by Tess Quinn
‘Unsullied’ was a matter of interpretation. Really, this was too much for her. Was the man a mind reader, to be so certain of her ennui? And from whence had he sprung, when for four weeks no one had word of his tenure in town? This man was entirely too unpredictable and dangerous, and she must nip the association in the early stages.
“Sir John, if you wish to engage my companionship, you are welcome to call… at a reasonable hour… at the front door. If I am receiving, I will be happy to oblige you and will introduce you to my brother, Charles, and his wife, whom you know to reside here as well as I.”
Ravensby had pursed his lips and was shaking his head from side to side. “No, no, it must be tonight. And no one, not your brother or his wife – who is quite beautiful, by the way, I noticed her through the parlour window this evening – or anyone else in London, will know that you have risked your honour with me this night.”
Caroline looked askance at the man, and felt an annoyance with him creeping in for his remark about Jane. She told herself it was the implicit confession of his having been spying on the house for some time; though could she be honest with herself, she would be pressed to deny an element of jealous envy at his pronouncement.
Look,” he said, pointing at a bundle in the crook of his arm, “I even brought you some suitable attire. And I will have you back, safely in your bed – alone – before dawn breaks. On my honour!”
“Your… I… You…”
Laughing again, Sir John took a step forward on the limb and it sagged precariously. Realizing the branch may not hold the weight of this giant at its tapered end, Caroline gasped, though she could not be certain if her fear lay in the thought of him doing himself an injury, or the humiliation of his fall drawing witnesses to this unorthodox and wholly unsuitable meeting. Sir John stepped back once more onto the thicker part of the bough, and tossed the bundle of cloth in through the window. “I will just wait here. When you are clad in those, I will assist you down into the carriage.”
“You will do no such thing! I am not going with you.”
“Caro, dear, please do not be tiresome; I have not the time. You will not win this argument, and what is more, you do not wish to do so. I can see the intrigue in your eyes – those fiery green eyes, the memory of which has become my constant companion these weeks.”
“Do not call me ‘Caro’, sir. You forget yourself. Just because you caught me unawares on some occasions, it does not give you the right to such familiarity.”
“Ah, ‘Sir’ – you see, you really do care for me! You remember your pet name!” Sir John followed this statement with an impish grin, and raised one eyebrow.
“Oh! Really! You are impossible!” cried Caroline.
“Not for you, my dear. For you, I am all possibilities. Come now, time is wasting.” Noting her incredulous expression, he sighed. “Look, Miss Caroline. I know this is… well, without convention – my approach, that is. But I solemnly vow to behave as a gentleman. You have nothing to fear from me. And you will be able to smile mysteriously at breakfast tomorrow morning for thinking of your night-time adventure. Just think of the curious expressions on your friends’ faces at the next ball, wondering at your countenance of smug conceit for living a secret existence.”
Caroline wavered, and he could see it. His hawk eyes bore into hers, and he could see her fall to the side of curiosity.
From the look Sir John extended to Caroline, she half feared that if she refused to join him voluntarily, he might abduct her yet again from her very own bedroom. No, that would not happen – Charles was only a scream away, the rogue would not dare attempt any such thing. Besides, Caroline knew fear played no part in her consideration. It was the hellish tedium of her existence that drove her reply.
“Oh, very well. But you must promise, on your honour as a gentleman, that there is no harm in this; that no word of it will ever reach beyond this window.” Sir John opened his mouth to make such assurance, but before he could do so, Caroline added, “and under no circumstances will I wear these awful clothes you have brought. If I go with you, it will be in my present attire!”
Caroline astounded herself. She could not believe the words she had just heard issue from her mouth. She was actually agreeing to this ill-reasoned scheme? Had she lost her senses? No, she realized… just her interest in life. She needed something to excite her, and this escapade (and if she would but admit it, this man) did that.
“As you wish,” he replied. “But I warn you such finery will add a measure of peril to your descent from the tree!” He held out his arm.
