was engaged in observing Bingley and Jane, who were engrossed in watching each other, Darcy was occupied with his breakfast and Mr Bennet was busy smiling at himself. Nobody was paying attention to his conversation with Caroline. "Your maid, Miss Bingley, is well-skilled."
"Skilled in what?" She would like to hear to what he had put her maid up precisely.
"Undoing sprains."
See! She had been right in thinking there was no sprained ankle. It had all been an act. "I wish you would not avail yourself of my servants without my permission."
"Yours or Bingley's?"
"Certainly not yours! Furthermore, I wish you would stop acting in my presence." She turned away haughtily and paid no more attention to him -- openly.
*~*
Caroline, after getting a bid tired of Mrs Bennet, had eventually arranged it with her brother that he would stay with Jane and Mrs Bennet while she took his place in going to Longbourn to ascertain the damage. Arriving there, however, she had little inclination to venture into the building, afraid as she was that she might get dirty. She stood outside and she could not help but talk to Elizabeth, who had also come for a look.
"I had not expected to see you here, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth said somewhat cattily. "Do you like to gloat over other people's misfortunes?"
"In that case I would have stayed at Netherfield with your mother," Caroline shot back. "Do not think I did not suffer in coming here. Perhaps you would enjoy a carriage ride with the good Colonel, but I most certainly do not." Well, he had behaved himself because Mr Bennet had also been with them, but she knew what he would have done if that had not been the case.
"I thought your party came on horseback," said Elizabeth, who had only seen Mr Darcy, sitting very elegantly on a horse.
"Only Darcy did. Your father did not want to and the Colonel's foot does not fit into his riding boots, or some other pitiable excuse like that."
"Why does it not?"
"Whether he really twisted his ankle or not is of little importance, because he behaves as though he did."
"How did that happen?"
"It did not happen. I cannot answer that question."
"But how -- never mind. The damage seems limited," Elizabeth said, staring up at the house. "I was inside for a few moments and it does not look as if we are going to have to live with my uncle and aunt forever."
"You must be quite happy about that."
"Indeed. My mother insisted that I go there. It would have preferred to stay with Jane or perhaps go to the Lucases, but they have so many guests already. I must put up with my younger sisters for as long as it takes," Elizabeth said bravely. "They have gone out to tell the officers about this disaster."
"Officers, however, are not the most sympathetic ears one might find."
"I am sure they are sympathetic to all that is young, female and silly."
"I must not be silly," Caroline concluded. Colonel Fitzwilliam had shown very little sympathy to her. "How does a man go up the stairs if he cannot even ride a horse?"
"Do those things have anything to do with each other?"
"Yes. Do you think they carried the Colonel upstairs?"
"Why do you keep wondering about him?" asked Elizabeth, who preferred to speak about Darcy. "Shall we sit on the grass and wait for the gentlemen to finish their inspection?"
"If we must." Caroline eyed the grass suspiciously.
"You must, certainly, because you have to wait for the carriage."
"What about those creepy crawly things?"
"They will only do something if you think about them. Otherwise they will not." Elizabeth sat down.
Twenty-Seven
Things were quite unusual in the morning. Not only was breakfast with Mrs Bennet an extraordinary affair, it was also remarkable that Mr Hurst was absent. He had never missed a meal as far as anyone knew.
"Where is Hurst?" asked Bingley, who had been conditioned to leave the best egg for his brother-in-law. His mouth watered upon seeing one particularly large egg. Hurst's absence was not always as good as a permission to take it. It just might be that he was only delayed. And in that case he would protest very vehemently against Bingley's stealing of his egg.
"He's not here. Just take it," said Darcy, who had always found it fairly silly for a man of Bingley's age -- and the master of the house at that -- to be so deferential.
"But --" Bingley began and then decided he had to impress Jane. "Miss Bennet may have the egg."
Jane was not really an egg person and neither did she know what was so special about this egg, but she felt flattered by Bingley's generous gesture. "Thank you, Mr Bingley."
