CAROLINE

by Sue Barr

  “Yes. My uncle the Earl extended his congratulations and both he and my Aunt, along with my cousins shall travel down the day of the ball and stay until the ceremony.”

  “A ball?”

  “Yes. It’s a longstanding Darcy tradition. We host a ball a few days prior to the wedding. As both Charles and I, along with our brides shall depart directly from the wedding breakfast, this is a chance for everyone to meet and become better acquainted in a less formal setting.”

  “Are you quite sure you’re ready for your esteemed family to become better acquainted with your new in-laws, Darcy?” Caroline should have listened to the small voice of reason urging her to temper her words, but still she smarted over the set-down from Charles earlier in the day and spoke without thought.

  Darcy set down his eating utensils and leaned forward in the chair.

  “Those who cannot accept this marriage are not welcome at Pemberley, Miss Bingley.” He said in tones cold enough to freeze over the Thames. “Our wedding breakfast would not be a sad affair if there were one or two fewer settings at the table.”

  “Fortunately for us, Mr. Darcy,” Louisa’s voice carried down the table, “we shall be welcome at Pemberley for a long time as we adore the Bennet sisters. Don’t we, Caroline?”

  She gripped her fork tight and fought to control her emotions. She hadn’t missed Darcy’s intentional emphasis on her proper title as ‘Miss’ Bingley.

  “Most certainly, Louisa and I commented this very afternoon on what a sweet girl Jane Bennet is and how lively the conversations are when Miss Eliza is around. We look forward to seeing them again.”

  She willed herself to smile and be congenial and took a bite of her salmon, which felt and tasted like sawdust in her mouth. However enraged she was at these two fools becoming entangled with the Bennet family, she wouldn’t allow herself to act upon that anger. Her momentary loss of control this afternoon would not be repeated.

  After the meal the ladies retired to the drawing room while Charles, Mr. Hurst and Darcy remained to enjoy a glass of port. Louisa fussed with her skirts after settling in her favorite chair. Caroline paced in agitation for a few minutes until Louisa implored her to sit.

  “Sister, you are going to wear out the tread in my new carpet, prowling around like a caged animal.”

  “I’m sorry, Louisa. This evening has been most trying.”

  “Pull yourself together before the men join us. We have but a few minutes while they enjoy their port.”

  “You mean while they pat each other on the back over their most advantageous marriages.”

  “Careful sister, that savors strongly of bitterness.”

  She flopped onto the settee, uncaring if the silk of her skirt became wrinkled and huffed out a sigh.

  “Oh, Louisa. It’s unconscionable what Charles and Darcy have done.” Her heart squeezed a little tighter at the thought of Elizabeth Bennet being mistress of Pemberley in place of her. “What could I have done different?”

  “Apparently, nothing. You never were and never will be a woman Darcy considered marrying. Cast your net on the other side of the boat, Caroline. There are other fish in the ocean.”

  Chapter 4

  Caroline stabbed the quill into the ink pot and tapped off any excess ink before poising the feathered pen over a blank sheet of paper. She knew she must make amends with Jane and heal the rift between herself and Charles. Several crumpled sheets later she finally penned a note meeting her approval.

  Grosvenor Street, London

  October 14, 1812

  My dearest Jane

  How delighted Louisa and I are at the thought of you becoming our sister. We have always known, from the very first time we met in Hertfordshire, that you were one of the sweetest girls ever to grace our home. Charles is ecstatic over your upcoming nuptials and I join him in the excitement.

  I look forward with much anticipation to welcoming you to the family.

  Affectionately, your (soon-to-be) sister

  Caroline

  The only good thing she found in this humiliation was the fact she did not have to placate Mr. Darcy and write a letter to her.

  “Caroline?”

  She turned at the sound of her sister calling out her name.

  “Oh, there you are.” Louisa stopped in the doorway to the parlor. She was dressed for an afternoon outing and was in the act of pulling on her gloves. “I’m off to Mrs. Pike’s for tea. Do you care to join us, dear?”

