“I am certain we will. For if anyone is bound to catch a fish, it will be you,” she said. “Did I not hear that you are considered a Corinthian? Surely fishing well would be part of such a distinguished title?”
“You must not roast me, Miss Bingley,” he said with a laugh. “My friend Mr Pole is attached to me and has an exaggerated sense of my sporting abilities.”
“Well, in any case, one of the five of you at least should be able to catch something, so I can predict with every certainty that we will have fish for dinner.”
“There are only four of us, I regret to say, which diminishes the chances. Captain Trewson has a dislike of getting wet. Or maybe he prefers to spend his time with the ladies.”
Caroline smiled. “He can be assured of a welcome,” she said, as an image manifested before her of all the young ladies—and Louisa—swarming around him.
“Surely you are not one of his admirers as well?” said Robert Darcy.
She threw him a saucy look and raised her brow. “You cannot really expect me to own up to such a thing. Experience has taught me that I ought not to reveal my most guarded secrets.”
“Aha! So that is where the wind blows!” he said, playfully. “Very well, I will allow you to guard your secrets. In the circumstances, though, I hope you do not expect me to tell you anything in return.”
“Oh, that does not worry me. Your intentions are very clear.” She was thinking of Mrs Miles.
“Do not be so very sure,” he said, and to her surprise, his tone was serious.
***
The younger members of the party, egged on by Lydia, resolved to enjoy the good weather by walking to Lambton. Caroline did not care to traipse through country lanes and across fields, and when she was told that it was at least three miles to the village, she declined. Captain Trewson, who had just woken up and come downstairs, however, agreed happily to the outing.
“It is such a fine, sunny morning,” he said. “A good walk is just the thing.”
The young ladies were delighted to accompany him. Louisa, who had just refused to go, made as if to join them. But Caroline quickly asked her for help in the wording of a letter, and Louisa was forced to follow her.
When they had gone, Louisa turned on Caroline angrily. “Why are you trying to ruin things for me?”
“I am not trying to ruin things for you,” said Caroline. “But surely Captain Trewson heard you refusing to go as he came down the stairs, and it would have been too forward if you had changed your mind once you knew he was going. Really, Louisa, you must be more circumspect in your actions.”
Louisa glared at her, and was about to retort angrily when there was a crash of glass and a cry.
“One of the servants has broken a vase,” said Louisa. “It is no concern of ours.”
But Jane came hurrying in, her face full of distress.
“I have broken a china piece I believe to be an heirloom. I do hope Mr Darcy will not be upset.” She wrung her hands. A trickle of blood appeared on the side of her finger, staining her jonquil yellow morning dress.
“Jane,” said Caroline, going quickly to her. “Look out! There is blood on your dress.”
Mrs Miles, who was passing by the drawing room, stopped in the doorway. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Jane has cut her finger,” said Caroline. She searched for her reticule and realized she had left it in Eliza’s parlour. “Do you have a handkerchief, Mrs Miles?”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I do not,” she said. “Shall I ring for a servant?”
“I will fetch mine from upstairs,” said Louisa.
Mrs Miles continued on her way. Caroline pressed Jane’s cut to staunch the blood. “It seems to be quite deep,” she said. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it does not,” said Jane. “But I wish I had not decided to arrange the flowers for the dining room. I am sure Mr Darcy will be displeased.”
“Mr Darcy has enough heirlooms. One more or less will make little difference, surely?” said Caroline.
Louisa returned with some salve and a fresh handkerchief, which they tore into pieces to bandage the cut.
“Thank you both for your help,” said Jane, in her quiet way.
The three ladies settled down. From where she sat, Caroline could see the expanse of the Darcy lands, an undulating line of deep green hills and orange copses, with sheep dotting the landscape. “I would have liked to go fishing,” she said, remembering her feeling of pride the first time she hooked a fish.
Jane shuddered. “Oh, I would dislike such a thing very much. I would especially not like to pull the hook from the poor fish’s mouth and watch it die. I believe I would return it to the water. It is too cruel a trick to play on such an unsuspecting creature.”
“Really, Jane,” said Louisa. “Your sensibilities are far too delicate. Would you have no fishing and hunting, then? Would you live on vegetables all your life?”
“I have read,” said Jane thoughtfully, “that there are people in India who do such things. They have forsworn meat and fish for religious reasons.”
“Those are heathen ideas, and surely not for us to imitate,” said Louisa.
Jane shrugged. “I know it is the nature of things for us to hunt and fish, but I cannot help but feel that, if I could choose, I would prefer to do without.”
A sneer appeared on Louisa’s face.
Caroline, however, wondered if it was indeed possible to live that way.
“Those condemned to poverty cannot eat meat or fish because they have no means of obtaining them,” said Caroline, considering the idea. “They are more disease ridden and die younger than those of us who are more fortunate. Surely there must be some benefit to being able to eat meat and fish?”
“Of course there is,” said Louisa in a scornful tone, “you would hardly wish to condemn us to such a fate, Jane.”
Jane sighed. “Yes, I know. We are fortunate to have these things. I was not thinking clearly.”
