Read Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Online
Authors: Jennifer Becton
Still, she understood his meaning. The bridge served its purpose, and it was a thing of beauty to behold as its stone slabs sparkled in the afternoon sun. This bridge was a product of his mind as well as his hands, and it had saved his whole family from poverty. For Mr. Rushton, it was an object of pride, not shame.
And it ought to be for her as well.
She looked at this man--her husband--beside her. He was smirking. "So tell me, Caro, for we have danced about this subject, do you think you shall ever admit how desperately you love me?"
She returned his smirk. "I had not thought I was required to speak those words to you, husband, for my actions revealed the truth, even before I realized it myself. Did not I allow you to take advantage of me and compromise my reputation?" Caroline felt herself blush, but she continued. "Did not I throw myself into your arms like a wanton woman?"
He turned so that they were facing each other, their hands still joined between them. His blue eyes were wide and clear, and in their expression, she was surprised to observe what in any other gentleman she might have described as uncertainty. But that could not be, for Mr. Rushton was perhaps the surest individual she had ever encountered.
"Yes, but did you not know that a gentleman likes to be assured of the love of his wife?" he asked. "He does not care to speak his feelings aloud if hers remain hidden. So you must speak."
"You ought to realize early in our marriage, husband, that I have no interest in doing as I am told." Her lips stretched slowly into a smile as she stepped closer until their bodies were very nearly touching. "If I choose to let my actions speak for me, then you shall have to learn to accept it."
Caroline raised her free hand to her husband's neck and allowed her fingers to trail toward his collar. His expression had turned hungry, and it seemed he could remain still no longer. Mr. Rushton pulled her flush against his body, causing a little gasp to escape from her lips. Pressed against him in the middle of the road to Rushton House, Caroline felt as if she had finally found her home, and it was not in the house that awaited them at the end of the drive. No, it existed in something else entirely.
Caroline realized in that moment that she could not date her falling in love with Mr. Rushton upon her first sight of his beautiful grounds at Rushton House--although they turned out to be lovely indeed--but upon her understanding of the depth of his character and upon her comprehension of her own heart.
• • •
• • •
In the first draft of
Caroline Bingley
, Elizabeth, Jane, Charles, and Mr. Darcy visited Newton House. During the course of their stay, Caroline was just as attentive to Mr. Darcy as ever. In this deleted scene, Mrs. Newton unknowingly rubs salt in Caroline's wounds at a family meal that included Caroline, Mr. Rushton, Rosemary, Mr. and Mrs. Newton, and their guests the Bingleys and the Darcys.
• • •
"Miss Bingley, pass the salt if you please."
Those were the first words Mr. Darcy spoke to her of his own accord since his arrival precisely one week ago.
And though she might wish it otherwise, Caroline's head snapped around with alacrity at the sound of her name on his lips. She attempted to cover her surprised gesture with a chilly response, but she could come up with no good words. So she narrowed her eyes and said, "Pardon me?"
"The salt," he replied with the barest hint of impatience in his voice.
She reached for the container, bobbled it, and nearly spilled tiny white crystals across the tablecloth.
"Oh dear," she said, feeling like a great fool. "This is a poorly designed vessel. One cannot get a hand on it securely."
His expression was one of studied patience as he took the salt without the least insecurity. "Thank you."
It was her turn to speak, and she ought to say something intelligent. Perhaps about salt. Maybe something biblical.
She quickly went over her choices.
Lot's wife turning into a pillar of salt. She glanced at Miss Elizabeth Bennet. No, that would not do, for it would surely be interpreted as a comment on the suitability of his selection of spouse. Tempted though Caroline was, she restrained herself.
Perhaps a comment on people who are the salt of the earth?
Again, she discounted the possibility.
Before she could compose her next words, Mr. Darcy had seasoned his food, placed the salt dish back on the table between them, and his attention was now diverted by Elizabeth, who sat across from him.
