Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (9 page)

"Women are, more often than not, left to pick up where their masculine counterparts have fallen short," Caroline said. "Of course, we do not receive credit for our actions. But by all accounts, you have succeeded, Lavinia. I am certain your son will do the title credit."

Then, only because it was the polite conversation topic, she inquired after Samuel. It was Caroline's experience that mothers found no greater pleasure than discussing their children, and opening the subject resulted in long discussions of such things as spittle, babble, and random excreta that, relating to an adult, would have been highly improper.

Apparently, Lavinia was not like other mothers, for she quickly looked around as though Caroline's mention of her young son would cause him to appear. "He is well and with his nurse, I should hope."

"Is he very much grown?"

"Oh, indeed he is. It seemed that he crawled for no longer than a week before he began to walk, and from there, he started running all about Oak Park. I do so love the boy." Lavinia sighed. "But I confess that I much preferred him when I could hold him in my arms like a little doll. But now he is up and dashing about the house. I quite fear for my upholstery."

Caroline felt that perhaps Lavinia wished to discuss another subject, and she did not mind a change in conversation. Children in general were lovely, and they ensured the survival of the family name and property, but one could not speak of them everlastingly.

Caroline caressed the arm of the sofa. "It is lovely fabric."

"Do you like it? I ordered it from the continent, and William did not approve of the expenditure. He ranted for days that the pattern was hideous enough to be hanging in the windows of a squalid coaching inn, but I believe it has quite grown on him now. Why just yesterday, he commented...."

Lavinia spoke on about the fabric for some minutes before a pause came into the conversation. Caroline was preparing to inquire again after Mr. Winton, Lavinia's absent husband, but instead, her friend turned to the topic Caroline had wished to avoid: "I must tell you that when you wrote of your..."--here, Lavinia paused as if searching for the correct noun--"...circumstances, I was incensed on your behalf."

"I thank you." Caroline lowered her eyes and began to wonder if her hastily dashed missive to her old friend had been a wise idea. She had been desperate to find someone who might share her outrage over her expulsion from Netherfield, but perhaps she had shared too much.

No, that could not be the case, for it was right and proper to have divulged her anger and distress to a friend as dear as Lavinia. And it was not as if she had shared her full humiliation regarding Mr. Darcy. No, she had perhaps hinted that she had once had hopes in his direction, but she was certain that her friend was unaware of her true feelings on that subject.

"Abominable the way your siblings have treated you," Lavinia continued. Her voice seemed inordinately loud, and Caroline looked about her. She had no desire to discuss her situation so openly with her mother in the house.

Had she happened to hear? Had anyone in the household not heard?

"Quite so," Caroline agreed more quietly.

"Now, I must know all the details of the situation that brought you to us, for your last letter was too vague for my tastes. What occurred to cause your family to behave so abusively?"

Caroline attempted to meet Lavinia's gaze steadily, but she could not manage it and looked away. The story was far too embarrassing to be shared. "It is hardly even worth a sentence or two, much less an entire discussion."

"I can see very well that you have been injured over the matter."

"Injured! No, indeed. I am outraged." Caroline knew very well that Lavinia was baiting her into divulging her secrets, but she did not care. She suddenly needed to commiserate with someone. "I have done nothing except that which any well-bred woman would do to protect those she loves. And that is all there is to the matter: I rightly opposed Charles's marriage to Jane Bennet and attempted to separate them, and now they are angry with me."

Lavinia sat up straighter, giving the appearance of being incensed for her friend. "You did only what you believed to be right. I would have done nothing less had I believed an unsuitable woman cast her eye on Harold. Or even William. They really ought to forgive you."

"But there is nothing that requires their forgiveness! I was protecting my brother from a social climber."

"Of course you were, my dear. We must be careful of our brothers, must we not? Else they would all marry inappropriate women."

Caroline was about to make a suitable reply when she heard her mother's voice in the hallway. "We are grateful for the turn about your sculpture gallery, Mr. Charlton, but I fear we have intruded upon your time long enough."

As the party entered the sitting room, Lavinia asked with a rather blase tone, "Oh dear, must you go?"

"I fear we must."

"I am sorry to hear that," Mr. Charlton said. "Lavinia, shall we not escort our guests to their conveyance?"

