“A guillotine would be too good a fate for you,” she replied.
Mystified, he scrutinized her. She made sure he could read nothing in her face.
“I need to speak to you. In the library. Now.” Her imperious tone left no room for him to refuse her.
“In the library?” he said, raising a brow, attempting to diffuse the tension.
She had never had the impulse to strike anyone before. At this moment she would have liked nothing better than to wipe that self-satisfied look from his face with a hard slap. But if he was no gentleman, she would at least remember that she was a lady.
Besides, she had never struck anyone in her life.
She preceded him into the library, leaving him to follow. He deliberately left the door open.
Hah! Now all of a sudden he was concerned about her reputation.
She stamped back and slammed it shut with her foot. The sharp crash gave her some satisfaction. That, and the dismayed expression on his face.
“How can you!” she began. “How dare you betray me in this manner?”
He really was a good actor. She could almost believe the baffled incomprehension on his face. “Betray you?”
“Let us put aside pretences. I know, and you know, that you are the source of the rumour that is now circulating among the guests about Sir Cecil’s betrothal to me. Do not even try to pretend otherwise.” Her anger was like the crushing weight of a rock pressing down onto her lungs. She had to stop. She could scarcely breathe.
“You may not think of it as a betrayal,” she continued, by and by. “Since you seem to be devoid of even the most basic concept of proper conduct. I doubt very much you would be scrupulous enough to think of it as a betrayal.”
The face that had been bewildered a moment ago had frozen into a tight, controlled mask. All feelings were wiped from it. The mask frightened her, but she would not let him intimidate her.
“I’ll have you know that you have ruined everything for me!”
He made no answer.
“Can you stand there and deny it?”
“Will denials make a difference?” he asked, his voice casual, a striking contrast to that vacant mask. “It is quite clear that you have made up your mind about my character. I wonder what motives you have attributed to me for spreading such a rumour. What nefarious purposes do you think I have? I would be interested to know if you have discovered the depths of my villainy or not.”
His mocking tone set her teeth on edge. “You mean to diminish the impact of what you have done by making me ridiculous, I know. You will not,” she retorted. “As for your purpose in disclosing what I told you in confidence, you do not have to have one. It may simply be a partiality to gossip. Or it could be malice, and the pleasure of seeing lives ruined by a few well placed words of yours.”
“This, then, is your opinion of me! This is how you regard me!” The blank mask slipped for a moment, then was restored. “It would be of no avail, then, to deny anything. I have been tried and judged already. I told you earlier that I did not like gossip, and I explained to you exactly why I was asking so many questions, but my words clearly made no impression upon you. You are determined to think ill of me, no matter what, simply because I am different from what you are accustomed to.”
Now he had taken refuge in injured pride. She had heard somewhere that even the darkest villains thought their actions perfectly justified.
She turned her back and went to the window to avoid answering. There was no point in argument. Confronting him had accomplished nothing in any case. It would not repair the situation. Nothing could. The damage was done.
Word would undoubtedly reach Sir Cecil. She could not deceive herself into thinking he would now step forward and ask her to marry him. He was proud, and quite accustomed to being sought out by young ladies eager to better themselves. Sir Cecil was too much a man about town to accept that such a rumour was circulated purely by chance. He would think her stupidly conniving, and he would deny the gossip. He would not let his hand be forced.
She leaned her head against the glass. It was hard and cold against her brow.
She would be the laughing-stock of Town.
The window looked out onto the stable, a wide, squat, brick building. The bricks blurred, merging into a long indistinct wall that blocked her vision. She realized she was crying.
And of course Mr Darcy, yet again, was a witness.
She waved her hand towards him in dismissal. “Please leave me alone,” she said, her voice choked.
When there was no sound behind her, she turned to look. She was alone.
Chapter 7
There you are, Miss Bingley!” said Mrs Olmstead, entering with Mr Olmstead behind her. “We’ve been searching for you everywhere.”
Mrs Olmstead advanced quickly across the room and grasped Caroline’s hands in hers. “Oh, you poor thing! I cannot tell you how sorry I am about this unfortunate rumour,” she said, examining her face earnestly. “But have no fear,” she said, unknowingly echoing her husband, “we will set everything right at once.”
“No use hiding in the library, child,” said Mr Olmstead. “Got to face them, or they’ll be like hounds on the chase.” He took out a pinch of snuff and inhaled deeply. “Above all, you must keep your head.”
She had only one desire now, and that was for this day to be over. There was no making things right. The last thing she wanted was to face the rumour down. What she did want was to go to her chamber and hide and then to take the first post back to Netherfield. And she planned to stay in Netherfield and bury herself in the country until nobody remembered her existence.
“I am very sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I know you mean well, but I cannot face anyone until I have determined what to say. I really need some time by myself to think things through.”
“Very well,” said Mrs Olmstead, with a sympathetic smile. “But there is nothing like a cup of tea to make one feel better when things go horribly wrong. I will ring for a tray to be brought up.”
“No!” said Caroline, then, at Mrs Olmstead’s startled expression, she corrected herself. “Thank you Mrs Olmstead, but I do not believe I could drink a single drop.”