Oh! Why had Caroline not thought of something of significance to say? She could have begun a discussion about any number of topics: the state of relations with France perhaps or the works of Homer. She had been taught to converse with elegance and taste on any number of subjects: music, art, history.
She might have at least commented on the weather.
But no, Caroline had become flustered over a gentleman who had barely acknowledged her presence since he had arrived.
Their eyes had met briefly as the condiment had exchanged hands, but barely a spark of recognition had flared in him. There was no hint of the friendship they had once shared. And they had been friends. They had traveled together, stayed in the same lodgings, and spent countless hours in intimate conversation.
She looked at the side of his head.
How could Mr. Darcy so easily ignore her?
It was an insult to their years of friendship, certainly.
Directly across the table from her, Mr. Rushton cleared his throat. "Miss Bingley, would you do me the honor of sharing the salt with me when Mr. Darcy has had his fill? I find the potatoes a bit under seasoned, do you not agree?"
Caroline knew well that she had been caught at her unpleasant reverie, and she glared at him.
"Yes, Mama, you ought to speak with cook about it," she said as she dashed some salt on the offending vegetable and then passed the container to her left.
"No need to complain to your cook, Mrs. Newton," Mr. Rushton said. "Merely put a bit of salt on it, and the root takes on a new flavor."
Caroline issued him a most disapproving stare, and determined to draw Mr. Darcy into conversation, she turned to him. He was not presently engaged but sat quietly while his wife nattered on with Mr. Newton.
Now was the opportune moment to speak a few moments with Mr. Darcy, to rekindle a hint of the friendship they had shared, to prove that she was not so unworthy as to be sent away and ostracized forever from Pemberley.
Becoming mistress of Pemberley was already lost to her. Her only recourse now was to prove to Mr. Darcy that she had overcome the whole incident.
If only her plans with Mr. Charlton had come to fruition before their cursed arrival!
She would have been able to prove then that she had risen above him and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
She must show that she wished for a return to his society and nothing more.
The best topic of discussion--the one that had always seemed the easiest subject upon which to converse--was his sister Georgiana.
Caroline smiled at the thought of her. She truly liked the girl.
"Mr. Darcy," she said, turning to him with what she hoped was a conversational tone, "I have been intending to inquire after your dear sister. How does Miss Darcy do?"
He turned to her, his expression stoic. "Georgiana is in good health, thank you, Miss Bingley."
"Is she at Pemberley?"
"Yes, under the care of Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"Then, I am certain she fares well." Caroline nodded her approval. "Do you happen to know if she received my letter?"
Mr. Darcy's gaze became hooded, and Caroline could not tell what it might mean. "I cannot say if she did, but I shall certainly mention it."
"I thank you, Mr. Darcy, for I should be disappointed indeed to become disconnected from her. I have been much anticipating word from her."
Darcy did not speak, and Caroline was preparing to press on about the lack of written response when Elizabeth said, "She has been much occupied with her music."
Oh! Why would Elizabeth not keep to her own conversation? It was most vexing.
But rather than frowning, Caroline nodded and smiled at her. "I am so pleased to hear it."
"She has grown even more accomplished, has she not, Mrs. Darcy?" Mr. Darcy asked his wife.
Under the concealment of the table, Caroline's hands drew themselves into two tight fists, but her face remained calm and open, she hoped.
"Oh yes, she has quite blossomed." Elizabeth smiled, and Caroline could not tell whether it was self-deprecating or perhaps a bit of a challenge. "And that in spite of her insistence on my playing duets with her. I think you cannot but agree, Miss Bingley, that I have not Georgiana's musical talent."
Indeed, Caroline believed that Elizabeth had not one measure of musical superiority. She was on the verge of saying just as much to her, when she caught herself.
She must remember her priorities and not allow herself to be goaded into a battle of wits.
"I think there are few who can compare to Georgiana," Caroline said evenly.
She smiled at her own restraint and then her mother began to test it, by saying, "I do hope one day to meet Miss Darcy. Caroline has had nothing but praises for her and indeed for your estate at Pemberley."
