Chapter Twenty-Nine
A letter arrived the next morning in Mrs Bingley’s neat handwriting, though Caroline couldn’t bring herself to open it. No doubt it was another reminder that she was unwanted at Pemberley, a fact she was only too aware of now. After she returned from her outing with Miss Chester, she would have to find Georgiana and inform her that she was leaving as soon as possible. She wasn’t yet sure where she would go; probably to London, to visit Louisa and see if she could distract herself with what remained of the season. It would be too difficult to stay at Pemberley any longer, knowing that Georgiana did not want her. She still held the tiniest flame of hope that Miss Darcy would confess her love, but even if that happened, it would change nothing about their situation.
I cannot do what you ask of me, Georgiana had said.I cannot live like that.
Caroline spent most of the day walking in the gardens, forcing herself to concentrate on the brightness of every petal and the rustle of every leaf. Several times, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she turned back to gaze upon the house, sure that someone was watching her, though, from such a distance, this was impossible to ascertain. No doubt Georgianawas holed up in her precious library, her nose stuck in another book, living through characters who at least had the courage to voice their affections for one another. Caroline sank down onto a bench and closed her eyes, listening to the trill of a nearby robin, distinguishing it from the melodious call of a blackbird hidden in a hedgerow to her right. The smell of lilacs on the breeze calmed her a little, and by such means, she contrived to pass the hours until dinner, which she ate alone in her room. Georgiana did not come to her, nor did she see any trace of Miss Darcy in the house; the lady might be anywhere or nowhere at all, vanished like a ghost.
On Tuesday morning, Caroline washed and dressed with as much care as she could manage before going down to breakfast. The settings at the other end of the table were untouched. Georgiana had made no appearance by the time the clock had struck nine. Fuming, Caroline prepared to write a note, then threw down the quill in exasperation. Why should she bother with courtesy and care, when Miss Darcy was making her feelings so very plain?
Lord Ashbrook’s estate was a handsome, sprawling one, stretching for—according to Miss Emily—eight thousand acres. Though the house was far grander than Pemberley, Caroline could not help comparing the two, and she found herself inexorably loyal to the latter. A manservant, dressed in a black jacket with brass buttons which had clearly been polished within an inch of their lives, showed the ladies into a large parlour decorated lavishly, though not garishly. Someone other than Ashbrook himself had chosen the furnishings, Caroline suspected, for he did not seem the type to surround himself purposefullyin red velvet and brocade. Though really, she hardly knew the man; perhaps this was exactly what he liked.
Lord Ashbrook rose from his armchair next to the fire and bowed smoothly. Mr Hall rose less gracefully from the armchair on the other side of the hearth, his resemblance to his uncle clear in the fine features of his face, and bowed so low, he almost pitched forward. They exchanged greetings before the ladies settled themselves on a comfortable couch, the gentlemen taking their previous seats.
“Miss Chester tells me,” Caroline began, directing her attention towards Mr Hall, “that you are interested in machinery.”
“Indeed I am!” cried he. “At the moment, I am gathering all the information I can about the history of inventions, from the bow and arrow to the steam engine that has lately been built down in Pen-y-Darren. Do you know much about the steam engine, Miss Bingley?”
“I confess I do not.” His enthusiasm was so genuine, she could not help smiling. “Miss Chester has graciously educated me on some matters, but I am afraid you will find me largely ignorant.”
“It is a marvel indeed.” He gave a darting, hopeful glance at Miss Emily. “And Miss Chester’s knowledge outweighs even my own in this respect. It is my intention to write a book upon the subject, which will give a wider overview of—”
“Now, Teddy,” Lord Ashbrook said, giving the boy a slightly strained smile that spoke of long days spent as the sole audience for similar impassioned monologues, “the ladies may not be interested in a long explanation before we have had tea.”
His face fell. “Yes, of course. My apologies.”
“Actually, my lord,” Miss Emily said stoutly, “I would love to hear more.”
“I shall do better than that, Miss Chester!” Teddy said. “I shall show you, for yesterday I obtained a new engine and have only taken it half apart in the workshop. That is”—and here the young man hesitated, his freckles fading as a blush spread across his cheeks—“if you would like to see it.”
“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure,” Miss Emily assured him. “Except hearing about the plans for your book.”
“Perhaps,” Mr Hall murmured, as they went off together down the corridor, “it could be our book?”
Caroline did not need to hear Miss Chester’s response to know that it would be a favourable one.
Lord Ashbrook smiled, looking relieved. “As first meetings go, that was rather a remarkable one. I understand that they have been corresponding for some time, although I found it hard to believe that he had managed to locate the one young lady in all of England willing to not only tolerate his love of machinery but even encourage it.”
“Miss Chester and he are well-matched, my lord,” Caroline agreed. “I can vouch for her character, and though you may find her occasionally a trifle too honest, she has not a cunning bone in her body. Were he penniless with the same mind and interests, I believe she would be equally as intrigued.”
“That is good to know.” His gaze lingered on her face, then dropped to her collarbones.
A prickle of discomfort drove Caroline up and out of her chair. “What a wonderful home you have.” She turned, admiring the room. Several paintings hung on the opposite wall, and one in particular caught her eye. Moving closer, Caroline gasped. “This must be the work of Mr Acton. I would recognise that brushwork anywhere.”
“Indeed. You have a keen eye, Miss Bingley.”
Caroline cast an appraising glance over the rest of the collection: several portraits bearing familial resemblance to Ashbrook, and three landscapes. Two featured the kind of bucolic beauty one might find in any country house, and which Caroline had seen repeated so often that her eyes were unable to fixate on any particular part of them, but the third was quite different; a stark forest of black and grey trees, foregrounded by something silvery that did not quite look real. It took her a moment to work out that this was supposed to be a pond of sorts, and the sudden realisation produced a jolt of horror. She had dreamed something very like this, where the trees were unreal and the land itself was a trap. Her only escape route had been through the darkness of the underwater cave, and even now, even awake, she knew that to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“—a little tea outside?” Ashbrook was saying, and Caroline tore her attention away with some difficulty.
She followed him down the hallway where Mr Hall and Miss Chester had disappeared, which led to a large back door and out onto a kind of patio. Several chairs surrounded a table laden with delicious-looking treats: iced lemonade, two steaming teapots, and several platters piled high with sandwiches and fruit. The neat lawn stretched for what seemed like miles, bordered by rows of bright, if rather monotonous, flowerbeds. The day was a pleasant one, though it was rather hot without much of a breeze.Georgiana would have called it stifling, Caroline thought, before amusement turned into a sharp pang of grief.
“Teddy lives here, with me,” Ashbrook said as they seated themselves at the table, answering a question Caroline had wanted to ask but had been wary of. “His parents died in a boating accident six years ago, and neither of us had other family, for bothmy parents are long dead. What about your family, Miss Bingley? And may I pour you some hot tea, or would you rather a cool drink?”
“Tea, please, my lord.” He’d been close enough to lift the teapot himself, but instead, another manservant stepped forward and poured tea into two elegant cups. Caroline waited until the manservant withdrew before continuing. “I have one sister who is five years my elder, and a brother about a year younger than I.”
“Are you close?”
A difficult question, she thought.“Indeed. Charles is recently married to a very sweet girl whom we met in Hertfordshire, and writes to me often. And I shall see Louisa and her husband soon, when I go to London.”
