“I shall not sit!” Lavinia said, and as if to punctuate those words, she began pacing the room with heavy steps. “My brother thinks to propose to you!”
“Of course, was this not the object all along?” Caroline asked, confused.
“No.” Lavinia turned and looked at her with unapologetic directness, and then she spoke as if to herself, saying, “My plot to separate you has been a dismal failure. You have proved bolder and more cunning than I imagined.”
Caroline took another step back. “What plot?” she whispered.
“Oh come. I contrived an occasion for us to come to our father in London so that William would not wed a woman as vulgar as you, my dear Caroline.”
The venom with which she unleashed her last phrase immobilized Caroline. Her friend had never spoken of her in such a way before.
But were these the words of a friend?
Caroline felt suddenly slow and dim. Could Rosemary have been correct? Was she now reliving the exact circumstances she herself had inflicted on Jane Bennet? Caroline thought back upon her interactions with Lavinia since her return to Kendal—the long wait for her first call, her initial seating arrangement at the Oak Park dinner party, her insistence on riding when she knew Caroline despised it, and apparently, her desire to remove her brother from her sphere. Were these the actions of a friend?
No indeed, Caroline realized as she looked upon Lavinia with a newness of understanding.
Dash it! Rosemary had been correct. Standing before her was the enemy.
Caroline’s altercation with Mr. Rushton the night before had prepared her for battle, for though stunned and distressed, she straightened her back and took a few steps closer to Lavinia. Her friend did not back away, but her eyebrows drew down and her lips tightened. Anger in its purest form radiated from her countenance.
Caroline’s astonishment at the unconcealed malevolence in her oldest friend was complete, and she would not allow it to remain unanswered. “You accuse me of vulgarity?” she said as she again stepped closer. “You invade this residence and then charge me with conduct in which no upstanding woman of quality, sense, education, and breeding would engage, and you expect me to accept your unfounded malice? It shall not be borne.”
“Do you deny that you had hoped to entrap William into a marriage?” Lavinia demanded.
“I had no wish to entrap him. If I had intended to be subversive about the match, would I have come to you for assistance in bringing about the union? I hardly think so.”
Lavinia’s eyes had narrowed further and her lips drew into so tight a line that wrinkles formed at the corners of her mouth, but she did not speak. The two women eyed each other for long moments until finally Lavinia spun away.
Caroline was pleased to have set her down so completely, but her victory was not to be, for though her back was turned, Lavinia said to her quite clearly, “I may content myself, at least, with the knowledge that he has not succumbed to your machinations and eloped with you. That would have been the height of folly.”
“Folly!” Caroline felt the burn of humiliation on the same scale that she had first experienced upon Mr. Darcy’s wedding to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but she used that fire to respond in kind. “Though your opinion of me in general is no longer a secret, your accusations are unjust. I would never lower myself by participating in an elopement. If Mr. Charlton ever disappears with a female, you ought to check within your own household, for he has a famous reputation for titillating the maids!”
Lavinia, purple with rage, whirled on her. “You cow!”
Caroline felt a slow smile spread across her face, for the use of derisive appellations was a sure sign of an opponent’s defeat.
Lavinia gave one great tremble and then stamped a foot in impotent rage. “I will have nothing further to do with you, Miss Bingley. I will no longer recommend you to society or allow you to use my good name for your benefit. Our friendship, such as it was, is finished.”
“Excellent,” Caroline said in a shrill voice. “I have been desirous of ridding myself of you as well,” she lied. Truly, she had no wish to lose an ally of the magnitude of Lavinia, and she would have much preferred to have succeeded in her plan to marry a baron, but one must retain one’s dignity.
“Oh, do be honest, Caroline,” Lavinia said. She seemed to have recovered her wits somewhat and now walked toward Caroline slowly. She spoke in a soft, patronizing tone that grated Caroline most thoroughly. “You can have no hopes for social improvement now. I know the genesis of your family’s wealth, and I will not conceal my knowledge any longer.” She completed her tirade by sighing and saying, “It shall be a relief to be shed of you, for I could hardly view you as more than a pet.”
Caroline’s mortification was complete. To be called a pet….
But still, Lavinia continued heaping hot coals upon her.
“For a time, I took a great deal of pleasure from introducing you into the finest society. I quite flattered myself that I was responsible for every positive change I perceived in your address and countenance after you had been in the company of acquaintances from my rank. It was a bit like teaching a mongrel a series of interesting tricks. The cur is appealing to watch, but when dinner is served and everyone is seated according to their rank, the dog, though he performed well, is still required to sit on the floor and scavenge the crumbs that might fall from the table.”
Caroline felt tears leap to her eyes. Did they originate from anger or despair? She could not be certain. Nor could she allow those tears to fall.
Instead, she lashed her emotions tightly down into a small, dark place within her, and when she spoke again, she was satisfied with the modulation of her tone. “You were pleased for me to associate with your friends, but you balk at my association with your brother.”
“Quite so, my dear,” Lavinia said with disdain, “we have ever been unequal acquaintances. You must comprehend that I cannot allow you to have designs on my brother. It would sully the family name.”
