“I would like it above all,” she said, her face glowing, “for we have not had a dance here since before you married.”
“Really, Darcy,” said Charles, “how could you do such a thing to your sister? You have been so occupied by your new circumstances you have neglected her sadly. For shame!”
“No, no,” cried Georgiana. “You must not slander him, for he is the best brother in the world. I have had my share of dancing and society in local assemblies and balls. I only meant to say that we have not had a dance in Pemberley for a long time.”
“Although I cannot entirely approve of dancing,” said Mr Bass, who had come to call on them, “I do not begrudge young people the opportunity to divert themselves, as long it is done under the watchful eyes of their elders.”
“It appears things are settled, then,” said Louisa, rather too brightly. Caroline did not blame her for wishing to distract herself, though she seemed to have forgotten she was still in mourning and could not dance.
Mr Darcy raised his hands in surrender. “There are too many of you, and too few of me. I bow to the superior numbers.”
Darcy was hailed as a hero, and in the next instant became the object of a barrage of questions, the first of which involved the names of the guests expected. He named a party of eight, most of whom Caroline knew by name at least.
“And Sir Cecil Rynes,” he concluded.
Both Louisa and Robert looked towards Caroline. She squirmed uneasily under the sudden scrutiny.
“All the guests, with the exception of Sir Cecil, were supposed to come to the original house party, before we postponed it,” said Darcy. “No doubt they were about to set out when they received our note, and decided to travel to the Lake District instead.”
Just a few weeks earlier she would have been delighted at the prospect of seeing Sir Cecil. But she could not summon any enthusiasm over the prospect now. It was as if she had known him in a past so remote she could recall it only with an effort. She felt no interest in the other guests, either. Nor at the thought of hearing the latest gossip from London.
In fact, she could barely summon up any interest in receiving them at all.
***
As soon as the ladies had left the gentlemen to their port after dinner, Louisa sidled up to Caroline.
“How unfortunate it is that Sir Cecil is one of the party!” She said, “It will be quite embarrassing for you. Perhaps you should explain to him the reason for your engagement to Robert Darcy.”
“I see no reason for embarrassment. We do not know how he reacted to the news of my engagement, nor indeed if he has even heard of it.”
“He will have heard of it, certainly. But now that I think of it, this is an opportunity you should not miss, Caroline. Sir Cecil on your very doorstep! You cannot let him go. He is a far better catch for you than Mr Robert Darcy could ever be.”
Louisa’s words were a timely reminder. She was beginning to slip into a comfortable way of thinking, as though she really was engaged to Robert, and did not need to exert herself to find anyone else. Here in Derbyshire, away from London, she was losing touch with what really mattered. She was content to let life pass her by. And there was something in the air of Pemberley that seemed to encourage this.
Sir Cecil’s visit jolted her out of her torpor. Providence was serving her another sleight of hand. If Caroline did not care to go to London, London Society would come to her.
“You must secure your interest in Sir Cecil,” continued Louisa. “He was so close to asking for your hand in marriage. Think, Caroline! It was what Mama hoped for. It was her life’s dream that we would marry into the peerage.”
Caroline thought of the mother who had died before she had a chance to see her daughters married. If Mama were alive, she would be disappointed in her for not yet having secured a husband.
“In fact,” said Louisa, with sudden excitement, “your engagement may be the very reason he is here! He must have heard the news, and intends to confront you about it.” She gave Caroline a tight hug. “Oh, it is simply wonderful! It is just as we thought. It can hardly be a coincidence that he is coming now when he was not even invited originally. No doubt it was he who urged the group to stop here on the way. I am convinced he is indignant to know that you are thinking of marrying someone else, and has come here to dissuade you.”
It had never occurred to Caroline to think of Sir Cecil in this manner, but it was possible. What could be more natural for a suitor who felt himself pushed aside by a rival than to hunt down the object of his interest and ask for an explanation?
An uneasy guilt crept over her. She had never wondered for a single moment how Sir Cecil would receive the news of her engagement. She had not even had the courtesy to write and inform him.
How could she have been so neglectful? She had been so vexed about her own part in the muddle, that she had not spared a moment for him. Granted, Sir Cecil was not the kind to fall deeply in love. But he was proud, and he did not deserve to be treated so indifferently, without even a word from her. If he had determined to marry her, she had done him a bad turn. She could hardly blame him for coming to Pemberley to seek her out.
The more she thought about it, the more she dreaded his arrival. The idea of the confrontation that would inevitably take place worried her so insistently that when a game of whist was set up and she agreed to play, she discovered she could not focus on the cards, and had to be prompted constantly to remember her turn in the game.
“Oh, Caroline, I wish you would pay attention to the cards,” said Kitty, who was her partner. “I know you think us tedious rustics, but it does not mean that our game is so very boring. We might not have lived in London, but whist is whist, whether it is played in London or in Longbourn.”
Caroline wanted to tell Kitty that there was, in fact, a huge difference, since the stakes in London were frequently impossibly high. But she realized that her own incivility had prompted the remark, and she did not want to quarrel with Kitty. “I am sorry. I am not at all bored by your company. It is just that I am thinking of the London party who will be arriving tomorrow, and I cannot seem able to concentrate on the game.”