  “No, thank you. I have to finish this letter and post it immediately.”

  Understanding dawned on Louisa’s thin face.

  “Ah, yes. ‘Tis good you are mending the tender bonds of fraternal love. At least that Sword of Damocles won’t be hanging over your head at the wedding. That is, if you can bring Jane around to loving us again.”

  “I will do my best, sister.”

  “Be grateful you don’t have to apologize to Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Louisa chortled. “I shall see you this evening at dinner.”

  “Louisa!” She called her sister back.

  “Yes?”

  “Where did we go wrong? How did he fall into the clutches of the Bennet family?”

  “I’m going to assume you mean Charles and not Mr. Darcy.” At her nod Louisa continued. “We underestimated his feelings for Jane. After almost a year he loved her still, if not more than when we quit Netherfield Park. That is true love and there is no stopping it. We must accept and move on. You must accept and move on. No good will come from dwelling in the land of ‘what if’. Reconcile with Jane and be done with it.”

  “It’s not that easy. I can’t stand the fact they are throwing their lives away.”

  “I have come to terms with their upcoming nuptials. You are the only person in this family who objects to their marriages. Jane is a sweet girl and will make Charles happy and after that incident at Pemberley this past summer, Darcy only tolerated us for the sake of his friendship with Charles.”

  “What incident?” She couldn’t stop the haughty tone permeating her words.

  “Don’t be obtuse. You know exactly what you did and you failed then as you have failed now. I have no time for a re-hashing of your grievances; I shall see you at dinner.”