Jane was too good-natured to put up a fight. But for once, Caroline would have liked her to. She was disappointed at Jane’s easy acquiescence.
“I sometimes think about the rightness of killing animals for our own benefit,” she said. She knew Louisa would mock her, but she was determined to stick her ground.
But Louisa had already lost interest. “Oh, look,” she said. “There is Mrs Miles, walking in the garden. I think I will join her.”
She hurried away through the French doors, and for a moment it appeared she would catch up with the tall lady. Mrs Miles stood wiping her brow with a white handkerchief. But then she moved away, out of sight.
A few minutes later, Louisa returned from the garden. “I did not find her,” she said, sitting down again. “And it is quite dull to walk in the garden alone.”
***
The young ladies returned after a luncheon of cold meats and pies. Their trip had apparently been successful, for Lydia came in with lustrous eyes, Georgiana looked invigorated by the exercise, Kitty was quite cheerful, and even Mary seemed less sombre.
“You will never guess what happened, Mama!” said Lydia, as Mrs Bennet entered the drawing room. “There was a troop of militia in Lambton. They are on the way to Chesterfield, which is a pity, since we will not see them again, but they introduced themselves and they were very agreeable.”
Caroline noticed that Captain Trewson had not returned with them. “What happened to the captain?” she asked.
“Oh, he stayed behind in Lambton,” said Lydia. “It was very tiresome of him to abandon us so suddenly when I had counted on him introducing us to some of the officers, for nothing could be easier, since he is an officer himself. But when I turned to ask him, he had disappeared.”
“I believe he found a friend,” said Georgiana. “For I caught a glimpse of him later when we passed the inn. He was talking to a gentleman inside.”
“I did not like the look of his friend,” said Kitty.
Lydia turned on her. “You are forever taking
a dislike to somebody or the other. I do not know how you are to be married, for you seem to find fault with everyone, especially the officers.”
“I would not wish to marry anyone,” remarked Mary, insistently, “unless I was convinced of his superior moral character.”
Kitty snorted rudely and was scolded by Mrs Bennet for her unrefined manners. She retreated into a corner of the room, drawing Georgiana with her, and leaving Mary and Lydia pointedly behind. Lydia, glad to have her mother to herself, launched into a description of the officers she had met, and her mother listened to her with enjoyment.
Louisa’s vision, Caroline noticed, strayed to the door continuously, no doubt in the hopes of seeing Captain Trewson return. Caroline considered it shabby of Captain Trewson to leave the girls to return unaccompanied, and she said so.
“Pooh!” said Louisa. “You have forgotten that they were originally to set out alone. He only joined them at the last minute, after they were ready to set out. You were not so concerned about them then, or you should have offered to go with them as chaperone. In the country things are done differently, and there is no harm in them walking to the village alone.”
Louisa was right. Caroline did seem set on finding fault with Captain Trewson. She was at a loss to explain the reason. But the feeling persisted, and she determined to write to an acquaintance of hers in Newcastle whose husband was an officer, and ask her what she knew about Captain Trewson. Then she could set her mind at rest.
The door opened, and the butler announced Mr Bass.
“I hope I have not come at an inconvenient time,” said the vicar, casting a quick look at the side-table to see if there was any food there. “But I did not want you to think that I was negligent, especially with such a large party assembled here.”
“Well, I am sure you are very welcome,” said Mrs Bennet.
“I have brought you a volume of William Carey’s Enquiry, Miss Mary,” he said, turning to that young lady with a smile. “I believe you expressed interest in it the last time we met.”
“Yes, Mr Bass. I am grateful that you remembered.”
“An elephant never forgets, Miss Mary,” he replied, with a quick laugh.
“Your modesty does you credit, Mr Bass,” said Mary. “I know it is your concern for my soul that prompted your memory.”
“True, true,” he said. “Young though you are, you are very wise,” he said.
Kitty, who observed this exchange from her corner, groaned. Her mother advanced on her at once and ordered her in a loud whisper to leave the room, if she could not behave herself. Kitty, more than happy to escape, went into the garden, with Georgiana in tow, and was soon followed by Lydia, who yawned and remarked as she left that the company had suddenly become very dull.
As if Lydia’s departure was a signal, the room began to empty. Louisa said she had some letters to write; Caroline recollected that she had promised to read to Eliza; Jane mumbled that she had something to tell the housekeeper. Only Mrs Bennet remained behind.
But Caroline had scarcely taken two steps when she discovered Mrs Bennet behind her.
“You are not leaving them alone, surely, Mrs Bennet?” said Caroline.
“Only for a few minutes while I bring down some needlework,” she said. “There can be no objection. He is a man of the cloth, after all. I have nothing to worry about,” she said.
It seemed hardly possible that Mrs Bennet was already matchmaking when Mary had met Mr Bass no more than a few times. Caroline refrained from further comment, and excused herself and went to join Eliza in the parlour.
To her surprise, she found Eliza busy making up lists and preparing for the party.
“I thought we agreed that you would leave all this to the rest of us,” said Caroline, with some concern. Eliza’s gaunt pallor was particularly noticeable today.
“There is so much to be done,” mumbled Eliza, “and I am quite tired of lying back and doing nothing.”
