by Jayne Bamber
Yes, after the disappointment of Sidney Parker’s lack of interest in her, the handsome Mr. Willoughby with his happy manners and air of mystery would do very well indeed! He was a widower of nearly a year, who resided chiefly at Allenham, his estate in Devonshire, though he had a smaller estate, Combe Magna, in Somerset, where he had become acquainted with Jasper Middleton and Sam Sutton.
The gentlemen from Cranbrook were all vastly delighted by his arrival, and were detained for quite some time after dinner with brandy and cigars together, but once they all rejoined the ladies, Mr. Willoughby had quickly selected Georgiana as his object, remarking with no little admiration on her performance at the pianoforte.
Georgiana was at first embarrassed by his marked attentions, but when this passed away, when her spirits became collected, when she saw that to the perfect good-breeding of the gentleman, he united frankness and vivacity, and above all, when she heard him declare, that of music and dancing he was passionately fond, she gave him such a look of approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse to herself for the rest of the evening.
He had been in Devonshire these many months, to Georgiana’s relief – had he come from London, she would have feared he might have heard the rumors about her. She was put more at ease knowing she might speak with a delightful companion, who knew nothing of her history, and it was only necessary for him to mention any favorite amusement to engage her to talk. She could not be silent when such points were introduced, and she felt her normal shyness and reserve fall away as he took pains to engage her in conversation, seated a little away from the rest of the assembled company.
They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual, and that it arose from a general conformity of judgment in all that related to either. Encouraged by this to a further examination of his opinions, she proceeded to question him on the subject of books; her favorite authors were brought forward and dwelt upon with so rapturous a delight that she grew exceedingly comfortable with him, and far more conversible than was her usual wont. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by each—or if any difference appeared, any objection arose, it lasted only until the force of her arguments and the brightness of her eyes could be displayed. He acquiesced in all her decisions, caught all her enthusiasm; and long before their merry party was broken up for the night, they conversed with the familiarity of a long-established acquaintance.
Mr. Willoughby, on his side, gave every proof of his pleasure in their acquaintance. He seemed a young man of good abilities, quick imagination, lively spirits, and open, affectionate manners. With all this, he joined not only a captivating person, but a natural ardor of mind which in only one evening had begun to stoke within Georgiana’s heart the first stirrings of attraction and affection alike.
His society over the next week, and the particular attentions he paid her, despite being so often in the company of nearly two dozen happy friends and relations, provided Georgiana the most exquisite enjoyment. They read, they talked, they sang together; his musical talents were considerable; and he read with all the sensibility and spirit which must touch the heart of a young woman who had too often been rendered embarrassed by the machinations of the unfeeling ton.
Her first natural trepidation was that Lydia’s old ways would eventually prevail, in the face of so much temptation, and Georgiana frequently caught herself fearing that their tenuous new friendship would crumble, should Lydia attempt to set her cap at the gentleman, or vie for his notice.
Happily, and rather surprisingly, Lydia did not seem inclined to make herself a rival for Mr. Willoughby’s attentions. Indeed, she appeared most determined to offer both Georgiana and Harriet her friendship. Even more astonishingly, the first week in Kent, Lydia appeared to show little interest in any of the gentlemen who eagerly recommended themselves to Georgiana and Harriet. Her preference for Mr. Audley was, at times, a little overt, but Georgiana thought Lydia was more than welcome to that gentleman, though likely nothing would come of it. Overall, Mrs. Sutton’s influence seemed to keep Lydia’s former boldness under good regulation, and Georgiana began to relax, secure in the belief that Mr. Willoughby would not likely be tempted to shift his pleasing attentions away from herself.
Harriet received the attentions of both Mr. Tilney and Mr. Rushworth with more reluctance than Georgiana felt at Mr. Willoughby’s evident interest; little surprise, considering Lady Catherine’s determination that Harriet should remain dedicated to her daily lessons, and occupy her free time furthering her friendship with the ladies of their family.
That they certainly did. Even Lydia’s overtures of friendship were well received, and by the end of the first week she had become a staple at the dower house whenever the music master or language tutor were present. Though Lydia’s overall improvement was negligible, she at least maintained the appearance of desiring it, and appeared perfectly capable at laughing at her own failures, which were not infrequent.
As both Georgiana and Harriet grew more comfortable with this new version of Lydia, Georgiana thought her contentment with their removal from London most complete.
***
Overall, Caroline found herself very well satisfied with her first week in Kent. Lydia seemed past the worst of her petulance that first night at Rosings, and had really seemed to take to her lessons with aplomb. Caroline was determined to continue her own lectures on decorum in private, and at the end of their first week decided to add a new element to Lydia’s curriculum.
Having perceived that Mr. Tilney and Mr. Rushworth, the two gentlemen she had already ruled out as options for Lydia, were chiefly interested in Harriet, and the newcomer Mr. Willoughby, though certainly attractive both in looks and income, was determined to attach himself to Georgiana, Caroline was ready to move forward with the next stage of her plan. Lydia obediently abstained from the temptation of flirting with Mr. Willoughby herself; one quelling look from Caroline on the evening of his arrival had put paid to any plans Lydia might have formed in that direction, allowing for her friendship with both of the other young ladies to progress much to Caroline’s satisfaction.
