Chapter Three
In the privacy of the guest room, Caroline curled up on the armchair in front of the fire and sobbed with wild abandon.Blasted Elizabeth Bennet!Everyone was so enamored with her, but she was simply an ordinary girl with too much confidence for her station and a witty remark for every situation. How could such a woman possibly have changed Mr Darcy for the better? And if she had indeed done so—though Caroline could not imagine how such a transformation had taken place, or precisely what the girl had done to garner such unwarranted accolades—then was Caroline really doomed to remain as she was without a suitor to likewise show her the error of her ways?
The inventory of Caroline’s flaws, which Darcy had seemed only too ready to list off, had been comprehensive. Despite her protests, Caroline had to admit—however grudgingly—that several of his arrows had found their target. She could be a touch arrogant at times, she knew, though it was not without cause. She was perhaps a little vain from time to time, though what pretty woman was not? And as for stubbornness, had that not been a particularly notable trait found in Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s own character? Why, then, was it a vice for Carolinewhen it had been a virtue of Miss Bennet’s? This seemed like a terribly unfair double standard.
Love really does blind one to the object of one’s affection’s flaws, she thought, her lip curling. Unable to sit still a moment longer, she got up and began to pace from door to window and back again.
The guest room had been furnished to Caroline’s exacting standards, since she stayed in it so often of late. A small writing desk had been placed to the left of the large window to best catch the morning sunshine. An elegant set of high-backed chairs were situated in front of the ornate fireplace, opposite a bed whose frame was slightly higher than her own at home. Fresh flowers in pretty vases adorned the windowsill, as well as the small tables which sat on the left-hand side of each chair, filling the room with a soft fragrance which was pleasant without being overpowering. She personally preferred pink camellias, which brightened up any space, and Mrs Reynolds had always made certain that the room was stocked with them during her visits.
Unfortunately, not even pink camellias could improve Caroline’s mood right now. The more she paced, the more she considered Darcy’s words and the more suspicious she became that he had—in some small way—been right. She stopped in front of the fireplace, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, her head throbbing. Good God, she couldn’t actually be considering taking his advice. How would she even go about improving an already excellent character?
Wait a moment.Her hands fell to her sides, her jaw dropping as an idea formed.Who better to show me how to act than the best and most perfect young lady of my acquaintance, who is right now in this very same house?
Yes, it was a superb idea. She and Georgiana knew each other well enough by now for her to ask such a favour. They had been acquainted for three years, and this past twelvemonth had seen Caroline at Pemberley on no less than four separate occasions. Georgiana, although she could be rather quiet and distant at times, was easy company, even if she did prefer books to gossip and merriment. Caroline did not have many friends, but her relationship with Georgiana was the closest she had come to anything like real companionship. And through this wonderful scheme, they would no doubt become closer still.
Sisters, even!
The idea was so flawless, it had to be acted upon immediately. Caroline burst out of her room, marched along the hallway to Georgiana’s chamber, and flung open the door without consideration for the occupant. Miss Darcy was already in bed, her fair curls lying loose around her shoulders, withThe Parsonage-Housepropped on her knees. She looked up, her expression startled, the single candle on the bedside table guttering in the sudden draught. “Good Lord! Is something on fire?”
Rather too late, Caroline remembered that one ought not to burst in upon one’s acquaintances without knocking, but what was done was done. “This is an emergency of a personal nature. I have a favour to ask.”
“A favour suggests the opportunity to decline, which I do not think you intend to give me.” Georgiana squinted in the darkness, her suspicious expression fading into concern. “Have you been crying? Is something the matter?”
“I need your help. Please.” Caroline dropped to her knees beside the bed and clasped her hands together in supplication.
“Get up, for goodness’ sake. What is it?”
“I need you to help me to become as kind and good as MissElizabeth Bennet. Ideally in the next fortnight.” She nodded, thinking it over. Yes, that was a more than sufficient period of time. How long could the endeavour possibly take, after all? “A shorter time, if you can manage it. I am sure you can. You are a very capable young woman, after all.”
“Pardon?” Georgiana gaped at her. “You need me to... what?”
“To teach me to embody those characteristics in that young lady which you deem to be most attractive to a potential match.”
The silence lengthened. Georgiana’s eyes were as wide and round as saucers, her mouth opening and closing without words coming out.
“Really, it is not a difficult concept to grasp,” Caroline sniffed. She’d expected some resistance, but this seemed overdramatic. “I am not asking you to help me fly to the moon.”
“No, indeed,” Georgiana exclaimed, finally finding her voice. “All you want is a total alteration of character. Frankly, flying to the moon would be an easier achievement.”
“I beg to differ,” Caroline corrected, pushing down another sharp pang of hurt. To hear it stated clearly that her character had been examined and been found deficient by a man whom she’d considered a potential match had hurt; to hear it indirectly from his sister, whom she considered a friend, somehow hurt even more. Besides, she did not wish a true alteration of her character, only to learn how to put the costume of kindness on and glitter enough to draw every gaze.
Georgiana’s fingers pressed into her eye sockets in a move that seemed designed to alleviate some pressure, then sighed into her palms. “I simply meant to point out that you and Lizzy do not share many traits. I am not sure how you could possibly become—” Her hands dropped to her lap. “Why on earth would you... No, don’t tell me. I do not even want to know how or why you’ve come up with this scheme.”
“It was your brother,” Caroline interrupted, ignoring the plea. “He made me realise that I have been somewhat... unkind of late. Uncharitable, even.”
The word lodged in her throat, and for a moment, anger burned brightly inside her again. She dearly wanted to shove Darcy’s charity somewhere society would have frowned upon.
“Oh?” Georgiana raised an eyebrow. “Did he, indeed? What precisely did he say? And what did you say to provoke him so? For I know you must have done something to incur such a rebuke. My brother is not often in the habit of uttering such things as would wound any friend of ours.”
Caroline held out against Miss Darcy’s steely gaze for a full ten seconds before she caved. “I may have asked him why he never considered me as a suitable match,” she muttered.
“Oh, Caroline.” Sympathy flashed across her face. “I hadn’t realised that his marrying Lizzy would hurt you so much.”
“Then he listed all my faults,” Caroline continued, ignoring this. She did not need sympathy. She needed a plan of action. “And then he told me that I reminded him too much of himself, that love had changed him, and that without a similar change, I am doomed to spinsterhood. Well, he did not say it quite like that, but it was what he meant, I am sure,” Caroline sniffed. “Look, I am three-and-twenty, and my fortune and family are secure enough to land me a decent match. Before Mother attempts to wed me to someone of her own choosing, I think it wise to seek out a man who fits my preferences.”
“So then... do it.” Georgiana waved a hand around theroom, as if alluding to a veritable crowd of unseen suitors. “Marry anyone you like. You have had offers before, have you not? I am sure I’ve heard you mention them.”
“No one up to my standards,” she corrected.Or Mother’s.“And no one who truly adored me.”
