“But it is worse than that. I am in love with her.”
“Oh good God!” Caroline said with a horrified glance at her mother’s pleased expression. “This is not to be borne!”
Mrs. Newton looked between Mr. Rushton and Caroline, and her face transformed from pleased to exultant as a wide smile spread across her face.
“I comprehend very well,” she said to Mr. Rushton. “My daughter will never admit to her true feelings, and based on the circumstances in which I found you, she certainly has them.”
Mr. Rushton looked sidelong at Caroline and replied, “Yes. She has them.”
“The two of you ought not to presume to tell me what I do and do not feel,” Caroline said. She took a few steps toward her mother, hands outstretched. “I certainly experience no sympathetic emotions for this person.”
“Poor Caroline,” Mrs. Newton said, taking both her hands. “She has spent her whole life searching for home and she does not recognize it when it is standing before her.”
“I do not understand,” Caroline whispered.
“Then allow me to speak plainly. You are violently in love with Mr. Rushton.”
“No,” Caroline whispered. “I most certainly am not.”
“But you realize, of course, Mrs. Newton, that it is hopeless,” Mr. Rushton said in a tone of irritating practicality. “She will marry only a gentleman of large fortune, a title, or both. And as far as she knows, I have none of these attributes.”
“You speak as if I would marry you, even with those enticements,” Caroline spat.
“Ah, but you shall marry him, Caroline,” Mrs. Newton said. Her face held the strangest combination of seriousness and glee.
“I shall not.” Caroline’s anger burned and she thought to walk out, but her mother’s expression alone seemed to block her way. “Only I may decide what is for my own benefit, and I can say with utmost certainty that Mr. Rushton can have no worthwhile influence on my opinions.”
“And that is precisely the problem,” Mrs. Newton said. “You allow the wrong people to influence your opinions: Mr. Charlton, Lavinia, even to an extent your dear father. I have seen you work to please those who care not a fig for you and conceal your heart from those who love you.”
Caroline had not realized the depth of her mother’s understanding of what had transpired between herself and Lavinia and Mr. Charlton.
“Yes, I know everything. I surmised that something was amiss when Lavinia and Mr. Charlton left Kendal, and that alone persuaded me to take this trip to London. I knew you would find a way to Mr. Charlton, and this seemed the best method to ensure your safety while you saw for yourself what he is. But now, I have watched you suffer enough.” Mrs. Newton held up a hand to prevent Caroline from protesting again. “I am afraid you have compromised yourself with Mr. Rushton, Caroline, and I shall not conceal that fact from anyone.”
“Mama! You know very well that Mr. Rushton is at fault….” Caroline allowed her voice to trail into silence. Only to herself did Caroline acknowledge the lie. She could have forced Mr. Rushton to leave, but she had not wanted him to go.
Though Caroline had not spoken aloud, Mrs. Newton looked at her as if he could see into her heart and mind. It was so disturbing that Caroline was forced to avert her eyes. She was a wanton hussy, and everyone in the room—including her own mother—knew it.
Lord! Whatever had she been thinking to allow a gentleman to embrace her like that? Worse, she had craved it. She had thrown herself back at him.
Now, she must arrange matters so that she could escape unscathed.
She mustered all her strength and willed her voice to be forceful and authoritative. When she finally spoke, she was the Caroline of old, the Caroline of twenty minutes ago, before she had allowed Mr. Rushton’s advances. She rose to her full height, and her voice was terrifying, even to her, when she said, “I shall not be forced into a marriage to him.” She jerked her hand toward Mr. Rushton.
Here, Mrs. Newton approached and took Caroline’s hand in her own. “What I am about to say, I say for your own benefit and because I love you.”
Caroline could not fathom what might next spring from her mother’s traitorous lips, and she was truly shocked to hear her words. “You are ruined, my dear girl. You have been glimpsed in an intimate posture with a gentleman in an empty chamber. Now, you must either face life as a ruined woman or marry the man with whom you committed the indiscretion.”