He beamed as he deposited the egg on her plate. His day was brightened to an even greater extent by her gratitude.
Mrs Bennet was possibly even more impressed than Jane and she offered a sensible comment as well. "It must be a good egg!" And Mr Bingley must have good eyes, because all the eggs looked the same. Or could he smell it?
"How so, Mrs Bennet?" asked her spouse. He was under the assumption that it was merely large.
"Well, for Mr Bingley to give it to Jane."
"There is no way he could ever deny that," said Mr Bennet, who saw it as pointless to focus on this point.
"And indeed we do not serve bad eggs to our guests," Caroline cut in.
"Only to ourselves?" Darcy inquired, but she gave him a look that showed him she was not amused by his question. Still, he was gratified that only Jane, Bingley and Mrs Bennet had not understood him and he told himself that this was probably because they had not been listening.
"Speak for yourself."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was seated next to Mrs Bennet as the result of not having been quite awake yet when she sat down, but she had made sure to wake him thoroughly in the meantime. He looked up. "Surely we would have noticed if Miss Bingley had ever been served a bad egg."
"Why?" she demanded immediately.
"Because I am sure you would not like bad eggs."
Caroline chose not to reply. It seemed to her that Colonel Fitzwilliam did not need her assistance in exposing his stupidity. He was clever enough to do that himself.
It was settled that the three gentlemen would accompany Mr Bennet to Longbourn to see what would need to be done. Caroline would have liked some help in keeping Mrs Bennet and Jane entertained, but since Louisa was also absent, this task would fall to her alone. Colonel Fitzwilliam had not wanted anything to do with the matter the night before, but he now very deviously chose to go with the other men -- as if anyone believed he was genuinely helpful. Caroline gritted her teeth. That man really only chose what suited him best. Perhaps he should remember that he was an invalid. "But Colonel, your ankle would surely prevent your going?" she asked sweetly.
"Not if you have not chained it to anything I cannot take with me," he replied, glancing around briefly. Mrs Bennet was engaged in observing Bingley and Jane, who were engrossed in watching each other, Darcy was occupied with his breakfast and Mr Bennet was busy smiling at himself. Nobody was paying attention to his conversation with Caroline. "Your maid, Miss Bingley, is well-skilled."
"Skilled in what?" She would like to hear to what he had put her maid up precisely.
"Undoing sprains."
See! She had been right in thinking there was no sprained ankle. It had all been an act. "I wish you would not avail yourself of my servants without my permission."
"Yours or Bingley's?"
"Certainly not yours! Furthermore, I wish you would stop acting in my presence." She turned away haughtily and paid no more attention to him -- openly.
*~*
Caroline, after getting a bid tired of Mrs Bennet, had eventually arranged it with her brother that he would stay with Jane and Mrs Bennet while she took his place in going to Longbourn to ascertain the damage. Arriving there, however, she had little inclination to venture into the building, afraid as she was that she might get dirty. She stood outside and she could not help but talk to Elizabeth, who had also come for a look.
"I had not expected to see you here, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth said somewhat cattily. "Do you like to gloat over other people's misfortunes?"
"In that case I would have stayed at Netherfield with your mother," Caroline shot back. "Do not think I did not suffer in coming here. Perhaps you would enjoy a carriage ride with the good Colonel, but I most certainly do not." Well, he had behaved himself because Mr Bennet had also been with them, but she knew what he would have done if that had not been the case.
"I thought your party came on horseback," said Elizabeth, who had only seen Mr Darcy, sitting very elegantly on a horse.
"Only Darcy did. Your father did not want to and the Colonel's foot does not fit into his riding boots, or some other pitiable excuse like that."
"Why does it not?"
"Whether he really twisted his ankle or not is of little importance, because he behaves as though he did."
"How did that happen?"
"It did not happen. I cannot answer that question."
"But how -- never mind. The damage seems limited," Elizabeth said, staring up at the house. "I was inside for a few moments and it does not look as if we are going to have to live with my uncle and aunt forever."
