by Huw Thomas
Fitzwilliam had been ready for this. “I fear, madam, that my commanding officer would take the contrary view. Like Darcy, we have several matters of business … with Bonaparte. We muster at Southampton in little more than a week.”
“What is the name of your commanding officer?”
“He is Colonel Chapman.”
“Then I judge this Colonel Chapman to be a most tiresome, disagreeable man,” Lady Catherine said, “and I shall tell him as much, if ever I meet him.”
V
Miss Caroline Bingley, being but fifteen years of age and having yet to be presented at court, had been judged too young to accompany the rest of her family into Derbyshire. Instead she was left at Cavendish Square in the care of her governess Miss Harris, and the housekeeper Mrs Rice.
It would not have been so bad if she had had a lady’s maid of her own, but at her age she was still expected to share with her sister Louisa — and when Louisa travelled, the maid travelled too; and so Caroline must perforce shift for herself.
She had begged to be permitted to accompany the others, but on this occasion Mr Bingley’s usual indulgence toward his younger daughter was replaced by a sterner resolve. They were moving in different circles now, he told her, and his purpose at Pemberley was not just about renewing a slight acquaintance with the master of that estate, but also for Charles and Louisa to attend formal balls and assemblies — activities in which Caroline could not be included.
Mr Bingley did his best to placate her with an advance on her allowance against a new gown she had long desired, and by promising that he would bring her another handsome gift on his return. Caroline had found this arrangement to be unsatisfactory from the beginning, and never more so than when the news arrived that her papa would not return except in a wooden box, having died rather suddenly from some ailment the details of which were yet to be made clear to her.
Miss Harris was an angular, taciturn woman with little to offer in the way of comfort; Mrs Rice was equally remote. Thus, Caroline grieved alone until the last-minute arrival of her siblings — for Charles and Louisa did not come until the very morning of the funeral — which found their younger sister relieved, panicked and grief-stricken in almost equal measure.
“What delayed your return for so long?” she demanded. “What can have kept you in Derbyshire when you were so urgently needed here?”
“I am sorry,” Charles said. “Certain matters of business came up shortly before our father passed away, and he would have wanted them attended to without delay. Then considering it is not even winter yet, the roads were rather bad, and we had some trouble with the carriage.”
“What ‘matters of business’ could have been so urgent as to keep you away at a time like this?”
Charles Bingley was silent, and it seemed to Caroline that he looked oddly uncomfortable.
“We must trust our dear brother,” Louisa told her. “I am sure that Charles did no more than was needful. When the carriage broke down I was certain we would be too late, but here we are — though with little enough time to make ready … and so we should make haste to do so, since these dusty travelling clothes are no fit apparel for paying our final respects.”
Old Mr Bingley’s funeration was a well-subscribed affair, for he had many friends and associates. Of the dozens who attended, Caroline knew several by name and more by sight, since her papa had often brought his business cronies into his home for discussions and sometimes even to the dinner table. She had always found these intrusions to be rather disagreeable, having understood from an early age that commerce was a less than respectable occupation, and that these so-called friends were little more than jumped-up tradesmen.
Still, there was one amongst those who came to condole who stood out as a man of some breeding. His name was Mr Hurst and he was distinguished by the polite manners and upright bearing of a true gentleman. He had plainly met Charles and Louisa before; it seemed likely to Caroline that the acquaintance had been formed in Derbyshire, though this was not confirmed by their conversation and she refrained to ask for politeness’s sake.
Mr Hurst lingered to express his sympathies for what Caroline judged to be a very proper period of time. She continued to wonder about his connection to her family, for she could not help observing that Charles seemed strangely flustered by the gentleman’s presence, and that Louisa regarded him for an unusually long time as he departed.
*
Caroline Bingley was perfectly aware that a father’s hopes and ambitions could never quite be stirred by a daughter as they would by a son, but she had still always been something of a favourite with Mr Bingley.
Perhaps it was because she was the only one of his children who had never known their mother. Perhaps it was because he saw in his last-born, a counter-balance to his own approaching old age. Whatever the reason, Mr Bingley had indulged Caroline at every opportunity, and in return she had loved him, and taken him for granted.
Now she regretted more bitterly than ever that she had not been able to accompany the others into Derbyshire — not to escape the old resentment she had felt at being left behind, but so that she could have had a few weeks more with her father and been with him at the end.
Louisa and Charles were also cast so very low that in the days after the funeral, the three siblings exchanged few words beyond those needful for practicality and politeness. As weeks and then months passed, Caroline began to come out from under her grief and though her sadness never fully passed, she at least learned to think and talk of her papa without tears, and to take comfort in the beautiful atlas that had been his final gift to her.
She was surprised, then, to discover that her brother and sister were hardly willing to mention Mr Bingley at all. Indeed, they would make only the slightest of replies when she enquired as to precisely how he had come to pass away so suddenly, when he had enjoyed such excellent health at the time of his departure into Derbyshire.
Thus Caroline remained unenlightened as autumn turned to winter, and the dolorous atmosphere at Cavendish Square meant that even Christmas brought but little in the way of gaiety or cheer.
