Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

by Jennifer Becton

  She had not expected Mr. Rushton to keep a respectable household.

  Descending the stairs, Caroline steeled herself to encounter the gentleman in question, for she had not felt quite comfortable with him since their conversation in the coach. Still, she forced herself to smile as she entered the breakfast room with her reticule clutched tightly in her hand. “Good morning,” Caroline said to the gathered party. “Please keep your seats.”

  Mr. Newton and Mr. Rushton, who stood despite her injunction against it, both bowed their greetings and then returned to their chairs.

  “Will you not join us for breakfast, my dear?” Mrs. Newton asked. She seemed perfectly comfortable, even so far from Newton House and in the home of another, and Caroline could not help but be pleased. She had not expected her mother to fare so well in London.

  “I have breakfasted in my chamber, and now that I am quite recovered from our long journey from the north, I find I am eager to walk about the streets as soon as Mrs. Pickersgill is ready. Mama, would you care to join us?”

  “Mr. Newton, Mr. Rushton, and I are bound for Fairmont Bridge this morning,” Mrs. Newton said. “We were hoping you would come along.”

  “Oh, it is a kind invitation, but you are well aware that I have little interest in bridges. I shall keep to my plans and have a nice walk about the city today, and perhaps I will visit some shops.”

  “Oh, well, I am disappointed, but I cannot chastise you, for we all have our own interests, do we not?” Mrs. Newton took a sip of her morning tea and gestured at a vacant chair with her cup. “Only do sit a moment and allow me to tell you my news.”

  Caroline did as she was bid, taking the empty chair beside Mr. Rushton, who smiled at her expectantly.

  Feeling concern rise in her at Mr. Rushton’s expression, she frowned back at him. He seemed to be taunting her without speaking. He knew something, and she did not like it. Deliberately turning away from his smirking face, she asked, “What news, Mama?”

  “I have had a letter from your brother!”

  “Oh?” Caroline asked, though she did not wish to hear what she knew must be forthcoming.

  “He received my letter and is even now en route to London with his friends.”

  Caroline sat back in her chair as this news descended upon her. How had her mother’s letter reached Charles so quickly? He was traveling she knew not where. It should have taken months for her mother’s missive to find him.

  Worse, his friends were coming with him. His friends!

  Caroline forced a smile to her lips. “What friends?”

  “Your former traveling companions save your sister and Mr. Hurst. They remain in Devonshire.”

  “I am sorry to hear that Louisa will not come,” Caroline said and then, though it cost her, added, “but I am pleased that you will soon meet your new daughter.”

  “Oh yes!” Mrs. Newton said with a clap of her hands that fairly shook the dining table. “I long to meet our Jane!”

  Mrs. Newton’s eyes had filled with joyful tears. Her happiness was too pure to be trifled with, and so Caroline nodded in agreement. “She is sweet. You will approve Charles’s choice.”

  “I am certain I shall!”

  “Have you not forgotten something, my dear?” Mr. Newton prodded.

  “Oh!” Mrs. Newton exclaimed as she picked up the letter that had been lying neglected on the table. “Charles included a letter to you, Caro.”

  Caroline watched not without trepidation as her mother removed a smaller letter from within the larger missive and passed it across the table to her.

  Caroline looked at it, wishing very much not to read it in company, for she had a good notion of what it might contain. But everyone was regarding her, so she broke the seal and began to read silently. The words were scribed in her brother’s nearly illegible handwriting.

  Dear sister—

  Please forgive the brevity of this letter, but I see little need in wasting ink when we are to be together soon. I do not know how you convinced Mama to leave Kendal, but as our party is traveling so near to Town on our return trip to Pemberley, I could not pass this opportunity to introduce her to my bride.

  I dearly hope this visit will prove to be a harbinger of reconciliation for our family, but that joy, my dear sister, depends entirely upon you. I bring with me those with whom you currently claim an uneasy acquaintance, and I hope these relationships might be restored to their former states.

  I hope you shall not force me to explain why you are no longer welcome amongst your former friends.

  I trust Mrs. Pickersgill has been an adequate companion and that you are treating her with the respect she deserves.

  Until we meet,

  Your brother,

  Charles Bingley

  “Well?” Mrs. Newton asked, her eyes still bright. “What does he say?”

  Tears clogged Caroline’s throat. She refolded the letter and stuffed it into her reticule as if concealment of the object might also hide its message. Charles and his party were coming too soon!

  None of Caroline’s plans had been accomplished, and now she would be faced with the uneasy prospect of either winning Mr. Charlton very quickly indeed or making amends with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for she refused to disappoint her mother by causing so much tension amongst her relations.

  But oh how she detested the very idea of their arrival!

  “Are you quite well, Caroline?” Mr. Rushton asked, leaning closer as if to measure her countenance.

  Caroline looked directly at him. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “Suddenly, you appear quite pale,” he responded.

  “Indeed, you do,” Rosemary added. Her gaze was suspicious.

  Caroline looked around the table to find Mr. and Mrs. Newton watching her expectantly.

  “It is only that I am overjoyed at the news of his arrival,” she managed to say. “Charles says,” she cleared her throat, “that their party is on the way to Pemberley.”

