“They remind me a little of Mr Walthrope’s cousin’s daughter,” Miss Radcliffe said. “Do you remember? The one with the...” She gestured at her face, which did nothing to explain what she was referring to, but Mr Radcliffe laughed anyway. “Did not her brother row with you once or twice? And was he not responsible for a loss in your second year at Oxford?”
Seizing the opportunity to change the subject, Caroline pressed Mr Radcliffe to tell her tales of his exploits at Oxford, which he was more than happy to do. The conversation, if one could call such a thing which continued only on one side, reminded her of her mother. Caroline was now certain Mrs Bingley would approve of Mr Radcliffe, but the very idea of her mother approving the match put her off even further. The home which she had barely been able to envisage with Mr Radcliffe in the first place now seemed to hold echoes of Hadley Hall; all polished surfaces and pearly smiles, with not a single iota of genuine feeling or warmth underneath it all. Caroline wassurprised to find herself longing to be back on the worn couch in Pemberley’s library, which had at least been used by people who treasured it and genuinely liked each other’s company.
They made it through the rest of luncheon without further incident, and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief when they were back in the carriage, though she still felt as if she had the weight of a hundred glazed eyes upon her. She would surely have nightmares about that inn for the rest of her life.
“I will be travelling through Lancashire in a couple of weeks,” Mr Radcliffe announced, as they neared the gates of Pemberley. “I would very much like to take you to luncheon a second time, Miss Bingley. Your family rents Hadley Hall, does it not?”
Clearly he had vetted her with his fellows before offering his first invitation, though there was no need to put quite so much emphasis onrents. Many respectable families leased estates these days. “Oh, Miss Bingley has no plans to return home any time soon,” Georgiana said coolly, before Caroline could answer. “We have been having such fun together here.”
“That is true,” Caroline said, trying not to bristle at being spoken for, “but I cannot encroach on Miss Darcy’s hospitality forever.” She was torn—with the Radcliffes staring at her expectantly, it was difficult to reject the offer, but she had no intention of ever being alone with them again.
“Then perhaps I shall see you at the Percys’ next ball,” he said in a warm tone, bestowing his most dashing smile on her.
“I have heard that they throw very grand parties,” Caroline said. “Although—”
“Neither Caroline nor I have been invited to that particular event,” Georgiana interjected. “Though I think it likely that we shall be busy that day, in any case.”
Miss Radcliffe’s expression plummeted, as did the temperature inside the carriage. “Our lack of invite is no fault of the hosts, for I know them not at all,” Caroline said hastily, wondering just how injured she would be if she opened the door of the moving carriage and flung herself out. “However—that is to say—”
“Do not fret. I shall ensure the Percys send you a direct invite for you and your”—he glanced at Georgiana—“friend.”
The carriage finally ground to a stop, and Caroline sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward. “I would be most obliged, sir,” Caroline said, swinging the door open as fast as she dared without causing insult. “I look forward to seeing you there. Come, Miss Darcy, we must hasten inside,” she added, not daring to look up at the bright blue sky, which held not a single cloud of any shade, “for I fear it will rain any moment.”
The instant they were inside the house with the door shut behind them, Caroline turned on Georgiana. “What on earth is the matter with you? I did not ask you to speak for me. Or do you think I am incapable of managing—”
“I do not think anything of the sort,” Georgiana said, an angry red flush spreading down her neck. She took off her gloves, but rather than flinging them onto the side table like she usually did, she clutched them like a lifeline. “You are not even interested in the man, so why do you encourage him? Are you toying with him? It is rather poor form to do so if you have no intentions.”
“I am not toying with him,” Caroline said, attempting to keep her temper in check. “But it is difficult to extricate one’s self from such a situation without causing offense, and you made that much harder than it needed to be.”
“I—” A muscle jumped in Georgiana’s jaw. “Very well. Iapologise. His sister was rude, and I could not forgive the slight, for I care for my cousins very deeply, and that has perhaps coloured my judgement and my temper. But if you are in love with Mr Radcliffe, then I shall endeavour to look past that.”
“Heavens, no! I do not like him at all,” Caroline admitted. “Did you not hear what he said about the Chesters? I would have thought you happy that I was not interested in a man for whom unkindness seems to be rather a sport. To say nothing of his compulsion to murder any animal unlucky enough to stray across his path. No, he and I are ill-suited indeed.”
“And so,” Georgiana pressed, stepping closer, “why not break it off cleanly? Why lead him on? Do you think you can simply use him as a means to connect yourself with his rich friends in the hopes of landing one of them? Is that why you asked so many questions about his friends from Oxford?”
Stung, Caroline glared at her. “I,” said she, drawing herself to her fullest height, which made very little difference in comparison to Miss Darcy’s, “may not have your wealth or name, but I am not so low that I need throw myself at the first man with three thousand a year. I merely wanted to get through luncheon, and then I fancied an invite to this grand ball, which sounded rather lovely, but neither was it an offer of marriage or an acceptance of such. I did not wish to humiliate the gentleman by rejecting his offer outright. You needn’t— Oh!” She halted, struck by a sudden inspiration. “You’re jealous,” she breathed. “Of course. Why did I not see it before?”
“I— What?” Georgiana froze, her eyes wide. “No, I am not.”
“You are!” Caroline watched as Georgiana spun on her heel and headed into the library, evidently escaping to her place of safety. She followed so closely behind that she almost trod onthe back of Miss Darcy’s slipper. “Why, Georgie, you needn’t worry. As soon as I have locked down a match for myself, we can immediately set about the business of locating one for you.”
Georgiana stopped short, and Caroline only just avoided crashing into the back of her. “You have me entirely wrong,” she said, her tone clipped, turning to glare at Caroline.
“Then perhaps you want Mr Radcliffe for yourself?” Caroline suggested.
“That is not— I have no interest whatsoever in Mr Radcliffe!” Georgiana looked deeply wounded. “I could never desire such a person, obsessed with fortunes and titles, who doesn’t care one whit for the real character of those around him. I cannot believe you would say such a thing, Caroline, even in jest. I thought you knew me much better than that.”
The conversation was becoming more infuriating by the second. “Then if we are in agreement that neither of us is remotely interested in Mr Radcliffe, then why on earth are we fighting about him?”
“We are fighting because you have learned nothing. You seek to use Mr Radcliffe for his connections, like a stepping-stone to greater men. That is not kindness. That is not—”
“That is a very bad-faith interpretation of my actions,” Caroline interrupted, barely tempering her annoyance. “And even if that were so, what would it matter? Should a man who has shown himself to be loathsome be cast aside entirely, which would not benefit anybody, rather than put to good use to better my situation?” Caroline threw up her hands. “Why are you acting as if you do not understand exactly why I did not reject him outright in front of his sister, nor why I accepted his offer to get us invites to a ball? For all your talk of courtesy and humility, you—”
“Oh, now I am not perfect? Is that it?”
“I did not say that.”
“Remember why you asked me to help you in the first place?” Georgiana hissed. She put a hand to her chest and affected a simpering air. “Oh, Georgie, you are the embodiment of everything that society deems wonderful in a lady. You are perfect, you are a young saint, et cetera, et cetera.”
