Caroline’s bad morning is made worse by Bingley’s errand to London.

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Part 3

Nov 27, 1811

The final set of the evening spent dancing with Mr. Westmorland had been especially pleasing. For a few minutes, whirling to the music with him, all thoughts of disappointments and vexations left her mind allowing her to focus on the very pleasing diversion of a fleet-footed partner with excellent taste and informed opinions.

How pleasant it would have been had he been the last of the guests to leave allowing her a little more time in his company. But naturally, no, it was the Bennets. An eternal quarter of an hour was spent in their company waiting for their carriage to arrive. At least Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughter were too exhausted to behave too badly. Would that Miss Bennet have been similarly indisposed and unable to continue such an intense conversation with Charles.

While the ball had been an unmitigated success, there was one point upon which she could not reflect upon with satisfaction. If anything, Charles was more besotted with Miss Bennet than ever. She would have to deal with that soon, very soon. But not until tomorrow afternoon.

And she would apply to Darcy for help. The looks he thought he concealed made it clear how he felt about the Bennet family. Surely he would be as glad as she to see Charles and Miss Bennet separated.

But that was for tomorrow.

 

The next morning, Caroline willed herself to stay in bed a whole hour after sunrise. Certainly her soft sheets and deep mattresses beckoned her to do so. It would have been normal to sleep until noon after such a night, but who could possibly sleep when anticipating the possibilities that today might hold?

She summoned her lady’s maid and dressed quickly. Her favorite walking dress would do very nicely to greet any callers who might arrive. She paced around the room and glanced out the window, again.

No carriages trundle down the lane toward Netherfield.

Yes, she was being hopeful, even silly in the way she might expect one of the Bennets to be, but none would blame her. After all, gentlemen regularly called upon their principle partner of the evening on the morning after a ball. Was it so wrong to anticipate Mr. Westmoreland’s appearance at her doorstep?

Certainly not. Besides it would do no harm to be ready for the possibility.

Still though, there was absolutely no reason to expect him to arrive so early. Gentlemen did not call at this hour. In the meantime, it would not hurt to survey what would need to be done to return Netherfield to its pre-ball state.  She picked up her journals and headed for the morning room.

Although Mr. Darcy was often an early rise, she hardly expected any company this morning. Though she liked company in the morning, it might be a nice change to work in peace and quiet today.

What was Charles doing in the morning room so early?

“Good morning,” he called over his coffee cup.

Why did he insist on drinking that instead of a proper cup of tea?

She nodded and sat down across the table from him. The room faced east and caught the morning sun, warming it just a mite. Bright yellows in the curtains and blues on the wall added to the sunny feel to the room. Not terribly refined, or to her tastes really, but it was rather cheerful all told.

“I did not expect to see you before I left this morning.” He muttered and reached for a bowl of potatoes.

“Pray, I do not think I heard you correctly. Did you say before you left?” She pushed her books aside and leaned on the table.

“I certainly did.” There was that annoying, resolved tone in his voice, the one he used when he was set upon some sort of idea and would not accept any dissenting opinion on the matter. He had learned that from Father.

She hated it as much as Mother had.

“I have never known you to be one for an early ride, especially after a ball.”

“You know I like to ride in the mornings, ball or not. But I feel especially invigorated today.” He shoveled a large potato into his mouth.

“Well do not let all that energy go to your head. I have it on good authority that the trails are still muddy and we do not need for you to court an accident out there on your horse.”

He turned aside and rolled his eyes. “It is so endearing to know that you are solicitous after my health, sister.”

Did he really have to resort to sarcasm?

“I am entirely serious. You must look after your health.”

“Then you will be most glad to know that I am not going riding for sport this morning.”

“Mr. Darcy is nowhere to be seen. I cannot imagine you are going hunting alone. Did one of the gentlemen invite you to shot with him?”

