Do no fret, my dears, I am alive and well, lol! Thank you to those of you who expressed some concern, it is so very kind of you. I haven't posted because life is life and it kind of got in the way, and when it was not in my way, I was doing my best to bring this book closer to its conclusion. I'm getting there, slowly but surely!
Thank you so very much to everyone who has left a positive comment. Your enthusiasm and encouragement continues to uplift and inspire me. :)
Chapter Thirteen
After Elizabeth and Mrs. Martin had departed in his carriage for Darcy House the following day, Charles Bingley took a deep breath to shore up his nerves for a much less pleasant call.
Two of them, actually.
First, he went to his attorney for the second time in two days and informed him that he intended to release command of Caroline's fortune to her. He reiterated that though the decision was regrettable and not at all what he wanted, it had to be done. Mr. Smith nodded solemnly and said he would prepare the documents necessary, adding that he had free time around two o'clock to get them signed by both parties. Bingley told the man that he would return to the office at another time to add his own signature, reminded him of the Hursts' address, and said he would inform his relations of the time and purpose for his visit.
As he rode his horse away from the attorney's office, he rehearsed what he intended to say to the Hursts—and to Caroline if she were there—over and over again in his head, all the while knowing that in the moment, he was likely to forget any practiced words he might come up with.
Perhaps it is for the best, Bingley mused as he turned his mount onto Grosvenor Street. Whatever will be said—what must be said—should come from what I am thinking in the moment.
It was not long after breakfast when he arrived, which hopefully meant that all the family were in. For the first time in four years, he lifted the knocker on Hurst's door and tapped it against the plate rather than just walking in.
He was no longer a resident of this house.
The butler, Mr. Bivens, seemed surprised to see him when he answered a few moments later.
"Where are my sisters and Mr. Hurst, Bivens?" Bingley asked when the door had been shut.
"My master and mistress are still at breakfast, as they woke late this morning, sir," Bivens replied. "Miss Bingley is still in her room."
Bingley debated on whether he ought to leave her there—he'd expected he would have to confront Caroline again—but then decided it was just as well that she remained where she was. It was likely to be far easier to explain his decision to the Hursts alone without Caroline interfering with her screeching.
He thanked the servant and said that he would see himself to the breakfast room. When he stepped through the door on arrival, Louisa's fork clattered on her plate as she dropped it in surprise.
"Charles! Where have you been?" she cried as she stood.
Taking a deep breath, Bingley said, "Do sit down, Louisa. You are likely to require the support of your chair in a moment."
From his pocket, he withdrew a card and gestured to one of the waiting footmen. The young man walked over and took the card and was directed to carry it to his master.
"This is the name of my attorney. He will be calling here at two o'clock—make certain that Caroline is present, as he will be bringing one or more documents for her to sign," Bingley began.
"Whatever kind of business could your attorney have with our sister?" Louisa asked.
Bingley looked at her. "Either you did not hear the argument which took place after our return from the ball, or you are choosing to feign ignorance," said he, which elicited a gasp. "In either case, I have made the decision to release Caroline's dowry to her. If she spends it all, that is on her as I will no longer be supporting her."
Hurst glanced at the card handed to him by the footman and set it on the table by his plate, then he glanced at his wife. "Sit down, Lou," he said sternly.
Louisa's gaze flittered between her husband and her brother for a moment before she complied. Hurst then sat back in his chair and set a focused look on their visitor as he crossed his arms.
"What's happened, Bingley?" he asked.
It was no less painful a day later to recall the content of the argument as he had done for Darcy and Fitzwilliam; the recitation elicited gasps of surprise from Louisa, and Hurst's expression shifted from mild annoyance at having his breakfast interrupted to a scowl as he glanced at his wife.
"I am certain you have been curious as to why Elizabeth and I left so early yesterday," Bingley went on. "Frankly, I am rather surprised Caroline didn't gloat, given her vicious speech to Lizzy."
"I… I…" Louisa stuttered. "No, she said nothing. And yes, we were very curious, of course. I do recall hearing raised voices yesterday morning after the ball, but Caroline has not left her room since. Her maid said she was not feeling well and would take meals in her room for the next couple of days."
"I must say I am surprised, given yesterday's discourse," said Bingley. "I have been half suspecting she would go about town sowing more seeds of doubt about Lizzy among our acquaintances."
Caroline probably thought Lizzy and I would come groveling back to her, he added silently. What arrogance she must have to think we would seek her approval after what she said.
