Page 12 of A Different Impression

“Have you already had breakfast, Darcy?” Bingley asked his friend.

“When I returned from my ride, the breakfast room was empty, and a maid informed me that your sister told the housekeeper no one would require a meal so early this morning,” Darcy told him. “I asked her to send coffee and whatever she had prepared to the library. Join me?”

“I told Caroline yesterday morning you would most likely ride out this morning and would want breakfast afterwards,” Bingley complained. “I do not know why she would have told the housekeeper not to have the meal ready.”

“Can you really not guess, Charles?” Darcy asked.

Bingley’s cheerful expression slipped into one of embarrassed resignation. “She still does not believe you will not marry her. Last night, she said that she believes since we all found her in your bed, you are somehow honour-bound to her. I am afraid that if I send her to London, she will spread gossip no matter how I try to restrict her. We argued for ages last night.”

“Then I will leave,” Darcy said absolutely, turning to return to his room to order his servant to pack. The thought of abandoning Hertfordshire—and, with it, Miss Elizabeth—was far more disagreeable than it ought to have been.

He stopped and turned back to face his friend. “I will stay at the inn for a day or two—you and I are expected to call at the Bennets tomorrow, Charles—then I will return to London until you decide what to do about your sister.”

Putting out a hand to stop him, Bingley indicated they should go into the library to continue their conversation in private. As they walked, Bingley asked, “Where did you sleep last night anyway?”

“In the servants’ quarters,” Darcy replied after the door was closed.

“The servants’ quarters?” Bingley’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“I have slept in less hospitable lodgings,” Darcy replied. “Other than being a bit cool, they were in good shape.”

“Darcy, in just four and twenty hours, I have learnt a great deal about you that I never knew before,” Bingley replied, still looking rather stunned.

“We have known each other long enough; little of what I have confessed should be that shocking,” Darcy replied with a groan. “It cannot be that far-fetched to learn that I can sleep in a servant’s bed without complaining, and I know that in the ten years that we have known each other, I had to have apologised before.”

“Perhaps, Darcy, but I do not remember an apology where you admitted to a lapse in judgement,” Bingley said. “You have always seemed to know exactly what to do.”

“Bingley, my father died when I was two and twenty and just barely out of Cambridge,” Darcy replied seriously. “From that point on, for every moment of the last five years, I have had to be confident and sure of myself. Even before he died, I was always taught to look at every situation from a variety of angles and have rarely made snap decisions. If I have made few errors in judgement, it is because I have been trained, from an early age, to carefully weigh every decision I make to see how it may impact a variety of people. Each day, hundreds of people depend on me and my ability to make decisions carefully and, I hope, wisely.

“As the master of an estate, even one the size of Netherfield Park, which is of a decent size, you will need to learn to do the same. Decisions you will make about the estate can have far-reaching impacts. Of course, you already know this to a point, dealing with some of the investments and business decisions you have made. However, as the master of an estate, your decisions have an even greater impact.”

Bingley regarded him thoughtfully, his usual easy smile absent. Darcy wondered whether he had overwhelmed his friend. He had not intended to lecture Bingley, only to explain why he did not reach decisions lightly.

“I had never really considered it in that light,” Bingley admitted quietly. “I thought buying an estate meant improving the land and collecting rents. I had not considered how many lives might depend upon every decision. There is also the matter of Caroline…”

Bingley trailed off, and Darcy allowed him time to contemplate what would be done about his sister.

A few minutes later, they were disturbed by a maid who came in with a tray of coffee and breakfast fare. Apparently, someone had seen Bingley join Darcy because the tray contained two coffee cups and plenty of food. Hurst followed the maid into the room.

“What are you going to do about Caroline?” Hurst asked, helping himself to a roll from the tray. “Miss, would you bring another coffee cup and some more coffee?” he asked the maid before she could walk out of the room. She curtsied and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Bingley looked at his brother by marriage. “What do you suggest, Hurst? Taking her to London seemed like a good idea, but she kept insisting that she had to marry Darcy since we found her in his room. She even claimed he had asked her to come, but I told her I knew that was a lie.”

“If we allow her freedom in London, she will continue to spread that story to ruin Darcy’s reputation—and it will destroy her own,” Hurst said. “Not many folks will believe her, particularly not those who know you well, Darcy. Nor will those who know Caroline best.” Hurst bit out a laugh at that.

“My family would deny any stories Miss Bingley tried to spread about me,” Darcy acknowledged. “They know I have avoided your sister as much as I can and have always said I would not marry her. Bingley, you know that I value your friendship, but I have never sought your sister’s company. If necessary, I will write to them to inform them of what has transpired so they will be prepared to combat it. But, Bingley, I will not acquiesce to this and will take whatever steps necessary to prevent her from forcing me into a marriage I do not want.”

“I know, Darcy,” Bingley sighed. “Caroline was always determined to accompany me whenever she thought I might be in your company. I have given her too much freedom and allowed her to bully me too many times. Last night was the final straw. I have to do something about her behaviour and her unreasonable expectations. Most of London would laugh off her accusations about you, but she would make herself unmarriageable in her attempt to ruin you.”

All three men were silent for a moment. “Your aunt in Scarborough… would she let Caroline stay with her for any length of time?” Hurst asked.

“Caroline hates Scarborough,” Bingley began thoughtfully. “There is little society there, and my aunt does not go out much. She would, hopefully, help Caroline realise how selfish and mercenary she has become.” He trailed off, then straightened and looked sharply at Hurst.

“Hurst, would you and Louisa support me if I were to send her there?” he asked his brother-in-law.

“Bingley, Caroline is a menace, and I am tired of putting up with her,” he said. “I will do whatever I can to help you, especially after what she tried last night. Louisa is also fed up with her and was utterly horrified when I related the events of last night to her.

“If you will arrange it, Louisa and I will escort Caroline to Scarborough today,” Hurst decided. “I will tell them both to start packing right away, and we should be able to leave by noon. Bingley, you will need to send an express to your aunt alerting her of our coming. And make sure it is legible, please!”