The lady stared at her blankly. “What have you to be sorry for, Miss Bingley?”
Even if Georgiana had not been in the room, Caroline could not—would not—have lied about her part in the mess. Kindness did not stretch so far as to cover up the truth. “I am afraid you will be angry with me,” she said, bracing herself, “and you have every right to be, for I meddled in something which did not concern me. I thought if Mr Acton was jealous, he might overcome whatever was holding him back and propose to you. Mr Stan... er... the gentleman I was dancing with went along with my scheme, but the idea was mine alone.”
“I thought as much,” Miss Merryhill said, and blew her nose. “But I am not angry with you, Miss Bingley. Mr Acton’s decisions are no fault of yours. You meant only to help him along, I am sure.”
Caroline hesitated. She had meant well, but that did not excuse the consequences of her behaviour. Her stomach roiled with greasy guilt, making her feel nauseous. “That does not signify. I am sorry, in any case. And Mr Acton loves you, I am certain of it.”
“If he loved me, he would have married me,” Miss Merryhill said. “And since he has not, we can only reason that he does not.” She blew her nose again, and Georgiana fished a dry handkerchief out of her own reticule and passed it over. “Too long have I hoped for something which shall never happen.”
“Is it possible,” Georgiana said slowly, “that he has goneaway to make his fortune so that he may marry? That he intends to return to—”
Miss Merryhill shook her head. “He made no promises, Miss Darcy. And I shall not hold him to words unsaid.”
“But you love him, do you not?” Caroline persisted.
“Love must exist on both sides,” the lady said, dabbing at a fresh stream of tears. “One cannot live in hope and anguish for so many years. My folly is my own. I did not curb my feelings when I ought to, and they bloomed too wild to garden easily.” She caught Caroline’s gaze and held it. “This is no fault of yours, Miss Bingley. Please, do not worry.”
“Despite Miss Merryhill’s protests, I maintain I have made quite a mess here, Georgie,” Caroline said, as they climbed into the carriage an hour later. “Oh Lord, your poor friend. Her poor heart is quite broken.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Georgiana protested. “Mr Acton had his choice and made it. Perhaps this is for the best.”
“No,” she said, determination rising. “It is not right, but I will make it so. I shall speak to Lord Ashbrook myself.”
“Ashbrook?” Georgiana frowned. “What does he have to do with this?”
“Do not you recall that the viscount commissioned Mr Acton?” Caroline reminded her. “He must be persuaded to hire Mr Acton again, perhaps even to create a range of paintings here in Derbyshire, so that the man may make his fortune and marry Miss Merryhill.”
“Your powers of persuasion are considerable, I admit, but do you think them up to such a task?”
“Mr Acton’s talent shall do most of the work for me, and whatever gap remains, my charms must fill. I shall do whateverit takes. I simply must make the situation right.” She paused, aware that Georgiana was staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing. I simply...” Miss Darcy swallowed. “You would go to such effort?”
“It is my duty to smooth over a situation I caused, of course,” Caroline said. “Surely, you think better of me than to assume I would swan away from such a muddle with nary a glance backwards? Besides, I find that I rather like Miss Merryhill. She may not have wealth or status, but you were right: She is extremely kind, even in the face of personal calamity. She might have blamed me—and had every right to do so—yet she did not. Not everyone has such strength of character. It is to be commended.”
Though they were still a minute or two from Pemberley, Georgiana leaned over and grasped Caroline’s face in both hands. The kiss was briefer than Caroline would have liked, but it was more tender than any they had shared thus far. “I am not saying I did not care for you before,” Miss Darcy whispered, “but I must admit, I’m rather fond of this new, kinder Miss Bingley.”
Warmth bloomed in Caroline’s chest. Could that possibly be pride, albeit pride of a different sort than she was used to? These new feelings were strange, and came by stranger means, but she could certainly get used to them.
“And I much prefer the new, honest Miss Darcy.” She smiled back at her. “Let us both continue down our roads of betterment and improve the situations of those around us in the meantime.”