But her hand was shaking, and a blot of ink fell onto the paper in front of her. She stood up to go to the bell pull, but swayed even as she came to her feet, and Caroline was barely in time to catch her and prevent her from falling to the floor.
The door opened and Mr Darcy entered, still in the clothes he wore for the fishing expedition. Caroline looked at him in mute appeal, and understanding the situation immediately, he hurried to her side, took Eliza into his arms, and carried her to the sofa, where he laid her down carefully and covered her.
“You have been exerting yourself too much,” he said, sitting by her side and peering anxiously into her face. “I warned you that this would be the case when you proposed having a house party.”
“I am able to manage it.”
He stood up and began to pace the room. “I can see how able you are to manage,” he said. “That is why you are ready to swoon with the effort.”
“But—” Eliza began.
“The party will have to be cancelled.”
Eliza struggled to sit up. “No, no, we cannot,” she said. “We have already sent out many of the invitations.”
“Then they will have to be retracted. My secretary will write to express our regrets.”
“But everyone will be so disappointed,” she said.
“I care more for your health than for your family’s disappointment,” he said.
She reached her hand out to Mr Darcy and he came to her, taking it and looking down at her. They exchanged glances. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Perhaps I have been too ambitious. If we could have a very small party, with a small select group, surely that would not be too much trouble,” she said, opening her eyes again. “And we could make their stay short, with my illness as an excuse.”
“It is hardly an excuse,” he said, “it is the truth.”
He shot Caroline a disapproving look, as if she was to blame for the whole idea. She fought the impulse to object loudly that it was hardly her fault.
“Just a small party?” said Eliza. “I would enjoy seeing some of my friends again.”
There was so much appeal in her face that his expression softened, and he relented. “Very well,” he said. “A very small party. But you must promise to leave the preparations to everyone else.”
She sent him a radiant smile, and he smiled back, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding.
Caroline felt very much an intruder, and edged slowly to the door, trying to leave without attracting attention. She reached it just as Mr Darcy sat down beside Eliza, taking her fingers to his lips and kissing them.
Caroline closed the door behind her carefully, hoping the small click would not disturb them, and tiptoed quietly away.
***
She encountered the other gentlemen just as they entered the house, stepping heavily into the entrance with their muddied boots and smelling strongly of the outdoors and, inevitably, of fish. Mr Bennet went upstairs immediately to change.
“So?” she said to Robert Darcy. “Was your outing successful?”
“Of course. I caught the largest fish by far,” he said, with a crooked smile.
“You did not,” protested Charles. “Mine was the largest. Yours was merely the fattest, which does not count.”
“How preposterous! Since mine weighs far more than yours, I definitely claim the honour of having caught the biggest fish.”
Their good-natured banter prompted Caroline to answer in kind. “If I had been there, I would have caught the largest, and then neither of you would have won.”
They turned to look at her. “You, Caroline? Surely you are not interested in fishing? You have never expressed such an interest,” said Charles.
“I used to fish when I was little,” she said, in a small voice.
“That was a very long time ago,” replied Charles.
“My father took me and Charles fishing a few times,” she explained to Robert Darcy. “But he died when I was eleven, and I never went after that.”
“You must miss it, in that
case,” said Mr Robert Darcy, readily. “I would be happy to take you one day, if you wish to go.”
“You must be funning. Caroline has grown too much a lady to wish for any such thing.” There was an odd note in Charles’s voice.
“I—” She was torn. Part of her was afraid that fishing was, indeed, too unladylike. But when she looked into Robert Darcy’s eyes and found no condemnation there, she was able to say it. “I would like to go fishing,” she said, firmly.
“Then we shall go fishing again tomorrow,” said Robert Darcy.
Charles laughed, a joyful laugh that made him look like a boy again. He gave Caroline a quick thump on the shoulder, and she thumped him back awkwardly.
She turned and walked quickly to the drawing room, hoping Robert Darcy had not seen the tears that had sprung unbidden to her eyes.
Chapter 14
The fishing expedition did not materialize after all. The sky turned rock-grey, and the rain swept in, falling in vicious squalls, drenching everything in its path. The guests were confined to Pemberley for the next three days.
The confinement did not affect Caroline, who was quite busy. She offered Eliza and Jane as much assistance as was needed in running the household, and together they planned for the party. After that moment in the parlour, Caroline was more concerned than ever for Eliza, and was anxious for her to recover her strength. At times she felt it would have been better if they had not come, for surely Eliza would have recovered her strength more easily without the constant demands of so many people around her. But Eliza seemed to take pleasure in having company, and the idea of a party brought a sparkle to her eye.
Louisa’s attitude towards the whole situation frustrated her, however. She made no effort to spend any time with Eliza and seemed to count herself as a guest. Often, if she was cornered into performing a task, she would evade it, with the consequence that it was left undone.
It was on such an occasion that Caroline happened upon Louisa unexpectedly. Caroline had come to ask for her help, but could not find her in any of the usual places. It was quite by accident that she heard Louisa’s voice, and realized she was upstairs in the picture gallery. Caroline climbed the stairs, quite out of patience after such a long search.
Other Mr. Darcy Page 17
