Finally, the magnitude of her offence seemed to dawn on Caroline, because she paled and bit her lip. “Will you speak to her?”
“I will, but frankly I am more concerned about the damage Louisa, Jane and I could suffer because of your thoughtless actions, than about you!”
She looked more annoyed by that than understanding, and Charles sighed and let go of her shoulders. There was no reasoning with Caroline, he saw; the time had passed for that.
“Darcy will not countenance the sight of you,” he said flatly, forging on despite her gasp of outrage. “He was prepared to tolerate you while you maintained your veneer of civility, for my sake, but your attack on Elizabeth has ended that. Frankly, I do not trust you to behave in some vicious manner towards Jane, too.”
“I would…”
“You will be silent.” He no longer cared to hear her excuses. Ignoring her gaping mouth as he spoke over her, he said “Louisa has been kind enough to offer to escort you to visit Sir John and Lady Forrest in Scarborough, and there you will remain, Caroline. I will pay your allowance direct to Sir John from this day forward, as credit towards your room and board. Henceforth, you are not welcome in any house in which Mrs Bingley and I reside, and you would do very well to ensure that you do not ever again come to Mr Darcy’s notice.”
“You cannot mean it.” Her voice shook.
“Every word.” He met her eyes unflinchingly. “You will reside with the Forrests until I give you leave, Caroline. I advise you to be extremely circumspect in Scarborough. Should word of your exploits reach so far north, you would be ostracised from even that limited social circle.” Turning away, he headed for the door. “Louisa has already directed the maids to begin your packing. I gave Darcy my word that you would be leaving before nightfall, and I do not intend to renege on that promise.”
Tears started in her eyes as she gazed at his implacable expression and she reached out a hand imploringly, but Charles shook his head.
“This is the result of your own actions, Caroline. I can only hope that you can find it in you to be happy in the bed you have made for yourself.”
She stood silent as he left the room, but as Charles closed the door behind him, he heard a scream of rage and the crash of something heavy hitting the door. Sighing deeply, he headed for his study. He had a letter to write.
Mutual Support
Charles cursed and dropped his pen into the inkwell, uncaring of the ink that splashed onto his desk. Running his hands into his hair, he tugged hard, silently berating himself. He was a poor correspondent at the best of times, and this was an exceedingly difficult letter to write. How did one impose upon a man related to one only by marriage to take your most impossible relative off your hands before she ruined your family name permanently?
“Charles,” a soft hand touched his wrist, and he startled. He hadn’t heard Jane enter; looked up to see her standing beside him now, concern etched on her lovely face as she looked at the blotched and crumpled papers strewn on his desk.
Without even pausing to consider how she might react, he put his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, pressing his face into her soft, sweet-scented golden hair. Jane stiffened only briefly before relaxing against him, though, slipping her arms around his neck.
“What is it?” she asked quietly. “Let me help you, please, my love.”
“I am a poor letter-writer anyway, as Darcy will be at pains to tell you,” Charles sighed, “and this is an exceptionally difficult subject.”
“So I see.” Jane looked again at the mess on his desk. “Perhaps… you could dictate to me, and I could write the letter for you? Then all you have to do is sign it.”
Startled, he pulled back to look at her. “You are not my secretary, Jane!”
She smiled and took a handkerchief from her pocket, leaning in to dab at his cheek. Despairingly, he realised that he must have ink there too. “No, I am not. I do not think this is business a secretary could be trusted with, even if you had one, but I assure you that I have many times written letters for my father and mother, as well as maintaining correspondences of my own with distant friends and relatives. I have a fair hand.”
“I have no doubt that it is as fair as everything else about you,” he acquiesced. “Thank you, my love, I will accept your offer. Otherwise, it is highly unlikely that this letter would be ready to go when the Hursts must depart.”
Jane smiled and rose to her feet. “Let us clear away this mess and begin anew, then,” she suggested, gathering the crumpled and blotted papers, throwing them into the fireplace. “Dear me, whatever have you done to this pen?”