After holding back for a moment, Caroline tentatively took his proffered hand, and climbed over the sill to step onto the branch. It dipped under their combined weight and, in panic, Caroline moved towards the thicker end, and directly into Sir John’s formidable chest. She froze. Why did she suddenly feel like a hare, caught in the clutches of a hawk? Surely this scheme could come to no good. If word of this behaviour got out, she would never be able to show her face in society again! Questioning her judgment in agreeing to this outing, she summoned the courage to turn around and return whence she came; she would close the window upon this misjudged escapade and upon Sir John.
Strong arms came around Caroline, holding her securely on the limb. “You are safe, Caro… I have got you and will not release you. Now, can you move towards the trunk with me?”
Caroline managed to nod, and as one they moved to the trunk of the tree, where she looked down to see a rope ladder descending to the ground. At the base of the tree, she now noticed a shadowy man, holding the ladder steady at that end. “Joss, I presume?” she asked.
“Mmm. Can you go down on your own?” Caroline nodded her affirmation. “I suggest, however,” Sir John added, “that you kick off your slippers first. It will make your purchase more secure on the ladder, and you can retrieve them when you are down.”
Caroline did as he suggested, and had to stifle a laugh when, on dropping the second of her shoes, an affronted “ouch” was heard from below. She and Sir John shared a smile at the chance accuracy of her missile. Their smiles faded, though, as their gaze held overlong. They were perilously close to one another, with nowhere to step that offered any safety. Sir John leaned down to Caroline and, unable to resist, she raised her face to his. Closer together they were drawn until each could feel the other’s breath upon their skin. Caroline was intensely aware of his hands around her waist and of her own grasping his muscular arms. His hold provided stability on the branch even as it sent dizzying waves through Caroline that left her knees trembling. She had just closed her eyes in anticipation, when she was pulled back to the real world by the grumblings of Joss at the foot of the tree.
The moment had been broken. She and Sir John pulled back a bit and, with a defeated smile on his lips where a kiss had almost been, he held the rope steady for her. She made her way down the rungs, the going slowed down by small branches which stuck out and must be manoeuvred around. More than once they snagged at her. Finally, she reached solid
ground, and issued a sigh of relief. As she retrieved her slippers, Sir John made his way down the ladder in only seconds. Suddenly, Caroline gasped, whirled around away from the eyes of Sir John and Joss, and crossed her arms in front of her.
What is the matter, my dear?” Sir John approached Caroline, but she stiffened.
Caroline was mortified, but there was nothing for it but to reveal her difficulty. “I have… oh dear, oh… I have ripped my bodice!” she wailed. This was met with sniggering from behind her; it grew into a double bark of laughter. She began to turn around to glare at these insensitive louts when she thought better of her appearance.
Finally, their laughter spent, Sir John touched Caroline lightly on the shoulder. “Forgive us, Miss Caroline, truly, we regret our outburst. Do we not, Joss?” Joss answered in the affirmative in a tone which clearly spoke of his lack of repentance.
Sir John said, “Wait here, my dear.” In a matter of a moment, he had gone back u
p the ladder, and returned to the ground holding the bundle of clothes which had been left behind in Caroline’s chamber. “Here,” he held them out to her. “I did warn you, but I am sorry. You can change in the carriage, and neither Joss nor I will move from this spot until you have emerged wholly clad.”
“I cannot. I…” Caroline looked at the ground, at the sky, anywhere but at Sir John. How could she explain her difficulty? How had she been so foolish as to put herself in this position? She could not return up the tree in this condition, and she certainly could not walk in her front door. She was neatly caught in her own foolish choices. Hearing Sir John take in a breath, she knew that he now realized her difficulty as well. She could not remove her gown without assistance, as it laced closed from behind.
“Joss, go and check the perimeter, will you, to ensure no one is about. And take some minutes in the doing, will you?”