“I see,” Caroline whispered, all the fight suddenly gone from her body. She desired nothing more than for Lavinia to leave her in peace to contemplate what had just occurred.
As if sensing her opponent’s defeat, Lavinia came closer and sneered at her. “Oh,” she said as she patted Caroline’s hand in mock comfort. “Do not appear so injured. Even you have confessed to having attempted to remove an unworthy woman from your brother’s realm. So I have only followed your lead, my dear.”
Lavinia laughed and then exited the room in a swirl of skirts and superiority. All at once, realization struck Caroline. As she stared at Lavinia’s retreating form, she observed what no amount of wealth, no quantity of the finest silk, and no title might conceal: the pure hatred of a shallow creature.
Dreadful as it was to see her former friend in this new manner, it was the next realization that struck her most forcefully.
Caroline had indeed done nothing less when she attempted to separate her brother from Miss Jane Bennet. She could not deny that she would do—and in fact had done—something very similar in the name of family protection.
She walked across the room and positioned herself in front of one of the large windows that lined the walls. Caroline stared blindly at her own reflection in the glass for some time, and when her eyes finally focused on it, she was shocked.
Before her was a frightened, powerless woman who, though financially stable, had managed to deny herself every other joy of society that was available to her sex.
A tear ran down one cheek, and though she quickly dashed it away with the back of her hand, she felt angry at her uncharacteristic lack of control.
But she could not blame herself, for it is difficult to ascertain one’s true nature for the first time.
Twenty
It was upon this very thought that Caroline heard her mother’s voice say, “Your brother and his companions have arrived, my dear. Do come and greet them.”
Good Lord, Caroline thought. How had they arrived in L
ondon so quickly? They must have been only a day’s ride behind the mail coach! To be so soon in the company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy and to know that her brother would be eyeing her closely, wondering if she would make amends, was simply too much. How would she survive the moments to come?
She could not fathom a method. She must simply endure it as best she could.
“Yes, Mama,” Caroline called back in a controlled tone that contradicted the turmoil within her. She must take a bit of time to gather her scattered wits.
Caroline looked through the window, saw Mr. Darcy’s carriage at the entrance, and wondered how she had managed to ignore its arrival. She had been so focused within that she had entirely missed the happenings in the world around her.
She took a deep breath and refocused on her reflection. She looked strained and bloodless. She pinched her cheeks and smoothed her hair, but it did little good.
Her jangled nerves nearly prevented her from turning and walking toward the entryway to greet the new arrivals, and she did not approve of this sensation at all. Nervous complaints were the hallmark of weak-willed, silly women everywhere, and Caroline had always been proud not to count herself among them. Now, here she was having some sort of apoplexy at the thought of encountering her own brother and a gentleman with whom she had traveled extensively.
But how could Caroline possibly face any of them now?
She was an abject failure.
Lavinia would see to it that she never met with Mr. Charlton again. He would not propose. She would not be the wife of a baron.
All hope of escaping her brother’s injunction to make amends with Miss Elizabeth Bennet was now lost. If she wanted to escape the prison of the north, then she must depend on her brother. And now that she understood Lavinia’s feelings toward her, she must not return to Kendal.
Ever again.
Resigned to her fate, Caroline entered an empty foyer. While she had been summoning her courage and contemplating her appearance, the guests had already been greeted and ushered into the drawing room, which had more seating than the small sitting room she and Lavinia had occupied, and by now, her mother was no doubt attempting to recount every happening in Kendal since the day Charles had left it all those years ago.
As Caroline drew nearer to the chamber, she saw that the double mahogany door was ajar, allowing her to distinguish the voices of the room’s occupants from her position in the hallway.
Truly, she was preparing to make her entrance when she heard Mr. Darcy speak, and suddenly, she felt quite immobilized.
His voice had once been the audible symbol of all her hopes and dreams, and hearing it now in the wake of her greatest defeats was nearly more than she could bear. She could only stand and listen to its modulated tones and wish for what could not be.
With such strong emotions coursing through her, Caroline took the cowardly option and peeked through the open door instead of meeting her former companions with her usual boldness. They were all charmingly arranged about the room, but Caroline’s eyes sought Mr. Darcy, and she discovered him standing behind the sofa. A deep brown coat covered his broad back, and he appeared to be quite at his leisure, for he leaned against the back of the sofa in a relaxed posture. When she observed that his hand was resting so that his fingertips could with great subtlety brush the shoulder of the woman—his wife, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as Caroline would always think of her—who was seated before him, Caroline could not bear the unfairness. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had every tangible need met, and she had love as well.
On that thought, Caroline strode into the chamber prepared to be just as cold to Miss Elizabeth Bennet as ever and just as attentive to Mr. Darcy as propriety would allow.
The gentlemen all stood at her sudden entrance, and her mother was forced to break her litany of local news. “Oh Caroline, my dear, there you are. Do come and greet your brother, his wife, and their friends.”
Caroline did as she was instructed only because it was precisely what she had intended to do.
