by Regina Darcy
Caroline fixed her lips into a smile.
“I am truly happy for you,” she said, honestly, wishing that she felt more than the twist of agony that surrounded her heart. She was truly glad that her sister had found such happiness and was certain that the match would be a good one, for Beatrice was kind and loving and, from first impressions, Mr Percival seemed to be thus also.
“Theodora will be present too, will she not?” Beatrice asked, as Caroline rose from her chair and wandered towards the large window that overlooked the streets below. “She is in town, is she not?”
“I am certain that Theodora will do all she can to assist you in your preparations,” Lord Lockley said, firmly. “You need not fear, Beatrice. You shall not be alone in this!”
Beatrice laughed softly and Caroline was forced to close her eyes in an effort to stem her tears of self-pity. She swallowed hard in an attempt to remove some of the pain from her heart.
“I am glad, Papa,” she heard Beatrice say. “Theodora has always been so very kind.”
Caroline opened her eyes and let out a long, controlled breath. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face her sister and her father and moved slowly towards the door.
“If you will excuse me, I think I have something or other to do,” she said, without giving any real explanation as to why she was quitting the room. “Theodora is to be expected soon, is she not?”
Her father nodded, his smile fading away as he fixed his gaze on her. Caroline could not force a smile to her lips, not even when she knew that doing so would remove the traces of concern from his face.
“I shall wait for her in my chamber,” Caroline explained quickly. “Would you like me to send for more tea?”
Beatrice laughed and shook her head. “No, I think not. I have drunk copious amounts already with the many well-wishers that have called!” Her eyes twinkled as she looked towards Caroline. “I think I shall wait until Theodora arrives.”
Caroline nodded. “Very well,” she said, moving quickly towards the door and praying silently that her father would not prevent her from leaving. “I shall return promptly, as soon as she makes an appearance.”
Thankfully, the Viscount did not say another word and certainly made no move to prevent her from quitting the room. The stillness of the hallway greeted her, the silence attempting to comfort her as she hurried along it towards the library – her one refuge. Yes, she had her bedchamber but, for whatever reason, it did not bring the same feelings of quietness to her heart as being surrounded by books. Her sister, Beatrice, did not frequent the library very often at all and her father never did. It was smaller than their library back at the estate but still, it brought Caroline peace.
It was a peace she needed desperately now. Her heart was sore, her mind filled with regret and pain. She could not allow her sister to see it, could not let Beatrice realise that her joy and contentment was slicing through Caroline’s heart as though they were sharp blades.
Beatrice had found a happiness that Caroline knew she would never have. After three years of attempting to find herself a suitable match, she knew all too well what waited for her now. She would never have the joy that now filled Beatrice’s heart. There would never be a need to plan a wedding of her own, to consider all that needed to be done for such an important day. She would never enjoy that. She carried no hope within her heart that such a thing would ever occur.
Tears began to run down her cheeks before she reached the library. Dashing them away with the back of her hand, she felt more form on her lashes and fall, quickly, onto her cheeks. Quickening her steps, she turned the door handle and hurried into the library, closing the door behind her and then resting against it, as though to prevent anyone from following her.
“I am to be the spinster, it seems.”
The words burned her mouth as she spoke them, leaving her with an acrid taste. It was the truth and a truth she would have to accept but still, even speaking those words aloud brought rifling pain and torment. She had never wanted to be thus. She had never wanted to become the spinster sister, forced to rely upon her father and, thereafter, the kindness of one or both of her sisters. Most likely, she would end up as the maiden aunt, finding a modicum of happiness in assisting in the care of her nieces and nephews instead of being able to have her own marriage and children. It was not to be something she could ever have for herself. Three years of trying had taught her that.
Theodora, her elder sister, had made a wonderful match with the Duke of Sotheby. That had been a little over three years now and, ever since that day, Theodora had done all she could to help her sisters find matches of their own. Beatrice, it seemed, had done so very easily, after only one Season. Caroline, on the other hand, had failed utterly.
Closing her eyes, Caroline swallowed the ache in her throat and tried to steady her breathing. There was no need to cry over her troubles, not when she knew that the best thing to do was simply to accept them. She was not blessed with the gift of conversation as her sisters had been. Nor did she have any such confidence, for whilst Theodora and Beatrice were able to enter a room and smile contentedly at everyone who looked their way, Caroline always felt her cheeks infuse with colour, shrinking away from the attention instead of simply accepting it. Her first Season had not gone particularly well and, after the second Season had gone the same way as the first, she had begged Theodora not to buy her any more fine dresses or force her to attend various balls and soirees. It was not worth it, as far as Caroline was concerned and Theodora had already been more than generous in her attempts to secure Caroline a match.
Theodora, who had spared no expense on Caroline, had insisted on one more Season but had also introduced Beatrice to society. Only a few months into the summer Season and Beatrice was now engaged, whilst she lingered on, alone and broken-hearted.
Sniffing, Caroline pulled out her lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. She could not allow herself to be overcome now. It was time to accept the truth of the matter. She would not have the same happiness as her sisters. Therefore, she would have to find her own path.