Joss appeared confused, but replied with a swift “Yes, Cap’n” and left to do as he was bid. There remained only Caroline and Sir John now. Torn between vanity, misery, embarrassment, and anger, Caroline finally gave up her pride. She allowed Sir John to come up and loosen her gown enough for her to remove it on her own.
She stiffened as he began to work the laces, feeling his warm breath upon the back of her neck and half fearful he would exercise liberties yet again with her in this precarious condition. She could not help but notice how deftly his fingers managed their task as though accustomed to such work, though they operated too slowly for her comfort. She could only wonder at how often he had practiced this talent.
But Sir John remained a gentleman. He took care not to touch her improperly, though his release of the final lace lingered a moment longer than necessary and the gentle tug on it just before relinquishing it sent a shiver through Caroline. Keeping her head lowered to avoid his gaze, Caroline clutched at her gown with one hand to retain coverage, took his bundle in her other hand, and strode off to the carriage. Not a word was spoken between them during this interaction.
A few moments later she emerged looking for all the world like a boy, in muslin shirt, woollen vest, breeches and stockings. Sir John had even seen fit to provide simple shoes, and in the right size. In fact, all the clothes fit Caroline perfectly. Some part of her marvelled at his eye for such things even as she wrinkled her nose at her new attire.
Joss returned to climb up onto the driving board of the carriage, and Sir John approached Caroline. He gazed at her for a moment, the mischievous smile on his lips travelling into his bronze eyes, -- took Caroline’s hand in his and, raising it to his lips, imparted a gentle kiss. Rising up again, he said “Well, Miss Caroline, I had thought your virtue to be safe in such garb, but even dressed as a stable boy, you are bewitching. You try my resistance sorely.”
Caroline felt a blush deepen across her face, and was glad of the darkness around her. “Shall we go?” she asked, to cover her discomfort.
With no further word, Sir John handed Caroline into the carriage, and then joined her. Joss ‘tsked’ at the horses, and the carriage began to move. Sir John gazed at Caroline across the seat from him, and thought that she had never looked so feminine or desirable. Yes, this woman could be trouble.
“Now, will you tell me where we are going?” she asked him.
“You will see,” he replied.
Chapter Fourteen:
Midnight Ride
A
s their carriage travelled through the streets of London, nearly unimpeded by other traffic at the late hour, Caroline sat reconsidering her decision to accompany Sir John on this mysterious journey. What on earth had made her give in so easily? She had never been some impulsive young chit, always acceding to the slightest whim – everything in her life since she could think for herself had been done after careful consideration and planning; and always with a view to maintaining or furthering her position.
Her sister had married Mr Hurst at a young age, a good enough match, though Caroline would have held out for better. He was tolerable but that his only ambition in life was to enjoy his next rich meal, and preferably at someone else’s expense. He came from an old and distinguished but somewhat impoverished family until Louisa took his fancy. Aubrey Hurst made an art of maintaining his now respectable income (thanks to Louisa’s marriage settlement) by living off the hospitality of others. For that matter, in the nearly eight years they had been married Louisa had grown quite like her husband. But Louisa was comfortable enough, had a nice home in Grosvenor Square and had never begrudged Caroline residing there; though they had all presumed Caroline would become mistress of Netherfield when Charles first took his lease there, before he had been consumed with love of Jane Bennet.
Charles might be besotted with his new wife – and if Caroline were to think on it fairly, she would admit that her new sister had a pleasing enough disposition when she wasn’t fawning over Charles – but what, after all, had Jane brought to their marriage? At best, a thousand pounds, which even now Charles was insisting his wife keep for her own dispensation. Caroline did not doubt that any day the ever-complacent Jane would bestow it upon some charity or add it to her remaining unmarried sisters’ dowries. Besides, Charles Bingley’s easy-going deportment and lack of serious application towards his assets did not bode well for moving up in the world. He was all too contented with life as it was.