“Charles,” she said as she grasped his hand in both of hers. “How happy I am to see you looking so hale after your travels.”
Her brother returned her greeting and gave her a searching look, as if attempting to gauge her intentions with one mere glance. Caroline offered him her boldest smile, which caused his eyebrows to draw down in confusion.
He may as well share in her perplexity, for she was acting without fully knowing her own aims.
She then smiled at Jane, who was eyeing her with a mixture of suspicion and openness. Jane’s visage transformed into a look of honest pleasure that surprised Caroline.
After having just experienced the same suffering she had inflicted on Jane, Caroline could not imagine offering such an open expression to Lavinia Winton. No indeed.
But Jane had always been a kind-hearted girl, and now Caroline must admit that she was twice as good as herself.
“My dear sister,” Caroline said. “I am also happy to see you here.”
Jane smiled with ever-increasing openness. “Thank you. I am happy to be here.”
Caroline then turned to Jane’s sister Elizabeth, who was eyeing her with only suspicion and no openness at all. Caroline squinted at her, believing in her mien a certain level of suppressed anger. Possibly there was also a hint of superiority.
Caroline forced the smile to remain upon her lips, intent upon paying Miss Elizabeth Bennet every arrear at civility. “Mrs. Darcy, you are welcome too.”
The woman only smiled and inclined her head.
Finally, Caroline looked to the gentleman who remained at her shoulder. “Mr. Darcy…” she began, and to her horror, she found that words failed her.
In the past, perhaps she would have uttered a caustic remark about the tedium of long journeys, but today, she could not think of a word to say.
Mr. Darcy bowed to her, looked away, and the moment was over.
The guests returned to their former positions, leaving Caroline in want of a chair.
She turned toward the fire, where she discovered Mr. Rushton lurking by the poker.
She looked to the pianoforte and considered seating herself upon the stool, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Rushton gesture to the wooden chair beside him, clearly offering her a place.
She glared at him, unleashing upon him the venom she must conceal from others. What a blessing to have him here, for she could be just as rude to him as she liked. Yes, she would take the seat he offered.
Mr. Rushton had the audacity to smile as she approached, prompting her to say sotto voce, “Mr. Rushton, I did not realize you were to be a part of our family party.”
“I might remind you that this is my house,” he returned softly, “but I am certain you recall that already.”
She glowered happily. She knew very well why he had installed himself in the chamber. He had come with the dual purposes of eating the food intended for their guests and of gathering information, for he must suspect that an explanation for her sudden arrival in Kendal would lie with her former traveling party.
“Yes,” Mrs. Newton said, having not heard Mr. Rushton’s reply. “We quite fancy Mr. Rushton a part of our family, and Mrs. Pickersgill as well, though she has been called away abruptly this afternoon. You will meet her soon, I am certain, for she is a dear friend of Caroline’s.”
Then she turned to her daughter and said, “My dear Caroline, do attempt to convince your brother to stay here in Mr. Rushton’s home, for he has already issued the invitation.” Caroline glared again at Mr. Rushton as her mother continued. “But Charles says they are to stay at a hotel. A hotel!”
Relief flooded Caroline. They would not stay at Grosvenor Street. Thank heaven. She did not think she could bear any further discomfort, but for her mother’s benefit, she must attempt to persuade them.
“Mama,” Charles protested, “it is a fine hotel: Grillon’s.”
“Well, it sounds very…French.” Mrs. Newton turned to her daughter and said, “C
aroline, convince him to stay here.”
Caroline restrained a sigh. “Yes, Charles, do stay here if you possibly can and eat just as much of Mr. Rushton’s food as you like.” She glanced about the room to find everyone looking at her rather oddly. She must get control of her tongue and her emotions, for she was quite making herself appear the fool. “Mama has the greatest desire to acquaint herself with my new sister.”
Caroline smiled at Jane, whose face brightened at the prospect of deepening her relationship with her new maternal figure.
“Indeed, I must become acquainted with my new daughter,” Mrs. Newton said. “And Mr. and Mrs. Darcy as well, you must stay, for you are family too, are you not? I understand from Caroline that the two of you are sisters.”
It was Mrs. Darcy who responded, saying, “Yes, Jane and I are indeed sisters, both in family lineage and in heart. So I suppose…” She looked at Caroline with a rather grim set to her mouth. “We are family.”
“Then you must stay here so that we may all get to know one another, and I may as well begin now.” She smiled broadly. “Jane, my dear, I do believe you have already brought goodness to my son’s life.”
“Oh, Mrs. Newton,” Jane said as a blush graced her classical features, “it is kind of you to say, but quite unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary? I think not. Only look at my Charles. He has quite come into his own since your marriage, I must say.”
“I could not possibly claim credit for such a change,” Jane demurred.
“I am as I always have been, Mama,” Charles said, though he appeared a bit proud of himself.
“No, no, I sense a new confidence in you, Charles. Do not you agree, Caroline?”
She looked at her brother. In truth, she agreed wholeheartedly with the assessment, though he was exercising his new bravado in a most inappropriate way. Let him order about his servants, not his sister.
Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 20