“Caroline?”
The door to the library opened and a familiar voice filled the room. Caroline hurriedly pushed her lace handkerchief away, turning towards Theodora as she entered the room.
“You have arrived a little early,” she said, her voice filled with false brightness. “I already said to Father that I would wait for you and yet –”
“Papa said that you had something to do, which I knew meant that I would find you in the library,” Theodora interrupted, coming closer to Caroline and reaching out to hold her tightly for a moment.
“Whatever is the matter, Caro?” She let Caroline go and stepped back, only to look deeply into her eyes. “Come now, you must tell me the truth. Do not hide it from me, not when I know that there is a heavy burden upon your heart.”
Caroline tried to shake her head, tried to state that she was quite all right, only for fresh tears to burn in her eyes as she swallowed, hard.
“You are lonely,” Theodora said, slowly, reaching out to grasp Caroline’s hand. “I can well understand that. You fear that with Beatrice gone and only our youngest sister as company, you shall find the house empty and lonesome.” She gave Caroline an encouraging smile. “Indeed, it need not be so. You can consider the rest of the Season to be your own. Put all of your energies into the balls and soirees you attend. Who knows?” A bright smile lit Theodora’s expression. “You may find yourself engaged by Season’s end!”
“Pray, do not!” Caroline could not help but tug her hands from her sister’s and turn away, her pain mounting steadily. “I am well aware of my failings, Theodora, and put it to you now that I shall try no longer.”
Hearing Theodora’s sharp intake of breath, Caroline turned back to face her elder sister, spreading her hands hopelessly. “I do not know what it is that you think I can do, Theodora. You know very well that whenever I am spoken to by an eligible gentleman, my voice fails me and my w
ords run dry.” Embarrassment climbed through her and she looked away. “It has been my burden and even though I have attempted to turn from it, to behave as others do, I have never found the strength to do so.”
“But that does not mean that you give up entirely,” Theodora protested, looking gravely concerned. “Surely it must mean, therefore, that you continue attempting to change things, although perhaps in a different way.”
Caroline shook her head, hopelessness filling her. “No, I think not,” she stated, quietly, feeling tears burning in her eyes again but refusing to let a single one fall. “I have already decided that I shall find a new situation elsewhere.”
Silence flooded the room for a few minutes but Caroline did not lift her head. She did not want to see the disappointment on her sister’s face.
“Surely you cannot mean that, Caroline,” Theodora whispered, as though she could not believe that Caroline was being entirely serious. “To be a companion is to ─”
“I shall be giving up my attempts to find a suitable match, yes,” Caroline interrupted, waving a hand as though it did not carry with it any particular weight. “But I have made up my mind, Theodora.” So saying, she lifted her head and fixed Theodora with her gaze, her shoulders stiff. “If you have any way to aid me in this matter, then you will find me exceedingly grateful.”
Theodora’s expression grew pained as she sighed, clearly aware that Caroline was not about to be moved.
“I shall do what I can,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “But only if you are quite sure that this is what you wish, Caroline. If you prefer, I can give you some time to consider it?”
Caroline shook her head decisively, aware of the pain slicing through her as she did so but steeling herself against it. “I am quite determined,” she said, firmly. “It is to be my path, it seems. Thank you, Theodora.”
Theodora did not appear to be happy about this request in any way, for her brows were furrowed and her expression crestfallen. Caroline held her head high, however, her heart beating painfully in her chest as she continued to ignore the truth of how she felt.
“We should return to father and to Beatrice,” she stated, changing the subject entirely. “Shall we? And would you care for some tea? Beatrice is quite worn out with it all but she may be encouraged to have a small cup.”
Theodora came after her but said very little other than to accept Caroline’s offer of ringing for tea. She looped her arm through Caroline’s as they walked the length of the hallway and it was all Caroline could do to keep her composure.
But her mind remained steady, her decision fixed. She would no longer pursue a husband for herself. Instead, she would become a companion to whomever Theodora was able to find for her – and, in some way, she would have to find joy in that.
TWO
“Are you quite prepared?”
Caroline drew in a long breath and gave herself one last look in the mirror. She was truly one of the most well-dressed spinsters in all of London, it seemed, thanks to her sister’s generosity. Yet, she hoped that the muted colours of her gown and the lack of adornments about her hair would give the correct impression. Scrutinising herself for a few moments, she took in the plainness of her brown eyes and dark hair, knowing that there was no particular beauty about her. It could not be helped, she supposed, shrugging as she recalled that companions did not have any requirements for beauty.
“Yes, I believe so,” she said, turning towards Theodora who stood, waiting, by the door. “The carriage is ready?”
“And waiting for us both,” Theodora replied, with a small smile, although her eyes still remained troubled. “Are you quite certain about this, Caro?”
Caroline nodded and hurried towards her sister. “As I said, Theodora, I am quite determined.” She gave her sister a quick smile. “Besides which, if you believe this lady to be suitable for me, then I trust you implicitly.”