"You must be quite happy about that."
"Indeed. My mother insisted that I go there. It would have preferred to stay with Jane or perhaps go to the Lucases, but they have so many guests already. I must put up with my younger sisters for as long as it takes," Elizabeth said bravely. "They have gone out to tell the officers about this disaster."
"Officers, however, are not the most sympathetic ears one might find."
"I am sure they are sympathetic to all that is young, female and silly."
"I must not be silly," Caroline concluded. Colonel Fitzwilliam had shown very little sympathy to her. "How does a man go up the stairs if he cannot even ride a horse?"
"Do those things have anything to do with each other?"
"Yes. Do you think they carried the Colonel upstairs?"
"Why do you keep wondering about him?" asked Elizabeth, who preferred to speak about Darcy. "Shall we sit on the grass and wait for the gentlemen to finish their inspection?"
"If we must." Caroline eyed the grass suspiciously.
"You must, certainly, because you have to wait for the carriage."
"What about those creepy crawly things?"
"They will only do something if you think about them. Otherwise they will not." Elizabeth sat down.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Caroline was sitting on the grass with Elizabeth and she was never going to say this out loud, but it was quite agreeable to sit there. Her complexion would not suffer, because there was no sun, and her gown would not suffer, because the ground was dry. Elizabeth herself was also tolerably well-behaved today. Her spirits seemed a little subdued by the fire.
However, Elizabeth's spirits were not that easily subdued. In reality she sat gazing at the house to see if Darcy might appear behind one of its windows. She hoped he would, but on the other hand he could only do so if he entered one of the young ladies' bedchambers -- since those were at the front of the house -- and he might not do that. Elizabeth did not know whether she wanted to credit him with such feelings of propriety or not. She tried to recall in what sort of state she had left her room. Perhaps there were things he could not possibly be allowed to see. It was very vexing. She had developed a sudden interest in Darcy that was also vexing. She shifted nervously on the grass, trying to ascertain whether she wanted Darcy to peek into her bedchamber.
Caroline noticed her fidgeting. "Bugs?" she inquired anxiously, immediately feeling something itching under her stockings.
"N-N-No," Elizabeth blushed. She had almost been caught there.
"Oh." It did not relieve Caroline much. Once something had begun to itch, it never went away again.
A gentleman came out of the house. Unfortunately it was not Darcy. Elizabeth sighed and turned away. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam. He limped towards the ladies and inelegantly fell on the grass. "You are going to have to help me up again, Miss Bingley," he said.
"Why must it be me?" she asked and turned away.
The Colonel was now facing two ladies who had turned away from him. It was rather disturbing, because it rarely happened. Then he remembered that ladies who turned away were actually too eager to look at him. It was called modesty. "I could also ask Miss Bennet."
"I'm sorry. I seem to have missed something," Elizabeth said politely. "What would you ask me?"
"To help me to my feet. You would help me."
"If you need help."
"Or both of you."
An innocent but large spider appeared on Caroline's gown and she let out a scream, trying to shake it off while keeping her gown in such a position as to remain a proper lady. It would not work. Colonel Fitzwilliam caught more glimpses of stockings than of the offensive spider and he was loath to interfere, but his innate gallantry prevailed. "Sit down!" he said in a commanding voice.
Caroline sat down, still feeling enormously afraid. "Take it off!"
"What should I take off, Miss Bingley?" asked the Colonel, both eyes on the spider now. He was gauging the best way to catch it without having it run off into the folds of Caroline's gown. He did not even want to consider it going there, for it surely meant he would have to follow. He owed her that.
"Catch the spider! Kill it!" She averted her eyes and trembled. "I cannot bear to look! Where is it?" She could feel it crawl slowly upwards and she raised a hand to her neck in fear. "Will it get into my mouth?"
He could have some fun with this if he wanted. It was nowhere near her mouth. It was on her leg. He lurched at it suddenly, but it escaped his hands.
Caroline screamed again when she felt something.
"That was me."