No, if the Bingley family position was to be enhanced, it was up to Caroline to accomplish it through an auspicious match. And she had little time to waste in her pursuit. For nearly two years, she had put all her energies into Fitzwilliam Darcy, certain that he could be brought to recognize the merits of a match through Caroline’s careful priming. After all, he was Charles’s best friend; and for quite a time, Caroline believed, or rather hoped, that Charles would make a match with Georgiana, Darcy’s young sister, when the young woman reached proper age. It would be only natural in that event for Mr Darcy and Caroline to follow suit.
Caroline herself would bring twenty thousand pounds to a marriage, no paltry sum. She had wrangled social connections in every inner circle in town, making ‘friends’ with some truly odious but influential women, and could help a man of Darcy’s sense to build his fortune to unheard of levels, perhaps even help him to gain a title if he would let her as Mistress of Pemberley dictate their social life.
For Caroline, there had also been the added incentive that Darcy himself was a man to match the quality of his fortune and family background. He was young and so very handsome, had no vices (though Caroline could have wished perhaps for one or two) and was intelligent, hard working and proud. Moreover, for his youth he was not a dependent heir waiting to come into his own, but rather was fully the master of his vast estates as a result of his father’s early death. She could have done nicely with all that combination of attributes; and she had admired him more than any other man she had ever met on the strength of them.
She had even told herself that she loved him, as probably she had. Not for her some balding, gout-ridden old coot with more pence than sense. She had wanted it all and Fitzwilliam Darcy was the man to provide it. And she felt she deserved it all as well.
For a time, she had believed Mr Darcy could be brought to feel the same. He had agreed with Caroline when Charles first became enamoured of Jane Bennet that the lady’s want of family connections would not serve Charles to the good. They had conspired together to separate the couple and then to maintain that separation even in the face of Miss Bennet’s tenure in town with her Cheapside relations. Caroline had felt that such partnerships with Mr Darcy could only lead to an understanding between them.
But then the fool man had gone off for an extended period and had been utterly changed upon his return. And next Caroline knew, he himself was encumbering his family with that of the Bennets. It was inexplicable to Caroline; and yet she had seen the proof of his deep affection for Elizabeth Bennet – now Mrs Darcy – when she last visited Hertfordshire. It had wounded her to the core. But Caroline supposed that the depth of wha
t she had witnessed between the two lovers, quite accidentally, stood for something in their favour.
And so alas, her years of attention to Fitzwilliam Darcy had been for naught. The man had taken one chance look at Elizabeth Bennet and all Caroline’s own hopes (and investment of effort) had been swept out the door. It had been humiliating! All of Caroline’s attributes – her beauty and grace, her sense of fashion, her connections to the ton, her studied refinement – had been as nothing to Darcy’s eyes, he preferring his country chicken. Well, so be it, let him have his farm girl and whatever misery she would bring.
Yet Caroline still believed she herself was deserving of a situation such as Mr Darcy had represented. Perhaps it had been easier for him to put aside the obstacles and marry beneath him – his family name, an old established one, certainly needed no lifting up and would suffer no permanent damage from his liaison, nor would his wealth. Elizabeth Bennet, er… Darcy… did not bring increased fortune to her husband, yet Mr Darcy had had far less to lose in making Miss Bennet his wife than Caroline stood to gain in finding a good match for herself and her family. Mr Darcy could afford to do what Caroline could not.
As a result of her wasted efforts to win Mr Darcy’s heart, Caroline now had no precious time to lose in finding an acceptable replacement. This would be no easy task among the gentlemen prevalent in the social set this season. Some handsome, some rich, some with pedigree, some with acceptable sense – but Caroline had yet to meet anyone else than Mr Darcy who had embodied more than one of those attributes, much less all together. Yes, she had her work set for her. She should not be wasting her time on frivolous midnight rides with a man, however compelling, of dubious history. And if this escapade were to be discovered, she would be ruined – never again able to appear in any public gathering of import! So again, why had she agreed to this?
~~~~~~