Regarding the two other potential suitors, Caroline was content to allow Lydia to take her pick between them, or simply wait and see how things progressed naturally. Mr. Audley was certainly a great flirt, though Caroline felt she must make some subtle inquiries regarding his fortune, before passing any judgment on the man. She knew him to be a second son, but perhaps he had a small estate of his own, or at least a house in Town. If he did not, it was very unlikely even the newly improved Lydia could tempt him.
Captain Wentworth remained a puzzle to Caroline. He did not seem particularly interested in either Harriet or Georgiana, though Sam Sutton made it obvious he should like him to join the family. Neither did Captain Wentworth show the slightest inclination toward Lydia, though the poor girl had tried.
Caroline decided she would take matters into her own hands, and about a week after their arrival she solicited his assistance in teaching Lydia to ride a horse. It was a fine skill for any sophisticated young lady, and if it should lead to romance between pupil and instructor, so much the better. Caroline herself was an accomplished rider; once Lydia became proficient, the two of them might amuse themselves exploring the extensive grounds of Rosings and Cranbrook alike – perhaps they might even participate in a hunt.
Cecily Middleton was delighted with Caroline’s plan, and made an ideal fourth companion on the first day of Caroline’s scheme. The two ladies rode alongside one another, behind Captain Wentworth and Lydia, and Caroline observed with satisfaction as Captain Wentworth exerted himself in assisting Lydia as she learned to canter. It was certainly a fine way to throw the two of them together, for no little degree of physical contact was required betwixt them – he assisted Lydia in mounting the horse, helped her position her legs against the animal and get her equilibrium in the saddle, and guided her hand in holding the reins just right. Splendid.
He was proving a most diligent instructor, riding alongside Lydia long after she had shown herself to be quite capable, and was often glancing back, as if to seek Caroline’s approval. She nodded encouragingly at him every time he did so, for she was really quite pleased with Lydia’s progress, both in mastering the horse as well as capturing her new beau’s attention.
With Captain Wentworth focused on Lydia, Caroline was free to grow better acquainted with her sister-in-law Cecily, which she had fully intended to do since the night of Harriet’s ball. Of course, her endeavors at befriending the woman were not without moments of awkwardness.
“Do you know if Seymour means to come down from Scotland soon? It would be lovely if he could attend the ball Emily means to give at Cranbrook on Tuesday,” Cecily observed.
“I have not heard from him – that is, I wrote to him when first we arrived in Kent,” Caroline lied, “to let him know I had arrived safely. I would not wish him to worry about me. I do not know whether he has received my letter yet, or perhaps it has not been long enough for his reply to reach me. Certainly I could write again, but I think it unlikely he shall attend the ball, as he would have had to leave Scotland the very same day of our arrival in order to travel down in time. He would not yet have known of my presence here.”
“Oh, of course,” Cecily replied. “It is so very far away! It is only – I had understood he did not mean to stay long there; he never has done before.”
“Oh yes,” Caroline said. “I am well aware. Honestly, I think that is very likely why he was obliged to remain for so many months on this visit – I understood when I arrived in Dumfries last September that Dimthorn Hall had been rather neglected.” This last bit was true, in fact. Her husband had no great love for Scotland, and cared little for his estate there, which had led to its falling into disrepair. Though she would not dare admit the full truth to any of his family, Seymour despised his estate in Scotland, and felt that Cranbrook ought to have been his own.
And yet, some good had come of it, for Caroline’s sake. In the face of her husband’s indifference to his property, it had fallen to her to oversee what improvements she could, in the brief months she was there. A new staff had been hired, and several repairs initiated, though she had not cared to remain long enough to see them through to completion, trusting that the laborers she had selected would keep her abreast of the developments. It would be good practice for her, for someday she would be free to marry a man of her own choosing, and would no doubt preside over a proper estate.
“I was able to make myself useful to your brother,” Caroline continued, seeing no harm in augmenting her lies with some truth. “The expansion of the stables was one of my pet projects, as Seymour wishes to invest in several racing horses – perhaps his next letter will contain some news of the progress in this development.”
“How wonderful that you share Seymour’s interest in equestrian pursuits,” Cecily observed. “I have often wished for a riding companion. Jasper rides, of course, though with all the gentlemen here at Cranbrook now, I think he will often be off with them. Cynthia never liked to ride, and of course Emily wished to learn, but could not, once she discovered she was with child. Yet another reason I am glad you are come! And now Lydia is learning to ride as well – what a fine thing indeed! She seems to be taking to it very well.”
It was true; after about half an hour in the saddle, Lydia was riding like a natural, and just as Cecily began to observe how very fine Lydia and Captain Wentworth looked riding side-by-side in such a way, Caroline’s satisfaction was instantly thwarted by the two of them breaking apart. Lydia guided her horse around so that she came alongside Caroline, with Captain Wentworth cantering off to one side.
“What do you think, Caroline,” Lydia cried with joy. “I look well enough in my riding habit, to be sure, but only think, I am actually good at something for once!”