"Did you get it?" she squeaked.
"Not yet."
"Hurry, I am dying."
"It is a simple spider. It cannot kill you." The Colonel kept his hands ready for the next attack.
"But I can still be dying." She knew she was in all likeliness being extremely silly, but she was afraid of spiders.
Fitzwilliam placed one hand on her leg to push the spider into it with his other hand. "Excuse me," he said politely. He was not being a very proper gentleman, after all. Miss Bennet was looking at it very curiously and with a frown of disapproval.
In reality Elizabeth was regretting the fact that the spider was on Caroline's leg. How would Darcy have dealt with the spider if it had been on her own leg?
Caroline misunderstood the Colonel. She thought he was addressing the spider. "Do not excuse yourself to that disgusting thing."
"I have thought a lot of bad things of you, but I have never thought of you as a disgusting thing," he said, raising his eyebrows. He thought to throw in some gallantry for good measure, to make up for actually having his hand on her leg. "Quite the opposite, I am afraid."
"Oh." Caroline coloured.
While he was not watching, the spider disappeared and hid under a fold. He glanced back down and it was gone. "Where did it go?"
"It disappeared?" Caroline's voice rose in panic. "Find it!" She could already feel it crawl up her spine and she shuddered.
The Colonel unfolded some more accessible bits of her gown while he searched. "I shall find it again, but..." He foresaw that a more thorough search would be required. "I need your permission to look...everywhere. Miss Bennet will be my witness." There. That would take care of propriety.
"I do not care!" She just wanted to get rid of that uncomfortable feeling.
"Very well." He slowly examined every inch of her gown around her ankles. Perhaps it had gone through the fabric, so it was vital that he also felt was what underneath.
Elizabeth watched lazily. With her greater experience in dealing with spiders she ought to advise Caroline to stand up and shake it off, but she did not want to deny Colonel Fitzwilliam the chance to act gallantly and he was doing that with such zeal. As the Colonel moved his search upwards, Elizabeth saw that the spider had also moved upwards, or perhaps it was a different spider that now climbed up Caroline's back. It would rather spoil Colonel Fitzwilliam's fun if she told him, so she simply reached out, caught the spider by a leg and threw it away.
"What was that?" asked Caroline, who had seen the movement, but who had not felt anything.
"Another spider."
Caroline started violently. "Argh!"
"Stay still!" the Colonel admonished and grabbed her by the knees. "Do not move!"
The three of them had noticed Darcy's approach until he spoke with evident surprise. "What are you doing?" All three coloured, oddly enough. He looked from one face to the other and then finally rested his eyes on his cousin's hands that were still on Caroline's legs.
"We have lost a spider," Colonel Fitzwilliam said gravely. "I was looking for it."
"Stand up, Caroline, and it will fall off," Darcy advised. He did not understand why no one had thought of that before.
Elizabeth gave a small gasp. There was absolutely no sense of the romantic in that man! If there had been a spider on her, he would also have told her to stand up instead of reassuring her by being thorough! She forgot that this was by far the most sensible thing to advise and that she was not afraid of spiders, but it was a fact that sometimes you had to ignore common sense and go with silliness to reach your goal. She fell backwards to express her astonishment and mild disappointment, however.
"Are you ill, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked in a strangely controlled voice.
"No, I am...appalled, you might say." She sat up straight again. "Perhaps I could have a word with you, Mr Darcy," she said when she saw him hold out his hand to drag Caroline to her feet. She could not allow that. No, he had to be distracted before that could happen, even though she did not yet know what to distract him with. "On some serious business." She lightly jumped up and walked away a few paces, looking back at him expectantly.
Twenty-nine
Mr Bennet looked out of the window and saw his daughter beckon Mr Darcy away. That was interesting, considering that said gentleman had also displayed some interest in Elizabeth's bedchamber -- nothing more than a slight hesitation upon passing it, but still remarkable.
