She noted through the window
overlooking her sister’s favorite garden that it was a beautiful fall morning,
the leaves of the oak trees a riotous flame of red and orange. October was just
around the corner and her good mood, which had been in evidence since late
August, showed no sign of wavering. She’d even gone to church the day prior for
mass and enjoyed the hymns, although the bishop nearly bored her to tears.
As she fussed with her morning
meal, she mentally ticked off plans she and her brother had for the upcoming
week. Charles had papers to sign with their lawyer to quit the lease at
Netherfield Park and she had a fitting with Madam Beaufort before the much
anticipated Annual Michaelmas Ball at Lady Addleworth’s mansion.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was sure to
attend the ball. He and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who’d arrived in Town
the other day, were spending an inordinate amount of time with Charles. She
hoped it was because Charles finally decided to pursue an arrangement with Miss
Georgiana Darcy. Darcy and the good Colonel, as her guardians, would finalize
the articles of marriage as well as details of the dowry. With luck Charles
would announce their engagement before the ball and with his shy little sister
taken care of, Mr. Darcy could finally concentrate on his own happiness.
At last Charles was safe from Miss
Jane Bennet, although he’d been reminded of her when they had the misfortune of
running into her sister Elizabeth at Pemberley this past August. For a few days
she’d worried Darcy might continue to grow in affection for the well-tanned
miss with muddy hems and ‘fine eyes’, but fortunately she exited Derbyshire
rather abruptly the very next day. Caroline did not need the ever-present Miss
Bennet to ruin her plans for Charles and Georgiana as well as those for
herself. After three long years of careful planning, she would not be denied
her future by a girl of little consequence.
How she longed to be Mistress of
Pemberley. To have others look to her for guidance, to run the household the
way it should. First order of business would be to dismiss Mrs. Reynolds. The
housekeeper was by far too smug and too familiar with Mr. Darcy. In fact, she
let anyone who knocked on the door run amok within the house and on the
grounds. Such behavior would cease the minute she and Mr. Darcy exchanged vows.
Pemberley needed a strong hand to run efficiently and she had the fortitude to
make it happen.
She bit into a light-as-air
croissant and sighed. This was her only indulgence, otherwise the dress Madame
Beaufort designed would never fit and she needed to look spectacular the night
of the ball. Darcy would propose before night’s end or her name wasn’t Caroline
Anastasia Bingley.
Their butler, Hobson, entered the
room with a slight bow and signaled the footmen to remove the food trays. A
light frown creased her forehead. Her sister Louisa took breakfast in bed and
Mr. Hurst rarely awakened before noon, but surely Charles would be annoyed if
he came down and there were no sausages and eggs readily available.
“Has Mr. Bingley been down to break
his fast?”
“No, Miss. He left at first light
with Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Astonished, she set
down her tea cup. “Did he say where they were going?”
“I believe he said they were going
to Hertfordshire, ma’am.”
Laden with heavy trays, the footmen
exited the room and with another slight bow the butler followed.
“Hertfordshire,” she mused aloud.
“Why on earth would they go to Hertfordshire?”
Her mind whirled with
possibilities. Charles may have decided to complete a final inspection of
Netherfield Park before signing over the lease. She gave her head a quick shake
at the thought. They had a perfectly good steward who took care of those
details. And why would Darcy attend with him? Puzzled, she finished her
croissant and tea before daintily dabbing her mouth with a linen napkin upon
completion.
First thing, before attending her
fitting, she’d write her brother a letter and remind him of his duties and
engagements in London. The last thing she needed was for Charles to
inadvertently come across the ever amiable and angelic Miss Jane Bennet. Although
convinced his desires no longer lay in that direction, she did not want to take
the chance he might second guess his decision to quit Netherfield Park and
Hertfordshire for good.
She took small comfort in the fact
Darcy was along for the journey. If anyone could keep Charles from becoming
entangled with a family of no social standing, and with the silliest of women
in all of England for a mother, it would be Darcy. After all, it was he who
helped convince her brother marrying Jane Bennet would have been social
suicide, and not a moment too soon. After the ball at Netherfield, Charles was
clearly besotted and it took the whole next day to convince him Jane Bennet did
not have the same regard for him. Based on the mother’s words and actions, her
eldest was nothing more than a beautiful fortune hunter.
Satisfied all would be well,
Caroline left the morning room and made her way to an ornate escritoire. Within
minutes she’d penned a quick missive, sanded and blotted the heavy personalized
vellum and skimmed the contents to make sure she hadn’t missed a thing.
Grosvenor
Street, London
September
14, 1812
Dearest
Charles,
How wonderful you are attending Netherfield
Park one last time before quitting it. Make sure you have not left a stray
cravat lying about.
I
am but teasing, sweet brother. However, I do want to remind you in the most
loving way possible, of your appointment with our solicitor this Thursday. As
well, Lady Addleworth’s Annual Michaelmas Ball, which isn’t until the following
Tuesday, but there is much to do beforehand. Where would you be if I did not
attend to your social calendar? I am so looking forward to this event as every
one of our friends shall be in attendance. This will be a grand affair.