“As much as I do love a good hunt, no, I am not going hunting this morning.” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

“You know it is far too early to pay anyone a call. You do understand that do you not? We may be out in the country, but still, some standard of manners is still to be expected.” She balled her fists under the table.

He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. “No, Caroline, I am not going to pay a social call at this hour.”

“What business have you in Meryton this morning then? I can hardly imagine anything which cannot wait until you have had some proper rest.”

“Why is it so incredibly important that you know what my business is?” He placed his fists on the table with enough force to rattle the glasses.

“I am keeping house for you. What if someone asks me your whereabouts. Do you know the fool I would appear to be if I could not answer?”

“You can simply tell them I have gone to town on some business.”

“London, you are going to London?” Her voice rose and she half-stood.

“I believe that is what I said. Are you having trouble understanding me? Perhaps you should return to bed yourself. It is very early for you, is it not?” He matched her stance.

“That is not the issue here. Why are you going to London?” What could he possibly have in mind—this was absurd!

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“I beg to differ. London is a major endeavor. I insist on knowing why you are going.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you some errand you would like me to run for you whilst I am there, perhaps some order you would like me to place with a merchant?”

“Now that the ball is over, no, there is nothing I immediately need. Except to know why you are going.”

“I will not have my sister looking over my shoulder as though I were some child in the nursery. That is enough. If you must explain my absence, you may say that I have gone to London for a haircut.”

“That is absurd and you know it. There are competent barbers in Meryton. Going to London for such a service is ridiculous.”

“And yet it is all the answer you shall receive from me. I will return in a few days.” Charles tossed his napkin on the table.

“Truly, stop this foolishness at once and tell me what you are about.” She stomped toward him.

He paused at the window. “It seems as though I am not the only one who is away early this morning. Is that not the Westmoreland coach?” He pointed.

She pulled the curtain aside and pressed close to the glass. The crest on the side of the coach proclaimed it Westmoreland’s. Squinting into the morning sun she could just make out the shapes of three passengers inside. One profile matched Mr. Westmoreland, the others were probably his cousins. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “It seems to be.”

“Then you can stop questioning me.” He stormed out.

She pulled a chair close to the window and lowered herself into it. He was supposed to be calling upon her this morning, not rushing off to who knew where? Not even taking leave of the neighborhood? What could possibly have gone wrong?

They had such a lovely time at the ball. The conversation was agreeable. They saw eye to eye on nearly every matter. They danced beautifully and just how many times were they told how well they looked together? She pressed her hands to her belly. No other had garnered his attention last night the way she had. Why was he leaving the neighborhood?

Perhaps—yes, it must be. His cousins were leaving with him. That must be it! The entire family was leaving. There must be some kind of family emergency. They must have received an express in the night and had to rush off at first light. His mother, her sister and her husband all lived in London. Perhaps some accident or illness had befallen one of them. Not that she wished ill upon any of them, but that must be the case.

If they were gone more than a few days, surely it would not be inappropriate to write to Mrs. Godwin and offer good wishes for her family’s health. Perhaps she would write back and give some indication of Mr. Westmoreland’s state of mind.

Yes, that was exactly what she would do. But what of Charles?

Despite his flip answers, how could she be unconcerned about a sudden trip into town? It was impulsive and uncharacteristic even for him. He almost never refused to reveal his intentions to her. Why would he do so now?

Because he did not expect her to approve. The last time he dug in his heels and denied her requests was when he took Netherfield on Darcy’s advice alone. Who took a house without the woman was keeping house for him looking at it first? She had given him a sound upbraiding for that. One would have thought he would have learned something from the experience. Something other than to try other means to avoid revealing his intentions to her.

So what errand in town might she disapprove of? There were several possibilities, but fortune would probably require the worst possible option. She pressed her temples.

He was probably going to see his solicitor about marriage settlements.

No, no, no! There must be some way to put a stop to that. But he would never listen to her.

But he would listen to Darcy.

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Find earlier parts of this story HERE

Find additional short stories HERE

 

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