by Tess Quinn
Running out to the landing and grateful to find an upstairs maid in the corridor, Sara requested a bath be brought up to her mistress’s closet immediately, then returned to her charge. Caroline, still in her wet chemise, paced the floor muttering to herself. Sara could not understand the words, but of the sentiment her lady left no doubt – and put paid to it by suddenly picking up some books on her desk and hurling them across the room into the opposite wall. It was some moments before the rant subsided.
After much effort Sara managed to get Caroline bathed and into a nightshift. She ensured the lady was abed with a cup of cocoa before seeing to the riding habit. The cloak was damaged past mending; Miss Caroline would have to order another. The remaining clothes were salvageable, though they would take work. Sara collected everything and bundled it for the laundry; then on second thought, decided to take it instead to her own room. She could wash the garments at night after most of the servants were abed, then make other repairs either in her room or in Miss Caroline’s own closet – that might save her lady from a bit of gossip, though Sara doubted that there was truly anything she could do to keep events of the day from public scrutiny. Whatever the events of the day had been…
And the clock had still not struck the midday hour.
~~~~~~
Louisa spread preserves on her bread and winced at the racket her brother and Mr Darcy were making. They appeared to find something inordinately humorous about the weather. Louisa herself found the rain disheartening. There was little enough activity of interest at Netherfield; rain only diminished her choices by confining everyone indoors. And it certainly did not appear that she could count on Caroline to amuse her today. She would be forced to retire with Aubrey to some rounds of cards; at least that would spell a quiet afternoon.
The gentlemen’s laughter finally subsided, and Charles reached for a roll as Darcy stood. “Where are you going?” asked Charles. “Do you not wish to eat?”
Darcy looked down at his damp, splattered clothes. “I think it best for me to change into dry garments. I will have Grayson bring me a tray. My boots are stiffening even as I stand here.”
Bingley nodded in understanding. Just as Darcy turned to leave the room, a high-pitched scream was heard. Louisa and Hurst traded exasperated glances as if to question whether there would be any peace to be found today. Darcy and Bingley immediately ran together towards the door.
On gaining the entry hall, they found a young maid partway up the stairs. She had backed up as far as the wall would allow and was frozen into place with one arm out, using her duster as a pointer. Her eyes were enlarged, a rictal expression distorting her countenance. The two men charged up the staircase, Bingley trying to comfort the girl while Darcy looked to what had frightened her so. He reached down with a smile and scooped something up into his hand.
Mrs Nichols arrived with two footmen from the back hallway, drawn by the hubbub, even as a mildly curious Aubrey Hurst appeared in the breakfast room door. Bingley led the maid down the stair, leaving her in the housekeeper’s charge with instructions to give the young girl a cup of tea to recover herself, while Darcy assured everyone there was nothing amiss, merely a misunderstanding. When all had been dispersed back to their routines, Bingley returned to Darcy. With a chuckle Darcy uncurled his fingers to flatten his palm. There sat a tiny frog, apparently having had the misfortune to be taken up in the folds of Caroline’s costume during her morning dip, and then deposited unceremoniously on the stair during her return.
An echo of Bingley’s laughter could still be heard as Darcy released the innocent offender into the tall grasses next to the garden pond.
~~~~~~
In the end, Sara could do nothing to stem the tittle-tattle. Too many people from the groom at the stable to the upstairs maid had witnessed at least a portion of Caroline’s escapade. Among them all, they pieced together a course of events. That it also involved Mr Darcy became evident as well when Grayson came into the kitchen that afternoon to return a stained and battered riding hat to Sara. And there was that footman Barton’s report of snippets of conversation he accidentally overheard – with no little trouble to himself, Sara imagined – when Mr Darcy related the event to Mr Bingley. Sara wondered if these people of money realized just how much of their lives were dissected and remarked upon by their inferiors. She supposed they must do.
~~~~~~
27 October 1797
It had been three days since Miss Caroline had left her rooms, days of unending rain and gloom.
For three days, Sara brought food trays to her mistress, taking them away again later nearly untouched. Messages had come from her brother and sister, asking after her, requesting that she join their activities, but Caroline’s answer was always the same. She suffered from an abominable megrim and could not possibly rouse herself from her bed. Sara was a bit surprised to note that Caroline had actually acquired no ill effects to her constitution from her dunking in the river. Well, apart from her disposition. For the first two days, she allowed admittance to no one except her maid, and spoke little; but finally, this morning she had condescended to receive Louisa. The sisters spoke for some time, perhaps half an hour. When Mrs Aubrey had left, Sara noted that her mistress actually rose from her bed. She sat at the dressing table for a long while, staring into the mirror.
By mid afternoon, Caroline appeared her customary self again, as though the past few days had not occurred. She called for a bath, informing Sara that she would join the Bingley party tonight. They were to attend a dance at the assembly room in Meryton. Caroline selected a lavender gown in the latest style, cut low off the neck and with a waist so high as to fall just under the bosom. The sleeves were capped but so slight as to be nearly nonexistent. Sara collected the gown and accessories to complement it – extra-long white silk gloves, slippers dyed in a shade just deeper than the gown, and a matching ribbon to thread through her lady’s hair – and carried them downstairs to make them ready. As she worked, she marvelled at Miss Caroline’s turn of temperament, and could not but wonder what Mrs Aubrey had related to her sister to affect the change.