The relief that showed on Kitty’s face made her glad she had not answered unkindly. She took advantage of a break in the game, however, to excuse herself and retire for the night.
As soon as she had snuffed her candle, however, she regretted her decision to come upstairs. For as long as she was surrounded by company, she could deceive herself into believing that Sir Cecil’s arrival did not overly matter.
But in the darkness his disillusionment at her neglect lurked in the corners of the room like a palpable presence. The more she pondered, the more certain it became that she would be forced to endure a very unpleasant encounter. And for that, she only had herself to blame.
Chapter 18
So your suitor is going to be here,” said Robert the next morning. “Now, I call that a lucky event.”
Caroline busied herself in her task of arranging the flowers. The house was in complete upheaval. It could have been forty guests who were coming to stay rather than eight. But surprisingly, Louisa had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the effort, resolved to make everything perfect for the London arrivals, while Caroline lagged behind, her energy flagging.
The guests were due any moment and she really needed to go up to change. She had scarcely slept the night before and, after a long night of reflection, mingled intermittently with troubled dreams, she had come to see Sir Cecil’s arrival in the light of a nightmare. For what explanation could she possibly give that would appease him?
“I have no time to linger,” she said. “The guests are almost upon us, and we are far from ready.”
Robert took up a clementine from a dish on the table and began to peel it.
“I cannot have enough of clementines. They are my favourite fruit. It is indeed fortunate that Darcy has a plentiful supply. We are not so lucky in Boston.”
“He is indeed luck
y to have an orangery,” said Caroline, wishing he would go away.
“Are we no longer friends, then?” said Robert. “Now that your prospective fiancé is coming? I admit I am curious to meet the man you held up to me as a paragon of virtue.”
She ignored him as she realized she had cut the flowers much too short and that they were past redeeming.
“You will slaughter those poor flowers if you do not sit down for a minute and take a rest,” said Robert.
Reluctantly, she allowed him to tug her by the elbow and draw out a chair for her to sit on. He placed a peeled clementine in her palm. The sweet tangy fragrance revived her and without even noticing, she tore off a slice and bit into it.
“With some advance notice of the visit, we might have been able to do things differently. But it occurred to me that this might be a very good time to end our engagement, before Sir Cecil arrives. Then you can explain to him that it was all a mistake, and everything will be resolved.”
She could not rid herself of that feeling of oppression. If anything, it seemed to be growing a great deal worse.
He waited for her answer, his gaze boring into her face. She studied the fruit she held in her fingers, a small part of her mind marvelling at all the tiny segments that had come together to form just one slice.
“I hardly think it wise,” she said. “Breaking off our relationship now would provoke a reaction, and Sir Cecil would arrive amidst the torrent of gossip that would inevitably follow.”
Robert peeled another clementine and gave her half. “I have spoiled things for you, have I not? You were right about that,” said Robert, ruefully. “My only excuse is that my intentions were good.”
She managed to give him a quick half smile, but she was too tired to answer.
“How do you wish me to do things, then, at the dance? Do you wish me to lead you in, as your fiancé? Or shall I disappear into the library, and hide myself out of view?”
“Of course you should not disappear,” said Caroline, crossly. “You do not need to skulk and hide. You have done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, have much to answer for.”
“Sackcloth and ashes again? My, my, Miss Bingley, you carry a heavy burden of guilt.”
She knew he was trying to cheer her, but she was too apprehensive to respond. “You can joke with me tomorrow, once this day is over,” she said. “But it is no use trying today. Your attempts will only fall on deaf ears.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “Then I will make you laugh tomorrow. Today, we must be solemn as Mr Bass, who is right now coming in our direction. Excuse my sudden disappearance….”
She schooled her expression carefully as Mr Bass approached her. “I wonder if you can tell me where I can find Mrs Bennet?” he said, peering at her with his large eyes. “For I have looked up a quotation which I brought to her attention yesterday, and I am sure she would be delighted to hear it.”
Caroline was certain Mrs Bennet would not thank her for giving him her direction. So she said, quite unrepentantly, that she believed Mrs Bennet was taking a walk in the garden, even though she had seen her not five minutes since going up the stairs.
***
By the time she went up to dress, she was running out of time. This did not diminish her desire to appear at her absolute best. However, she fussed so much over what to wear, and how to have her hair done, that Molly began to run out of patience.
“If you wish to be dressed by the time the gentlemen arrive, Miss Bingley, I would suggest that you decide on the emerald green, or I cannot promise I will have your hair dressed in time.”
Molly’s unusual sharpness served its purpose. Threatened by the prospect of not being ready when Sir Cecil arrived, Caroline restrained her fidgeting and submitted meekly to her maid’s ministrations.
And so it was that, when two carriages drove sedately into the entrance and came to a standstill, she was ready, with not a hair on her head out of place.
The rest of the assembled guests were a blur. She knew them, and she exchanged civilities with them, she supposed, for no one appeared offended, but her eyes were only for Sir Cecil. He came towards them with a friend of his, a stocky young man with high starched collars and a haughty expression who was introduced as Lord Alfred Snighton, Baron of Dedton.