Twenty-five
Caroline did not dare to speak at that precise moment, for her rage and embarrassment were burning too brightly within her. She had disappointed herself and her entire family in indulging in such an emotional display with Mr. Rushton, and now she was being maneuvered into a marriage to a gentleman of whom she could not approve.
Caroline had nothing left within her but a broken spirit and a heart of dashed hopes. It was time to admit the truth.
Gathering herself, Caroline spoke in a painfully modulated voice. “I admit to having failed to attain all I have attempted. It seems I have taken the wrong path at every turn, and the best I can say for myself is that I was only hoping to gain that which every other woman attempts to achieve.”
Caroline looked to Mr. Rushton, realizing she may as well accede to the wishes of her heart, and said, “Please leave us, Mama.”
There was a pause and then her mother smiled, causing Caroline to stare in disbelief.
“You must be aware, Caro, that my departure will only solidify your ruin.”
“I understand, Mama. My decision is made.”
Mrs. Newton smiled again and then grasped Mr. Rushton’s hand as if welcoming him to the family. “Ten minutes,” she said as she turned and left the chamber.
Caroline waited until she heard the door shut behind her mother and then she spoke. “Mr. Rushton, it appears I have no choice but to accept your proposal.”
She turned to face him again, but found that she could not read his expression at all well. His next words surprised her.
“That is not precisely true, Miss Bingley,” he said, but he stepped closer. “For those who are truly motivated, there is always a method of escape.”
“Oh?” she asked with feigned innocence as she reached out tentatively to touch his sleeve. “And what method would you propose?”
“Your mother has concocted this scheme for your own benefit, and if you truly do not wish to accept my proposal, she will not speak ill of us, no matter how deeply we deserve it. Mrs. Newton hopes only to give you ample excuse for doing something that heretofore your pride would not allow.”
How accurately he summarized her, except on one score.
“It is not solely pride that has been the root of my actions, Mr. Rushton. It is also fear, as you are well aware. Have you not told me as much on numerous occasions?”
“I confess I was not aware that you marked me.”
“You may rest easy in your comprehension of me, for at first, I did not listen. I believed you to be utterly incorrect,” Caroline admitted.
“And now?”
“Now, a fearsome prospect is before me,” she said as she ran her hand up his coat sleeve to his shoulder. “I have entangled myself with a gentleman who is quite opposite of the husband my father envisioned for me and whom I imagined for myself. I will fail at raising my family’s status.”
“But you shall have all the benefits of my fortune, ill gained though it may be.” He paused to wrap an arm around Caroline’s waist. “And you will have love.”
“Yes, and that, Mr. Rushton, is my greatest fear.”
His eyebrows met in confusion. “I do not believe I comprehend you.”
“I will be required to open myself to you, to become vulnerable to your searching gazes, to admit the abject failure of all my schemes. I do not know if I could bear such an admission.”
“Your schemes have already failed. Your admission changes nothing.”
“But worse, I must become a love-struck puppy. I must laugh at your every joke, han
g upon your every word, and spend my days in thrall of your wit. I do not believe I could bear the lies. As you are aware, my life has been built upon them, and I find it quite tiresome to uphold them any longer.”
Mr. Rushton smiled.
He comprehended her.
Yes, he understood.
“Caroline, you harpy, I know very well that your personality has no chance of improvement, and I fully expect you to pick and prod at me for all the days of my life.”
“But it is too late for you, for you have already confessed your love, have you not?”
“I fear I have.”
“And I must confess as well,” she said with a sly smile. “I despise you.” Caroline knew quite well that her face revealed the truth of her feelings. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were moist with unshed tears. Here was a gentleman who understood her. A gentleman she truly loved.
His arms came around her waist, and when he spoke again his voice was soft. “I despise you too.”