He shrugged and continued his inspection. Whatever Colonel Fitzwilliam was doing to Miss Bingley was none of his business either. It only meant that this would not become one of his sons-in-law. Oh well. He had liked the man.
*~*
"What is it, Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy, who was rather surprised at being beckoned.
"Serious business," she repeated briskly, hoping she was giving him the impression that she knew what she wanted. She did not.
He gave her one of his stares and realised that he had kissed the wrong woman. Why had he done that? It was not that he felt any regret, because it had felt like the thing to do, but now he felt differently. Darcy disliked such inconstancy in himself. Kissing was serious business, but he doubted that Elizabeth had this in mind. It was not at all lady-like. He pondered that dilemma. It required a lady's participation and yet it was not lady-like. How could that be solved? Perhaps it was not gentleman-like either.
When Darcy kept staring at her in his customary intense manner, Elizabeth began to blush. "Serious business. Really."
"Really?" He understood less and less of himself and the world.
"Yes, really. I should like to...er..."
~*~
Colonel Fitzwilliam gaped at his companion in confusion. "What did you say?" She had just said something very unexpected.
"I said never mind the spider."
"Why are you saying that?" He did not understand this sudden change. Only a minute ago she had been terrified -- or at least it had seemed that way. Had she been acting all along?
"I have to get over it." Caroline pulled a brave face. Someone had peered out of a window and seen them. It had suddenly occurred to her how they had to be appearing.
"Why? I rather liked chasing it across your gown," Colonel Fitzwilliam teased.
"You rather liked chasing it into my gown," she corrected him, but she could not be angry about it.
"Is it in your gown?" To be sure, he had no intentions of going there except verbal ones.
She jumped up and shook out her skirts. "I hope it is gone now."
"Did you not want to let me take care of it?" Perhaps he had been a little too thorough.
"I did. You did." It made her a little shy. Caroline hated to feel shy. She looked the other way again. Why had she come here? "I want to go back to Netherfield."
"But what about Mr Bennet?"
"We can send the carriage back for him." Only belatedly did she realise that she had spoken about the two of them without making sure if he was actually coming. "Are you coming with me then?" Did she want to?
"Yes, of course." He limped ahead.
She watched him. "I thought your ankle was alright again."
"No."
"What did my maid do to your ankle?"
"She gave me wet cloths."
"Is that all?"
"Well, no. She also gave me some information about you." He glanced back at her hesitantly, certain she would explode upon hearing that. Caroline would feel her maid's duty was to her and not to someone else, least of all to him.
She halted and stared. "What did she say? I thought you knew me too well to have to ask anything. You always know precisely how to rile me, after all."
"But that is easy." He smiled. "You are too obvious."
"I am not obvious," she said proudly. "What did she say?"
"Nothing, so you are obvious!" He had known she would react like that and he looked smug.
She huffed and said nothing until they got into the carriage.
*~*
"Well..." said Darcy when they had rounded the corner of the house and Elizabeth stopped walking. He expected the serious business to be revealed now.
"I did not want you to interfere in the Colonel's courtship."
It rather bugged him that the serious business should be about his cousin and not about him. "He has been at it for years, with no success. I am sure that one interruption will not do any harm."
Elizabeth sensed his dissatisfaction. "Do you disapprove of courtships in general?" she wondered.
"No!" he hastened to say. "But I do not think they should be interrupted by interference in other people's courtships."
"Oh! I am not sure I understand you, Mr Darcy," Elizabeth said modestly.
"Me neither," he realised. They had not even got their courting underway. "I meant...never mind. What was your serious business?"
"I wanted to ask you if you disapproved of courtships."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Any courtship or between particular people?"
"Between particular people."
"May I ask which people?"
That would bring them far too close to the core of the matter. Elizabeth shook her head. "No, you may not."
"I may not ask, but may I guess?"
"If you must," she conceded, feeling excited.
Darcy was silent for a few moments. "Very well. I have guessed." He had not, really, but he must appear clever. And guessing what he wanted to guess was all too easy, so he could never voice that.
"Tell me." Elizabeth could hardly contain her eagerness.