  Caroline remained seated after Louisa departed, a bit shocked that her sister was aware of an embarrassing incident during their last visit at Pemberley in late August. The fact Charles relayed a portion of what occurred between her and Darcy was undeniable. That he’d not shared the complete truth was also undeniable. She turned her head sharply, raised her chin to the soft sunlight pouring through the window and closed her eyes tight, willing the tears threatening to course down her cheeks to stay put. She would rise above this. She had to.

  ~~~ooo0ooo~~~

  Caroline stifled a small yawn behind her fan. The play Lord Waverly, the Marquis of Dorchester invited Louisa, Mr. Hurst and her to attend was a roaring bore. The only thing keeping her from nodding off to sleep was the company they were in.

  The Marquis had a private box at The Theatre-Royal – Covent Garden which seated six. Along with her family and the Marquis, the other two guests were Lady Susan Cruikshank and Sir Reginald Slade.

  To be in such esteemed company filled her with deep satisfaction. More than one lady and gentleman glanced their way throughout the evening making her glad she’d worn her newest gown, cut in the latest fashion in her favorite color of burnt amber. She learned long ago that given her red hair and green eyes, bold colors were needed to bring them to life.

  If only the Marquis would cease doting on the non-descript Lady Susan, who paled in comparison to the wit and vivacity she brought to the party. Having been relegated to the back row of the private box with her sister and husband, she’d been unable to miss the Marquis lean intimately toward her ear during the performance, or how often Sir Reginald panted for attention from the other side.

  What were they so enraptured by other than the fact she was titled? While Lady Susan’s dress was excellently ma
de, it was nothing more than a glorified day dress. All blues and white with small pink flowers embroidered along the hem. And the poor freckled face dear had no dowry what-so-ever to recommend herself with, only ten thousand pounds. A paltry sum when compared to her own twenty thousand. What did the insipid Susan Cruikshank have that she lacked?

  The interval bell rang and the whole party made their way to the salon where refreshments were offered. She found herself on the arm of Sir Reginald, who almost broke into a trot in order to keep up with the Marquis. He, at least, escorted Lady Susan in a reasonable fashion, not pulling her along as though she were some child’s toy.

  When Sir Reginald tugged her arm once more in an effort to hurry her along, she decided she’d had enough of this dog and pony show and halted in the middle of the room near a large column. When her arm extended as far as it could go, she released his. He advanced a few more steps before realizing she was no longer attached, but rather, behind him.

  “Miss Bingley?” He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed, though not for long. His head quickly swiveled in search of the Marquis and Lady Susan.

  “Sir Reginald, may I wait for you here?”

  “Yes, Miss Bingley.” She became piqued at his look of relief. Was her company that revolting? “I shall return post haste with some refreshing lemonade.”

  Before she could utter ‘no thank you’, or ask for something more bracing, he’d moved through the growing crowd toward the Marquis. Louisa and Mr. Hurst arrived and stood beside her.

  “Your escort stranded you already?” Louisa queried with apparent glee. “Is he in love with Lady Susan as well?”

  Caroline nodded in assent. Both Lord Waverly and Sir Reginald were chasing the same fox. She’d seen this sort of besotted behavior with Charles when he first laid eyes on the angelic Miss Jane Bennet. If Lady Susan were smart, she’d keep the Marquis close and cut Sir Reginald loose. At least, that’s what she would do.

  Lord Waverly had several estates, along with his house in London and appeared to have a nice steady income from his holdings. Yes, he would do nicely, if only he’d get his head out of the cloud of bubbles encircling the effervescent Lady Susan long enough to notice her. Not for the first time she railed at the fact she’d spent three years pursuing Mr. Darcy. What a colossal waste of time that turned out to be.

  “Caroline,” Louisa interrupted her thoughts. “Do you see who’s here?”

  Her sister nodded in the direction of the refreshment area and she craned her neck to see above the crowd. There were times when she was grateful for the extra few inches of height God deemed fit to bestow upon her.

  “Whom are you speaking of?”

  “The Duke of Adborough,” she hissed. “I heard he’s arrived in London for the late Season. Many a frantic mama will be vying for his attention for their darling daughters. The poor man.”

  “Poor!” Caroline snorted. “His duchy is more valuable than Darcy’s estate. There is nothing poor about the Duke of Adborough.”

  “I meant the tigresses encircling the poor man, looking for an opening.”

  “Louisa, you’ve been reading too many adventure novels. Pray tell, which one is he?”

  “There, he wears the deep blue and ivory redingote.”

  Caroline glanced over to where two men stood. One wore deep blue, the other dressed in black. Both were handsome in face and their physical build caused her heart to trip along faster than normal. She should have been more attracted to the Duke, as he was single and in want of a good wife, but the other man with his dark tousled hair and broad shoulders caused a tiny rift of excitement to course through her veins. Never had she felt this way about a man and it was disconcerting.

  She struggled to keep herself from staring, but found her gaze returning to the two men time and time again. If only someone of consequence were here to introduce them, then maybe this small obsession with a person she’d never met would cease.

  ~~~ooo0ooo~~~

  “You seem to have an admirer.” Nathan said in a low voice to his brother.

  “Dare I ask whom?” Max glanced around the room, apparently seeing no one he knew.

  “A fiery red haired vixen, standing near the column.”

  How could his brother not have noticed her? The minute she’d entered the room on Sir Reginald’s arm, he’d been intrigued. When Sir Reginald abandoned her, he fought the urge to approach the mysterious siren who beckoned like a flaming ember in the midst of mediocrity. It was then he noted that she, and the lady standing beside her, showed a marked interest in Max. He may as well have been standing on the moon for all the notice sent his way.

  Taking his time, Max glanced in their general direction and a grin threatened to break across his face. He swiftly turned so the young lady wouldn’t see.

  “I think you need to have your eyes checked, brother. The beauty is not looking at me, but has her attention fixed upon you.”

  “What?” Nathan gave a start. He was unused to anyone paying him attention, at least not in London where Debrett’s Peerage ranked alongside the Holy Bible as required reading. He cast another side long glance at the woman and noted that indeed she darted furtive glances at him and was not looking too happy about it.

  “Adborough!”

  Both Nathan and Max turned and watched as the Marquis of Dorchester approached, a young lady upon his arm. Behind them trailed Sir Reginald, whom Nathan knew from his Season in London four years ago.

  “Waverly, what a pleasant surprise.” Max gave the Marquis a polite nod.