He smiled sheepishly at her and offered his handkerchief to clean up the splattered ink, gladly giving up his seat to pace the room and try to think of the words he would need to use.
Jane settled herself with a fresh sheet of paper and pen, first testing it on a scrap she had saved to see how well it worked. “So, who is the letter to?” she enquired.
“Oh… Sir John Forrest. I suppose you should begin with My dear Sir John.”
For a minute the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the flames and the scratch of Jane’s pen. Charles admired the way she looked, golden head bent over the paper.
“What next?” Jane asked.
“Oh!” He startled guiltily, realising that he had been quite lost in his perusal of his wife’s beauty.
“Perhaps wishes for his good health and our thanks for the gift he and Lady Forrest sent for our wedding?” Jane suggested.
“The exceedingly ugly porcelain clock?”
Jane’s lips twitched. “I was not going to describe it in precisely those terms.”
“I would, but I have no doubt that you will surpass me in tactful description as you do in everything else.” Charles found himself smiling at her. She chuckled gently at him, shaking his head before bending back to the letter.
“Let me just take care of that, then, while you think about the information you need to convey.”
By the time she looked up again, he had his thoughts in some sort of order, and dictated a polite letter requesting that Sir John accept Caroline into his household for the immediate future. He did not wish to commit exact details of Caroline’s actions to paper, but suggested that she had committed a serious infraction and that Sir John should ask Louisa for the details.
“I shall direct my banker to forward to you the full amount of Caroline’s allowance,” Charles finally warmed to his subject, the words flowing more easily now that he did not have to focus on writing them down. “I leave its distribution to your discretion, but please ensure that she is not able to accumulate sufficient funds to depart your household.”
Jane paused in her industrious scratching. “Do you really think Caroline would run away?” she asked.
“I do not know,” Charles said bleakly. “When we spoke above stairs, I hardly recognised her, Jane; I fear that her jealousy and disappointment has damaged her sanity. I can only hope that some time away from society, time to rest and reflect upon her actions, may wreak a change in her.”
“I hope so too,” Jane said quietly, returning to her writing. Charles reflected that it was the first time he had heard Jane actually voice a criticism of Caroline, despite Caroline’s mean actions towards her.
“How is Elizabeth?” Suddenly, he realised that he had not thought to ask, cursed himself guiltily. “And Miss Darcy?”
“Miss Darcy is merely overwrought, her aunt the Countess has her in hand. Elizabeth’s wrist is broken. Doctor Thomas placed splints upon it and Mr Darcy carried her to their suite.”
Charles kneaded at his forehead, retuning to Jane’s side. Her voice had remained admirably calm and steady as she recited the information, but he thought he knew her well enough by now to suspect that Jane appeared the most calm when she was feeling the strongest emotions.
“Darcy will see to her comfort, my love. She will have the best of care, and Caroline will never be in a position to hurt her again.” Gentl
y, he placed his hand on her shoulder.
Setting her pen down, Jane reached up to put her hand on his, turning her eyes up to him beseechingly. “Do you promise me that, Charles? Lizzy is the dearest person in the world to me, after you of course, but Caroline is your sister…”
“She is also in the wrong, and she has made it very evident that I must take steps to protect others from future consequences of her venom,” Charles assured her. “I solemnly promise, dearest, that I will do whatever I must to ensure she can never again harm Elizabeth, nor any other person dear to us.”
Jane turned her head and kissed his fingers, whispering a soft “Thank you,” before reaching to pick up the pen again.
They completed the letter together, Jane making suggestions when Charles struggled to find the words to express himself. She handed him the pen to make his signature at the bottom of the paper, laughing when he said he feared he would blot her beautiful handiwork.
“It is only a letter, Charles, and one that by necessity is written in haste.”
“It looks like a work of art,” Charles admired her delicate handwriting. “I had never seen your writing before today.”
“Had you not? No, I suppose I have had neither cause nor opportunity to write to you.” Carefully sanding the note and folding it for Charles to affix his seal, Jane smiled. “I shall write you a love letter — and do not fear, I shall not expect a written response!”
