“Perfectly fine,” the girl said stoutly. “I am forever falling over things which are there, as well as things which are not.”
“Miss Bingley, allow me to introduce Miss Emily Chester,” Georgiana said, smiling, “and Miss Laurel Chester. We have met but twice before, have we not?”
“Indeed,” Miss Laurel agreed. “Though it is our wish to get to know you far better, Miss Darcy. Not”—she threw a reproachful glance at her sister, who looked sheepish—“by tumbling into your acquaintances, let it be said.”
Georgiana smiled. “But that is how one meets half of the most interesting people in all of England, is it not?” She turned back to Caroline. “It is said that Miss Emily Chester knows everything about every family of note in the entire country.”
“Is that so?” Caroline said, looking at the younger Miss Chester with renewed interest. “What can you tell me about my brother, Charles Bingley?”
“Worth five thousand a year, recently married to a Miss Jane Bennet,” the girl rattled off. “Resides at Netherfield Park just outside of Meryton. Very well-liked and always spoken of in glowing terms.”
“Handsome, too,” Miss Laurel added. “For I saw him at a ball in London, and he was very pleasing to the eye. I see that beauty runs in the family, Miss Bingley. You do not have any unmarried brothers that are in need of wives, perchance?”
“You are too kind,” Caroline said, smiling, for the praise seemed genuine enough. “I fear my beauty hardly compares next to Miss Darcy. And I’m afraid I have only the one brother to spare, and as you know, he is already married.”
“You know she only has one brother,” Miss Emily whispered to Miss Laurel, loud enough for Caroline to hear.
“Remember your niceties, Em,” her sister muttered, shooting her another sharp look.
“This party is well-attended indeed,” Georgiana said smoothly, drawing their attention. “There are three earls and a baron. Oh, and a viscount too—Lord Ashbrook. I saw him talking with Lady Lennox earlier.”
“Ashbrook?” Caroline repeated. The name sounded familiar, though she couldn’t think why.
“Over there, under the large oak tree,” Miss Laurel said. “He’s the one in the blue coat.”
The fair-haired viscount in question was standing with an equally fair-haired young man, though he did not seem to really be paying much attention to his companion’s conversation and instead was staring into the crowd with an expression of deepest yearning. If pressed, Caroline would have guessed the lord was no more than eight-and-twenty, though he had the solemn, sad countenance of a man ten years his senior. The freckled boy was perhaps nine-and-ten, therefore surely could not be the viscount’s son. Scenting intrigue, Caroline tried to follow Ashbrook’s gaze, but it was impossible to tell who might have caught his attention. For a moment, as if feeling the weight of her gaze, his face turned towards her. She met his eye with interest, noting the full lips, the handsome set of his jaw, before he turned away again. From this distance, he could have been mistaken for being Georgiana’s brother; the resemblance was striking.
“I say, he is rather fine, is he not?” Caroline said. “He might be the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.”
“I must agree.” Miss Laurel giggled. “He is considered thebest catch for miles around, though no feminine angler has been able to ensnare him yet.”
“Miss Chester, what can you tell us about Mr Radcliffe?” Georgiana asked abruptly, indicating the man in question with a slight jerk of her chin in his direction.
Caroline had almost forgotten about Mr Radcliffe’s existence.Focus on the Great Endeavour, she reminded herself,not on extremely handsome lords whose attentions have evidently been caught elsewhere.I need a fish without a hook already embedded in its cheek.
Miss Emily looked delighted to be able to prove her skills yet again. “He is the owner of a large estate down in Wales. He is worth about three thousand a year. He won races for Oxford every year that he attended, though any man here could have told you that fact.”
Caroline could already hear her mother’s pronouncement on the subject:A suitable catch indeed. Mr Radcliffe was looking more and more promising by the minute.
“He was previously married,” Miss Emily continued, “but his wife died after only two years.”
Miss Laurel shot her a warning glance. “That’ll do, Em.”
“In childbirth—”
“That will do!” Miss Laurel snapped.
“And the baby died, too,” Miss Emily mumbled, shooting an apologetic glance at her sister. “My apologies, but you know I cannot stop mid-stream.”
“So he is a widower with no children?” Caroline asked, forestalling further bickering.How perfect.Not for him, of course, but his circumstances suited her very well indeed.
They passed the next half hour testing Miss Emily’s capacity, with results that amused Caroline and elicited a few moreglares from Miss Laurel. Caroline did not really see what the problem was; the girl had a tendency to be a little overly honest in her statements, but since they were all gossiping together, it hardly seemed to matter. Too many people in society placed importance on not uttering their true beliefs or waiting until they had ascertained what the majority thought in order to fall in line, and Caroline found herself appreciating Miss Emily’s candour.
By the time the sun was highest in the sky, the men began to gather near the pier, some removing their jackets and loosening their cravats in preparation for the race. Mr Radcliffe’s tight shirt did very little to hide his bulging muscles, and several ladies—both married and unmarried—seemed to find their eyes inexplicably drawn to his figure as he neatly stepped into his boat and took his seat. Caroline appraised his figure studiously, though her lustful urges seemed to have dissipated for the moment, and wondered what her mother would make of him. Three thousand a year was not to be sniffed at, though it would probably fall short of Mrs Bingley’s expectation for her last unmarried child.
Caroline was surprised when the rowers began leisurely making their way across the lake with long, slow strokes of their paddles. Presumably they had decided to make the event more dramatic for everyone else by rowing to the other side first as a warm-up exercise before racing back towards the crowd on the southern shore. The boats reached the northern shore and milled around before arranging themselves into a neat line, evenly spaced so that no rower would be in danger of crashing into another. Good-natured shouts drifted back over the water, though they were too far away for her to clearly make out what was said.
A cry went up, though she knew not from whom, and the rowers were off, skimming across the water with powerful strokes. Caroline peered into the distance, shading her eyes from the glare of the sunshine. A welcome relief fell over her face as Georgiana provided a parasol.
