Mrs. Darcy raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Must you?”
Caroline continued with all honesty. “My brother is quite anxious that I conceive a way of making amends with you. He has suggested an apology, but I find it a pointless endeavor.”
Elizabeth appeared amused, and her eyes brightened as if she had heard a diverting joke. “Do you?”
Caroline felt Elizabeth’s amusement as if someone had boxed her ears. She did not appreciate her obvious display of pleasure, but she forced herself to continue. “You cannot be unaware of the reasons for my actions all those months ago regarding your sister and my brother.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I believe I have a full understanding of what transpired.”
“And you also must know that your husband was the chief instigator in separating them.”
Again, she agreed. “Mr. Darcy has confessed as much and asked forgiveness.”
Caroline leaned forward, desperate for Elizabeth to comprehend her. “But as a devoted sister yourself, you must understand why I cannot make apologies as Mr. Darcy has.”
Elizabeth’s amusement did not seem to wane at all as she laughed a bit and said, “I have always believed that one might make an apology whenever one has committed a wrong.”
“And that is precisely why you will understand my refusal to apologize.” She looked Elizabeth full in the eye. “I have done nothing wrong.”
Annoyance briefly crossed Elizabeth’s features before amusement seemed to claim the victory. “Have you not?” she asked, smirking.
“Consider, Mrs. Darcy,” Caroline said with all seriousness, “your own actions regarding your sister Miss Lydia.”
Elizabeth’s amused expression faded. “I caution you not to speak ill of her in my presence.”
“My intention is quite the contrary, I assure you. Though I know not all the particulars of what transpired, one thing is perfectly clear to me: you believed your sister to be in danger, and you would have undertaken any action to save her.”
Elizabeth studied her for a moment, her face completely devoid of emotion. “Miss Bingley, I do not comprehend what you expect this line of discussion to gain for you. I—”
“I only refer to this uncomfortable matter to remind you of your own sentiments for your family. You would have done all that was necessary to save Miss Lydia, and that is all I did. Only I did not fully realize my brother’s love for your sister, and I am pleased for him now.”
“You admit you were in the wrong?” Elizabeth asked, eyes wide.
Caroline hedged. “I admit that he loves her, and he has married her. Now my objections are at an end. She is my family now.”
Elizabeth continued to look at her with a level gaze. Caroline returned it.
“I do not know how you view Mr. Wickham now that he and Lydia are married, but I hold your elder sister in highest regard. Truly, I do.” And Caroline’s words actually were true. She did like Jane.
Elizabeth watched her in silence as if deciding whether or not to argue some salient point.
But Caroline pressed onward. “That is but one half of the issues that must be addressed, for there are other impediments to our ever being friends, as you well know.”
The ladies regarded each other carefully before Elizabeth said with all frankness, “Yes, you desired my husband for yourself.”
Elizabeth’s forthrightness startled Caroline, and she knew not how to respond.
After a moment’s thought, she said just as bluntly, “In this circumstance, you cannot expect me to own such a thing aloud. No woman would.”
More hesitation.
“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “I suppose you are correct.”
“And,” Caroline said, “you are too astute not to realize that we shall never be friends, apology or not.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Such a thing would be well nigh impossible.”
“And if I were to venture an apology,” Caroline added, “you would not believe me.”
“No, indeed,” Elizabeth said. “If you were to make your apologies, you would certainly not mean it.”
“No, indeed, I would not.”
“Then we are at an impasse.”
Caroline shook her head. “This, Mrs. Darcy, is my proposal. For the sake of family harmony, we may as well agree to become indifferent acquaintances.”
Elizabeth appeared to consider her words and then said hesitantly, “It would be folly to attempt friendship.”
Caroline nodded with vigor. “Indeed.”
Elizabeth indulged in a few more moments of thought before saying, “I do not like to disappoint Mr. Bingley, for he is the best of men, and it would be so much easier on your brother and my sister if we appeared to have put aside our grievances.”
“Yes, I do not like to disappoint my brother either, and as I said, I have already made amends with your sister.”
The two women sat in mutual silent contemplation before Elizabeth finally said, “Then, Miss Bingley, for the sake of our families, I believe we have struck an agreement.”
The tension Caroline had been carrying about her shoulders and neck suddenly dissipated. This unpleasant situation might actually resolve itself to everyone’s satisfaction.
“Yes,” Caroline said. “I will treat you with courtesy and respect.”
“And I shall do the same.”
“For the sake of harmony, we will tell Charles that all is well between us…”
“…but we will not push the endeavor to friendship,” Elizabeth supplied.
“No, indeed.”
Elizabeth smiled.
Caroline returned it.
There, the matter was settled.
Family harmony was restored.
Twenty-four
Caroline returned to Grosvenor Street while the household was at dinner, but she could not bring herself to join them. Instead, she meandered without definite purpose to the pianoforte in the drawing room and settled herself on the stool.