“That is good, because I fear you should be waiting for a long time.” He smiled guiltily, tucking the finished letter into his pocket. “You shall have to make do with my regular assurance that you have my ardent and undying adoration.”
“Well, when you put it like that, I believe that I shall be quite satisfied,” Jane blushed prettily, and Charles could not help pulling her into his arms for a kiss.
The Countess
A knock on the study door made them spring apart, Jane flushing guiltily. Charles chuckled at her as she patted her hair and fanned her cheeks, trying in vain to look composed.
“A husband may kiss his wife in private, you know,” he told her, crossing to the door. She only cast him a reproachful look, making him smile again as he opened the door to find Mr Hurst there.
“A word, Charles?” Gerald said gruffly, entering the room at his gesture. “Oh,” he stopped on seeing Jane. “Beg your pardon, Mrs Bingley, I did not know you were in here.”
“That’s quite all right, Mr Hurst, and please, won’t you call me Jane? We are family now, after all.”
Hurst’s scowling expression lightened as she moved to stand at Charles’ side. “That we are, and I’m glad that Charles came to his senses and returned here for you, Jane. I told him when we quit Netherfield last year that he shouldn’t go without securing your hand.”
“You did?” Startled, Jane looked to Charles. She had never realised that she’d had an ally in Mr Hurst.
“Of course I did,” Hurst affirmed, and Charles nodded, reaching to clap the other man on the shoulder.
“You did indeed, and I only wish I had listened to you, Gerald. I could have been united in wedded bliss with my angel much sooner.”
A knowing smile split Hurst’s red face before he sobered. “Yes, well, your wedded bliss is what Louisa and I are called upon to safeguard now, is it not? I must say that I never thought Caroline capable of such venom, but what’s done is done. Louisa has all in hand with the packing and your coachman tells me that he will be ready to leave in an hour. We’ll not make Peterborough tonight, so by your leave I’ll send a rider on to St. Neots to secure rooms for us there.”
“Of course,” Charles said, thinking guiltily that he should have thought of that himself. “I’ll see to it now.” Remembering the letter, he drew it from his pocket. “Can I charge you with delivering this to Sir John?”
“Of course.” Hurst accepted the letter. “I take it there are some details you haven’t committed to paper?”
“Indeed,” Charles nodded confirmation. “I must rely upon you and Louisa to give Sir John and Lady Forrest the true facts of the story, and ensure that Caroline is not allowed to twist matters to cast herself in a favourable light.”
“Can’t see how striking Mrs Darcy could ever be cast in a favourable light, no matter how many fancy words it’s hedged around with,” Hurst said bluntly.
“And yet, I am confident that if anyone could manage it, Caroline is that person.” Charles shook his head. “I will not risk it, Gerald.”
“You can count on me, Charles.” Hurst hesitated, and then said in a quiet, almost humble tone, “After we have seen Caroline settled with the Forrests, may we return here, Charles?”
“Of course you must!” Jane spoked before a startled Charles could find the words. “I shall depend upon Louisa’s help to help me learn the reins here at Netherfield, and I know how much Charles values your company, Gerald.”
A smile cracked Hurst’s red face, and he picked up Jane’s hand and kissed it, much to her surprise. “Spoken like a true lady, Mrs Bingley.” He gave her a deep bow before releasing her hand, and saying “By your leave.” He departed their presence with a brisker gait and more upright stance than Charles had ever seen from his brother-in-law.
“I think,” Charles said thoughtfully, “that I am not the only member of this family who is changed for the better by your mere presence, beloved.”
Jane shook her head, placing her hand on his arm. “You are forgetting Caroline, dearest. If Gerald is changing for the better, then Caroline has changed for the worse.”
“Perhaps.” Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he said “I must go and give orders at the stables, send a rider to reserve rooms… and another ahead to Scarborough, to let Sir John and Lady Forrest know that they will have unexpected guests.”
