Caroline rose and began pacing.
Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks.
Dropping the letter, she threw herself upon the bed and surrendered to her misery. She mourned the loss of the man, the loss of the great estate in Derbyshire, and the loss of the elevated position in society she would have enjoyed as his wife.
At length, a dull ache in her neck roused her. She had fallen asleep.
She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked about the room. The afternoon light had faded considerably. Glancing at the clock, she groaned inwardly. It was nearly time to dress for dinner.
She did not feel like eating. She did not feel like leaving her bed. Indeed, she did not feel as though she ever wished to rise from it again.
But she was the hostess.
With a weary sigh, Caroline dragged herself from the bed and rang for her maid.
As she prepared for dinner, her thoughts took a darker turn.
Why should he be happy? And why should his perfect little wife be happy? Caroline made a decision. She would ruin his marriage.
How she would accomplish it, she did not yet know, but she would find a way. What could she do to avenge herself? She had squandered seven years pursuing him. Seven years of hopes and dreams, all for nothing.
Now he would pay.
She selected her most alluring dinner gown. The neckline was daring, and the silk had been cut to flatter her figure to the greatest advantage. When she had commissioned the gown, she had imagined wearing it for Mr. Darcy, to catch his eye. To tempt him. Now she would wear it to show him what he had lost and to show his wife the lure of the woman she was contending with.
If nothing else, she would make certain that neither of them enjoyed a moment's peace during their stay.
A low laugh sounded in her throat.
The sound startled her maid. "Miss Caroline, ma'am? Are you well? Shall I bring you a glass of water?"
"No, Hannah. I am perfectly well." Caroline turned toward the mirror. "You must hurry with my hair. I do not wish to be late for dinner."
At the dinner table, Elizabeth was seated beside Mr. Bingley, while Darcy was seated beside Caroline. Though Elizabeth found Mr. Bingley entirely charming, and he was attentive to Kitty, who occupied the seat on his other side, she could not help but overhear the relentless attentions Caroline was bestowing upon Fitzwilliam.
Even Georgiana, seated on Caroline's other side, appeared embarrassed, if the color in her cheeks was any indication. The woman openly flirted with Mr. Darcy, and as far as Elizabeth could determine, he did very little to discourage her pretensions.
Elizabeth was uncomfortable, but she did her best to remain attentive to her host. She was struggling to maintain her composure, for Caroline had placed her hand upon Mr. Darcy's bare wrist and had yet to remove it.
Then she remembered Jane. Her brow furrowed. How could this amiable, kind-hearted gentleman have treated Jane so poorly? He did not seem capable of such a cruelty.
Elizabeth resolved to discover the truth.
"Mr. Bingley, I understand you have met my elder sister Jane. In fact, it was about a year ago, was it not?"
Elizabeth saw his face flush.
"Yes indeed, Mrs. Darcy. I found your sister a most amiable and beautiful woman. Will she also be in Meryton?"
"Yes, sir. Jane and Sir Gareth are expected later this week. We shall hold the memorial service after their arrival."
"Do they travel up from London?"
"No, sir. They are traveling from his estate in Kent. Did you know my sister well, or was it merely a passing acquaintance?"
Before Mr. Bingley could answer, Miss Bingley spoke.
"It was merely a passing acquaintance. We did not remain in Hertfordshire very long. We had far better things to do in London. I enjoy the refinements of a superior society, and I could not endure being buried in the country a moment longer. Charles agreed with me, and we were packed and on our way in less time than it takes to tell the tale."
