“If that is the case,” said Elizabeth, in a decisive voice, “my dear Caroline, we must create the opportunity you speak of. I agree, it is often only a question of time, and people discover for themselves how much or how little they mean to one another. Dear me, Caroline, I fear I am beginning to sound just like my mama! Let me think on it a day or two and we shall find a way, I promise.”
Elizabeth was as good as her word.
After Caroline had left, she rose and went upstairs to her room, where she consulted her diary. She noted that they were engaged to dine with the Bingleys later that week and to visit Netherfield, at the invitation of their nephew Jonathan Bingley and his wife, before the end of Summer.
With a full six weeks before they were due to travel south, there would be plenty of time, she decided, to plan and prepare for one of Pemberley's dinner parties. A letter from her niece Emma Bingley, mentioning the possibility of their being in this part of the country early in Autumn, confirmed her resolve. It would provide a good excuse, if one were needed, for a family gathering. She began to make a quick list of possible guests and, sending for her housekeeper Mrs Grantham, set the preparations in train.
By the time Mr Darcy and the two boys returned with not many fish but plenty of tales of the ones that got away, Elizabeth's plans were well advanced.
That evening after dinner she revealed them, gently but with genuine enthusiasm, to her husband. Darcy, not always the most ardent supporter of dances and parties, was on this occasion ready to listen and be convinced. Hearing Elizabeth's account of her conversation with Caroline, he made no comment nor lodged any objection, realising, no doubt, that his wife had many excellent arguments to support her case.
However, when she asked directly for his opinion on the possibility of a match between Isabella and Mr Bentley, he was quite frank.
“My dear Lizzie, you are not unaware, I know, that it has been my practise these many years not to intervene between young people in matters of the heart. I am even more resolute about cases where there have already been some unhappy consequences as a result of such intervention, however well intentioned. Attempts to undo what has been done before can often involve one in a tangle that may make matters much worse.”
Seeing her expression of concern, he added, “This does not mean that I disapprove of Bentley or the prospect of Isabella marrying him—seeing that he is now a man of completely independent means; it is simply a preference on my part for leaving such matters entirely in the hands of the two people concerned. In this instance, I have no doubt that both Isabella and Bentley, if their feelings have remained the same after all these years, will need little manipulation or encouragement from us.”
Elizabeth looked askance at her husband; she feared he was going to be difficult and object to her plan.
“But, Darcy, I do not intend to manipulate or inveigle these two people into an engagement, but merely provide an appropriate and congenial occasion for them to meet and perhaps make up their own minds on the matter. There cannot be any harm in that?”
“No indeed, and if that is so, I should have no objection to it, as long as you do not expect me to dance with all the ladies in the room who have no partners, Lizzie!” he said, and seeing her eyes brighten at his words, added quickly, “Let me, however, caution you and Caroline to be aware that both Mr Bentley and Isabella are likely to have their own plans, which may not fall conveniently within your design.”
Elizabeth agreed. “Caroline and I are aware that may be the case, but being so far apart as Manchester and Matlock, they are not likely to have many opportunities to meet and decide if they are still of the same mind as before,” she explained, at which Darcy laughed and said, “My dear Lizzie, such a distance is unlikely to prove a major obstacle to a man in love if his affections are genuinely engaged.”
And on that prophetic note, they retired to their apartments.
The early onset of Autumn following upon a warm Summer proved to be a blessing. The gathering in of the harvest was always a propitious occasion for thanksgiving and celebration in the district, and Elizabeth's plans could come to fruition without causing any undue comment.
There had always been celebrations at Pemberley at harvest time. Apart from Harvest Home and the traditional church festivities, balls and parties were customary. This one was to take the form of a soireé followed by a dinner party, rather than a formal ball, which was a source of much relief to Mr Darcy.
Cassandra and Caroline were both drawn in to assist in its organisation, selecting the programme of music and the performers for the evening. Letters were sent out early, and David Fitzwilliam carried the all-important invitation to Manchester to be placed in the hands of Mr Bentley.
A polite and elegantly worded note of acceptance was received at Pemberley a few days later, which news was swiftly conveyed to Caroline. Isabella, who was not privy to her mother's discussions with Elizabeth, received the news that Mr Bentley had been invited to Pemberley with pleasure but little show of emotion, except to say, “Although Mr Bentley has never visited Pemberley, we have spoken of it often; I am sure he will look forward to seeing it.”
Since their first chance encounter, they had met again on other occasions. First on a visit to Manchester with Isabella's parents, when the gentlemen had spent most of the day in the offices of the company's solicitors and they had all met only for a meal at the hotel, during which there had been little time for anything more than general conversation about the office and the weather.
Mr Bentley had, however, paid the ladies the courtesy of accompanying them to church on Sunday morning while David and Colonel Fitzwilliam slept. Caroline had been impressed and said so.