"No, you were not telling me either. Why should I tell you?"
"Alright. But if you plan to court me, I should like to be informed about it."
Darcy did not think so. "My cousin never did that and it would end all of his efforts if he did." That was twisting the facts to suit his own wishes. He wished it could all happen without ever telling the lady and her still being aware of it. He would die if he had to tell her and he would look like an idiot.
~*~
"I have never courted another woman," Colonel Fitzwilliam began as the carriage set off for Netherfield. "But this whole experience with you has put me off trying with anyone else ever again. If I should fail with you I shall remain a bachelor for the rest of my life."
Caroline stared at him. This was the first time that anyone had ever suggested she was being courted, but given that the information was coming from the man in question himself, it had to be true. "I would never have guessed you were courting me, Colonel. Perhaps your methods are not very refined or effective."
"Or the beneficiary of my actions is not refined enough to notice."
She raised her chin. "Why should you court an unrefined lady?"
"Indeed." He could not help smiling. "That means you have been purposely ignoring my efforts for some other reason."
She winced and looked out of the window. He was too clever. "Why must you always win?" she asked in resignation.
"I have not won yet. Is that it, by the way? Your need to win prevents you from being courted like a proper lady?"
Caroline was still looking out of the window and she twisted her hands in her lap. He should end this conversation immediately because it made her feel uncomfortable, but she would be disappointed if he did.
"You did not answer me," Fitzwilliam said after a few minutes of observing her profile.
"No," she agreed.
"Can I draw my own conclusions?" He would conclude that he was right.
"You always do that anyway. Do I have any say in what I do or feel or am I simply your puppet?" He could do with her exactly as he pleased and she disliked that. She needed to be in control of everything, most of all herself.
"I dislike puppets," Fitzwilliam remarked and then looked out of the window as well.
*~*
Arriving at Netherfield, they found Mr Hurst pacing the library, his hair all ruffled. He stopped his pacing to observe them for a few moments. "I hope you are not as stupid as I was, sister," he said to Caroline.
"Could I be?" She sat down.
"Why should she be? Why are you?" asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"My wife told me so."
"And your wife, being a Bingley by birth, always speaks the truth," the Colonel nodded sarcastically.
Hurst sighed and resumed his circling of the large table, his eyes on the carpet. "I thought I was so observant, but I was wrong. Are you two going to be married?"
"If that puts an end to the vexation, I am all for it," said Caroline. She was not sure it would.
"Vexation?" the Colonel inquired.
"It will," Hurst advised. "I may have been wrong about my wife, but I do not think I was wrong about the kind of vexation that exists between the two of you. I shall go and ask Louisa to speak to you." He bowed and left the room.
~*~
"Since you cannot live here for the time being and I am sure you do not feel happy living with your aunt and uncle, other measures shall have to be taken," Darcy announced.
"Oh." Elizabeth was all anticipation.
"You are welcome to come to Pemberley with me, with all that this entails. I am sure you know what I mean." He thought this was a particularly clever way of going about not saying the actual words and looked smug.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows when the thought had registered. "Precisely what is included in that invitation?"
"I am not sure what you mean," Darcy said in some confusion. He had been clear about that, he thought.
"Will we be...getting married?"
"Yes, I said so."
"Mr Darcy, you cannot leave me with such an unsatisfactory proposal to relate to my friends," she said in amusement.
"Your friends?" It would never occur to him to relate a proposal to his friends. He doubted that they would even be interested.
"I cannot tell them your exact words or they would laugh at me or pity me."
"The spirit in which it was conveyed is exactly the same if not better than the spirit in which the admirable proposals are conveyed," said Darcy. "I do not possess the talent to --" he broke off when he realised something. "You have not said yes yet. Why should I make an effort at speaking only to be rejected?"
"If you make an effort, I will say yes," she promised him and then had him propose to her all afternoon because she rather liked to tease him by saying he needed to alter his words just a little.
