Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caroline did not intend to act cool the next morning, but it was a natural consequence of her bruised heart. Georgiana gave her a wide berth at breakfast, which swiftly doused what remaining hope Caroline had of rekindling their conversation. The misunderstanding might have been a small one to begin with, but Miss Darcy did not seek to apologise or clarify the matter any further. Her lack of address spoke loud and clear, and Caroline could not bring herself to try a second time.
They spent the afternoon in miserable silence until it was time to leave for the ball. Unable to bear a silent carriage ride, Caroline allowed herself to be rocked to sleep by the motion of the vehicle—an easy task, for she had slept very little the night before. The Percy estate was vast and beautiful, and had Caroline not been in such a dreadful mood, she might have enjoyed it more. The house itself was set far back from the main road, and as the carriage passed through the large wrought-iron gates, she admired the lanterns set into each side to illuminate the entrance. They alighted from the carriage at the bottom of the steps leading up to the house, the stink of hot horseflesh mixing with scents drifting down from the open doors: thebright tang of oranges, the smooth hiss of lilies, and the rich, voluptuous smell of roasted game.
Most guests headed inside immediately, though some lingered to point and stare at half a dozen peacocks, who high-stepped haughtily around the lawn as if the entire estate belonged to them. Without a word, Georgiana began to climb the steps. Caroline followed, glad she had chosen to wear her ravishing green dress tonight, for every person she saw was dressed finer than the last. Miss Darcy was resplendent in a twilight-blue gown with a high neck, which made her dark eyes look even darker; the cream-coloured gloves she wore did not quite match, as if she’d pulled them on carelessly, her mind elsewhere. Only a keen observer would have noticed, and a lover was the keenest observer of all. Caroline couldn’t help but catalogue every glance, every troubled twitch of Georgiana’s brow.
One of us will have to break, sooner or later, she thought, watching Georgiana slide through the crowds with practiced ease.Or perhaps, if one of us does not, both of us will shatter in a way which can never be repaired.She sighed, the sound swallowed by the cheerful noise of the crowd and the lively music which preceded the beginning of the dancing, which must surely be about to start.As long aswe are on the same page, Georgiana had once said,then we may continue.As long asyou are eager to do so, and that we shall remain friends afterwards.Could she still be friends with Georgiana? Could she look on and smile while her heart was broken? While Georgiana moved on and found another lover, possibly even a husband?
Of course I will, Caroline told herself, tasting the bitterness of the lie even as she told it.I will because I must.
They had not been present even five minutes before Mr Radcliffe shouldered his way through the crowd and presented himself before Caroline. He professed how delighted he was to see her again and begged to have her first dance. Caroline bit back a grimace; she could not refuse him, as custom dictated that all ladies must accept invitations from all gentlemen or else sit out every dance for the entire evening, and Caroline had absolutely no intention of sitting still next to Georgiana for the next four or five hours. Yesterday, the notion would have sounded heavenly; today, she would rather be set upon by those hellish demons with the pitchforks and boiling cauldrons. She therefore accepted, to his obvious delight.
“I hear you are much in demand, Miss Bingley,” Mr Radcliffe said, steering her through the dance.
“Am I?” She raised an eyebrow. “I know not what you mean.”
“Lord Ashbrook has been asking questions about you. Many questions, in fact.”
“Lord Ashbrook?” she repeated, baffled. “You must be mistaken, sir. I cannot believe that to be true, for I never met the man in my life. Either your intelligence is wrong, or he has mistaken me for someone else.” She could well understand why Ashbrook might have been asking after Miss Chester, if his nephew had invited her to the house to dine, but why would Ashbrook care a whit about Caroline?
“It would be impossible to mistake you for anyone else,” Mr Radcliffe corrected, smiling. “I believe he even turned up to the party at the lake to see you.”
“Now I am convinced that you have the wrong woman. I am quite sure he never glanced my way more than once.”
