“Your hunger to climb ought to take you far in life,” Mrs Bingley went on. “At least, you were hungry when you first debuted. I had expected better of you by three-and-twenty, truth be told. Consider that Charles fell to the foolish affliction you call love, while Louisa made a more sensible, if rather mediocre, match. One despairs to see one’s children making poor choices. But you have a fabulous opportunity in your grasp now. A titled gentleman, no less. You may be many things, Caroline, but you are not impractical.”
“The viscount seems to be a good man, but he... I could never be happy, Mother.”
“Happiness is fleeting. Security lasts. Besides, I have heard rumours,” Mrs Bingley said, her voice dropping several degrees, “of untoward behaviour on your part.”
The hairs on the back of Caroline’s neck prickled. “Untoward?” she repeated, dread pinning her to the chair. Had someone seen her and Georgiana together? No, it wasn’t possible. They’d been careful. Even the occasional kisses stolen inside the carriage had been performed with secrecy.
“The best way to eliminate such rumours is to marry at once and marry well. Ashbrook is the solution to your problems.”
“I do not have problems,” Caroline said, forcing herself to stay calm. “To whom do you attribute these rumours?”
“Oh, but you do, daughter mine. Without me, what fortune do you have? What dowry? Without Hadley Hall to return to, where will you live? Do you imagine that people won’t talk, if you plan to be a spinster all your life? Or do you intend to live upon the charity of your precious Darcys?” Mrs Bingley’s expression was glacial. “He doesn’t love you, Caroline. It is frankly embarrassing to have you lingering around Pemberley, waiting for him to return with another woman in tow. I raised you to have dignity, not to act like some simpering mistress who—”
“Oh bloody hellfire!” she swore. “I am not in love with Mr Darcy. Why does everyone think that?”
“Do not curse in this house.” Disbelief lined every haughty wrinkle of Mrs Bingley’s beautiful face. “And do not lie to your mother, child. It is unbecoming. I taught you better than that.”
“What you taught me,” Caroline said, rising to her feet and wishing she could upend the entire table, “was how to be a hunter. A wolf, always looking for her next meal, always keeping abreast of the pack.”
For the first time, her mother looked pleased. “I’m gladyou hold my lessons in such high esteem. Finally, we make a little headway in our conversation.”
“You misunderstand me, Mother. I would rather be a sheep.” In her mind’s eye, she saw Mr Acton’s painting again—the lamb, wandering from the safety of the flock. Why had she known that there ought to have been danger in the skies overhead? Was it because she had lived that way? She’d never known a moment’s peace from her mother’s eyes, nor from her unceasing, oppressive judgement. It had pressed her like coal, turning her into a diamond; beautiful, certainly, but hard and cold and unfeeling. No wonder Georgiana had thought her—
“A sheep? I cannot believe it,” her mother snarled. “What a silly thing to say.”
Caroline’s fury faded, leaving her exhausted. She hated this place, with its beauty and grandeur and lack of any real emotion. Where was the fondness, the intimacy, the compassion that she saw in other families? “I cannot marry Lord Ashbrook,” she repeated, gathering her courage.Do it now, she told herself.You are many things, but you are not a coward, Caroline.You never have been.“I love another. And she... She is waiting for me.”
The words tumbled into the silence like stones down a well, and Caroline waited, heart hammering, for them to land.
“She?” Mrs Bingley stared at her. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I love another woman. I might have been able to love a man one day, had I not fallen in love with her. I really do not know. Nor shall I ever know now, for I am in love with her and her alone, and she with me. We intend to be together.” She held her head high. “That is it. That is all.”
The silence might have been five seconds or five years, Caroline could not tell. She’d expected wrath, but whenMrs Bingley spoke again, her voice was as calm as if Caroline had merely asked her to pass the salt. “You shall marry Lord Ashbrook, and that shall be the end of it.”
“I cannot,” she gasped. “Mother, did you not hear me? I have already written to him to turn him down. And I love—”
“Then you shall write to him now to beg him back. If you do not, then you are no longer part of this family, and will never darken our doorstep again.” Mrs Bingley picked up her wine, looked at it appreciatively, and took a sip. If Caroline didn’t know better, she would have thought her mother entirely composed. Instead, she noticed the tightness of the jaw, the corded muscles in the neck, the slight twitch under one eye, all tiny indicators of extreme displeasure from which there could be no return.
“Mother, please. I beg of you to simply hear me out. I know this is not what you want, but I—”
“You heard me perfectly well the first time, Caroline Bingley. Do not make me repeat myself.”
The silence stretched on and on. “And if I do not acquiesce?”
“Then I expect you to leave this instant and never return.” Mrs Bingley’s gaze met hers, and it was colder than ice. “Choose now. Never speak of your disgusting, sordid affair again, or never speak to me again.”
Caroline picked up her fallen fork and arranged it neatly by the side of her plate.The point of no return, she thought.In her dreams of Georgiana and the lake, the only way out had been through the darkness of the underwater cave. Perhaps something inside her had known all along how this would turn out. She rose to her feet, smoothed down her dress, then took a deep breath. “Gladly. Farewell, Mother.”
Before Mrs Bingley could say another word, Caroline swept out of the room.
