by Sue Barr
The fact they were in the stables of his benefactor never once crossed his mind. Not until the whinny of a nearby horse pierced the haze of desire that shrouded his reasoning. Caroline must have heard it too because her eyes flew open and she stepped back, breaking the spell that had almost ended in a kiss.
What had he been thinking? If they’d been caught, not only would it ruin her reputation, but he could just as easily lose his position as Darcy’s vicar.
“Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me.” But he did. The Rake, the seducer of women, the man he used to be had reared his ugly head and it shook him to the core. “I will escort you back to the house where you may repair the damage before dinner.”
“I am perfectly able to find my own way, Lord Nathan.” Any softness he’d detected earlier disappeared behind a façade of politeness and he did not blame her one bit. He’d treated her worse than a libertine.
“I’m well aware you can find your own way but we wouldn’t want you to lose your footing again. Who knows what might happen then.”
He knew he’d poked the bear and was glad his sainted Mother couldn’t see him now. What was it about this young woman that brought out the worst in him? Ever since he’d given his heart to the Lord, he’d never once thought of kissing anyone, not even Miss Tottingham. He’d been quite content to wait until they were married to become more intimate. He cast his mind back to their brief courtship and couldn’t recall if he’d even kissed her hand.
There was something about Miss Bingley that made him want to ruffle her feathers. To find out if he shattered her composure as easily as she did his.
“Oh, you insufferable...” Caroline began to stalk off, muttering under her breath.
“I’m sorry, Miss Bingley. Did you say something?” He grinned as he watched her storm toward the main house. When she whirled to face him, skirts flaring about her delicate ankles, he clamped his mouth tight so she wouldn’t catch him laughing. Her feathers were more than ruffled now.
“I stated you were an insufferable oaf, amongst other things.” She stomped her foot. “How you vex me. And to think I waited three days for you to call—”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she realized what she’d admitted. Without another word, she picked up her skirts and turned to run. Her admission stunned him, at the same time a thrill coursed through his veins. She’d waited for him to call. However, he couldn’t let her leave in such a state. At best, his behavior had been uncouth, at worst, ungentlemanlike. He had to make amends, and quickly.
“Miss Bingley,” he called out to her fleeing figure. Dash it all, she covered a lot of ground with those long legs. With three long strides he reached her side and stopped her flight. “Please, let me apologize.”
“I will never accept your apologies, sir.” She kept her face averted and refused to look at him.
“I had no right to tease you the way I did.” He dropped his hand from her arm, relieved she didn’t move away. From that small concession he took hope she would listen to his belated counsel. “When I saw you hiding in the stable, I worried you were plotting a course of action which would result in dire consequences. I have no wish to see you ruin your life.”
“How would I be ruining my life? We’ve spoken but a few times. You know nothing about me.”
“Miss Bingley, it has come to my attention you have long held aspirations of an offer from Mr. Darcy, and made attempts to compromise him” – she sputtered out a vehement ‘I did not!’ – “Regardless, it is the general consensus amongst those who know you well. I regret being the one to speak with you in this manner, but I will not let you ruin Darcy’s happiness.”
“I did nothing to ruin Darcy’s happiness.”
“Only because I came across you first.” His patience was wearing thin.
“I told you I was not doing anything wrong.”
“Sneaking about the stable like a horse thief? Do not take me for a fool, Miss Bingley. I have reason to believe you were attempting to compromise Mr. Darcy.”
It astounded him that she continued to pursue Darcy even when his wedding was but a few days off. Her determination was somewhat admirable, if not misguided.
“No. That was not my intent. I know he will never offer for me.” She stared off across the meadow beside the stable. “All this started out as a nice walk in the garden. I heard the horses and remembered he’d purchased a mare for Miss Eliza.”
He believed her when she confessed she knew Darcy would never offer for her, but would someone who’d pursued a gentleman for so long, who had the patience to wait for what he reasoned had been years, give up so easily? Many a wedding had been cancelled because the bride or groom had been compromised, or eloped with someone else.
Her family and friends were caught up in all the festivities leading up to the wedding, and Darcy could be lured into a compromising position quite easily as he had numerous guests attending and wouldn’t be on his guard for a flank attack. He decided Miss Bingley needed close attention.
In silence they walked up the cobblestone path toward the house. When they reached the front garden, Nathan asked, “Miss Bingley, have you ever looked at Mr. Darcy as a man?”
“What kind of question is that?”
For a brief moment her footsteps stalled and then she hurried her pace.
“Forgive me if I have given offense. What I mean is... did you view him as a means for a comfortable life, given his vast estate and fortune, or did you ever view him as a man, with wants, fears and desires?”
“What a preposterous notion. Of course I thought of him as a man—”
“Very well then, what’s his favorite color?”
“Favorite color?” She blustered and once again attempted to move away. “How would I know that? If we had married, which you have assured me was my plan, we would have come to know each other’s likes and dislikes after the wedding.”
“That’s interesting. Miss Bennet has asked for dove grey to be part of the wedding decorations as that is Mr. Darcy’s favorite color.”
“Oh.”
“What is his favorite dish?”