So it was that the arrival of a letter from Derbyshire proved to be a welcome distraction from a rather dull breakfast, when Charles informed his sisters that they were to expect an important guest, saying, “Mr Darcy writes to enquire whether he may call on us in two week’s time.”
“Of course he may,” Louisa said. “Does he give a reason for his visit?”
Charles set the letter aside and reached for another slice of toasted bread, which he spread thickly with butter and then with quince preserve. “It seems that his new duties as master of Pemberley bring him up to town. I shall of course be pleased to offer him our hospitality; indeed while still in Derbyshire I had already extended him the invitation to stay with us whenever he wishes.”
“I shall instruct Mrs Rice that every effort is to be made to make our guest feel at home,” Louisa said.
As interested as Caroline was to meet this Mr Darcy, who was one of the very few persons about whom her siblings had spoken warmly in recent months, she was also eager for some new female company. “Does your friend mention whether his sister will be accompanying him?”
Charles set his toast aside and scanned the letter again. “He makes no reference to Miss Darcy, though she would certainly be a most agreeable addition to our party. But then she is yet young; I doubt that her brother would permit her to abandon her catechisms and copybooks so easily.” He smiled at Caroline. “In any case, there will doubtless be the opportunity for you to make Miss Darcy’s acquaintance soon enough.”
“Have the Darcys no London home of their own?” she enquired with interest.
“I dare say that they do and a fine one at that, I should think — but it would hardly suit Darcy to open it for a short visit, and I believe he will be much happier here than alone in some cheerless hotel. Anyway, he is a very decent fellow and I feel sure that we shall all be glad of his company.”
&n
bsp; And so it proved, a fortnight later.
Mr Darcy was a most handsome gentleman of good breeding and enviable wealth. Despite the fact that he was perhaps a little prone to introspection, Caroline immediately realised that she liked him very much.
VI
On the day after Mr Darcy’s arrival, he and Charles went to Grosvenor Street to pay a call on Mr Hurst and then all were at home two days later when that gentleman returned the compliment. As they took tea in the drawing room, Caroline found herself re-considering her first impression of Mr Hurst, for today (and she wondered if it was because she now had Mr Darcy to hold up as the exemplar) she discovered in the former a certain indolence, and a propensity for pastimes such as whist and lottery and spillikins that surprised her.
Still, being fond of whist and lottery and spillikins herself, she had no great objection to Mr Hurst’s readiness to rearrange the Bingleys’ drawing room in service of such entertainments; and also she perceived that he took a most flattering interest in Louisa.
This last quality stood much in the gentleman’s favour, particularly as Mr Darcy’s presence had quite neutralised any jealous pang that Caroline might otherwise have felt — for he was clearly of greater consequence than the other.
Try as she might, she could never quite forget that her father’s fortune had been accumulated through his own efforts. No paintings of illustrious forebears graced the galleries and staircases of the house at Cavendish Square, for the building itself — and indeed, every stick of furniture it contained — had been purchased by Caroline’s father using his own hard-earned funds, instead of being respectably passed down from previous generations. Any union with a family of real quality was therefore much to be desired, and so Caroline looked upon her brother’s choice of friends with great approval.
After the first exchange of visits there was continued friendly intercourse amongst this company, and by mutual, unspoken consent the custom developed that a social call would be made on this or that afternoon, and that whoever was the guest would remain until the evening and then be entertained to dinner.
Mr Hurst kept a very fine table — though he put it rather differently when complimented, saying merely that he had the services of a very capable cook. Provided with this example, and prompted by the ever-hungry Charles, Louisa had words with Mrs Rice, after which Caroline noticed that the quality of their own provender was much improved.
She also perceived that the other four (and Mr Hurst in particular, for he was plainly at the centre of the thing) seemed to be involved in some private, mutual endeavour — as evidenced by quiet conversations that became bluff and hearty as she entered the room, or by the ornate, leather-bound book that (returning early from a shopping excursion) she saw Mr Hurst passing to Mr Darcy, and her enquiries as to its contents met with the bland assertion that it was a matter of business.
Caroline found herself both perplexed and annoyed by such goings-on, and the more she felt excluded from whatever great matter engaged them, the more determined she became to discover what it was all about.
“I am pleased to see,” she told Louisa one day, “that Mr Hurst is so attentive to us … and to you most particularly, my dear sister. I have no doubt that there is much to be discussed, and many arrangements to be made.”
“I do not think he is that attentive,” Louisa replied. “Though he is certainly most polite and considerate, and a good friend to our brother.”
“He does seem to be always seeking the opportunity for a private conversation with Charles,” Caroline said. “I should never forgive myself, if my blundering into a room had distracted him just as he arrived at the critical point, as I fear it may have done on more than one occasion. I wonder that they do not simply go into our brother’s study.”
“You are mistaken,” Louisa told her. “I am sure that they were only discussing some tedious matter of business and did not wish to bore you. Come, I would show you the gown I told you of before…”
Caroline smiled and gave a careless shrug, feigning interest in her sister’s wardrobe even as she planned how to broach the desired subject again in future.