Caroline noticed the smile playing about Elizabeth's lips as Mr. Darcy replied, "Miss Bingley is all kindness."
"Oh, you are far too modest, Mr. Darcy, for my daughter has told of its beauties. You must feel as if you live every day in paradise, Mrs. Darcy."
"I can honestly say, Mrs. Newton, that I never dreamed of being the mistress of such a house. I sometimes fear that I shall not live up to it."
Caroline clamped down on the reply that immediately leapt to her mind as her mother continued to salt her daughter's wounds unknowingly.
"I am certain that you shall. I have a gift for reading people, you know, and I can sense clearly that you are the perfect choice of bride for Mr. Darcy. Only observe how happy he is!"
Caroline glanced about the table as if looking for someone who might be able to come to her aid, but no one here suspected her feelings for Mr. Darcy, except Miss Elizabeth Bennet and she would offer no such help.
As she gazed about her, Caroline realized that Mr. Rushton seemed to be observing her far too closely for her comfort, so she looked quickly away. Her eyes happened to alight upon Rosemary, who also was watching her, but with an open, understanding expression, as if she might perhaps understand the pain her mother was causing her.
But that could not be, for she had not shared this humiliation with anyone. Rosemary could not know the details of what had passed between her and Mr. Darcy. She could, however, detect the tension in the room.
Even Mr. Newton seemed to notice that something was amiss, but he did not seem apt to comment upon it.
She only wished that someone might turn the conversation to a neutral topic, but no one seemed willing to attempt it.
No, she would find no help from her gathered family.
"Now, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Newton said, "you must tell me how you became acquainted with Mrs. Darcy. Did your first meeting occur at the ball where Charles met his bride?"
"It did, in fact, occur there, madam," Mr. Darcy said. And this was his only response.
Mrs. Newton was clearly waiting for more when Mr. Newton advised her. "Mr. Darcy, I think, is not one to divulge many details, my dear."
"Oh pooh! Everyone loves to recount a good romance." She turned to Elizabeth. "Surely, you will not be so shy as to withhold the story from me."
"No, indeed, madam, but I fear it is not a terribly interesting story. You see, Mr. Darcy and I did not like each other much upon first acquaintance."
"I cannot believe that at all, for look! Here you sit just as happy as can be."
"He improved upon further acquaintance," Elizabeth admitted.
Ha! Caroline thought. He improved upon her first discovering his estate at Pemberley!
"He did not even ask you to dance?" Mrs. Newton asked.
"No indeed." Elizabeth looked about the table. "I believe he danced only with your two daughters, for he was already acquainted with them."
"But one may be introduced to every so many lovely people at a ball," Mrs. Newton said as she sent a chiding look Mr. Darcy's way.
"That is exactly what I said to him then, Mrs. Newton, but I cannot fault him, for he does not care for country dances. And I forgive him for doing me the dishonor of not dancing with me, for I do not believe we spoke not a polite word toward or about each other the whole night through." Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with unconcealed joy, and added, "Besides, he has atoned for the great sin of wounding my pride."
Mrs. Newton appeared positively enchanted. "What a diverting story, Mrs. Darcy, but if you had such a difficult beginning, how ever did you manage to become wed?"
Elizabeth looked around the table. Her expression showed that she was not insensible to the awkwardness of the moment, but politeness demanded that she finish the tale. She chose her words carefully. "Well, it was a difficult journey, to be sure. In fact, many meetings were required before we were able to carry on a civil discussion. Even then, we had some impediments."
Caroline wondered if she made it a point not to look at her upon these words. Surely, Elizabeth had viewed her as an impediment at the very least.
She continued. "But in the end, Mr. Darcy revealed himself to be a true hero, and I found that I could not resist him."
"And now you are married and settled. What a lovely story!" Mrs. Newton then shifted her attention to her son, and Caroline knew what was forthcoming. She wished greatly to disappear beneath the table when she heard her mother ask, "But Charles, this was not the way of your romance was it? Who could look upon this dear creature and dislike her?"