Caroline whirled around and stomped toward the house. Nathan kept pace, waiting for an answer. As they reached the front entrance he placed a firm hand on her elbow and stopped her from entering the house. Anger blazed from her startling green eyes, her full lips pursed into a thin line.
“His favorite dish,” he pressed. “Come now, Miss Bingley. You’ve known him for several years. Surely you must know by now what foods he likes or dislikes.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care!” She pulled her arm from his grasp and stormed past Grieves, who’d silently opened the door. “I only wanted to look at the horse.” He watched as she ascended the grand staircase, a flurry of torn silk and agitation.
“Good afternoon, Grieves.”
The butler gave him a slight bob of the head, his eyes betraying a minutia of merriment.
“Mr. Darcy is down at the stables. Shall I send a footman to inform him you are here, Lord Nathan?”
“No thank you, I’ve already been. Can you ask Mrs. Reynolds to have Miss Bingley’s maid attend her? She was exceedingly upset when she fell and tore her dress. And, can you give this list to Miss Darcy. She wanted to know which tenants were in need this month, there’s a copy for Mr. Darcy as well.”
“Yes, sir. I shall attend to that at once.”
He gave the butler a polite nod and turned to leave. Caroline may have been returned to safety, but his heart was in great danger of being ensnared by the spoiled red haired beauty, and that wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all.
Chapter 9
“Insufferable man!”
Caroline flung open the door to her room and promptly slammed it shut. Lord Nathan’s insinuation that she meant to compromise Darcy into a marriage proposal was rich with irony, considering the very next thing he did, after insulting her, was almost kiss her.
If they’d been discovered... she shuddered
at the thought. He’d have been honor bound to offer marriage. Even if he did make an offer, I’d never accept, she thought with a sniff. To be married to such a...a... she growled in the back of her throat. There weren’t strong enough words to describe him. In her opinion, intolerable, insupportable and annoying didn’t come close.
She tore off her dress, uncaring that the buttons popped off and scattered across the floor. She didn’t want to think of him nearly kissing her. In all her one and twenty years no man had ever touched her with such intimacy. She’d felt his breath on her lips. She’d felt the heat from his body. She’d felt the world drop away.
In no way had she been prepared for the onslaught of sensations that racked her body. She’d reveled in the touch of his hands on her face. All sense of propriety fled and all she could think was kiss me, please, please, kiss me.
Not that any of that mattered. He believed she still harbored feelings for Darcy. Her face burned with embarrassment. She knew exactly to which incident he referred when he claimed she’d previously attempted to compromise the master of Pemberley and felt a keen sense of betrayal that Darcy or Charles had shared this information with a stranger. A stranger!
On occasion, she would leave her bed and walk about in her sleep. The occurrences were few and far between, however the same night Miss Elizabeth and her family had come to Pemberley, she’d had one such incident. She’d awakened in an unfamiliar hall wearing only her night rail, facing an irate Darcy. No one accepted the truth. No, they’d rather believe she skulked about the corridors in hopes of catching Darcy alone. Her character had been cast as a villain and that’s all everyone wanted to see.
She knew Darcy spoke to Charles the next day and up until this moment she’d remained confident her brother informed Darcy of her propensity to walk in her sleep. Not long after that, she and Charles had an awkward discussion of what type of gentleman she should expect to court her, and although she’d wondered what made him bring the subject up, had let it escape her mind with ease. Looking back, she now realized he was warning her off Darcy.
She and Charles, along with Louisa and Mr. Hurst departed Derbyshire the following week and although her next few encounters with Darcy prior to their departure had been strained, she foolishly thought they’d put all that behind them. Even in the face of his disdain, she held tight to the dream he would pursue an alliance with her.
She ought to have known better. He’d once stated, ‘My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.’
But Charles had known the truth and in light of what Lord Nathan revealed, why had he not corrected Darcy’s assumption, or at the very least, defended her? A cry caught at the back of her throat. It seemed everyone close to her, those she thought she could trust with her very life, had washed their hands of her.
She crumpled to the floor amongst the tattered ruins of her dress, wrapped her arms around her midsection and began to sob. There was no grandmamma to wipe her tears away now.
“What should I do?” she whispered to the memory of her grandmother between sobs. Oh, how she missed her unconditional love. “Who can I trust?”
As though in answer to prayer, she remembered a Bible verse grandmamma made her memorize. Trust in the Lord with all your heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your path.2
A strange peace settled over her and she basked in it for a few moments, her tears slowly subsiding. Realizing how she must look, on the floor wearing only a chemise in the middle of her wrecked gown, she rose to her feet, picked up the dress and laid it across the bed. When Lucy knocked on the door a few minutes later, she was composed and ready to face her.
“Mrs. Reynolds said you needed me, Miss Caroline?”
“Yes, Lucy. I’m afraid my dress is ruined beyond repair. Can you ask Mrs. Reynolds if there is someone who can make use of the material? I’d hate to see such beautiful cloth go to complete waste.”
“Oh, I’m sure we can find something for it. ‘Tis beautiful, indeed.”