"Indeed." The response came with little energy, but Lavinia stood, and when Caroline did the same, she interlaced their arms together.

As they walked through the marble entry and toward the door, Caroline looked at Lavinia with some trepidation, which she hoped was well concealed. Would Lavinia issue an invitation? To dine? To drive? To do anything? Caroline would accept any of them.

Certainly, Lavinia would not snub her, for they were schoolfellows and friends and had just shared intimate conversation.

But now, as Mr. Charlton assisted her mother into the coach, it was almost too late. She was right behind and would soon be trapped within and back on her way to Newton House.

Finally, the words of salvation came from the lips of Mr. Charlton. "My sister and I would be delighted if you would join our dinner party on Thursday. Everyone in the county is to be present."

Only then did he look to his sister for approval.

From her vantage point on the stairs, Lavinia looked down upon them all. Her features were schooled into elegant perfection, and only the barest hint of a smile appeared on her face as she said, "Yes, indeed, you are most welcome."

"And do bring Mr. Newton and Mr. Rushton along. Would that suit you, ladies?" Mr. Charlton added as he took Caroline's hand and assisted her into the coach.

"We are honored, sir," Caroline said, looking upon Mr. Charlton with new eyes.

The idea that had begun to edge its way into her mind earlier struck her with full force. Yes, here, right before her, was a most tempting situation.

Here was an unwed gentleman who would one day inherit a barony, and he was ripe for the taking. Indeed, he possessed all to which any woman might aspire: land, an ancient family, and a title.

A smile spread across Caroline's face, and she studied him from underneath her eyelashes. Certainly, he was a well-looking man: clean, properly attired, and unspoiled by the stench of trade.

She must admit to having never thought upon him with such designs when he was but the second son, scampering about England and leaving his reputation in tatters. Of course, in the eyes of the elite, a bit of a sullied character was perfectly acceptable.

As if sensing the course of her contemplation, Mr. Charlton turned his dark eyes upon her. Caroline leaned her head away with as much coyness as she could muster given her current turn of thought.

Yes, this would solve all her problems. A union with Mr. Charlton would accomplish so much. She would no longer be required to humiliate herself by groveling before Miss Elizabeth Bennet in order to return to her former life. Her welcome at Pemberley would be renewed simply by virtue of the fact that she would one day be Lady Charlton, and who would not want the wife of a baron in their household? Her brother and sister would again invite her into their company, and finally, finally, she would be able to rest comfortably in the fact that all her education, improvements, and accomplishments would prove her worthy. She would be shed of the yoke of the middling classes, and her family's legacy would be secure.

Seven

"What an unfortunate evening for Mrs. Winton's dinner party," Caroline said more to herself than to the other occupants of Mr. Newton's coach. "The weather has ruined everything, and we shall arrive quite soaked through."

Showers had been threatening all day, and by the time the good people of Newton House pointed their carriage in the direction of Oak Park, rain was descending from the sky in cords.

Foul weather was quite a vexing prospect, for Caroline had been many hours at her dressing table and had used the service of more than one of her mother's maids in preparing her clothing and coiffure for the evening. She wanted to be certain that every nuance of her appearance was perfect, and as near as she could tell in the smallish looking glass in her bedchamber, she had accomplished her goal.

She had chosen every article of clothing to accentuate the fact that she was no longer a little girl. She could not afford to be viewed as nothing more than the youngest child of a neighboring family. She must be seen as a woman, capable and accomplished.

Yet she must also be seen as fresh and youthful, and so she had chosen to arrange her hair in ringlets, which she had always fancied as the most becoming option. Instead of the ostentatious hair adornments she had chosen in London, Caroline opted for three strings of pearls to be woven through her tresses. The effect was most pleasing. She appeared both mature enough to be considered for marriage to a baron and young enough not to be perceived as being in danger of imminent old-maidenhood.

It had been a delicate balance to achieve.

And now it was raining, and all her preparation would be for naught if her hair were to be ruined.

Across from her in the carriage, Mr. Rushton glanced at her with a sardonic eye and responded to her complaint about the weather, saying, "Yes, Miss Bingley, we shall all catch our deaths from mild discomfort."

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him. "You deliberately misunderstand me. I meant only that Mrs. Winton has chosen an ill night for a party."

