“He let her go so easily?”
The Colonel grinned. “Not so easily as all that. I threatened to call him out.”
“Really!” The Countess stared at her son. “Well done, Richard. How fortunate that you happened to be looking in her direction at the time.”
The Colonel reddened.
“Ah, like that, was it?” There was mischief in the Countess’ voice.
“It is not like anything, Mother. I beg you not to allow your imaginings to get the better of you. It is not as if I can marry a tradesman’s daughter, no matter her dowry!” With that, the Colonel rose abruptly, bowed to his mother, and left the room.
The Countess looked after him for a moment, and then murmured to herself, “I wonder when he will realise that it was he who brought up the subject of marriage.”
As it happened, the Colonel realised it quite soon after quitting the breakfast room. What was all that about, he wondered. I have no interest at all in Caroline Bingley! I would have come to the aid of any young lady who found herself in such a situation, let alone a young lady who I…who I…well, who I amacquaintedwith! Miss Bingley! Ha! Terribly bad-mannered. Though her manners have improved a good deal of late, he realised. And her clothing, so overdone! Though no, of late, she has been quite presentable. And that awful red hair! With its streaks of gold and bronze, and…well,damn it!
The Colonel was forced to face the incontrovertible fact that he was very likely falling in love with Miss Bingley.
***
Caroline was quiet as she ate her eggs. Jane had not alluded to their conversation at all, other than to raise an enquiring brow, silently asking if Caroline was well. Caroline had simply nodded, and Jane was satisfied.
What a marvelously restful creature Jane was, Caroline thought. Beautiful, serene, kind – no wonder Charles had so readily fallen under her gentle spell. Caroline understood again how very wrong she had been to try to disrupt that relationship.
Caroline followed Jane out of the breakfast room and into the drawing room. She watched as Jane reached into her workbasket and began to embroider a…what was that? “Jane!”
“Yes, Caroline?”
“What is that?”
“What is what?” Jane was, uncharacteristically, looking away and blushing.
“Why, Jane! Is that –“ Caroline rose and walked to the sofa where Jane sat. “It is, it is a baby blanket!” Without thinking, Caroline hugged Jane hard. “Are you certain?”
“Quite certain.”
“When?”
“Early September, I believe.”
“Charles must be in heaven! I cannot believe he did not tell me that I was to be an aunt!”
Blue eyes twinkling, Jane raised a finger to her lips.
“He does not yet know?”
“No. I thought to wait and see how long it takes him to figure it out.”
“Very droll!” Caroline began to laugh, and Jane laughed with her, long and heartily, and in that shared laughter, years of animosity floated away.
Hamilton, the butler, appeared just then. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” he announced, and then stepped aside. The Colonel strode in with his customary long-legged stride, paused, and bowed.
Caroline and Jane rose and curtsied, and Jane hastily put her embroidery aside.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bingley.”
“Good afternoon, Colonel,” the two ladies chorused.
“I have come to assure myself that Miss Bingley has recovered from – well, from her exertions at Almack’s.”