“How do you do?” drawled Lord Dedton, looking her over and dismissing her immediately.
She curtsied cordially, and turned to Sir Cecil. She noted the elegance of his clothing, his coat perfectly fitting his broad shoulders, his cravat impeccably knotted, as if he had just now come from the attentions of his valet. She wandered how that could be, when he had been on the road for hours.
“I am very glad to see you, Sir Cecil.”
“Yes, it has been a while,” he said, bowing over her gloved hand and kissing it. He said nothing about her engagement, which only increased her tension. Surely it would be the perfect moment to offer his congratulations?
But he moved on, and the moment was lost as the party entered the house and were guided to their rooms amidst a commotion of requests, commands, and demands.
***
Dinner was a formal affair, with so many guests assembled. Caroline worried that she would be seated next to Sir Cecil, and dreaded the awkwardness between them. They had exchanged a few polite phrases, but nothing more, and Caroline was more than ever sensible of the fact that she had hurt him with her carelessness. It was with relief, therefore, that she found herself next to Robert, and she gave a prayer of thanks for the rules of precedence that placed Lord Dedton and Sir Cecil at the top of the table.
“I have promised not to joke today,” was the first thing Mr Robert said to her. “Though I must admit I am hard pushed to find a topic of conversation.”
“The weather is safest,” she remarked.
“I do not consider that topic safe at all,” he said. “Look what happened when we last discussed it. Your idea of safety differs from mine entirely. But then, you didn’t get wet.”
She shook her head at him. “You must not make me laugh, Mr Robert. I am not enjoying this occasion at all.”
“All the more reason why you should laugh. That is what I do. Look at me. Here I am, a savage among civilized people, some of whom barely tolerate me. Do I frown and look morose? No. I laugh. Believe me, it is the only way to deal with life.”
Despite herself, Caroline chuckled. “I cannot easily subscribe to your philosophy,” she said, “since a good part of my education was spent on learning not to laugh. But I admit it has its uses.”
“Oh, I disagree that you were taught not to laugh. I think you were taught to laugh at others, which is another thing entirely.”
She flushed at the implication of his words.
“Oh, do not get on your high horse, Caroline. I am not here to quarrel with you. It is also useful to laugh at others. But I would not recommend it. If I were you, I would simply concentrate on eating as elegantly as that gentleman over there.”
Lord Dedton was eating his food fastidiously, rather as if it was a disagreeable task. He held his fork and knife by the tips of his fingers and nibbled at his food with pursed lips.
Caroline brought her napkin to her mouth to cover her smile. “You really are quite wicked, Mr Robert. Now I will be unable to look in his direction for the rest of the evening.”
“But I only singled him out because I am envious, for I am afraid I tend to shovel food into my mouth quite gracelessly, and I am desirous to learn proper conduct. He is an example to us all.”
“Oh, hush,” she said. “Someone will hear you.”
As if to mark her point, Eliza, who had made the effort of attending the dinner that night, looked towards her, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Caroline ducked behind her napkin, certain they had been overheard. She wished now that she had been seated as far away from Robert Darcy as possible, for he would not be content until he had landed her in trouble. She pointedly ignored him, occupying herself with Mr Fallow, a young gentleman she knew, who was
seated on her right side.
“Charming countryside around here, Miss Bingley,” said Mr Fallow. “I suppose Mr Darcy enjoys good hunting.”
“I suppose so,” said Miss Bingley. “I know he enjoys fishing.”
“I have good fishing on my estate,” said her companion. “But I am not very fond of it. Don’t you know—muddy boots and wet feet, I don’t feel it can be quite right. Hunting’s the thing. I am considered a very good shot, if I say so myself.”
“Indeed,” said Miss Bingley.
“Good with pistols, too. I always say it’s too bad they’ve outlawed duelling, for I would be sure to win every time. Not that I have had occasion to fight a duel, of course, but one never knows.”
“But now that it is illegal, the occasion will surely not arise?”
“A man has to defend his honour,” said Mr Fallow. “They cannot deny him that.”
“But is a man’s honour worth so much that you would kill someone for it?” asked Caroline.
“Men are killed for lesser reasons,” said Mr Fallow.
“Do not tell me, Miss Bingley,” said a young man from across the table, interrupting their conversation and breaking the rules of etiquette, “that you think there can be anything more important that a gentleman’s honour? Take that away from him, and we become savages.”
“But to kill for honour, Mr Maine? Would you rate your honour above the very existence of another man?”
“Without honour, a man might as well be dead,” said Mr Maine.
“It is difficult for a lady,” said Mr Fallow, with a condescending smile, “to understand such matters. Only a man can fully comprehend the meaning of honour.”
“I understand full well the meaning of honour,” said Miss Bingley, coldly. “But I still do not think it acceptable to destroy a life, as well as the lives of that gentleman’s family, just to satisfy honour.”
“Those who passed the regulations making duelling illegal obviously hold the same opinion as Miss Bingley,” said Robert Darcy.
Other Mr. Darcy Page 22