“So he is of no interest to you?” Mr Radcliffe asked.
“Well, I would not say that,” she murmured, thinking of Mr Acton, and it was only Mr Radcliffe’s wounded expression that made her realise that he might interpret her words in an entirely different way. “I mean, I have a question to ask him about a mutual...” She struggled to find the right word, sincefrienddid not seem appropriate. “An acquaintance, of sorts, that I—”
“You do not need to explain to me,” he said, stiffly. “I understand perfectly. Some ladies are happy with their station in life, and some desire to climb.”
Stung, Caroline opened her mouth to correct him, then closed it again. Really, what would be the point in doing so? It would only encourage Mr Radcliffe to believe he had a chance to secure Caroline for himself, and would prolong, perhaps even worsen, the situation. “Indeed,” she said, haughtily. “And men range in size from mountains to small hills. Is that not so?”
The rest of the dance proceeded in silence, and when it was over, Mr Radcliffe gave a short, jerky bow, hardly even half of what Caroline deserved, before taking his leave. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to find a familiar face behind her. “Good evening, Lady Lennox,” Caroline greeted the stately woman. “I wonder if you have seen Lord Ashbrook this evening? I am looking for an introduction, if it would not be too much—”
“Seek and ye shall find,” said a deep voice behind her.
Turning, Caroline found the very man she had hoped to meet, yet she felt little pleasure in the moment. Up close, the viscount’s eyes were hazel rather than brown, and his hair more sandy than fair, but his smile was kind. “Perhaps you would grace me with the next dance, Miss Bingley,” said he, after LadyLennox had made the appropriate introductions. “Lady Lennox can hardly be expected to chaperone me all evening. You would be doing me a great favour indeed.”
Caroline forced a smile. “I believe heartily in granting favours to the needy, my lord.” She hadn’t meant to say something quite so mischievous to a complete stranger and was glad that Lady Lennox’s attention had already been caught by a passing knot of ladies festooned in so much shiny ornamentation they looked weighed down.
“An admirable sentiment,” Ashbrook said, then followed her gaze. “My word, that is a lot of jewellery.” He leaned a little closer. “They shall certainly be safe from drifting out to sea.”
The comment, which was neither cruel nor superior, was so unexpectedly witty that Caroline could not help but laugh. She glanced at the viscount again, taking in his handsome features—clean-shaven, long eyelashes. He really did look exactly like the man of her dreams she had tried to picture weeks ago.Long before Irealisedthat there was no man of my dreams, she thought, her amusement vanishing.Nor woman. Only Georgiana.
Suddenly, she could not bear to be in his company. She made her excuses and her escape, then headed to the punchbowl to slake her thirst. Georgiana was still where Caroline had left her; evidently, she had decided not to dance at all this evening, for the young gentleman standing in front of her sloped off with a most disappointed expression.
“Here,” Caroline said, passing Georgiana a glass of punch, though she hadn’t asked for one. “It is rather warm in here, is it not?”
Miss Darcy made no answer. They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the current set of dancers twirl and step together.
“Are you still intent on your Great Endeavour?” Georgiana blurted. “We didn’t—I mean, yesterday, you did not clarify.”
If she’d asked when they were alone, Caroline would have replied differently. As it was, in a bustling ballroom with three or four dozen pairs of curious eyes present, it was difficult to know precisely what to say. “As you rejected me outright, I have no reason not to continue to pursue it,” she murmured. A flicker of hope wriggled in her stomach, struggling feebly to stay alive. “Do I, Georgie?”
Georgiana was pale, her knuckles white around the stem of her glass. Her eyes flickered towards Lord Ashbrook, and Caroline suspected she already knew where Miss Darcy’s thoughts lay.
“?‘Not too tall, fair hair, long eyelashes,’ you said yesterday,” Georgiana muttered. “?‘A handsome set to the mouth. A certain wicked gleam in the eye. Those are the features I like best.’ Did not you say such things?”