  Pemberley! The symbol of all her hopes and dreams. If she did not do something very soon, she would be excluded from that great house again.

  Rosemary pushed away from the table, and though Caroline could not quite say why, her companion had a definite air of determination about her. “I am prepared to go wherever you wish,” she said.

  Caroline also stood. Resolve, for she would not call it desperation, swelled within her. Today, she would find Mr. Charlton and extract a proposal at all costs.

  As she and Rosemary said their goodbyes to the group assembled at the table, Caroline wondered how compliant her companion would be once she discovered where she planned to walk and with what purpose, but she did not speak of it yet. She only donned her finest bonnet and departed the house with her companion on her heels.

  Once they were a good distance from Grosvenor Street, Rosemary asked, “Are we to call upon Mrs. Winton and Mr. Charlton then?”

  Caroline gaped.

  “Come, Miss Bingley. I may not yet have grasped all the particulars of your circumstances, but I do comprehend why we are here.”

  Caroline had not expected herself to be so easily readable, but she nodded. “I do intend to call on them, but first, we must discover their location.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Winton did not tell you where she was staying?” Rosemary’s words were not exactly a question, even though her inflection implied it. They seemed more of an indictment against Lavinia.

  “No,” Caroline said, “but that signifies nothing.”

  “London is a large city, and we will likely spend days in search of them.”

  “You are mistaken, Mrs. Pickersgill, for the fashionable residents of London haunt only the most particular locales. We shall start with the shops and confectioners on Bond Street.”

  And so they walked in that direction, and after spending hours darting from one establishment to the next, Caroline finally settled into a dressmaker’s shop, which she felt certain Lavinia would frequent.

  Her friend would appro
ve of this sort of enterprise, for it was the most elegant in town. The large main chamber featured high ceilings, and tall built-in cabinets of fabrics and other notions lined the walls. The main table displayed sumptuous silks and cottons, which were being perused by ladies in the most stylish dresses Caroline had seen since her arrival. Yes, it was a fine establishment.

  Besides, she had the greatest need for a new gown for her time in London.

  Ordinarily, Caroline would have relished a shopping venture in town and spent hours in thrall at the newest fashions of the season, but that day she took no pleasure in the atmosphere of excitement, and when she finally exited the shop, she was only slightly pleased with her purchase.

  She had a fine gown on order, but her true object had not been accomplished: they had not discovered Lavinia.

  Caroline decided to make one last attempt and led Rosemary down Bruton Street toward Berkeley Square, where she hoped to chance upon her friend.

  When she and Rosemary arrived at their destination, however, they discovered not Lavinia but Mr. Charlton, the gentleman himself, leaning against the park square railing. He faced away, looking into the greenery beyond the railing, but she recognized his long, lean—almost thin—form and dark curls.

  Upon seeing him lounging there, Caroline took a swift breath. The first encounter was crucial.

  He must seem to have recognized Caroline first. It must not appear as though she sought him out, and he certainly must never know that she had undertaken this trip to London in order to find him.

  But first, she must rid herself of Rosemary. She turned to her companion and said, “You will rest here for a quarter hour, Mrs. Pickersgill, while I speak with Mr. Charlton privately.”

  Rosemary looked beyond Caroline to observe Mr. Charlton at the railing. She narrowed her eyes. “I will do as you ask, Miss Bingley, but I do not trust him, and neither should you put your faith in him. He has too much of the upper-class disregard for morals.”

  Caroline glared. “You speak utter, utter nonsense. Besides, what care I for the opinion of a servant? I trust him, and that is all that matters.” She gestured at a shady spot further down the railing. “Wait over there until I return.”

  Rosemary went, leaving Caroline to formulate her plan.

  She would simply walk past, and certainly Mr. Charlton would notice her and turn.

  She began to stride toward him, taking care to walk with grace and poise, but he neither noticed nor turned, so when she reached the end of the rail, she approached again, this time allowing her fingers to trail along the vacant rail until she neared him.

  And again, Mr. Charlton did not offer her so much as a glance as she passed.

  She sighed, turned, and repeated the process. Still, he refused to take note of her.

  After several more failed attempts, Caroline decided to change tactics and take up a position at the rail a short distance away in the hopes that he still might notice her first.

  She walked to the rail slowly with as much of a regal bearing as one who had just spent the past ten minutes walking back and forth in the same spot could possibly achieve.

  She stood not ten feet away for another ten minutes without him so much as turning his head before she finally relented and said, “Oh! Mr. Charlton, whatever do you do here?”

  Finally, the gentleman turned and looked at her. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

  “Miss Bingley?” He walked closer and bowed to her deeply. “I am shocked! Shocked, but pleased to see you here. How is it that you have come to London?”

  Caroline smiled and let her eyelashes flutter closed for a moment. “Did you not know that my family had planned a trip here?” she lied. “Mr. Newton and Mr. Rushton have some business or other in Town.”

  “Oh? I was unaware that you were to travel to this destination,” he said with a bright smile. “I am so pleased, for Lavinia hauled us to Town so quickly, and matters between you and me remain unfinished, do they not?” he asked softly.