Then, at the very end of Summer, Mr Bentley had arrived, hoping to see either Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr Darcy in order to obtain a signature upon a new contract. It so happened that both gentlemen were away, one in Birmingham and the other at Netherfield Park. Rather than return to Manchester empty-handed, Mr Bentley had decided to stay on at the local inn until Colonel Fitzwilliam returned from Birmingham.
This fortuitous arrangement had resulted in several meetings, for Caroline had insisted that Mr Bentley take dinner with them at the house while he stayed in the area.
“It's the very least we can do, Mr Bentley. Colonel Fitzwilliam will be here in two or three days at the most, and if you will accept our hospitality, I am sure he will feel less guilty at having kept you waiting.”
Mr Bentley expressed profound gratitude and accepted the invitation, one might almost have said with alacrity, and Caroline had the satisfaction of noting that Isabella seemed particularly well pleased.
Clearly, both Isabella and Mr Bentley enjoyed the opportunity for private conversation. What was said between them when they met on those days, Caroline did not discover until much later, but she was able to speculate that the early signs of a reclaimed friendship were promising.
Mr Bentley spent most mornings in the town but always arrived around tea time and spent most of the afternoon and all of the evening with them before returning after dinner to Lambton.
Some days he sat with them in the parlour after tea, making conversation on a variety of topics; at other times, Isabella and he would walk in the garden or down by the river, returning to the house in time for dinner.
Isabella, whose calm exterior must surely have concealed some inner excitement, seemed to accept the amicable relationship that evolved between them with equanimity and pleasure.
When at last her father returned and the required signatures were obtained, Mr Bentley said his farewells and departed, leaving Isabella in such good humour as to convince Caroline some new understanding had been reached between her daughter and Mr Bentley.
Although nothing was said, a few days later, a note arrived for Caroline, expressing his appreciation of their hospitality. Both mother and daughter read it eagerly, each looking perhaps for some hint of meaning beyond the polite phrases.
Caroline was pleased with the
proof it gave of his continued exemplary manners, and Isabella, who had not expected to find herself singled out, was gratified that he had made special mention of the many pleasant hours of entertainment and conversation they had enjoyed. It had made, he said, the time spent waiting for Colonel Fitzwilliam pass all too swiftly. At least, she thought, of his regard, I need have no doubt at all.
Caroline, meanwhile having finally broached the topic with her husband, had been at pains to ensure that he did not take up the matter with their daughter. Fitzwilliam had, at first, expressed some concerns about Bentley, anxious that Isabella should not be hurt again, but Caroline, having observed the couple closely, reassured him, “I have no doubt of his feelings, Fitzy. It is Isabella who has to decide; once she is certain, they will be engaged soon enough,” she had said and he, trusting her judgment in these matters, made no further objection except to express the hope that they would not leave it too long.
“All this uncertainty is doing me no good, Caroline; it must be my age. I like things neat and tidy,” he said.
Unfortunately for Colonel Fitzwilliam and his predilection for certainty, some days before the function at Pemberley, Mr Bentley arrived unexpectedly and looking very anxious indeed. His mother's health, always a source of some anxiety, had taken a turn for the worse, and he was required to go to London immediately, he said.
He was to travel by train and while he waited for the hour to arrive when the hired vehicle would convey him to the railway station, he spent the morning with them at Matlock. Isabella, though composed, was plainly concerned, and Caroline could see that Mr Bentley was doing his best to reassure her. When it was time to leave, his obvious reluctance was matched only by her efforts to conceal her unhappiness.
Caroline could not tell from observing them if they had spoken of their feelings for one another, but she was determined not to interfere.
In the end, Mr Bentley summoned up sufficient good humour to make them all smile as he bade them good-bye.
“I would not want to miss my first opportunity to see the remarkable attractions of Pemberley, of which I have heard so much. Miss Rachel would not forgive me. I have given her my promise,” he said and, with a wave, was gone, carrying with him their best wishes for a safe journey and his mother's recovery.
The intervening days were so busy and filled with so much activity that Caroline gave little thought to Mr Bentley. On the day before the function, a message arrived by telegraph to say he would be on the train and hoped to be in Matlock by midday on the following day.
When the day arrived, everything was in readiness at Pemberley.
Nothing was left to chance; the food, the musicians, and exquisite porcelain, glass, and silverware were all arranged well ahead, and the small army of servants was perfectly practised in their roles.
At Matlock, however, there was no such certainty. It was past midday and Mr Bentley had not arrived. Isabella stayed in her room all morning, not wishing to be further discomposed by the innumerable questions of her sister and father. She had chosen with care a favourite gown and some simple jewellery, and had looked forward to the evening. Now, she was anxious beyond bearing, afraid that the delay, with no news from him, meant an accident on the railway.
Unable to conceal her concern, she decided to remain at the house with her sister Rachel and asked that the carriage return for them.