Mrs Olmstead was not one to take offence easily. She nodded her head and began to push Mr Olmstead towards the door.
“In that case, we shall leave you to work out a strategy, Miss Bingley. But you must send for us the moment you think of something. Meanwhile, I am sure we will find a solution. Don’t you worry. Three heads are better than one.”
Much as they might desire to help her, she did not think they could do anything, for there really was nothing to be done.
Her thoughts drifted to Robert Darcy, the man who had brought this upon her. She had trusted him. Just for a moment, out in the garden, in the sunshine, she had stepped beyond the limits of social interaction and she had revealed something to him she had hidden from others. Duped by his laughter and his unconventional behaviour, she had allowed herself an unguarded moment.
The world had no place for unguarded moments, not for a woman. It was merciless. One word could change everything. A woman’s world could collapse because of a word.
Yet she had entrusted a stranger, an outsider, with her hopes and plans.
Let it be a lesson to her. It was a lesson she ought to have known, since it had been drilled into her for many years. But she had not fully understood it. She should not have thought to step outside the rigid barriers of convention. They were set up to protect her, yet she had put them aside the very first time she had met someone who did not fit inside them. Well, now she knew better. Though, like a child, she had to be burned to fully understand the danger.
Quick footsteps approached, and she wondered if Mr Darcy had returned, perhaps to apologize. But it was Louisa.
“I would never have believed this of you, Caroline!” said her sister, shutting the door behind her. “Do you have maggots in your head? How could you?”
“How could
I?” asked Caroline. She had had quite enough. “How could I what? Do you think I deliberately set out to circulate this rumour?”
Her voice was loud and shrill in her ears. But she was not so lost to propriety to risk having anyone overhear her. She clamped down on her jaw and waited until she was calm enough to continue.
“Do you think I started the rumour to force Sir Cecil to marry me? Is that what you think? Do you think me so utterly devoid of intelligence as to do such a thing? I know very well that if even a whiff of this rumour reaches Sir Cecil’s ears, my chances are completely destroyed with him.”
Louisa considered her words with a sceptical frown. “No, I suppose not. It would be beyond foolish. Though I did wonder if you were gambling on the hope that he would make you an offer to save you from scandal.”
Caroline laughed bitterly. “I have no such illusions about Sir Cecil. His affections are not engaged. Our connection was based on mutual convenience alone.”
Louisa perched on the edge of a sofa.
“Then who spread the rumour?”
“Mr Darcy is the only one who knows about Sir Cecil.”
Louisa sat up even straighter. “Mr Darcy? Oh, no, Caroline! You did not tell him, surely! Did I not tell you he was not to be trusted?” She stood up and began to pace the room. “All this is entirely my brother’s fault. It was Charles who got us into this tangle. He should have refused to put up Mr Darcy as a guest. After all, what do we know about him? He is not one of us. But Charles is only too willing to like people. It is a fault that will come to haunt us.”
Caroline sat down, and gestured to her sister to sit next to her. “None of this is any good to me,” she said. “What I need is someone who can help me decide what to do.”
But Louisa had not finished. The more she spoke, the more perturbed she grew. “You would think a brother’s first concern should be to see his sisters well married. Yet he places us in the hands of chance acquaintances at every turn, and leaves us very much to our own devices. We may as well have no brother, for all the protection he affords us.”
“You cannot blame Charles for this situation, Louisa. I am the only one to blame, for I ought not to have told Mr Darcy about Sir Cecil.”
“Yes,” said Louisa. “Yes, that is quite true.” She took a seat on a tall chair opposite Caroline. “I really cannot imagine what you were thinking. To confide your most intimate secrets to an outsider! What in heaven’s name came over you?
Perversely, now that Louisa agreed with her, she felt obliged to defend herself. “Sir Cecil is hardly my most intimate secret. And it was you who mentioned him to Mr Darcy in the first case.”
“Caroline, you cannot mean to reproach me. I never spoke of him to anyone, let alone Mr Darcy.”
“I am not blaming you. But you did mention Sir Cecil within his hearing, when we were in Stamford. You cannot deny it.”
“I recall no such thing,” said Louisa.
“Well, I do,” said Caroline, despairingly.
“I will not stay here to be insulted and accused of all manner of unjust things!” said Louisa, jumping up. “Oh, if only Mr Hurst were here. He would not have allowed you to hurl accusations at me like this!” And with those words, she hurried through the door, leaving Caroline to her own devices.
***
An hour later, Caroline had reached the only possible conclusion. She knew she could not afford to delay a moment longer. It would take only a single letter sent to a friend in Town for the news to spread like wildfire. In one thing Mr Olmstead was right. She had to confront the situation, not cower in here, staring at the walls. She would face everyone over luncheon, and make a public announcement that it was all just an unfortunate misunderstanding.
She dreaded the very idea. Just imagining it made her head pound and her fingers tremble. It was unlikely, moreover, that her announcement would substantially change the outcome. She was no green girl to believe that denying a rumour would scotch it. Nevertheless, she had to denounce the whispers publicly, if only to prove that she did not start them herself. That, at least, should count for something. She hauled herself up and moved with leaden feet through the doorway.