"I misunderstand nothing." His blue eyes held a knowing quality that vexed her greatly. "I understand very well to what you were referring. You feared for your silken slippers in all this mud, did you not?"

"Indeed, I did not," she said truthfully, for she had feared for her hair.

His gaze had traveled to the slippers in question, and Caroline pulled her feet into a position that she hoped was out of his view, for she did not relish the idea of his looking at so intimate a detail of her person.

He did not respond, but only looked at her with a hint of a smile playing about his lips.

"I meant, Mr. Rushton," she said, adopting her most superior tone, "that weather of this sort does nothing for one's demeanor or digestion."

"I am sure that the rain may also be blamed if the evening's selection of meats should turn out to be overcooked."

"Do not be absurd, Mr. Rushton. Poorly prepared food has nothing to do with climatic issues. Surely, that may be blamed on the servants."

"Surely." He then lapsed into silence, but he continued to look at her with the hint of a smile. Caroline met his stare for as long as she thought proper and then glanced away, returning again to her previous musings.

Worse than weather and the possibility of overcooked meat was Caroline's trepidation of meeting again with Mr. Charlton and his guests in the presence of her less-than-socially-apt party. Would her tenuous association with the foremost family in the neighborhood survive the combination of Mr. Newton and Mr. Rushton? Would Mrs. Pickersgill behave as a proper companion and remain pleasantly silent for the duration of the evening?

One glance at Mrs. Pickersgill in her evening ensemble told her that she made a refined, if somewhat uncooperative, picture. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, but her smirk showed how much she had relished the exchange between Caroline and Mr. Rushton. It could be a bad omen if one's companion took so much pleasure in seeing her mistress thus challenged by a gentleman of the middling classes.

Caroline then looked to Mr. Newton, who was as he ever was: largely untouched by any social graces. He sat with a broad smile on his face as he looped an arm around Mrs. Newton and whispered something to her.

Caroline wished very much that he would behave like a gentleman, and she was tempted to say just that. But her mother appeared so happy and at ease that she could not bring herself to disturb her.

Mr. Rushton was not her responsibility, and she would do her best to dissociate from him as soon as was prudent.

When their party arrived at Oak Park, servants greeted them at the coach with umbrellas. Caroline found the entire disembarkation process to be rather untoward as she endeavored to stay out of the blowing rain, all the while dodging puddles, which would certainly ruin several pairs of ladies' silk slippers before the night was through, just as Mr. Rushton had suggested.

Caroline felt a presence at her elbow and found Mr. Rushton there. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Allow me to help protect your slippers, Miss Bingley, for we simply cannot have them ruined."

Before she gave him leave to assist her physically, his hands grasped her elbow and helped her navigate the path to the door.

Once they had gained footing on the stone staircase of Oak Park, Mr. Rushton shifted slightly, and Caroline found her hand resting demurely on his forearm. Unaware of precisely how she had come to be in that position, Caroline began to experience growing horror at the prospect of entering the house on Mr. Rushton's arm. It would be better to enter unescorted than to be seen on the arm of a gentleman who was a known fortune hunter.

As they ascended the steps, she fought the temptation to shake herself free of him, but it would not do to behave in such a way in so close a proximity to Lavinia and Mr. Charlton or their guests.

She glanced at Mr. Rushton and was even more appalled to find that he was watching her with an expression of amusement. He knew precisely what he was about by putting her in this position, and he was relishing her reaction.

Well!

She tightened her fingers on his arm, feeling the rasp of the fabric of his coat against her kid gloves. "Your assistance is no longer required, Mr. Rushton, and I should thank you to concern yourself with Mrs. Pickersgill's slippers if you are so intent upon being the savior of ladies' footwear, for owning only one good pair, I am certain she would appreciate having them protected from the elements."

Mr. Rushton did not appear to be influenced by her command in the least and only smirked at her. He was clearly aware of her intentions to remove him from her presence, but he was not offended at all. In fact, he seemed to find the situation rather droll, and that mystified Caroline. He ought to be a great deal angrier or perhaps embarrassed at her desire not to enter Oak Park on his arm.

Caroline shook her head slightly at him and continued toward the comparatively arid environment of the entrance hall. She attempted to retain as much dignity as possible as she slipped and slid across the polished stone floors and toward the receiving line.