“I will go to see if there is anything that I can do for Miss Darcy or Elizabeth’s comfort,” Jane said.
“Once you are done with that, my angel, can I invite you to meet me in our suite for luncheon?” Bingley asked hopefully. “We were interrupted earlier, after all.”
Jane giggled, blushing pink as his arm tightened around her and he pulled her close. “We shall see. I must see to our guests first, after all.”
“Your father is right; we are both far too considerate of the feelings of others for our own good,” Charles said regretfully.
“For the first time in my life, I am rather regretting my habit of being nice to everyone,” Jane giggled again as Charles rained kisses on her brow and cheeks. “I shall endeavour to ensure everyone’s comfort as quickly as I may, beloved.”
He rewarded her promise with a thorough kissing, delaying both of their departure for several more minutes, and causing Jane to have to sit down for another minute or two to regain her breath once Charles had departed.
After a little while, she felt herself composed to face company, and left the sanctuary of the study. It was perhaps fortunate that she passed a large mirror in the hall before meeting anyone, though, because her hair was sadly mussed. She paused to straighten it quickly before hurrying abovestairs, proceeding first to Miss Darcy’s rooms.
Tapping gently at the door, she was bid to enter, and found Miss Darcy sitting with her aunt the Countess.
“I do beg your pardon, my lady,” Jane sank into a low curtsy. “I just wished to see how Miss Darcy was feeling.”
“Foolish, Mrs Bingley,” Georgiana said with a shy smile, “for fainting when ‘twas Mrs Darcy who was the one actually injured.”
“It was a deeply shocking event, my dear,” Lady Matlock patted her hand. “At your age, I am quite sure that I too would have swooned to the floor!”
Jane, who had witnessed arguments between her sisters take a turn for the physical many a time — Lydia in particular was prone to dealing out slaps when thwarted — nodded sympathetically but said nothing.
“Doctor Thomas seems like a very sensible sort, he knew exactly what to do for Mrs Darcy’s arm. I remember my son Richard breaking his arm falling off his horse
when he was about your age, Georgiana, and it was splinted and wrapped in just the same way.”
“It was?”
“Indeed, and it healed perfectly well.”
“Nobody could doubt that, having met Colonel Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana was brought to a proper smile by the Countess’ little story.
“Quite, so I do not doubt that in a few weeks Mrs Darcy will be perfectly fine again,” Lady Matlock gave a decisive nod, as though the matter was quite settled. Perhaps if you were a Countess, matters did just have a tendency to fall out exactly the way you wished, Jane mused.
“I also take it that there is no possibility of such an incident ever being repeated?” Lady Matlock fixed her with a gimlet eye.
“Indeed not, my lady,” Jane hurried to assure her. “Mr and Mrs Hurst are even now preparing to escort Miss Bingley to the home of Sir John and Lady Forrest in Scarborough; Lady Forrest is my husband’s former stepmother. Miss Bingley will remain with the Forrests for the foreseeable future.”
“I am glad to hear that suitable steps are being taken,” was all Lady Matlock said, but she also gave Jane a regal nod and the hint of an approving smile, which in the circumstances Jane felt was all that she might expect. She gave the two ladies another deep curtsy.
“Mr Bingley and I wish to offer our deepest regrets that this terrible incident happened beneath our roof,” she said with great sincerity.
“No blame attaches to you, Mrs Bingley, surely,” Georgiana exclaimed, “you could not possibly have known!”
“Indeed,” Lady Matlock said, “you are not the only one in this room blessed with an impossible sister-by-marriage.” She gave Jane a surprisingly sisterly smile, and a wink. “I find myself grateful for the long miles that separate Matlock from Rosings Park.”
It suddenly dawned on Jane that Lady Matlock could only be speaking of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She had to hide a little gasp of shock behind her fingers. Georgiana, too, was gaping at her aunt. Lady Matlock smiled and reached to pat Georgiana’s hand.
Mr Bingley's Bride (Sensual Historical Romance) Page 6