  Caroline lowered her gaze demurely and did not respond. Caroline sensed that Mr. Charlton was tempted to take her hand; his fingers fairly twitched within his fine gloves. She watched him look about and knew the precise moment he saw Rosemary. His hands drew into fists.

  “We are not alone, I see.”

  “No,” Caroline said.

  “I have had to elude my sister for a few moments’ peace as well. She has been with me every moment since we left Kendal. It is most frustrating.”

  Caroline nodded in agreement.

  “Then we must find a method of gaining some privacy,” he said, “and the best technique, I have found, is to be in the largest crowd possible. My sister and I go to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow.”

  “A pleasure garden?” Caroline asked, though she had not meant to. She had often been in company of the fashionable people who frequented such places, but Caroline had never lost her distaste for them. London was quite littered with such gardens, and though they all attracted a different sort of clientele, they had one commonality. All were known for their romantic assignations. In fact, she knew that private niches had been designed for the very purpose of encouraging such liberties to be taken. Vauxhall, though the most prestigious of these gardens, was also the most notorious, and Caroline had never had the least wish to venture within.

  After hearing tales of young women quite ruining their reputations or, barring that, being snatched away from their companions and taken into the darkness to be molested by some gentleman or other, the very idea of such a place assaulted Caroline’s sensibilities, leaving her rather aghast that a lady of any social class would frequent them.

  “Indeed, Miss Bingley,” Mr. Charlton said on a laugh. “A pleasure garden. Is not that the most wonderful invention?” He studied her and must have read the uncertainty in her countenance, for he added, “You will not allow your time in the country and its backward manners to restrain you, will you?”

  Caroline set her jaw. No, she would not allow her past to determine her future. She would not permit anything to prevent her from a union with Mr. Charlton, especially now that her brother and Mr. Darcy were on the way to London.

  “No,” she said, “I shall not.”

  “Excellent!” cried Mr. Charlton. “Then join us tomorrow for supper, and perhaps we may sneak away for a few moments of privacy.”

  Before Caroline could officially accept or decline his invitation, he took his watch out of his fob pocket and sighed. “I must go. My sister will be waiting for me. I shall see you tomorrow at the Grove.”

  Caroline watched as he disappeared into the crowded street and wondered how she would ever manage to get away to Vauxhall, for her mother would most certainly not approve.

  Well, Caroline thought as she turned back toward her companion, she would do it! Her object was so close. She would find a way, even if she had to go to the reprehensible Vauxhall and drag Rosemary with her.

  Rosemary was currently resting where Caroline had commanded, but she was not alone. She had also encountered an acquaintance, a wealthy-looking woman with a regal bearing and a gown too fine to be worn for a day of idle shopping. Caroline quite envied that dress, and she was rather curious as to the woman’s name and relation to her companion. Her mien and bearing were of polite society, and that was quite incongruous with Rosemary Pickersgill. How were they acquainted?

  She must discover all.

  Caroline approached them but remained on the periphery to feign a study of a shrub, as if she were suddenly entranced by the local flora.

  “I must say I am all astonishment!” she heard the unknown woman say with a sly laugh.

  Rosemary said not a word in response to the woman’s remark, but her eyes flickered to Caroline, and she turned her body slightly to invite her into their circle.

  “Oh, Miss Bingley,” Rosemary said with a tight smile. Her tone was strained, and Caroline could not tell if she were adding to her companion’s tension by joining the conversation or if she had relieved it. But ten
sion or not, she was determined to discover the other woman’s identity.

  Rosemary looked back to her acquaintance and asked meekly, “Will you allow me to present my friend?”

  The woman turned to Caroline, noticing her for the first time, and swept her from head to toe in one quick glance. Caroline raised her chin at this blatant assessment. Then the lady nodded once with great condescension, and Rosemary began her introduction, saying, “Viscountess Middlebury, may I present Miss Caroline Bingley.”

  Viscountess?

  Now it was Caroline who was all astonishment. This woman was not the wife of a commoner or a lowly knight, baronet, or even baron. Rosemary was speaking with the wife of a viscount.

  How utterly shocking.

  After Rosemary completed the presentations, Lady Middlebury proceeded to ignore Caroline completely, and for her own part, Caroline barely prevented herself from looking between the other ladies in bewilderment. How had Rosemary become acquainted with the wife of a titled gentleman?

  “Whatever do you do in Town?” Lady Middlebury said on a laugh of disbelief. “It is quite brave of you to appear. I had thought we would not see you here so soon given your predicament. I told Lord Middlebury that we should never think to see you again.” The woman’s tone was so haughty that even Caroline, who was used to consorting with the proudest and most arrogant in society, was momentarily taken aback. Her feelings were clear; she did not care for Rosemary Pickersgill.

  Rosemary only managed a weak, “I…”

  Rather startlingly, a new wave of emotion sneaked upon Caroline. She felt suddenly protective of her companion, and so without pondering the reasons for this, she lifted her chin and said, “You will pardon me, Lady Middlebury, for speaking out of turn, but Mrs. Pickersgill and I are due back on Grosvenor Street even now.”