She arrived to find luncheon already informally laid out. The sight of the food unsettled her stomach, and she feared that she would disgrace herself by being sick. A large number of people were milling around, waiting for the signal to storm the table.
This was certainly the best moment for an announcement. She took hold of a glass and a spoon to draw everyone’s attention.
As if to echo her, Mr Olmstead clanged on a glass with a spoon.
She groaned inwardly. She could not conceive what Mr Olmstead intended to say, but she had the feeling it would only make matters worse, particularly since he had not even consulted her. She began to wish for a natural catastrophe—a whirlwind, a flood, an earthquake—anything to draw attention away from what was about to happen.
“Mrs Olmstead and I wish to be the first to make this announcement,” he said. “The happy couple planned to keep this a secret, but we have routed them out and they can no longer conceal the truth from us.” He paused dramatically. Enjoying the silent anticipation in the room, he opened his snuff box, took a pinch, and sniffed. The snap of the box as it closed resounded through the room, jangling Caroline’s nerves.
“We would like to announce the engagement of…”
Caroline’s eyes opened wide. What were they doing? She had thought Mr and Mrs Olmstead were on her side. Her heart hammered like a woodpecker’s beak. She waited for the axe to fall.
“… the engagement of Miss Caroline Bingley to Mr Robert Darcy.”
Caroline’s audible gasp filled the room. Dozens of eyes swivelled towards her and pinned her with their gazes.
Mr Darcy, looking in command and perfectly at ease, came to take her hand.
“Show your teeth,” he murmured. “You are good at that. Everyone is watching.”
She grinned like a puppet, a gaping, empty grin that was frozen on her face. This was beyond everything. She did not think matters could become worse. An acrid taste rose up in her throat and she felt as if she would choke.
“A toast to the happy couple!” said Mr Olmstead, and, from nowhere, footmen appeared with flutes of champagne to toast Caroline’s disgrace.
The toast broke the silence, and animated chatter clamoured all around her. Then people began to press towards her to wish her well. Mr Darcy stood by her side, aloof and formal, smiling.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you,” she said again, and wondered why she was thanking everyone.
“Thank you,” she repeated, until she no longer knew what the words meant, for they sounded like words from some nonsensical rhyme that children recited.
Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared in front of her. He bowed with practised correctness, but his eyes glinted with suppressed fury.
“You could have spared me,” he said to her between stretched lips. “If you had told me before, I would not have gone through what I now realize was a mortifying display two nights ago. And to think that you promised to give my proposal serious consideration, when there was no reason at all for me to hope!”
“I am sorry,” she said, for what else could she say?
He shot a daggered glance at Mr Darcy. “And you! Could you not have told me the truth when I unburdened myself to you? I should have known better than to trust you.”
He did not wait for an answer. He turned on his heels, in military style, and marched out of the room.
It was too much to consider that she had lost two chances of marriage in one blow. For now she must go through this pretence of being engaged to Mr Darcy, who had not the slightest intention of honouring the engagement, she was certain. Nor had she, for that matter.
She could never reclaim her relationship with Colonel Fitzwilliam. For how could she explain the situation to him? To do so, she would have to admit that she had hoped to marry Sir Cecil, which simply compounded her g
uilt. Then she would be forced to account for the desperate measures taken by the Olmsteads to help her out. Few men’s pride could be appeased by such a convoluted justification.
The crowd around them thinned as people embarked on the elegant spread of food their hosts had provided. Soon, she hoped, she could escape to her room where she would remain closeted until it was time for them to leave.
“Caroline!” said Louisa, smiling. “You have salvaged the situation after all!” She turned to Mr Darcy. “You have done very well for yourself, Mr Darcy. My sister would never have agreed to such a match if she had not been in desperate straits. You must consider yourself very lucky.”
Caroline’s face, she was sure, was the colour of her ruby earrings and pendant. She was at a complete loss for something to say, though her mouth tried to open and utter some words. Her sister’s rudeness dismayed her. Louisa should at least acknowledge that he had done the right thing by stepping forward and coming to her assistance.
Caroline need not have worried, however. Mr Darcy was perfectly able to deal with Louisa himself.
“I do consider myself lucky,” said Mr Darcy, smoothly. “Though I consider you luckier, since you will now be connected to the Darcy family through your sister. It is considered quite an honour, I have heard.” He did not smile, and Louisa, who did not know what to make of that remark, tittered uneasily.
Mr Darcy, driven beyond patience, abandoned his place next to Caroline and stalked away.
“I do not see why he is so offended. I was only speaking the truth. I wish you were not engaged to him,” said Louisa, in a whisper. “But needs must, I suppose, and you have done a creditable job of redeeming yourself.”
“It is all Mr Darcy’s doing, and you must remember that,” said Caroline. “He has at least made amends for his misdeed.”
She took advantage of a short lull in her unwanted popularity to approach the table. Picking up a plate, she proceeded absently to fill it. Without paying attention, she placed a morsel in her mouth, then grimaced as she realized what it was. Glancing down, she found she had placed three lobster patties on it.
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