Chapter Seventeen
My dear Caroline,
William reports that the repairs to our London home are coming along splendidly—perhaps no more than a month—so we shall expect you there soon. How delightful it will be to see you again, for I have much in the way of gossip to impart, and you must by now be starved for such delicious morsels! Derbyshire is a pleasant place, but I cannot understand your desire to sequester yourself from society during the best months of the season. You do yourself no favours.
Your affectionate sister,
Louisa
Mr Radcliffe’s carriage had been due to arrive at noon, but when half past the hour came and went without any sign of him, Caroline began to wonder whether he’d had some sort of terrible accident on the road. However, at precisely quarter to one, the familiar clip-clop of shod horses could be heard just outside. Caroline smoothed down her dress—the pretty green one she hadn’t worn to the lake party, which Georgiana had complimented so heartily—and they went out to greet him.
Without getting out of the carriage or apologising for the lateness of his arrival, Mr Radcliffe introduced them to his sister, a dark-haired lady perhaps a year or two his elder, with whom Georgiana seemed not to be acquainted at all. He politely refused all offers of tea and insisted that they climb aboard and be on their way at once, for he claimed to be famished.
“Where are we going?” Caroline asked once inside, aware that Mr Radcliffe had neither offered the information nor asked their preference.
“Only the very best place to eat luncheon in all of Derbyshire!” he cried, though he supplied no more clues to their destination than that. “Sister, do you remember when they used to serve the pea soup? With little pieces of ham floating in it?”
His sister agreed that she did indeed remember, and that while she had thought highly of it, she did not think the dish comparable to the lamb stew. Mr Radcliffe retorted that the lamb stew utterly paled into insignificance next to the roast venison, and the rest of the carriage ride continued in much the same way, with each dish being judged against the rest in a kind of culinary hierarchy, meaning that by the time they arrived, Caroline’s appetite was sharp enough to cut glass. Unfortunately, the inn, which had looked pleasant enough from the outside, had its interior ambience rather tainted by the heads of nearly a hundred stuffed and mounted animals, each staring glassily down on the diners as they ate. Caroline had seen a great number of hunting trophies displayed in fine homes over the years, but never to such a crowded degree. At the table they were led to, she was forced to inch her chair closer to Georgiana’s to avoid putting her elbow directly in a stuffed fox’s open mouth. Worse, there was a sad little rabbitat eye-height, which seemed to be almost as unhappy about being there as she was.
“Do not you think the place marvellous, Miss Bingley?” Mr Radcliffe asked.
Caroline hesitated long enough for Georgiana to nudge her under the table. “Am I to understand that hunting is one of your many interests, sir?” she asked.Kindness, not honesty, she reminded herself.You can do this.
“Indeed it is,” he said, his broad chest puffing up with manly pride. “There is nothing more pleasing to me than an excellent shot and a clean kill. Why, my home in Wales has thrice the number of trophies you see here. I have gunned down almost every animal you can think of.”
She could offer nothing more than a weak, “Oh?”
“Birds and beasts both,” he went on. “Everything from the finest stag to a plodding hedgehog. Hunting truly is the most glorious sport, Miss Bingley. Nothing can compare to it.”
Caroline bit her tongue to refrain from making any comment on how hedgehog execution seemed to her to be rather a pathetic pastime given how slowly the little creatures crawled, but before she could come up with something suitably polite, a server arrived at their table, and Mr Radcliffe ordered for all of them without consultation. Caroline made accidental eye contact with the stuffed rabbit again.Oh dear, it seemed to say.Murderous and presumptuous, two of your leastfavouritetraits.
Fighting rising panic, she swivelled further in her chair to get away from the brush of silky fur, which only brought her closer to Georgiana. Miss Darcy shot her an unreadable glance, which softened when she took in Caroline’s expression. “When will you be returning to Wales, Mr Radcliffe?” Georgiana asked.
“Immediately,” said he, turning to his sister, who was gazing adoringly at half a wolf on the opposite wall, posed as if it were in the process of leaping through stone. “Jemima is marrying a splendid fellow in a fortnight, and we have a few arrangements left to make.”
The ladies warmly congratulated Miss Radcliffe on her forthcoming nuptials, and the next few minutes were taken up with a description of her groom and the wedding party in general. “I am sure that you must both know the Walthropes already,” Miss Radcliffe added. “They are a fine old family, and very well spoken of.”
“I may have heard my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, mention them,” Georgiana supplied. “He has spent a little time in Wales and along the border in that part of the world.”
“A colonel, indeed?” Miss Radcliffe’s lip curled. “Ah. Well, I hope he has had the pleasure of meeting my husband-to-be, for he is, as my brother says, a very splendid gentleman.” Her words were pleasant enough, but the tone was noticeably cooler than it had been only a few moments prior.
Startled by this sudden rudeness, Caroline glanced at Georgiana. She had never met the cousin in question, though, of course, she had seen his portrait in the picture-gallery at Pemberley, along with his handsome sister; Colonel Fitzwilliam was the nephew of Lady Catherine de Burgh, the younger son of an earl and, while very respectable, the man did not have much in the way of fortune. Miss Darcy made no immediate reply and her face remained politely impassive, though Caroline could see her hands curling into fists under the table. Torn between defending the Darcys and her new habit of being polite whatever the cost, Caroline cast about desperately for something to say that could achieve both ends and came up empty-handed. The food arrived a moment later, providing a much-neededdistraction, and when the dishes were arranged to the Radcliffes’ liking and each one appropriately complimented on the look and smell, they were finally allowed to eat.
“The party at the lake was most enjoyable,” Caroline said, cutting up her venison. It was rather more well-done than she liked, but the Great Endeavour compelled her to appear agreeable, even inside this inn of horrors. Over Miss Radcliffe’s shoulder, a beady-eyed boar armed with two enormous tusks gaped at Caroline as if coveting her meat. “It is always so pleasant to meet new people.”
“Lady Lennox is an excellent woman,” Mr Radcliffe proclaimed. “And her husband is a capital horseman.”
“And the Chester sisters were delightful,” Caroline added, aware that Georgiana hadn’t said a word since the slight to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
The Radcliffes exchanged amused looks. “Really, Miss Bingley,” said Miss Radcliffe, “your cheerfulness in the face of what was undoubtedly banal conversation must be a testament to your disposition, which I think the sweetest I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
Beside Caroline, Georgiana quietly choked on a spoonful of soup. “That is a compliment which I certainly do not deserve,” Caroline said, kicking Georgiana under the table. At least Miss Darcy looked far less stiff now than she had a few minutes ago. “Though I thank you for your kind words. And, Mr Radcliffe, how did—”
“Those Chester girls are dreadful,” he interrupted. “You need not pretend in our company. One cannot hold her tongue, and the other is too afraid to say anything of note. I steer clear of them myself, and you ought to as well.”
Caroline had rather liked the Chesters, but even if she’d disliked them, they hardly deserved such outright criticism. She cast an eye at Georgiana, who spooned pea soup into her mouth with all the placidity of a cow chewing cud, though her knuckles were pale around the handle of her utensil. Perhaps the Great Endeavour had been going too well, for Caroline might have found such opinions amusing a few weeks ago. Now, all she felt was deep discomfort about the censure of young ladies who had only ever been friendly towards her.Wait, she thought, a horrible realisation dawning.Is this how my formerbehaviourappeared to others—critical and superior, without proper consideration given for virtues or accomplishments?
No wonder Georgiana had thought her a lost cause.