After leaving Grillon’s, Caroline had spent the whole evening in contemplation, and now her mind felt sluggish. All her plans had been overturned and all her hopes dashed. She had lost two gentlemen—both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Charlton—and had come to see the painful truth of her friendship with Lavinia Winton.
In the past year, she had lost quite a great deal indeed.
But she had, at the very least, the comfort of having regained her family. She realized now, however, that she must resign herself to spinsterhood and to being without any control over her own future. Evidence showed that she was not the sort of woman with whom gentlemen fell in love, so she ought to face the prospect of never having a home of her own or of enjoying the benefits of her fortune on her own terms.
Why, she may as well return to her mother’s home and live there for the rest of her days. She would at least enjoy observing Lavinia’s daily horror at hearing whatever chit Mr. Charlton married addressed as Lady Charlton.
That would be some consolation.
Caroline could not say she felt either pain or pleasure at her future prospects. She felt precisely nothing. Perhaps she was still overwhelmed.
And that is why she went to the pianoforte. It seemed to calm her as her fingers stroked the keys. She was in the midst of a lovely, soft piece, and her mind felt peaceful and serene as a result, when she heard a voice behind her.
“Miss Bingley.” The voice was warm, but still it startled her, and she craned her neck to see who had entered.
Mr. Rushton stood in the doorway, smiling as if he understood something secret about her. Slowly, he approached, his eyes focused on her.
Caroline managed to pull her hands from the keys and then sat on the stool completely immobile.
“Caroline,” he said. His eyes suddenly seemed hooded and more intense than she had ever seen them appear.
She clasped her hands in her lap and forced herself to maintain eye contact.
“I…” he began, stopped, and surveyed her from head to foot.
Carol
ine stifled the urge to check herself for wrinkles or to straighten her hair. No, she would not allow him to disconcert her with his boldness. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and raked over his appearance with equal boldness.
“You are not dressed for dinner,” Caroline said.
“No, I was out.”
“Ah,” she said, not knowing how else to respond.
“I was searching for you.”
Caroline’s eyebrows drew down in confusion, and there was a long pause as the two looked at each other.
“I found this….” Mr. Rushton’s voice trailed into silence as he pulled a folded sheet of writing paper from his coat pocket. “Under the blotter.”
“Oh,” she said, “I had forgotten about that.”
Caroline watched as he refolded the note and returned it to his pocket. Then he gestured toward the pianoforte.
“That was,” he said, as he came ever closer, “the most unguarded moment I have ever witnessed.”
Caroline looked into Mr. Rushton’s face, and then she heard herself saying, “I do not take your meaning, sir.”
“Of course, you do not take my meaning, for no one has ever complimented you on your honesty and vulnerability.”
“Can vulnerability be an asset?” she whispered.
“Asset or not, no person is without it.”
“Even you, Mr. Rushton?”
Here, Mr. Rushton came around the pianoforte and positioned himself beside Caroline’s stool.
Out of sheer habit, she turned to face him fully. He hovered above her, and although he was not so close as to make it feasible, Caroline imagined that she could feel the heat of his skin and the stirring of his breath as he said, “Even me.”
His expression was rife with meaning, but still, Caroline could not comprehend it.
An unfamiliar—and not altogether uncomfortable—sensation ripped through her body as the focus of his gaze lowered from her eyes to her lips.
She licked them, but she had not meant to do so.
Heat flooded her face, and, embarrassed at her reaction to a gentleman such as Mr. Rushton, whose family had been brought low, Caroline shot to her feet.
Too late, she realized that a standing position only brought her closer to him. Now she actually could feel the warmth of his skin and the stirring of his breath.
They stood still, their bodies close and their gazes locked together.
And with shocking suddenness, Caroline comprehended the absolute truth of her vulnerability as she faced the full level of her attraction for him for the first time.
Somehow, his proximity had done queer things to the dimensions of the chamber, for it seemed much smaller. Not only had it diminished in size, but it had also warmed considerably.
“But tell me, you have not eloped with Charlton, have you?”
“What?” Caroline stared at him. “Eloped?”
“Yes, eloped. Have you?”
“You ought to know that I would never consent to such a method of matrimony! Besides, there was not time for an elopement.”
He shook his head as if attempting to understand her. “So you are not married?”
“No, indeed,” Caroline said, her voice suddenly gone soft.
Mr. Rushton took a step closer, and all the noise from the busy street vanished into sheer silence.
“Come,” he said, “you must admit that you do—or did—have designs on that gentleman.”
Caroline would not deign to answer. She would not even look at him, for such a task seemed far too difficult in this small, warm, intimate room.
In response to her obstinate silence, Mr. Rushton lifted her chin with his forefinger. Their eyes met, and she knew that there was no concealment deep enough to obscure her true motives from him.
“Quite so,” he said, with a shake of his head. “I have no need of your reply, for I see very plainly that my supposition is true. But Miss Bingley, you must see that Mr. Charlton is a man who is ruled by something other than sentiment. He has other motives.”
Caroline sighed. “What does it matter? No gentleman would fall in love with me.”