Epilogue
Caroline’s return to Kendal led to the revelation of secrets she had not realized the sleepy little hamlet held.
Mr. Charlton, as it turned out, had indeed eloped, but his partner was Miss Brodrick, the daughter of a local pencil manufacturer. On a purely practical level, Caroline could not disapprove of his choice. Perhaps the sensible young lady could manage to rein in her new husband and prevent him from depleting his family’s fortune.
On a more wicked level, the marriage had provided great joy to Caroline, who felt no compunction whatsoever at her pleasure over Lavinia’s embarrassment. Yes, she could just imagine her former friend’s expression when she discovered the truth of the matter: her brother had eloped with someone even lower on the social scale than Caroline Bingley!
And upon her brother’s inheritance of the barony, Lavinia would be required to hear Miss Brodrick called Lady Charlton.
Caroline’s amusement over Lavinia’s condition was tempered, however, when she discovered the truth of her friend’s situation.
Her husband, Mr. Ralph Winton, was not the genial, selfless gentleman who had sacrificed to allow his wife to return to Kendal to help during her family’s time of crisis.
No, indeed.
Mr. Winton was happy to see her go.
Her absence gave him complete discretion in pursuing his own dissolution. He had already gambled away their fortune, given his mind in exchange for the dubious pleasures of whiskey, and traded his marriage vows for the comforts of a mistress.
Had Harold Charlton not had the courtesy to die of consumption when he had, Lavinia would have been required to return home in disgrace, as just another victim of a dissipated, purposeless man. As it was, she had been able to claim a nobler motive than merely escaping a wretched husband.
Mrs. Pickersgill was making successful strides in her legal battle with her husband’s heirs and had left the matter entirely in the hands of her solicitor in order to return to Kendal for Caroline’s wedding.
Days before the ceremony took place, she received a letter from her solicitor that indicated that documents were being drawn up to finalize the return of her jointure, including her monetary inheritance and her retention of her late husband’s small town home, which he had always intended for her. She would be able to return to London in triumph due to her willingness to fight her own family.
A new understanding had built between Caroline and Rosemary, and their friendship was growing stronger as her former companion helped her prepare for her wedding to Mr. Rushton. For the first time in her life, Caroline knew what it was to have a true friend, one who was not interested in gaining anything from an association with her and from whom she did not hope to gain anything in return.
Caroline’s agreement with Mrs. Darcy had pleased Charles greatly, and he promptly invited her to rejoin his traveling party, which was bound for Mr. Darcy’s home in Derbyshire. Though pleased to return to her brother’s good graces and to have retained her welcome at Pemberley, Caroline declined his invitation and instead requested his presence at her wedding, which was to take place upon their return to the north some weeks hence.
~**~
Upon the eve of Caroline’s wedding, she received a letter borne by courier and carrying an unfamiliar seal.
She had almost chosen not to open it, believing it could contain nothing that needed to be read at such a moment, but upon Mr. and Mrs. Newton’s prompting, she did so.
The seal belonged to a solicitor in London, and Caroline scanned the document from top to bottom. Her eyes landed upon Mr. Rushton’s signature and beside it, her brother’s. She looked to Mr. Newton for clarification.
“What is this?”
“Mr. Rushton and your brother completed the matter of your marriage settlement, I presume,” he said with a broad smile.
Caroline sat down and read the document once and then again.
“The money Father left me.” She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Newton with wide eyes. “He has allowed me control of it all, from the first moment of our marriage.”
“Yes,” Mr. Newton said. “Mr. Rushton spoke of it to me. I knew you would be pleased. Does she not seem pleased, my dear?” he asked his wife.
Mrs. Newton nodded. “I believe pleased and shocked.” She turned to Caroline. “He is a good man.”
Caroline looked away from her mother to regard the letter again. It made no sense. Who but a fool refused a fortune of 20,000 pounds? She greatly hoped that she was not engaged to a fool.
“But why?” Caroline asked.
