Chapter Two
Caroline had to admit that the housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds, had outdone herself yet again. The drawing room was amply lit with two dozen candles in silver holders, each so polished that the flames looked like twice the number. Caroline had often seen Mrs Reynolds adjusting and readjusting said candlesticks—sometimes even with a measuring tape in hand to ensure that each adhered to precise intervals—and so, she knew only too well how careful the placement of each had been, yet the housekeeper’s positioning managed to look artful rather than uniform.
Two long tables had been brought into the drawing room and placed under the large windows which overlooked the south side of the estate. One table groaned under the weight of cold meats, cheeses, and four different types of cake, while yet another held platters of sweetmeats and pastries, including a large plate of Mr Darcy’s favourite apple puffs. Servants moved to and fro amongst the crowd, ensuring that each guest had a suitable drink and that everything was very much to everyone’s satisfaction. The party was larger than Caroline had expected—around thirty people, most of whom she recognised on sight as being friends of the Darcy family. Amongst them were severalgentlemen of her brother’s acquaintance, and she was obliged to conduct three separate—though equally tedious—conversations before she could reach the opposite end of the room, where Georgiana stood resplendent in a dove-grey gown.
Miss Darcy looked the very picture of elegance and beauty, though she had once complained to Caroline that this was her least favourite dress, for although the material shimmered and shone to wondrous advantage in the candlelight, it was almost unbearably itchy.
“Thank goodness,” she said, upon seeing Caroline emerge from the crowd. “Do distract me from this infernal dress or else I fear I shall tear it off right here and now.” From Georgiana’s lips, the threat seemed even more scandalous than it would have from anyone else’s.
“If it is really that bad, then why on earth are you wearing it?” Caroline inquired.
“It was a present from my brother,” said she. “A couple of hours of pain on my part seems a small price to pay for making him happy.” She rolled her shoulders, evidently repressing the desire to scratch. “Perhaps it will have an accident tomorrow after he is gone. Dresses sometimes fall into fires of their own accord, do they not?”
“Alas, the pattern of such unfortunate incidents is well known,” Caroline murmured. “A shame to waste something so gorgeous, though. Do they not say that beauty comes at a cost?”
“A price I am unwilling to pay, if it means enduring this.” Miss Darcy rolled her shoulders a second time, though the action seemed to offer little relief. “Good grief, it’s as if a thousand tiny insects have been ordered to nibble on my flesh. Only a man would purchase something so damned itchy. It’s not as if they have to put up with anything remotely similar.”
Caroline scanned the crowd again but was unable to locate a familiar figure with dark, curly hair. “Speaking of our guest of honour, where is he?”
“Oh, you just missed him. He’s gone off to show his new horse to Lord Braithwaite. Though I rather think he was looking for an excuse to leave the party for a while.” Georgiana shifted again, grimacing. “You know, he is never quite comfortable amongst a large crowd, even comprised of his friends.”
Surprised, Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Did not he invite these people in the first place?”
“Such a thing was expected of him, so he did it. One may say many things about we Darcys, but at least we always adhere to the standards society has set. However ridiculous they might be,” she added under her breath.
The unexpected bitter edge of Georgiana’s tone made Caroline glance at her, startled. Perhaps the itchiness of the dress was causing her ill-temper to escalate—but the next moment Miss Darcy was all smiles. “Mr Warwick, how lovely to see you!” she exclaimed, as a man stepped out of the crowd and came towards her. “I’m so glad you could make it. And where is your lovely daughter?”
The man bowed, smiling back. “Emmeline sends her apologies, Miss Darcy. I’m afraid she has rather a bad cold at the moment and regretfully did not feel she was fit to attend.”
“Oh dear. In that case, I shall have the cook send you home tonight with her special remedy. It is quite awful, I admit, but it will ensure that Emmeline’s cold will be cleared up in no time.” She turned, dropping her voice so that only Caroline could hear. “Unfortunately, I must leave you now to do my duty as hostess, whether I like it or not. There are still several acquaintances I have not yet welcomed.”
Caroline watched as Georgiana moved through the crowd, blushing and bestowing a sweet, shy smile on everyone who greeted her. A young man standing near the window gazed at Miss Darcy with clear admiration and only stopped when his companion jostled his elbow and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. The young man paled and stared into his wine glass.What on earth was that about?Caroline wondered. She had no time to investigate, though, for after a round of enthusiastic pleading begun by Mr Warwick, Georgiana finally acquiesced to play a song on the pianoforte.