Over the following days, no matter how subtly she tried to turn the conversation in a direction that might satisfy her curiosity, her sister remained steadfast in secrecy … which only served to strengthen Caroline’s convictions.
She brooded and sulked, telling herself that they must think her too young to be brought into their confidence, and too stupid to realise she was being excluded. It would not have been so bad if the matter had been something for the gentlemen alone, but the inclusion of her sister drove Caroline to distraction.
And so she decided to find out for herself. An arrangement had been made for them to assemble at Grosvenor Street where they would spend most of the afternoon, and then to go on to see a play at the Lyceum. After the entertainment, all were to return to Mr Hurst’s house for a late collation.
When the time came, Caroline rose as if to depart with the others and then instantly sat down with a small gasp. “I am very sorry,” she said, “but I fear I am unable to accompany you.”
“Are you unwell?” Mr Hurst asked in a tone of deepest concern.
“A small head ache, nothing more. It is not serious, I assure you, but I think that perhaps I should remain behind.”
“Then we shall all remain behind,” he said, “and see the performance another time.”
“Please, do not concern yourselves. I am not so very ill, but I fear that passing beneath the Lyceum’s newfangled lights would upset me … the gas fumes can be so insalubrious on a warm spring evening, can they not?”
“I shall stay to sit with you, at least,” Louisa said.
“We shall all remain,” Mr Hurst repeated.
“Please, I will not hear of it. I am sure to recover far sooner if I can rest here quietly without any need to fret about being the cause of inconvenience to my family and friends.”
“It would be no inconvenience, I assure you,” Mr Darcy said stiffly.
“Reflecting on your pleasure would be as medicine to me, and so I earnestly beg that you should all go and enjoy the play, so that I may look forward to hearing your reports of it.”
After many more expressions of solicitude the others reluctantly acceded to Caroline’s request, though not before Mr Hurst had personally directed her to the bell-pull that would summon the maid, and ordered the drawing room fire to be stoked because (as he said) an invalid is best kept warm.
Having also provided Caroline with every comfort and amusement including a blanket, several books, a selection of refreshments, and a box of ivory spillikins for practising in case she grew bored, they at last took their leave.
Such polite and attentive behaviour made her feel a little guilty about what she planned to do … but after a moment of weakness she steeled herself to go through with it, for it was beyond endurance that things should continue as they were.
The drawing room’s windows overlooked the street and so Caroline was able to observe the party boarding the hired coach (for unlike the Bingleys, Mr Hurst did not keep one of his own) which clattered off without delay.
It was now quite late in the afternoon and she was glad it had not taken longer to get rid of them; it was a good thing that the short days of winter were over since she could hardly wander about the house searching for clues by candlelight.
The best place to begin, she decided, would be Mr Hurst’s study on the ground floor, immediately below the drawing room. With their master away and but one guest in the house, the servants would keep to themselves below stairs, so Caroline had little fear of being disturbed.
She hurried down to the study and found that the door was standing invitingly open. Without hesitation, she entered the room and looked about her.
The space was dominated by a desk so substantial, so clearly intended for the conduct of business, that it seemed entirely out of place in the house of a carefree gentleman such as Mr Hurst. The leather-covered writing
surface was neatly arrayed with a large blotter with a pen and ink stand to the side, a pipe rack resting next to a tobacco box with an elegant clay pipe and a more practical-looking wooden one, a jar of spills for lighting the pipes, and neatly-folded copies of The Times, The London Gazette, and The London Chronicle.
She tried the desk drawers one by one, but all were locked. Next, she examined Mr Hurst’s books, lined up on shelves in glass fronted cabinets on either side of the fireplace. Caroline was no great reader (indeed, Charles and Louisa often lamented how little interest their sister took in those gentle pursuits that were appropriate for her sex) and so these volumes would normally have held but little interest for her. Now, however, she scanned each row for any unusual title, anything that might provide a clue to the mystery that confounded her.
Mr Hurst’s library showed him to be a man of catholic interests: the experiences of South Sea explorers jostled with a discourse against bloodletting; an atlas of Europe stood next to an imposing tome with a gold-leafed, Gothic-scripted title that Caroline could not make out and after the briefest study dismissed entirely; volumes of verse rubbed shoulders with journals and almanacs from around the British Isles and beyond, many of these being puffed out with additional sheets on which Mr Hurst had perhaps placed his own sketched maps and annotations.
She shook her head in wonderment that her second appraisal of the study’s owner had been so far off the mark, for now she tended once more to her original opinion: that Mr Hurst, as well as being a gentleman of impeccable manners and breeding (and with an unusual passion for spillikins and lottery tickets), was also possessed of a keen and enquiring mind.
Caroline now turned her attention back to the desk. Mr Hurst’s love of his pipes and tobacco box was another puzzle — or rather, it puzzled her that he preferred these unfashionable items to the more usual snuff box. She had always excused Mr Hurst’s smoke-puffing by telling herself that a man of true breeding had no need to fit in with every nuance of fashion (and she found she enjoyed being in the presence of an aromatically smouldering pipe far more than the sneezing and spluttering that snuff induced in its users) but still … the contents of this room surely strengthened her belief that there was more to this gentleman than met the eye.