Drawing another breath, he continued. "Because of her expressed hatred for Elizabeth, and my need to protect my sister from Caroline's machinations, we are both severing ties with her. She will, after I leave here, be nothing to us."
"Oh, Charles, you cannot mean that!" cried Louisa. "Caroline is our sister!"
Bingley narrowed his gaze as he looked at her. "And so is Elizabeth. For far too long, Louisa, you have allowed Caroline and her spiteful, conceited nature to run roughshod over you, influencing you to like who she likes and to disdain who she despises—even your own sister. If you continue to follow in her footsteps, that will make you more of a fool than she."
He then shifted his gaze to his brother-by-marriage. "Hurst, I will not condemn you if you choose to continue housing Caroline but know that neither I nor Elizabeth will acknowledge her, nor will we be able to return to this house while she lives in it. I know that you and I do not always agree, but you are my brother, and I would like to maintain that connexion. I would like to remain Louisa's brother as well, but it will depend on what you decide after I leave here today. I would advise you both to think long and hard about what continuing to associate with a jealous, vengeful person such as Caroline has proven herself to be will do for your standing in society. My cutting her means my friends will likely cut her, and if you support her hatefulness, they will cut you as well."
The mask of indifference he had forced himself to wear upon entering the dining room slipped, and Bingley sighed. "I did not want to do this—God knows I never imagined ever having to take such a stand against one of my own family, but Caroline has left me with no choice. She has insulted Elizabeth before my friends in a blatant attempt to sabotage her reputation in society before she has even had a chance to establish herself, all without taking into account that destroying Lizzy's character destroys the family's as well. It was unfair, it was cruel, and it was inexcusable. And I do not believe such actions can be forgiven."
Turning around, he moved to the door and pulled it open, turning back to say, "Please see that Caroline meets with the attorney and signs the documents. What you do about her after that is entirely your decision. Good day to you."
With that, he left a sour-faced Hurst and a stunned Louisa behind him. After retrieving his horse from the mews, Bingley went to his club. It was still early for alcohol, but he was not a smoker and he needed something to settle his nerves. Informing Louisa and Hurst that he was cutting Caroline—and that if they fell in with her, they would suffer the same—had not been an easy task. That he had remained calm throughout was nothing short of a miracle.
Only a few years ago, someone had described him as easily led by others. He had naturally railed against such a notion, but after the discussion with Darcy about Caroline's spending habits, in which his friend had essentially told him to grow up and take control of his sister or he would always be taken advantage of, he had for the first time seen himself through another's eyes—and he did not like what he saw in that mental picture. Oh, he was still lively, amiable, and fun to be around, but he'd had his eyes opened to how he had been manipulated by not only his sister, but some of his so-called friends. He'd been generous with his money because he was not a spendthrift, so was always plump in the pocket, and others had used his kindness against him. He had looked to others with more experience for help in making decisions and had too often simply done what they suggested, more than once against his own inclinations.
Bingley had then decided he would do that no more and had slowly been working on listening to advice and then doing what he thought was best. He had worked hard to not give in to Caroline's tantrums when he denied her money—before it had been only too easy to give in to her so she would stop haranguing him, but Darcy had helped him to see that if he continued to do so, she would learn nothing.
Becoming his own man, with a stronger belief in himself, had been a long process, and was one that was still ongoing. But he was trying, and as much as it had hurt to say that he would have nothing more to do with his own sister, he knew that it had to be done.
At the club, he sat in a corner and ordered a madeira from a footman. As the man was returning with his drink, Edmund Hiddleston strode over and asked if he might join him.
"Be my guest, sir," said Bingley. "Though I warn you I'm in no fit state to entertain at the present."
Hiddleston lifted his brows in surprise. "That bad a morning, eh?" he queried.
Bingley sipped his drink. "It has been trying, yes."
"Well, then, perhaps this is not the best time to broach the subject of your sister," said his companion.
"Which one?" Bingley retorted with a snort. "I've only got two as of this morning and may yet have only one by the end of the day."
"Bugger me," Hiddleston murmured as he sat back in his chair. A footman approached and asked if he desired anything, and the gentleman asked for a scotch.
"Has this loss of a sister anything to do with Miss Bingley going around my ball and speaking ill of Miss Elizabeth?"
That he was aware of Caroline's behavior was little surprise to Bingley. "That is only part of it," he said, before taking another drink. "She apparently hates Elizabeth and always has. I knew that there had been some level of irrational jealousy on Caro's part when we were younger, but genuine hatred? A feeling so strong she would actively work to sabotage her own sister's reputation?"