Caroline smiled in spite of herself. Both of Lydia’s assertions were true – her new red riding habit suited her very well indeed, and she was a surprisingly good seat on her horse for being such a novice. “Well done, Lydia,” she said happily.
“Race me, Caroline,” Lydia cried with a devilish grin, urging her horse onward.
Captain Wentworth began to look rather frightened, and moved to catch up with her. “No racing,” he said harshly. “I will not have you injured on my watch!”
Lydia laughed his concern away. “I shall not be injured, sir! You said yourself that I ride so well!”
“Really,” Cecily chided. “There is no need for concern – your pupil is doing very well indeed. That copse of trees, a quarter mile distant,” she said, pointing her finger, “I will race you, Lydia.”
Before Caroline could protest, Lydia flicked the reins and was off, with Cecily in hot pursuit. Caroline felt a twist in the pit of her stomach as she watched Lydia tear across the field, and yet she reached her destination just seconds ahead of Cecily. The two of them brought their horses to rest by the trees, while Captain Wentworth brought his horse alongside Caroline, and the two caught up at a leisurely pace.
“You must be a better teacher than you had thought,” Caroline observed, seeing Lydia achieve her target in safety. “Thank you again, sir, for agreeing to give her riding lessons.”
“It is my pleasure,” Captain Wentworth replied, “though you might have done so yourself. You are one of the finest riders I have ever seen.”
“You only say so because I have no interest in racing,” Caroline teased.
“And yet I think you would be better suited to the challenge. Miss Lydia and Cecily cannot have all the fun. What say you? Over the hedge yonder, and on to the ha-ha?”
“So now you are in favor of racing? You are certainly a mercurial man.”
Captain Wentworth looked severely at her for a minute, before breaking into a smile. “I only wish to see what you are capable of.”
Caroline grinned. “Is that so?” She quickly flicked the reins and urged her horse into a full gallop.
***
As Mrs. Sutton sped away, Wentworth urged his horse on, and before they were halfway to the hedge, he had taken the lead. He dared a glance in her direction, enjoying the beautiful look of determination on her countenance. She looked over at him, and stuck out her tongue as she charged ahead, and he gave her a quick wink.
His horse made the leap over the hedge just a second before hers did, but she regained her early lead by the time they reached the ha-ha, where she turned about and grinned triumphantly at him as he finally caught up with her.
“Well, you did have an early start,” he chided her, so pleased by the flush of energy and exhilaration on her perfect pink skin that he had never been more delighted to lose a race.
“Spoken like a sore loser,” she retorted with a smirk, averting her gaze after meeting his eye with no little intensity.
Miss Lydia and Cecily Middleton had followed them at a slower pace, and had nearly approached the hedge – Wentworth hoped they would not attempt the jump, and rather wished them away entirely. He knew what Mrs. Sutton was about, trying to push Lydia at him, and though she was just the sort of pretty girl he ought to feel an interest in, he could not. Not when there was such a woman at her side. A married woman.
Wentworth had known, since the very first night of their acquaintance, that this was a dangerous game, that he ought to keep a distance, and yet their first week in Kent he had found Mrs. Sutton’s magnetism irresistible. What was her husband about, tarrying in Scotland when he had such a wife at home? Something was not right – it simply did not add up.
“I believe we must return to our companions,” Mrs. Sutton observed, seeming suddenly uncomfortable at being so alone with him. “Shall we race back?”
He gazed at her – she was trying not to smile, he was sure of it. “Certainly, Mrs. Sutton,” he replied with what he hoped was a dashing smile. “I do enjoy the thrill of the chase.”
Disarmed, Mrs. Sutton blushed and looked away again, and in that m
oment he was off, repaying her earlier trickery. She soon caught him up, and this time they vaulted the hedge in unison, before bringing their horses alongside Cecily and Miss Lydia.
Miss Lydia dropped her reins to clap her hands in excitement. “How marvelous,” she cried. “I want to do that.”
“All in good time, Miss Lydia, all in good time,” Wentworth said, not taking his eyes from Mrs. Sutton.
“Yes, that is certainly enough excitement for one day, my dear,” Mrs. Sutton told her young ward. “Let us not exert ourselves, when we have a ball two days hence. I would not have you too sore to dance.” She cast an expectant glance back at Wentworth, as if presuming he would perhaps solicit the opening set with the young lady, as was the custom. Wentworth knew he ought to be sensible, and do what was expected of him, but he could not like this notion of Mrs. Sutton’s pushing Miss Lydia at him. Indeed, he had begun to believe he could not like any of the young misses here in Kent. No, his heart was obstinate, wanting only that which was unattainable.
13
Surrey, late March
Rebecca’s first week in Surrey passed quickly, with very little to distress or vex her. She found her young cousin Emma to be an affable companion, rather like the kind of woman she imagined Mary might grow to become in time. Both of the girls were eminently sensible, and seemed to like one another very well indeed. Emma was perhaps more candid than Mary, and more disposed to think well of herself, though both of them exceeded Rebecca in patience and kindness. Emma, at least, seemed to be disposed to get up to some manner of mischief with Rebecca, taking Mr. Knightley’s words, intended as a warning, as a pleasant promise instead.