While Darcy might not have the talent to stumble on a correct proposal in one try, he certainly possessed other talents and patience with vexing women was but one of them. Another one that came in useful was having an immense vocabulary at his disposal, largely passive but capable of being activated in order to satisfy Elizabeth. He was pleased to note she actually understood all the words he used.
~*~
Louisa came into the library, seeing two silent people staring at the ceiling. "Mr Hurst tells me you are in need of advice."
"Has Mr Hurst been drinking?" Caroline wondered sharply. She had not spoken a word since Hurst had left the room, but she had been pondering his suggestion and her own answer. Surely she could not have meant that it might be agreeable to be married to the Colonel?
"No, he has merely realised that he has been silly." Louisa placed her hands on her hips and looked from one to the other. "Has the same realisation struck here yet?"
"Where?" asked the Colonel. "Are you referring to your sister?"
"And to you."
"Me? I do not think I have ever been silly."
"You still are," was Louisa's cruel verdict.
"I did not know you could talk, Mrs Hurst," he commented. "I cannot recall ever hearing you speak."
"Your attention was undoubtedly focused elsewhere. Just like my husband's. However, he has seen the error of his ways." She looked smug. "And he shall henceforth never ignore me again."
Which would be quite difficult, the Colonel remarked to himself, given that Mrs Hurst was rather large. She looked to be twice as large as Caroline.
"Colonel...would you care to voice that thought?" Louisa asked sweetly. She could see what he was thinking.
"Er no." There was a guilty look on his face.
She walked over to him and whispered something in his ear.
His eyes grew large. "I-I-I had no idea!" he stammered. "I am sorry!" He had never guessed -- he, observant man of the world!
Mrs Hurst looked smug again, but also a little sad and Caroline looked very curious. "What did you tell him?" she cried.
"I shall leave you two alone after I have told Caroline," said Louisa. On her way out she passed Caroline and whispered something in her ear as well. The news surprised Caroline so much that she let out a gasp. Louisa spoke to her sister some more and then exited.
"I cannot believe it," Caroline exclaimed with a shocked look. "I never noticed!"
Colonel Fitzwilliam understood her perfectly. He had not noticed anything either, but in his defence he could say that he did not know Mrs Hurst as well as Caroline did. "Er...I got the impression that Hurst did not know anything either. How could that be?"
"Perhaps he did not pay her very much attention."
"Caroline!" He could not believe her. "Trust me, if we were married, I would notice --" He broke off. He had always been told that virtuous young ladies did not know anything about this subject and he did not want to enlighten her more than was proper for fear of incurring the wrath of...yes of whom?
"What would you notice?"
"Well, that what one notices," he hedged.
"And what might that be?"
"What nobody has noticed in this case."
"How come you would notice and Mr Hurst did not?"
"I would love my wife." He was sure Hurst loved his wife, but it was different.
"You just said your wife would be me."
"Then I would love you," he had to admit.
"Me?"
"I just said that I would love my wife and if you were my wife it follows that I would love you. That is logic." He had to conclude that. Things were conspiring to get him married, apparently.
"I am not sure it is logic to speculate on my being your wife," said Caroline. One would think of other couples first and not of them.
"Perfect logic."
"You have not even proposed yet."
The Colonel got down on one knee. "I shall remedy that them."
"What are you doing?" Caroline cried in shock.
"Proposing."
"To me?"
"If you do not want me to, I shall stop."
"No, no. Do not stop. I want to see what it is like."
"Give me the opportunity to see what it is like to hear you say yes."
"Yes."
"Do not speak before your turn."
"I was saying yes to your other question."
"Oh."
"Well..." she looked at him expectantly. "Ask me."
"It is not going to be amazing or spectacular," he warned, not sure he could live up to her expectations.
"Let me be the judge of that. Well, go."
"Go?" Colonel Fitzwilliam made a move to stand up.
"Go ahead."
He got down onto one knee again. "Dearest Caroline, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
"I will," she said solemnly.
The End
© 2001, 2002 Copyright held by the author.