She glanced at the light jade and ivory silk dress. It truly was beautiful, but what was she thinking, wearing silk during the day. Given her state of mind she was tempted to dress in somber hues and snorted out a laugh. What would everyone think if she attended the wedding in mourning colors?
It wouldn’t be far from the truth. Her whole life was slowly crumbling around her. Prior to Charles reconnecting with Jane, she’d have played hostess wherever he purchased an estate which ensured her a secure roof over her head until she married. Unless Charles and Jane did not mind her living with them, she would be forced to stay with Louisa who clearly stated last night she wanted her gone.
Mourning colors might appease her spirit, but practicality dictated she remain in the land of the living, just not as flamboyant as before. She made a mental note to find a modiste near Lambton and have some light day dresses made for the duration of her visit. In fact, that would give her the perfect excuse to avoid Pemberley over the next few days when the Bennets descended in preparation of the wedding.
Lucy opened the wardrobe and brought out a few dresses for Caroline to choose from. With a wave of her hand she told Lucy to pick which one she thought best for the day and gazed out her window while she waited.
Within a few minutes she’d finished her toilette and sighed when she saw what Lucy laid out for her to wear. Smoothing down the front of yet another silk dress – she shook her head in amusement – and made her way downstairs.
The next day, Caroline waited for the coachman to assist her and Lucy down from the carriage she’d borrowed from Mr. Hurst. They alighted to find themselves in front of a modest store front where Miss Darcy assured them a competent modiste kept shop.
With keen interest, she gazed up and down the busy main street of Lambton. To be sure it was not London, but the small town held a certain charm and she decided she was well pleased with the array of shops available. Lucy waited patiently as she instructed the driver to return within the hour to retrieve them and turning to Lucy stated, “Let’s see what we can find.”
They entered the shop and for a brief moment she felt the thrill that always accompanied her when on the hunt for something new. Row upon row of material was stacked neatly along the walls, with some bolts of cloth draped becomingly over an artful display of mannequin busts. Normally she gravitated toward deep ochre and dark jewel tones, but today she found herself perusing light muslin materials.
There were two lovely dresses on display and she admired the exquisite French knot embroidery on one gown and the design of colored wools embroidered along the hem and under the empire waistline on the other. A pattern book of needlework designs was artfully placed beside the gowns, filled with endless opportunities for women of all ages to express their style.
Instantly she knew this was the type of dress she wished to employ. She also decided on some chestnut brown wool for a spencer and while being measured, asked if a pelisse could be made of the beautiful cream silk taffeta she’d spied upon entering the shop. She wanted to simplify, but surely a silk coat would be acceptable.
The hour she’d allotted for her and Lucy flew by and she thanked the owner of the shop, a Mrs. Braxton, who assured her she’d have the dresses ready on the morrow. About to exit the shop, she paused and asked Mrs. Braxton if there was a chapel nearby.
“Aye, Miss Bingley. There be a church in the little village between here and Pemberley.”
“The name of this village?” she queried as she buttoned her gloves.
“Kympton, Miss. Oh, you’ll like the vicar, a fine young gentleman. There’s not a more generous soul around than Mr. Kerr, ‘ceptin’ Mr. Darcy hisself.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Braxton. I shall see you tomorrow around afternoon, if that’s acceptable.”
“More than enough time for my girls to get your dresses finished.”
“I only require the embroidered yellow muslin for now. I’m not in a rush for anything more, what with the ball tomorrow n
ight, I’m sure you’re quite busy.”
“Oh, aye. Everyone is talkin’ about the ball. All them fancy dresses and such.” Mrs. Braxton gave a small nod back into her shop. “It’s been a busy three weeks for us here.”
“I’m sure it has. Mr. Darcy didn’t give any of us fair notice for such a momentous occasion. I shall have to chastise him and my brother when I return to Pemberley.” Caroline stepped into the doorway and signaled the coachman. “Until tomorrow, Mrs. Braxton.”
“Until then, Miss Bingley, and I thank you kindly for your business.”
Lucy and Caroline climbed into the carriage and Caroline asked the driver if he could take her to the church in Kympton. Ever since she’d whispered the Bible verse of trusting the Lord, she felt an urgent need to spend some quite time in prayer and contemplation.
Within minutes, the carriage pulled in front of a sizable church. She noted a large house a short distance away and beyond that a respectable stable. Darcy’s vicar would have a good living here indeed.
“Wait here, Lucy. I wish to spend some time alone, if you don’t mind.”
Lucy bobbed her head in agreement and Caroline descended with the help of the coachman. She made her way to the front door of the chapel and was delighted to find it opened at her gentle push. She passed through the front vestibule, which branched off into two small alcoves on either side into the main chapel. Sunlight streamed through the stain glass windows, prisms of color dancing along the backs of the congregational pews which bore mute testimony to the countless number of hands that had touched the gleaming wood. At the front of the chapel, an intricately carved lectern was on the right side and an equally beautiful pulpit dominated the right.
She could well imagine her brother and Jane standing before the vicar, exchanging vows. The chapel was so beautiful, how could they not be happy with getting married here? When she married, she hoped to find a place such as this to exchange vows with her husband.