Theodora sighed but did not disagree. “Lady Stanway is something of an eccentric, as I have said, but she is kind and considerate and will not demean nor insult you. I think you shall get along very well together, considering.”
Hurrying down the staircase and towards the front door, which the butler opened for them, Caroline felt a knot tie itself tightly in her stomach. It was not that she felt anxious about meeting this particular lady, but more that she now realised that in taking this step, in going with Theodora to meet Lady Stanway, she was turning her back on every single last piece of hope she had with regards to her future. She was stating, quite clearly, that she would settle into her spinsterhood without looking back.
Her hands clenched as she stepped out of the house and towards the carriage, trying to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. This was all that she had left to do, was it not? She could not bear remaining in her father’s house, growing older and quieter, until she herself was left alone. There had to be purpose to her life – and being the companion of Lady Stanway, godmother to the Duke of Sotheby, was, at least, something both useful and practical.
“Do tell me more about this lady, if you would,” she said, settling herself in her seat as the carriage door was closed. “All I know of her thus far is that she is your husband’s godmother.”
Theodora’s lips quirked. “And that she is somewhat eccentric.”
“And that, yes,” Caroline replied, a little at a loss as to what that meant. “But that does not tell me much about her at all.”
Theodora tipped her head, her expression a little sorrowful.
“Are you quite sure this is the course you wish to take, Caro?”
Caroline, a little taken aback by the swift change in the direction of their conversation, held up one hand.
“Pray, do not try to change my mind, Theodora,” she begged. “I have already had father and Beatrice attempt to do so and I confess I have found it quite wearying. They cannot understand my struggle and, without wishing to appear rude or ungrateful, neither can you. Therefore, I would ask you to allow me to make my own judgements about such things.”
A frown appeared between Theodora’s brows but, after a few moments of silence, she shrugged and turned her eyes to the carriage window. Caroline let out a long sigh of relief, albeit a quiet one, as she waited for her sister to speak.
“Lady Helen, the Dowager Countess of Stanway is a vivacious lady, with a good deal of life in her,” Theodora began, clearly willing to set certain matters aside, as Caroline had asked her. “She has her own ways of doing things, however, and quite disregards society. Yes, she will go about in London to various occasions and the like, but she will not give much attention to gossip or rumour – although at times, I do wonder if she deliberately courts such things out of nothing more than a sly eagerness to see who will take note!” A laugh escaped from her and she shook her head, bringing a small smile to Caroline’s face. “She has wonderful stories about her life and the things she got up to as a young girl.” Theodora’s expression softened, the smile slowly fading away. “But the loss of both her husband and her stepson has brought her a good deal of pain.”
Caroline’s heart clenched. “To lose both at once is truly terrible,” she said, quietly, her heart aching for the as yet unknown Lady Stanway. “How much sorrow must she feel.”
Theodora leaned closer.
“To be honest Caro there are questions over the death of her stepson.”
A frown appeared on Caroline’s brow.
“What do you mean?”
A secretive expression crossed her sister’s face and she spoke in a low voice, as though they might be overheard.
“The stepson is, of course, the new Earl of Stanway.”
“Was, surely,” Caroline corrected. “If he is lost to the grave also, then has the title not already passed to some relative?”
Theodora shook her head.
“Lady Stanway is quite convinced that her stepson is dead and acts accordingly. However, no confirmation of his death has ever been received or provided. Therefore, it is not widely
accepted that the new Earl of Stanway is dead, even though Lady Stanway declares it is true.”
Caroline blinked, trying to take in this news without appearing to be overly surprised.
“It is best you know this prior to meeting the woman,” Theodora continued, with a small shrug as though it was to be expected that such eccentricity should be easily accepted. “What seems to have occurred is that the son did not return from the continent when his father died.”
“Gracious!” Caroline exclaimed, her consideration of the Earl immediately changing. To hear that a son had not returned to mourn and bury his father was more than a little shocking.
“But it was in order that he might continue to fight in the battle against Napoleon,” Theodora continued, by way of explanation. “There is some honour in that, I must admit.”
Caroline pressed her lips together tightly, not quite certain what to make of this. “I suppose there is something to be said for that,” she agreed, slowly. “But still, I can understand Lady Stanway’s shock at being left to deal with her husband’s death alone.”
“Indeed,” Theodora agreed, her expression a little distant. “Sotheby has attempted to speak to her about this matter but Lady Stanway will not be moved.” She spread her hands. “As far as she is concerned, her stepson is dead and gone from this earth. Her heart is hardened towards him and she cannot bear to see him again. Therefore, she does not even allow herself to consider him to be alive, for it is as though it would be too much to bear.”
“Then I am sorry for them both,” Caroline replied, as the carriage began to slow, “and I pray that Lord Stanway, wherever he may be, finds the strength to return to England and to his stepmother. A reconciliation could bring healing to both of their hearts.”
Theodora smiled, reached forward and pressed Caroline’s hand. “Your kind heart becomes you, Caroline,” she said, softly, as the carriage door was opened. “But I must warn you not to say a word to Lady Stanway about her stepson. It will not do you any good.”