  “I’d heard you were back in Town. May I present my friend, Lady Susan Cruikshank, the Earl of Tenyham’s daughter, and of course you both know Sir Reginald.”

  Lady Susan executed a perfect curtsy and Sir Reginald gave both brothers a polite nod.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Susan.” Max said and turned to Nathan. “And this is my brother, Lord Nathan.”

  Nathan greeted them with all politeness and took note with some interest, the beautiful woman he and his brother discussed approached, the other lady and gentleman in tow.

  Waverly detected them at the same time and hastened them over.

  “Adborough, these are my acquaintances, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Mrs. Hurst’s sister, Miss Bingley.”

  Nathan registered two things almost instantaneously. First, Waverly introduced the three strangers as mere acquaintances where Lady Susan received the nod as a friend. Second, the name of the beauty was Bingley. What were the odds the two sisters were the very ones related to Mr. Bingley, friend of Mr. Darcy? Before he could comment, Mrs. Hurst dropped a deep curtsy and upon rising tittered, “I am most honored to meet you, Your Grace.”

  Her supercilious tone and false manners grated. With one sentence Mrs. Hurst showed herself to be a social climber of the highest degree. He’d seen this type of behavior toward their father his whole life. Given Max’s cool reception to her fawning, he realized his brother was also aware of this fact.

  The sister, Miss Bingley, noted their demeanor and although she also curtseyed in greeting them, her tone retained a more modest quality. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.” She turned emerald green eyes upon Nathan, her cheeks flushing a becoming shade of pink, “And you as well, sir.”

  At least Miss Bingley acknowledged him. The sister was apparently still too much in awe from meeting a Duke to greet him. He returned her curtsy with a polite bow and murmured. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Bingley.”

  Waverly and his brother entered into a conversation about the latest happenings in Parliament and Sir Reginald focused his attention solely on Lady Susan, whose outward behavior was all politeness but not overly warm. He deduced her charms were being saved for Lord Waverly.

  Mrs. Hurst listened with rapt attention to his brother’s conversation as her husband had removed himself to the refreshment area. He wished her luck in deciphering what they droned on about. Parliamentary business was a large pendulum swinging from the atrocious to the tedi
ous, and he was glad that was Max’s cross to bear.

  He turned his attention to Miss Bingley, standing quietly beside him.

  “Are you enjoying the play, Miss Bingley?”

  “Yes. I haven’t been to a play in such a long time I’d forgotten how diverting they can be.”

  “Have you been among savages, Miss Bingley, that you’ve not enjoyed the pleasures of London? Maybe a dangerous journey to the deepest, darkest jungle?”

  Her reply was a combination of an elegant sniff and a cynical laugh.

  “No savages, Lord Nathan, although it seemed that way at the time”

  “Do you live in Town or are you here only for the Season?”

  “I am with my sister and her husband at present. Our brother is purchasing an estate in Hertfordshire and I may impose myself on him some time in the future.”

  At the mention of Hertfordshire his assumption was solidified these two ladies were indeed Mr. Charles Bingley’s sisters. About the comment on meeting her brother, the bell rang for the second half of the play. There was no time to continue their conversation, but he knew he would be seeing her in Derbyshire within the next few weeks.

  “I must take my leave, Miss Bingley.” He reached for her gloved hand and maintaining intimate eye contact, gave her a gallant bow. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  In that instant, holding her slight hand in his, he had the insane desire to pull her into a quiet room and kiss her inviting, full lips. Something in his demeanor must have relayed itself, because her eyes widened and she gasped softly. Ashamed by his physical reaction to a virtual stranger, he released her hand and straightened to his full height. There was a time in his life when he would have pursued her relentlessly, seeking only physical pleasure, but he was a new creation in Christ and those ways were gone.

  With a polite nod he left the group and waited for his brother in their private box. Inadvertently his eyes scanned the boxes until he found the Marquis’ and watched Miss Bingley take her seat. Within seconds their eyes met across the theater and just as quick she averted her gaze to the stage and even though the distance was great, Nathan noted her cheeks flame a deep red.