Hoping
this letter finds you in good health. Give my warmest regards to Darcy.
Your
loving sister,
Caroline
She sealed and addressed the letter
before handing it off to Hobson for mailing. Satisfied her subtle direction
would nudge Charles home quickly, she called to have a carriage brought round.
Nothing and no one would interfere with her carefully laid plans.
Later in
the week…
“Has my sister risen from her bed?”
Caroline asked Hobson before handing her pelisse and gloves to her maid, Lucy.
She’d returned from visiting Lady Miranda Blake, a thin scrap of a woman she’d
met a few weeks prior through their mutual acquaintance, Miss Grantley. Lady
Miranda’s father was only a Baron, but every step into higher circles of
Society brought her closer to becoming Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. Her social
resume would be impeccable when he finally proposed.
“She is in the front parlor.”
“Lucy, lay out the dress we agreed
upon for tonight. I shall be dining with Baron Blake’s family and want no
wrinkles in the skirt this time.”
“Yes, Miss.” Lucy gave a polite
curtsy and proceeded upstairs with Caroline’s pelisse and gloves.
“Have Bentley bring in some tea and
cakes,” she told Hobson, who’d closed the front door and now waited for her to
leave the foyer.
“Yes, Miss.”
Without a word of thank you, or even
a polite nod at their long-time servant she breezed into the parlor. Louisa
remained seated on a heavily tufted chair by the fireplace, her feet propped up
on a small stool.
“Ah, Caroline. You have come home
at last. I was dreadfully bored.”
“Good afternoon, Louisa.” Caroline
settled on the settee across from Louisa. “I hope you do not mind, I asked
Bentley to bring in tea.”
“That is fine, dear. You always
think of everything.” Louisa slouched back against the chair with a huge sigh.
“La, I am exhausted. I arose but an hour ago.”
“You have been exhausted a lot, as
of late,” Caroline observed, noting the slight pallor of Louisa’s complexion.
“You may want to stay home a few evenings this week. You look like a washed-out
rag.”
“What, and miss all the fun? As you
know, Mr. Hurst and I attended a dinner party hosted by Lord Waverly, the
Marquis of Dorchester.” Louisa sat erect and leaned toward Caroline. “He gave
us a tour of his home and I saw his coronet!”
“How droll, Louisa. As if I care
about a ceremonial hat.”
“Do not put on your airs with me.”
Louisa said, a mutinous look crossing her face. “I know for a fact you have
been vying for an invitation to one of his soirees for months.”
Caroline bit the inside of her
cheek to keep from retorting. Everything Louisa stated was true, but pride
demanded she maintain a semblance of ennui. If she wished to move among the ton, she needed to emulate their disdain
for anyone beneath them.
“Enough of the Marquis, have you
heard from Charles? He did not attend his lawyer’s appointment this morning.”
“No, I have not, but then Charles
is terrible at keeping Mr. Hurst and I in the know of his comings and goings.”
She picked out a sugared candy from the bowl on the table beside her chair and
bit into it. Around the candy, she mumbled, “Do you know where he is?”
“Did I not tell you? How remiss of
me. He went to Hertfordshire with Darcy.”
“Hertfordshire!” Pieces of candy flew
out of Louisa’s mouth, which she quickly brushed off her lap onto the carpet.
“Why on earth would they go there?”
“I do not know. They left this past
Monday.” Caroline eyed the half-chewed sticky mass on the floor and with great
determination turned her focus back to Louisa. Not for the first time she
wished her sister would not speak with her mouth full. In front of the wrong
person, she could be mistaken for an uncouth gentlewoman, on par with Mrs.
Bennet. “Lord knows there is nothing there except cows, chickens and those who
tend them. I almost burst into song the day we shook the dust of Hertfordshire
and Meryton off our shoes.”
“He probably inspected Netherfield
Park one last time. You know how he loved that house.”
Neither of them needed to add he’d
loved more than the house at Netherfield.
“Yes, he did, but why has he not
written back?” Caroline ignored an internal twinge at the reminder of how
despondent their malleable brother had become and the unspoken reason why. “I
sent a missive as soon as I learned of their departure. Surely he has received
it by now.”
“He and Darcy may have gone on to
Pemberley, intending to return the day of the ball,” Louisa offered hopefully.
“It’s a two-day trip from Hertfordshire to Derbyshire. Not much time to draft and
post a letter and we all know how Charles abhors writing.”
“What you say is true.” Caroline stood
and paced toward the window. She barely noticed the busy street with grand
carriages parading up and down. Her mind was troubled by Charles’ lack of response.
What if he hadn’t gone to Pemberley and instead tarried in Hertfordshire? The
longer he dallied, the more apt he was to stumble across Miss Jane Bennet and
that could be disastrous.
She turned at the rattling of a
tray and watched as Bentley lowered the ornate silver tea set onto the small
table in front of the couch. With a slight bow he took his leave, closing the
door carefully behind him.
“Come, Caroline,” Louisa said as
she poured tea into their waiting cups. “We’ll find out soon enough what Charles
has been up to. Until that time, let me tell you who was at the Marquis’
dinner.”