Her voice was truly a delight—a pleasing, resonant timbre, not too high or shrill—and her range was most impressive. Caroline watched Georgiana’s fingers dance up and down the keys with incredible dexterity. She herself could play, of course, as all well-heeled young ladies ought, but very few could compare to Miss Darcy’s natural talents. Yet Georgiana bent her head as if checking the sheet music—strange, for Caroline had seen her play this piece a hundred times without ever needing to do so—and for a moment, the smile slipped from her face. When Miss Darcy lifted her head, however, the smile was back in place and as bright as ever.
Caroline shook herself.Silly.She must have imagined it.What young lady with such obvious talent would not want to be thecentreof attention? Particularly in front of an illustrious crowd who applauds her every move.After shouts of encouragement, Georgiana was obliged to play yet another song on the pianoforte, followed by a third on the harpsichord. As the last few notes of this third song faded away, Mr Darcy entered the room with Lord Braithwaite on his heels. Dressed in a black jacket and crisp white shirt, a black cravat tied perfectly at his throat, Darcy looked as handsome as ever.He would havebeen a perfect husband, Caroline thought.As perfect as a man could ever be, anyway.
“Brava!” Mr Darcy cried, gesturing to Georgiana, who shot him a grateful look before getting up. “What a talent my sister has, do you not agree?” He turned to the crowd. “Those closest to us will remember that she was playing before she could walk, though I confess I am glad she mastered the latter skill as well.”
The crowd laughed, turning their attention to Mr Darcy, each one congratulating him personally on his recent felicity in marriage. Despite Caroline’s feelings about his new wife, she crammed an apple puff into her mouth and circulated the room again, intent on reaching him to do the very same. Unfortunately, she managed to get no more than a few steps each time before being accosted by yet another gentleman who either knew her brother or father or both. The Bingleys were not such an old and revered family as the Darcys, of course, but they were wealthy and good-looking, which more than made up for the rest. It helped that Caroline’s brother and father were charming men who were extremely well-liked in all circles—a little too well-liked, in Caroline’s opinion.One should not seek to recommendone’s selfto everybody, but only to those whose acquaintance could benefit one in some way.Anything else is really a waste of one’s time and energy.
Charles had never understood that idea, and had frequently protested that everyone, regardless of status, deserved equal kindness. Mr Darcy, on the other hand, had shared Caroline’s sensible opinion up until the point where he’d met Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Soon afterwards, he had changed for the worse, altering his former strict judgements into more kind, liberal ones. Really, it was enough to make one feel quite sick.
As a captain from the local militia regaled her with tales of his exploits, Caroline nodded, though her mind was entirelyelsewhere.What could Darcy possibly see in Miss Elizabeth Bennet?The girl was pretty, certainly, though nowhere near being a true beauty like her sister Jane. Her tongue was sharp, though Caroline had never heard her actually insult anyone. She was obstinate and bold, which had been evident from the first—imagine walking miles in the rain and mud on your own two legs just to confirm that your sister had a mild cold!—and these untoward traits had been verified by Lady Catherine’s tale of their brief meeting. Caroline had only a passing acquaintance with the de Bourghs through the Darcys, but that had been quite enough. Anyone standing up to the might and manner of the old battleaxe was certainly no coward. Caroline herself would rather have faced an actual dragon if given the choice; at least a dragon could only take your life, whereas Lady Catherine could murder your good name.
“And then later, I was faced with even worse peril,” the captain declared. “My ship was a little damaged, for you remember, the cannons which we fired at the raiders had been returned in kind and—”
“Goodness gracious, how lovely,” Caroline said absently, forcing a pleasant smile. She hadn’t heard a word of the previous story and didn’t intend to listen to this one either. “Do tell me more.”
Perhaps it had been the bravery Miss Elizabeth Bennet had shown in the face of Lady Catherine’s wrath which impressed Darcy so much. Perhaps there had been other moments to which Caroline had not been privy, where Miss Bennet had bewitched the gentleman with unsuitable and unladylike attributes. Confidence where there ought to have been coyness. Wit where there ought to have been demurity. Truculence where there ought to have been obedience.
Seduction where there ought to have been modesty.
Caroline scowled, then remembered she was supposed to be listening with rapt attention and corrected her expression to one of polite wonder. To think that all these traits might have combined to form a woman which Darcy thought not only pleasing but actually desirable was baffling in the extreme. Really, it was deeply frustrating not to know precisely how or why the pair had made their match.
And why did it not happen with me?
Caroline downed her second glass of wine, then picked up a third. By the time she was halfway through yet another piece of spiced honey cake, the green irritation festering in her stomach had blossomed into full-grown maggots, wriggling around in pale discomfort. When the guests had begun to disperse in twos and threes, shaking hands and calling farewells to their neighbours, Caroline approached Mr Darcy with a sunny countenance plastered onto her face that she certainly did not feel.