Mr. Rushton steadied her with a hand to her elbow and laughter in his eyes. "You see, Miss Bingley, if I had acceded to your demands, you would have ended in a puddle on the floor. Now, are you not pleased that I ignored your foolishness?"

Curse Mr. Rushton!

"Indeed, I am not thankful," she said quietly as she pulled herself away from him. Then, louder, she added, "Your services are no longer required as I am on dry ground now, Mr. Rushton."

Based on his jovial countenance as he looked upon her unsteadiness, he could not have been more unconcerned about her treatment of him. He only looked at her with bright blue eyes.

It was unnerving.

Well, she would not look upon him any longer!

Instead, she concentrated on the receiving line.

In total, four and twenty guests had arrived at Oak Park, and to her consternation, Caroline discovered that the number of ladies and gentlemen was unequal, which would make the seating arrangements at dinner a tedious affair, for no female guest had the least desire of being seated beside another lady.

Caroline put the dining dilemma from her mind, trusting that Lavinia would see that she was adequately seated. Instead, she tried her utmost to remember the names and ranks of each person to whom she was introduced, be they lady or gentleman. She had learned that it was to one's best interest to remember as much as possible, for one never knew who might become important in the future.

Of highest consequence, of course, was the Dowager Lady Kentworth, who was adorned in a bulbous gown of copper-colored silk. Caroline found her an awfully small woman to be able to carry such a dress, not to mention such a lofty title, but she seemed to have a keen eye. The older lady appeared to approve of Caroline based upon their introduction alone. After studying her entire appearance from the tips of her slippers to the ringlets in her hair, the Dowager Lady Kentworth had given her a nod accompanied with the words "Very nice, my dear."

Most of the other guests were distinguished in their own ways. They seemed either to be wealthy, from a titled family of an adjacent county, or both. At the very least, most stood to inherit or marry into fortunes or titles. It was the finest society the country could offer.

Caroline wondered again how her little party would fare among such company. It was a testament to her long-standing friendship with Lavinia that they had been invited at all, for though Mr. Newton was quite one of the wealthiest men in the county, his money was incorrectly gained.

Though Caroline herself was used to moving in the finest circles in Town, her family party certainly was not. When seen in the company of the gathered assembly, they seemed slightly out of sorts. As she surveyed those who were sequestered in the large drawing room for aperitifs and conversation before dinner, it was obvious that her family's clothing was not quite correct and their manners were altogether too relaxed. Mrs. Pickersgill and Mr. Rushton blended somewhat more convincingly, perhaps because they were both youthful and therefore more easily adaptable. That must be the case, for Mrs. Pickersgill's dress was rather plain and Mr. Rushton, well, he was a great nuisance.

Her mother and Mr. Newton, however, had drawn no small amount of attention to themselves already.

They appeared to be conversing with the Dowager Lady Kentworth, and a group of onlookers had gathered around them.

Oh dear.

That could not bode well.

Before Caroline could cross the room to smooth the situation, Mr. Charlton appeared beside her.

"Good evening, Miss Bingley," he said with a bow.

Caroline returned his greeting with a curtsey.

"I observed you here alone, and I had the greatest desire to escape my duties for a few moments." He leaned in closer and whispered, "I am required to dine with the Dowager Lady Kentworth this evening, and I can think of nothing duller than listening to the old lady drone about the past."

Caroline smiled. Mr. Charlton's face was still rather near to hers, and she was able to study him at close proximity. He was a well-looking gentleman indeed, even at such a short distance, which often revealed flaws that could remain unobserved in more distant circumstances. His skin was clear and glowed with health and vigor, and his eyes were framed by the longest eyelashes she had ever seen. Overall, he exuded a charm that was not wholly unappealing to her. "It is impolitic to say such a thing about a woman of such high rank, but," she said as she leaned closer still and inhaled his cologne, "having said that, I do not envy your position."

His grin turned conspiratorial. "Ah! I knew you would agree with me. And now, allow me to ensure for you a slightly more appetizing meal. An aperitif? A glass of sherry?"

She would not have turned down any suggestion he made, and he returned with two small glasses of sherry and his open smile. "Now we can be assured of a truly appetizing meal, for we have had the correct beginning."