"I cannot imagine your difficulties, Bingley," said Hiddleston. "I gather you and Miss Elizabeth have elected to cut Miss Bingley?"
"We have to. There's nothing else to be done."
The footman returned with Hiddleston's order and departed; he took a sip before saying, "I am sorry, old chap. How are you making out living in the same house with her?"
Bingley shook his head. "We're not. Lizzy and I—and Mrs. Martin, her chaperone from Spain—left Hurst's yesterday shortly after daybreak. We're presently at Grillon's and I am actively searching for a home for us. I've had my man of business looking into estates for lease."
"You're not going to stay in town?"
"No. I thought it best to remove Elizabeth from Caroline's influence, so as to hopefully put an end to the attacks on her character," Bingley replied.
"I understand your reasoning, but I think there's little reason to take such a step," Hiddleston offered. "I mean no offence, Bingley, but everyone knows what a shrewish harpy Miss Bingley is—quick to smile to your face and then stab you in the back as soon as it's turned. I can't even tell you how many times since you and I met that I've heard one person or another remark about her vicious propensity for cutting other women down—how she thinks that is the way to ingratiate herself among our set is beyond me."
Bingley looked at him. "Then why does anyone tolerate her?" he asked.
Hiddleston flashed a grin. "Because we like you."
He sighed then, and added, "I daresay that few people at my party gave any credence to the rubbish Miss Bingley was spreading around—she denigrated herself more than Miss Elizabeth by acting the spiteful, jealous sister. Certainly, it is … noteworthy that Miss Elizabeth spent four years in a military camp, but she was under the protection of the commanding general, who happens to be her uncle. Colonel Fitzwilliam has ever praised his general in his letters to me, and I daresay such a man would not allow any sort of impropriety to be going on with his own niece."
"He bloody well would not!" Bingley declared.
Hiddleston nodded. "Not to mention that Miss Elizabeth comported herself as a gentlewoman should the whole of the night. She is a credit to you, Bingley, and to those who reared her."
Bingley looked over at his friend and regarded him sternly. In but a moment, on seeing only sincerity in his countenance, he relaxed and smiled. "Thank you, Hiddleston. It is very kind of you to say."
"I… Well, I have a reason for wanting to speak of Miss Elizabeth," said he.
Bingley's eyebrows rose. "And what might that reason be?" he asked, though he had an inkling of the answer.
"I was very much impressed with Miss Elizabeth," Hiddleston confessed. "She is a beauty even if she is tan, and she has a beguiling smile. I should like to know her better."
"Would you now?" Bingley queried.
Hiddleston nodded. "I would, yes. Would you be so kind as to ask Miss Elizabeth if I might call on her?"
Unable to resist, and thankful to his friend for providing a much-needed reason to smile, Bingley did so and nodded. "I shall pass your request on to my sister and send word with her decision."
Hiddleston sighed with obvious relief. "Thank you, Bingley."
"Your mother," said Bingley then. "She does not mind that my sister's fortune was earned through trade or that she spent four years tending to soldiers on the peninsula?"
"I confess I have not spoken to her of my interest," said Hiddleston. "I wished to ascertain whether Miss Elizabeth and I might get on together before I spoke of it to my mother."
"A wise decision, I suppose."
"Just so you understand, Bingley, I do not mind," Hiddleston went on. "Not at all. Society says I should, but that's balderdash, I say. Miss Elizabeth's willingness to serve His Majesty's Army is commendable, even if I don't quite understand it, and her loyalty to your aunt even more so. As to the origin of your family's fortune, I engage in trade myself, to some degree, by breeding and selling fine horseflesh. Would I like a richer or titled wife? Perhaps—I certainly would not turn my nose down at either. But what I really want is more than a pretty face on my arm at parties. I want a wife I can actually talk to."
Bingley scoffed. "You and me both. Like any man, I want a wife other men admire, but I also desire a woman of intelligence, manners, and amiability who comes with the usual accomplishments and a steady character. I would like to be able to hold a conversation with her on subjects that interest both of us. I would love for her to be someone I actually look forward to spending time with, and whose person makes bedding her a pleasure and not just a duty. If she happens to come with a fortune attached, so be it. If she does not… Well, I have money enough for both of us."
Hiddleston grinned. "As do I," he said, then lifted his drink. "To finding the ideal bride."
Bingley echoed his grin and lifted his own glass. "To finding the ideal bride."