“If Mr Bentley arrives, we will proceed with him to Pemberley. If he does not, Rachel and I will join you later. Please explain to Aunt Lizzie that we cannot leave until we are certain he is not coming; it will embarrass him greatly to arrive late and find us all gone,” she pleaded, and Caroline agreed she was right. Mr Bentley was their guest and had never been to Pemberley before; they could not abandon him. She was sure Mr Darcy and Elizabeth would understand.
Not long after the rest of the party had left for Pemberley, Rachel, who had eaten not wisely but too well, claimed she was feeling sick and went upstairs while Isabella walked up and down the hall listening for the sound of a carriage.
A sudden cry of “Bella, Bella! Come up here, quick!” emanating from her sister's room at the top of the house caused her to run upstairs, fearful that Rachel was in pain. But, as she reached the open door of her room, she could see her sister standing on her bed and looking out of the window, towards the road that curved up from Lambton, and pointing as she called out, “Look, look, Bella, there he is!”
Isabella flew to window in time to see a vehicle, approaching at great speed, turn into the drive.
“Thank God,” was all she could say, before Rachel uttered a scream and fell from the bed onto the floor.
Aghast, Isabella picked her sister up and placed her on the bed, trying to discover whether she had injured herself. Rachel's scream had attracted the servants, who informed Isabella that Mr Bentley had arrived and was waiting in the parlour.
Hurrying downstairs, she sought to explain what had occurred, while he was anxious to apologise for being late, all of which was overwhelmed by the cries of Rachel, clearly in severe discomfort.
“I fear we shall be further delayed; I cannot leave for Pemberley until Rachel has been seen by a doctor,” she explained and Mr Bentley agreed that there was no question: a doctor had to be summoned. Fortuitously, he said, he had kept the hired vehicle in which he had arrived in case it was required to take him to Pemberley.
“I was unsure if your party had already left. But now, it means I could use it to go directly to Matlock and summon a doctor to attend your sister.”
Isabella was so relieved he was here, so delighted to see him, so pleased with his swift offer of help, she could have hugged him; but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she agreed immediately with his suggestion and, as he left to get the doctor, went upstairs to comfort Rachel. Her swelling ankle, evidence of the damage done by her fall, had been swathed in cold cloths doused in vinegar, and she was being urged to take a concoction of chamo-mile tea and willow bark for the pain and shock. Poor Rachel was not much impressed with either.
Isabella sat with her until Mr Bentley returned with the doctor and was very relieved when he examined the ankle and declared there was no break. He prescribed hot fomentation, an application of liniment with wintergreen, and complete rest. He then went, promising to call on the morrow.
Shortly after the doctor had departed, Isabella left her sister in the care of the housekeeper, Mrs Grey, and her maid, who was urged not to leave Rachel's bedside. She returned to her room to complete her toilet before going downstairs, where Mr Bentley waited. As he helped her into the carriage waiting for them at the entrance, she sighed. It had been a gruelling day.
They started out and had not gone far when she turned to thank him.
“Mr Bentley, please let me say how grateful I am to you and how very appreciative my parents will be when they learn what you have done today. I do not know how we would have coped without your help.” Casting caution aside for once, Isabella was determined to let him see how glad she was of his presence. “We are going to be late, and I fear we will have missed much of the musical programme, but at least you are here. We were concerned that you would miss the function altogether; my parents and Mr and Mrs Darcy will be very pleased to see you.”
He seemed almost surprised as he said, “I am very glad to hear it and I must apologise for causing you concern: I too was anxious not to be late, lest it seemed rude, but events outside my control overtook me.” Then, his tone deepening, he asked, “But, Isabella, are you quite sure they will really be pleased to see me?”
She was quite indignant. “Of course, why should they not be?”
In the silence that followed, she recalled that he would surely have guessed that her family had persuaded her to reject his proposal all those years ago. She was flustered and embarrassed. Seeing and comprehending the somewhat sardonic smile on his face, she tried to explain, to apologise, but he stopped her.
“There is no need to explain, Isabella, no need to apologise either. Yo
ur family did what they thought was right,” he said in a quiet, steady voice. “Indeed, when I discovered the truth about my stepfather's activities, I knew immediately that it was a body blow to my chances with you,” he said and she could scarcely look at him for the distress she was feeling. “No respectable family would have wished to be associated with us at the time, even though I had had no connection at all with Mr Henderson's infamous business. Of course, I lost all hope when I received your father's letter, which gave no reason for your rejection. Clearly, you did not wish to cause me further torment by detailing the distasteful facts, but I could read between the lines, and my loathing of my stepfather was greatly increased as I realised what I had lost.”
Isabella tried once more to say something that would assuage the hurt he had felt, to find words that would convey with sincerity her regret, but none came. As she stammered and stopped, tears welled in her eyes and, feeling utterly foolish, she hid her face in her hands.
At this, he was so appalled, fearing that his words had been too harsh and had caused her grief, he could do no less than put his arms around her and beg her not to weep. He pleaded with her to believe that he loved her still and asked only that she listen to him.
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 37
