Chapter Thirty-One
Dear daughter,
I am returning early to Hadley Hall, where I await your happy news. I assume the gentleman was not so coy as to keep my involvement to himself, and I trust you are suitably grateful for my intervention. A viscount, Caroline! If only your father were alive to receive such glad tidings. You shall be the envy of all my friends. Come at once, for we shall have much to arrange.
Yours,
Arianna Bingley
Caroline stared down at the letter. If she’d only opened it before she’d accompanied Miss Chester to Lord Ashbrook’s, she would have gone forearmed against the scheme. Though, really, what difference had her ignorance made? It had all been arranged without her, as if she were simply a prize cow handed from one hand to another. At least Ashbrook had not hid Mrs Bingley’s involvement, and he had given her time to consider the offer. He was a decent man, all told, but even Caroline’s old self would have baulked at the reasoning behind theoffer. It would have taken a certain combination of fortitude and ambition to ignore her husband’s obvious love for another woman; surely all the wealth and fortune in the world could not have made up for a lack of preference. Had Ashbrook really thought her that kind of woman?
And was I?she wondered, the question turning her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Georgiana murmured, slipping both arms around Caroline’s waist and resting her chin on Caroline’s shoulder.
Caroline leaned back, taking comfort from the heat of Georgiana’s body. “I must leave for Hadley Hall tomorrow, dearest,” she said, and turned when Georgiana stiffened against her. “Please don’t be mistaken—I do not want to go, but Mother has called me home in no uncertain terms.”
She showed the letter to Georgiana, who skimmed it, her eyes widening. “She knew? Your mother orchestrated this?”
“Ashbrook already confessed this news when he proposed. He may not be much of a lover, but at least he is not a liar.”
“I would rather hear nothing at all about what kind of a lover he is.” Miss Darcy’s smile was tinged with jealousy. Her hands slid down to Caroline’s waist, tugging her closer, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. “Or need I remind you what kind of a lover I am?”
“Did not you show me twice already this morning?” Caroline grinned. “And you have no reason whatsoever to worry. You know that you are all I think of. I am not so easily swayed as all that.”
“My stubborn darling.” Georgiana’s hands slid down to Caroline’s waist, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm. “What are you going to do about your mother?”
“What I ought to have done before now. I’m going to standup to her.” Caroline straightened her shoulders. “I shall tell her that her scheme has failed and that I shall not marry.”
“As easy as that?” Georgiana asked, pressing a kiss to Caroline’s cheek, then another against her jaw, and a third just under her earlobe.
Caroline shivered. One did not simply say no to Mrs Bingley, though she did not wish to make her love more anxious by saying so. “Whether easy or not, it must be done.” She pulled Miss Darcy close, savouring the feel of the embrace, the sharp scent of newly-cut roses. “I will return. Please do not doubt me.”
Georgiana relaxed a little. “You told me last night that you would always walk behind me. Ought I call you Euridice?”
“I think I’d rather be Orfeo, and show him how the thing is properly done. Trust in love and never look back.” Caroline tilted Georgiana’s chin down. “What say you to that?”
“Absolutely,” Miss Darcy breathed, and the next few minutes were lost to the sweetest kiss Caroline had ever known.
The Bingley family home in Lancashire was at least three long days away by coach, and there didn’t appear to be a single rut in the road or loose stone which the coachman did not discover and drive over on the way. By the time Caroline had reached the inn, which marked the halfway point on her journey, she felt as bruised as a schoolboy’s apple. She could have taken an overnight coach to continue her journey, arriving in Hadley Hall by dawn, but the dread of the forthcoming confrontation tempted her to prolong it as much as possible.
After a disappointing dinner of flavourless beef stew, which could only be described as an excellent exercise for one’s jaw muscles, Caroline retired to her room and wrote a letter to Ashbrook. The draft took several attempts, but eventually, shehad a version she was happy with; kind and appreciative of his proposal, but a clear rejection nonetheless. She slept fitfully, dreaming of dark caves and watery things again, before waking in a cold sweat. Still, turning down Ashbrook’s proposal had made her feel slightly better. Whatever Mrs Bingley had schemed, the offer had now been declined and the matter closed. They would all simply have to move past it.
The next morning, she watched the coach come and go outside the inn, unable to coax herself onto it. The second morning found her courage likewise depleted, and it was only the knowledge that Georgiana was waiting for her back at Pemberley that eventually forced Caroline to board on the third day for the final stretch of her journey.
Hadley Hall had been the Bingley family home since Caroline was three. They’d rented the estate from a local lord, which was not unusual.Land-wealthy and coin-poor, her father had often said, though never in the man’s presence. This was of no real significance to Caroline, for gentry who had fallen on hard times, for one reason or another, often rented their estates out to wealthy families, but Mrs Bingley was sensitive around the matter of not having their own inheritance.
By the time Caroline arrived outside the gates of Hadley Hall, her bruises had grown bruises of their own, and her nerves blazed as if someone had set her alight.Remain calm, she told herself.Do not lose your head now. Remember all that you have been through, and why you are doing this.
She took a few deep breaths, though the unhelpful air did nothing to assuage her anxiety, and pushed open the front door just as the housekeeper pulled it open from the inside. A moment of stumbling confusion followed, and by the time both had righted themselves, the lady of the house had appeared in the hall.
“You took your time, Caroline,” Mrs Bingley said, eyeing her daughter with ill-disguised impatience. Her hair was as dark and as neatly-curled as Caroline’s own, her eyes a pale, searching blue which matched her dress. In such an outfit, she looked very like a doll Caroline had adored and which had been given away without her consent when she was eight. “And let the servants work for their keep, for heaven’s sake. I did not raise you to go about opening doors for yourself.”
“Good afternoon to you, too, Mother.” Caroline shot an apologetic look at Mrs Wendel, who kept her own gaze firmly on the floor.
“Come in, come in,” Mrs Bingley urged. “Wendel, do not stand there gaping, for heaven’s sake. Bring in Caroline’s bags.”
Without another word, Mrs Bingley turned on her heel and flounced down the right-hand passage, evidently expecting her daughter to follow.