Mrs. Newton smiled. “He has no need for it, dear. I think he wanted you to understand that his proposal was about something more than your fortune.”
Caroline stared down at the letter.
Upon their nuptials, her fortune should, by all rights, become legally his. He should control it and, thereby, control Caroline as well.
And at that thought, Caroline understood him perfectly.
His wedding gift to her was the very thing around which all her striving had been centered. He was giving her lasting security by eschewing his legal right to her fortune.
No longer would she have to scramble up the social ladder, for even in the event of her husband’s death—when most women, even Mrs. Pickersgill, were vulnerable to being left penniless and thus falling upon the mercy of relations or friends—Caroline would never find herself in that predicament. She was no longer slave to appearances or social whims or gossip. She depended on no one for her future security.
Caroline Bingley was finally her own mistress.
And that meant that she could finally give herself wholly to Mr. Rushton, the only gentleman she had ever loved.
~**~
The barouche carried Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Rushton with inexorable swiftness toward Rushton House, and within its confines, its occupants sat rather stiffly for a bride and groom on their way home from their wedding breakfast.
Having not found an opportune moment to mention her inheritance all morning, Caroline now could not seem to find the words to express her feelings on the subject, or on any subject at all.
She found only the courage to make furtive glances at her husband, who, she must admit, looked handsome indeed in his fine black suit. She could not manage to meet his eyes, but looked at Mr. Rushton whenever she believed him to be focused elsewhere. When their gazes did chance to meet, she felt heat rise to her face and a flutter building in her chest.
Caroline blamed this odd behavior for the feeling of tension mounting within her.
She clasped her hands in her lap, willing them to remain still, but she jerked visibly when Mr. Rushton finally broke his silence, saying, “There is no need to conceal your anxiety, Caro, for I know very well that you must feel it.”
Caroline faced her husband, but she could not yet admit her feelings aloud, so she responded with her usual sarcasm. “What can you possibly mean, sir? What cause have I to experience anxiety?”
“Come,” he said. His blue eyes showed some inte
rnal pain. “You are aware of my family’s fall from fortune. Though you have seen my home in town, you must harbor some fear regarding the condition of my ancestral estate.”
Caroline looked at him for a long moment, and then, over his shoulder. They were coming upon the stream that she knew formed the boundary to his property, or had at one point.
“How far are we from the house?” she asked.
“What?” he replied, confused.
“The house: how close is it?”
Mr. Rushton lowered his eyebrows at her but then looked outside to discover where they were. “Not a quarter mile.”
“Excellent, have the coachman stop the carriage,” Caroline said, delighted at the confusion on his face. “I should like to walk.”
His blond eyebrows dipped even lower. “But you despise walking.”
“Yes, but if I am entering a new life, I intend to do so of my own volition and under my own momentum.”
Mr. Rushton nodded, did as she bid him, and stopped the carriage. He assisted her to the ground and sent the driver on.
They stood together in the grass as the cloud of dust dissipated in the wake of the barouche’s disappearance. Their eyes were locked, as if each were trying to read the other’s thoughts, and then Mr. Rushton offered his arm.
She took it, and they walked slowly toward the stream.
“I suppose it is natural for you to desire to meet your future on your own terms and under your own power. You had little choice in the decisions that led to this point.”
Here, Caroline laughed aloud. “Little choice? What can you mean?”
Mr. Rushton looked upon her as one might regard a lunatic.
“Oh, you refer to the circumstances of our engagement,” she said.
“Indeed.”
“Well, you may cease being concerned about them, for I can assure you that nothing has occurred that I did not truly desire in my heart, though I hesitate in sharing that truth with anyone, especially you, husband, for you shall undoubtedly enjoy wielding this new power over me.”
He smiled broadly at her and then sobered. “I should think you understand by now that I love you. And it should be abundantly clear that I have no desire for power over you.” He referred to the solicitor’s letter, Caroline knew.
Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 24