~~~~~~
In truth, Louisa’s meeting with Caroline was of no consequence except in providing news of the means for her sister’s re-entry into the fray. Caroline had spent the last days in an agony of humiliation and confusion – one moment furious, the next self pitying, and all the while struggling to reason her way out of the circumstances in which she found herself. Thankfully, the moments of true despair were of short duration before anger would pull her up from them.
When her emotions had settled into something manageable, Caroline had then lent her solitude towards taking stock of where she now found herself – how had she arrived at such an awkward place, and what could she do to extricate herself as deftly as possible? She told herself that her accident could have occurred to any rider, as was the case. But her reaction to being thrown had been rather extreme. Notwithstanding the provocation Caroline felt had propelled it, she could not very well explain herself.
Perhaps the best manner of addressing it would be to imitate her friends in town when indiscretions had been uncovered: she would ignore it completely. She would simply reappear and no one would be so crass as to refer to her self-confinement when she did not. It was that simple. With her equanimity returned, no one would long credit her short lapse in composure.
After all, the only onlookers to her tantrum were her own family, who would never speak of it publicly. Mr Darcy as well had observed her fit of temper, but surely he had attributed it to extreme embarrassment on her part, a perfectly adequate explanation. As a gentleman, he would neither speak of it nor censure her for it. She needed only the right moment to appear in public and begin again.
Louisa’s visit this morning had been fortuitous. Another time, Caroline would not deign to set foot in the Meryton assembly again, but these circumstances called for certain measures. She saw tonight’s affair as the possible answer to her needs.
Car
oline and Mr Darcy had first encountered the odious Bennet family at an assembly such as was planned for this evening. That had been a little more than a year gone by. Caroline shuddered a moment at the thought of how much had changed in that short time, one brief cycle of the seasons: Charles eager to marry Jane Bennet in little more than two weeks; Mr Darcy still bent on marrying the sister not long afterwards; and Caroline’s life a shambles. She spared a moment to wish the Bingley family had never heard the name of Netherfield, and certainly not that of Bennet.
But then Caroline checked herself once more. No, she would not fall into the trap again. Ever since receiving Charles’s letter regarding his betrothal and that of Mr Darcy, something in Caroline had shifted. She had begun allowing her emotions to dictate her actions. Gone in an instant was her reason, her ability to weigh aspects of a situation and determine a course based on logic. Gone was her discretion and, with it, her discipline.
Why, she had even gone so far as to fancy herself in love with Mr Darcy; abandoning totally every principle by which she had long ago chosen to live. That there could be a basis for her feelings – for she did love Darcy – yet it was immaterial. Long ago Caroline had learnt painful lessons of the consequences of relying on feelings to guide her actions; she had sworn never to fall prey to them again. She had schooled herself to behave in ways that would yield calculable results; that would propel her in achieving her life’s desires. Throwing emotions – especially love – into the mix only complicated matters unnecessarily and eroded her command of her condition. It made one desperate. And desperation was not conducive to clear thinking.
That had been an unforgivable lapse this past week and more, and she had felt once again the sting of defeat such a charged approach wrought. Much as she hated to admit it, her fall on Tuesday had been ill managed as well. She had stormed off in a sulk and squandered an opportunity. Had she feigned injury, had she played helpless victim, Mr Darcy would have done all he could to assist her; it had been an opportunity to establish an accord with him again. But her anger and mortification had bested her judgment. She had spent these last days recognizing her error, subjugating her emotions once more to cold reason. She was whole again, thinking again. She could still turn these events if she kept her eye firmly on what was important.
Mr Darcy was an excellent match for her, indeed none better suggested itself. His wealth far exceeded that of most men of her acquaintance. He held numerous properties, and chief among them – Pemberley – was an estate which any of her friends in the ton would be envious to preside over. His house in Berkeley Square could stand refurbishing to update its elegance, but could be perfect as well for entertaining – especially once young Georgiana was married off and moved out. The Darcy family was well established, the name going back generations, and their ties to nobility were not to be despised. Caroline had no doubt that with some careful positioning, Mr Darcy himself could be granted a lasting title – the Prince was known to be generous in his preferments, if conditions were right. Caroline would ensure proper conditions.
No more would the taint of trade colour her worth. No more would her old school friends look down their noses at her even as they smiled in welcome at their parties. Darcy’s other attributes would stand her in good stead as well. He cut a formidable figure at any time; arriving on his arm to social functions would have her friends looking to their own husbands and finding them the poorer for the comparison.
She would marry for these things. She would marry Mr Darcy for these things, and love be damned. The way to achieve this marriage was not to fall victim to unfocused emotions. It would take all her faculties for rational thought.
And she would start again at this primitive assembly tonight.