“No, my dear Miss Bingley, that is not the case. I am certain that some unlucky man will offer you his heart, and for his sake, I do hope that you will be generous with it.”
“I am not generous, as you well know.”
“Indeed, therefore it is fortunate that you are not the type of woman with whom such men fall in love. Your attempts at pretense and accomplishments are so very blatant. Your machinations so transparent. Most gentlemen would be put off by you and lured by a woman of more subtle arts.”
She glared.
“I see you are more hurt that your machinations are so obvious than you are distressed that this gentleman will never love you. You do not love him.”
Caroline blushed, but she did not demur. “No, I do not love him.”
Mr. Rushton’s hand was still on Caroline’s chin, but she did not feel trapped. She felt strange, almost immobilized by his touch. “And you did not love Mr. Darcy either.”
“No,” she said, speaking the truth aloud—and perhaps truly realizing it—for the first time. “I did not love him.”
Mr. Rushton was looking at her so intensely that she let her lashes flutter lower in an attempt to avoid his searching gaze.
“Caroline,” he said. “Look at me.”
She found she could not.
“If you will not look at me, then…” He paused and slipped his hand to the nape of her neck. “You must allow me to experiment…”
Caroline looked at him then.
His face had drawn very near to hers, and the unfamiliar sensation intensified.
Perhaps it was the intimacy of their location in that empty room that was affecting her good judgment, but she did not pull away or attempt to rebuke him verbally. No, she stood quietly and watched through lowered lashes as he came ever closer.
She felt his breath stir the loose hair at her temples as he said, “Be still, Caroline, and allow me to…”
He had not needed to say it. She could not move.
She felt his left hand come to rest on her hip.
When Mr. Rushton’s lips brushed hers, a frisson of incomprehensible feeling skittered through her, and without realizing precisely what she was doing, her hands came to grasp at his coat.
He pulled away with the apparent intent to gauge her reaction—to discover the results of his experiment—but Caroline was in no humor to be studied or gauged.
She pulled back, and he let his hand slip down Caroline’s arm, but he did not let her break their contact completely. “Caroline, you must marry me.”
Had he not maintained a firm grip on her fingertips, Caroline would have retreated as far as was possible within the confines of the chamber.
“No,” she said flatly.
“Do not be absurd, woman. You know very well that we are perfectly suited for each other.”
She jerked her hand away from his grasp. “I know no such thing.”
Tears had sprung to her eyes, but through sheer force of will, she did not allow them to fall. Truly, she had never experienced the level of emotion she had felt with Mr. Rushton, but she could not bear to fail to follow her father’s wish that she—and all his children—marry people of status.
“I have understood you as I have understood no other woman, and, I believe, you comprehend me better than any woman of my acquaintance. We, neither of us, play at false modesty or hide our true motives.”
“If you are aware of my true motives, you know that I will never marry you.”
“No, I know no such thing, for if you would but allow yourself to be influenced by something other than your fear, then you may just find that your material concerns will be taken care of.”
As he spoke, he had been approaching slowly, and now he was again upon her. Her calves were pressed against the stool, and she could not retreat further.
In truth, she did not want to.
She
desperately wanted to allow her feelings to guide her, perhaps only this one time, so she abandoned herself to her sentiments.
When she kissed him, it was not tentative or experimental, but desperate and full of passion. The kiss encompassed her embarrassment at being rejected, her fear of being alone, her rage at society’s strictures, and her despair at the knowledge that, no matter what, she must not marry beneath her intended status. Yet, the kiss was something more. It was rife with long-concealed anxiety and unattainable hope.
And it was the first moment of uncensored emotion she had ever experienced.
But it was not to last.
“Caroline!”
The word barely registered upon her first hearing it, and only upon its second pronunciation did Caroline tear herself away from Mr. Rushton.
In the open doorway stood her mother, staring at her with a completely incomprehensible expression.
Caroline could only watch as her mother closed the door with measured control.
“I would ask what you are about in the drawing room,” Mrs. Newton said as she approached the couple. “But it is quite apparent.”
“No!” Caroline fairly shouted in protest at the whole situation. Her cheeks were hot as a newly stoked fire, and she stepped forward, though not quite certain whether she ought to attack Mr. Rushton for putting her in this circumstance or object to her mother’s catching them.
Mrs. Newton spoke to Mr. Rushton, who was standing close behind Caroline. “You do realize the predicament you are in, sir.”
“I fear that I do.” Caroline turned to glare at him as he ran a hand through his blond hair. “And yet it is worse than you know, Mrs. Newton.”
Mrs. Newton turned to her daughter. “What have you done to him, Caroline?”
Caroline sputtered. “What have I done to him? Mama! How can you ask me such a question? I have done nothing. Nothing!”
Her mother smiled oddly, but said not a word.
Caroline continued, “Mr. Rushton has taken advantage of me. Your daughter!”
Mrs. Newton looked at Mr. Rushton. “Is that true? Have you taken advantage of my girl?”
“No indeed,” he said with shocking frankness. “She has taken advantage of me.”
Caroline gasped. “What?”
Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 23