The Golden Apples of the Sun by Ivy May Stuart

Author:Ivy May Stuart [Stuart, Ivy May]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

“All the wild-witches, those most notable ladies

For all their broom-sticks and their tears,

Their angry tears, are gone.”

W. B. Yeats

What an ugly house thought Caroline Bingley as they rounded a bend in the drive and Longbourn came into view. The words sat on the tip of her tongue waiting to be spoken, but she knew better than to express this opinion aloud as it seemed, from the few tentative observations that she had made, that her brother and Darcy would brook no criticism of anything related to the Bennet family.

Caroline understood why Charles would have this attitude. Darcy’s mindset was more of a puzzle. She had long regarded him as her personal property – jealously guarding him from the predations of other women where she could – so her first suspicion was that his defense of the family was caused by an unsuitable attraction to one of the Bennet sisters. She had eavesdropped on his conversations with her brother and, finding nothing there to substantiate her fears, had settled it in her mind that Darcy’s support for Charles in this issue must rest on something else. Perhaps the family was wealthier and therefore more suitable than her brother had led her to believe.

Yet now before her was this meandering, ramshackle building without a single Greek column or stately staircase to give it distinction. No. The Bennets could not be considered wealthy - or not by any yardstick that Caroline was used to.

Predictably, the inside of the house was all of a piece with its shabby exterior. The flagstones in the entrance hall needed replacing and the lack of a proper butler was little short of outrageous. Then, to cap it all, the same coarse-looking serving woman who had opened the door to them in the first place, stood in the doorway of the parlour and announced loudly and without ceremony, “Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, sir.”

Caroline sniffed. To her ears it had sounded as if they were part of a fairground act. Servants under her control would be encouraged to handle their betters with the proper deference or find other employment. As the three of them crossed the floor to where a collection of chairs were grouped around a cheerful fire, she conveyed her disdain by raising her nose and straightening her spine.

With their approaching footsteps, the buzz of conversation died away and a hush fell upon the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Caroline became vaguely aware of a group of younger people standing at some distance away, closer to the windows. There were murmured greetings, bows and curtseys from that direction and then the silence was broken by a scholarly looking gentleman who stepped forward from his seat at the fireplace and said, “Miss Bingley. Welcome. I’m delighted to meet you.”

Mr. Bennet, Caroline guessed, thinking of Darcy’s description and looking past him to where a lady, bearing a strong resemblance to Jane Bennet, was also rising to greet her.

Next to her, the more familiar faces of Mr.

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