~~~~~~
As she prepared for the evening out, Caroline reflected back on the assembly she had attended in Meryton last year – entering with her brother to one side and Mr Darcy to the other, little aware at the time of just how simple these Meryton people would be. She had known there was not a man nor woman, save Louisa and Hurst entering behind her perhaps, whose eyes had not been riveted to the trio as they stood in the entry to the hall; the curiosity of the town had been excited to judge for themselves the new master of Netherfield and, once satisfied, it moved on to the rest of his party. Caroline had noted that their gazes lingered on her – her sense of style outshone the company. That the entire assemblage had been beneath Caroline’s notice did not reduce her gratification.
Most importantly, however, Mr Darcy had shared her repugnance of the horde. Their unsophisticated manners enlivened no interest from that gentleman; not even the charms of Miss Elizabeth Bennet engaged his attentions on that night. Indeed, upon formal introduction to the young woman, he had found her tolerable at best. Whilst silly Charles had immediately joined in the revelry, Mr Darcy and she had positioned themselves out of the tumult of the crowds, Mr Darcy in particular trying to remain inconspicuous rather than incite the introductions of every matron with a horse-faced daughter of marriageable age.
There had been little to enjoy of that night, it had been sheer torture but for the solidarity of opinion she and Mr Darcy had shared. Caroline felt certain, however, that tonight could offer singular amusements and opportunity. For she counted on the people of Meryton to conduct themselves with the same lax principles they had shown on the previous occasion. Particularly, she trusted in the Bennet family to re-enact its crass behaviour as well.
The youngest daughter, Lydia, with her indecorous recent marriage, may not be present to draw a gentleman’s censure; but Caroline felt certain she could rely upon the remaining Bennet sisters to do their parts. Mr Darcy had abhorred that evening a year ago, and had loathed the Bennet family. Caroline and Mr Darcy had been in concert in their judgments. She was confident that a recreation of the event tonight would allow her to regain the sympathetic accord they had shared in the face of these provincials.
Let Mr Darcy experience yet again tonight that taste of life among the unfashionable. Caroline would be right there to commiserate.
Chapter Eight:
Assembly
27 October 1797
C
aroline came down the stairs at the appointed departure hour feeling quite pleased with her appearance. Her lavender gown was perfection and Allen had matched it with an upsweep of hair in the layered Grecian style, woven through with a length of ribbon the shade of periwinkles. Although she would travel wearing an outer cloak against the chill autumn night, Caroline also carried a light shawl to use indoors, a luxuriously silky confection in a pearl shade, embroidered with those same delicate periwinkle flowers. She had known from Allen’s beaming countenance as she left her rooms that the effect with her natural colouring was stunning. Despite the events of this past week, Caroline was filled with optimism for the evening. She felt she had found a wellspring again through her late adversity and was quite certain her fortunes would rise with her spirits tonight.
She entered the drawing room expecting to see the party assembled for the trip to Meryton, only to find it apparently empty. For a brief moment a dread came over Caroline that perhaps her misfortunes were continuing and she had been left behind. But then, rising in all his state from the deep chair that faced the fire and turning to meet her was Mr Darcy himself, a bowled stem of brandy cradled idly in one hand.
“Miss Bingley.” He bowed to her in greeting, but not before Caroline noted the appreciative gleam in his eyes as his glance had taken in her form. She returned his gesture automatically with a nod, and found herself lowering her own gaze unexpectedly, as if to hold his would be improper. Her mind raced in that instant – she must be hallucinating! Else how to explain this reversal of fortunes? She could not have dreamt of a better start to the evening and, as such, feared she must have done just that under the cover of sleep. But Darcy’s rich voice cut through her passing confusion, very real in the moment.
“May I tell you how pleased I am to find you in such obvious good health once a
gain?”
Caroline mumbled a blushing acknowledgment – part embarrassment to have him recall their last encounter, part a suffusion of delight at his sentiment – then stood dumbfounded and awkward. She had prepared for many possible scenarios in her mind, but such an immediate private audience with the object of her desires had not been one of them, and words escaped her presently.
“May I offer you a drink while we await the others?”
Again, Caroline nodded, still nonplussed at this abruptly good turn of events, yet surprised at the inhibitions she felt with the unexpected physical manifestations her proximity to him engendered. Her hands took on a clammy coolness while her ears seemed to burn. She was certain they must have turned quite red in appearance. In a daze, she watched Darcy start towards the drinks trolley. Only her basic faculties appeared to be working, and those seemed to have altered time such that every movement was slowed considerably, every detail sharpened.
Mr Darcy was quite handsome and desirable in his cutaway jacket – a blue so dark as to be just shy of the colour of the night sky – that accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and his tapering waist. He moved as always with the grace of a cat, languid yet with a sense of subtle power. She noted that his hair had lately been washed; it lay soft upon his brow, yet still showed damp in the stray curls that trailed over the velvet collar at his nape and around his ears. His perfectly-tied cravat was in ivory, the contrast with his complexion just enough to allow a shadowy hint of beard to suggest itself about his jaw line. The neck cloth also complemented a waistcoat embroidered with trellises of ivory on silk of a soft blue that mirrored the exact shade of Darcy’s eyes, themselves fringed in thick lashes to rival his coat’s velvet trim.
