by Jayne Bamber
“I suppose you are right, it is only that I have been feeling very guilty, particularly since yesterday, for I could not but think of Mr. Churchill’s coming without wondering what Papa would have made of him, or Isabella. It seems very dreadful of me to take such pleasure in meeting him at last, with them gone, and John still so very sullen.”
“Of course John must be sullen for so long after losing his wife, the mother of his eight hundred children. But truly, Emma, I would not wish to see you torment yourself because you have finally found some happiness. It is the natural way of things, when great tragedies befall us, the sadness should grow smaller every day. Else, everyone should always be sad forever, for no one’s life is without some grief. I went through the very same thing, when my mother died.”
“And how did you get through it?”
“Oh – I hardly know. I cried quite a lot. I was very low for quite a while, for Richard was away at war, and Robert was at school. Reginald was particularly beastly at the time, though perhaps I ought not speak ill of him now. My father was absolutely inconsolable, and it was the only period of my life in which we were ever very close. Isabella, in fact, was rather attentive to me, though she was so recently wed herself. It seems but a distant memory now, and really I cannot at all recall how I felt, and how I acted, for I have long since got over the worst of it. A small part of my grief has stayed with me, but it is so much a part of me now, that much of the time I forget it is there at all. I suppose it is a matter of taking it one day at a time, and eventually each day grows easier. These last few days I think have been your finest yet, particularly since I have been here. That is just as it should be. Each day you shall grow a little happier; do not look back. Do not think yourself obliged to be unhappy, because your father and sister are gone.”
Having listened attentively to Rebecca’s speech, Emma nodded. “I think you are right. Certainly they would not wish me to be unhappy, it is only that I am afraid of what my friends will think – would Mr. Knightley approve, or Mrs. Weston, were I to suddenly grow so very gay?”
Rebecca was tempted to make a snarky comment about Mr. Knightley’s perpetual disapproval of everything, but thought the wiser of it. “All of your friends care for you just as much as I do, perhaps more so, given your long-standing acquaintance. They should be happy that you are happy, just as I am. I daresay, like everyone else in the world, you are more inclined to think ill of yourself than anyone else ever could – it is human nature to be thus. Think as little of it as you can, and embrace the small miracles to be found in each day.”
Rebecca could hardly expect her cousin to be satisfied by such platitudes, but it appeared that she was. “Thank you, Cousin Rebecca,” Emma sighed. “I do feel a little better about it, though I still think I am not capable of forming any designs upon Mr. Parker or Mr. Churchill just yet – certainly they could not expect such a thing, for they must be aware of my situation.”
Emma had indeed been wearing her mourning clothes for both of the two morning visits they had received, which must certainly have given the gentlemen some pause. “What if we were to order you some new clothes? I am sure it is nearly time for you to go down to half-mourning,” Rebecca said. “Lavender and gray, perhaps muted shades of pink and green might be just the thing for you, now that spring has come and you are in finer spirits yourself?”
Emma screwed up her face a little, and laughed. “I would not have you think to dress me up for the gentlemen’s sake.”
“No indeed,” Rebecca cried. “Anyone of any sense knows that women do not dress for men – I am sure they hardly think of such things at all. Women dress for themselves, which is why we all make such a great fuss of it.”
“Very well,” Emma agreed. “We shall walk into town tomorrow and see what muslin is to be gotten at Ford’s. I understand Mrs. Weston is to give a dinner on Monday in honor of her new arrivals.”
Rebecca could just picture it, for what a fine couple Emma and Frank Churchill made. She felt it even more now than she had before, having actually seen them together. Oh yes, now that she had a plan, everything must fall into place accordingly.
15
Cranbrook Park, Kent, April
The ball given at Cranbrook by Emily Sutton was yet another triumph for Caroline. She had assisted her sister-in-law, who was cousin to Mrs. Darcy in her own right, with her preparations for the event, and the effect was truly splendid. The decorations were all floral and pastels in celebration of spring, and it certainly was a cheerful affair.
How happy everybody really seemed to be together, all of her family and their friends, and many residents of the surrounding neighborhood whom she had yet to meet. The general atmosphere lifted Caroline’s spirits, and for the first time since her arrival, she no longer felt quite so out of place amongst her companions.
To be sure, it still felt strange that she should be there without her husband, but she really began to feel a sense of belonging to the Suttons in her own right, though she knew deep down her marriage was no less of a sham than it had been six months ago. They were not suspicious people – it was not their nature. They seemed to have accepted her excuses for Seymour’s absence, to Caroline’s immense relief.
She had seen to it that Lydia was a vision of perfection that night. She wore one of Caroline’s own favorite gowns, which had been made over in Hunsford when first they heard of the ball. Lydia looked splendid in the carnation pink silk gown, which had delicate flowers embroidered about the bodice. Caroline had lent Lydia her favorite diamond necklace and matching headpiece, which was likely worth more than double Lydia’s entire dowry, and the effect was exquisite– in such fine looks, and with miraculously improved manners, Lydia nearly seemed born to such wealth and splendor.
After her equestrian gambit had not hit the mark with Captain Wentworth, Caroline was not quite ready to give up, but had begun to consider Mr. Audley more seriously as a suitor for her young ward. She knew little of him, but fortunately her new friend and sister-in-law Cecily was a wealth of information, and not above a little sisterly gossip. Caroline had discovered that, though he was a second son, Mr. Audley did possess a modest manor, connected to his elder brother’s estate in Northumbria. It had a mill and a small parcel of land attached to it, but brought in a rather meager income, little more than a thousand pounds per annum. It might have done more, but was in need of a considerable infusion of funds in order to make the place more profitable. For this reason, Mr. Audley was often away from his estate and visiting friends, saving him the cost of keeping his own carriage or maintaining a full household staff. Certainly Lydia would be rather too expensive a wife for him, were he to act rationally. No, he must really fall in love with her.
It occurred to Caroline that Lydia was blessed with a family of romantics. Her mother, though not sensible, was not a quiet woman, either. When she caught word that Mr. Audley only wanted a little more money to marry Lydia, Caroline was sure that Mrs. Bennet would take up the cause – something would be done. Mr. Darcy might be applied to, or even the uncle in trade; the funds would come, and true love would prevail. Lydia would be wed, and Caroline would be thanked.
Mr. Audley had certainly taken the bait. He had applied to Lydia for her first and her supper set as soon as she had entered the room. Now all Caroline needed was for Lydia to mind her manners, and adhere to the lecture Caroline had given her as they had made ready.
Caroline herself was not in her finest looks that night, as her own toilette had, for once, taken second place to the needs of another. She was dressed in the same periwinkle gown she had worn to Harriet’s come-out, but no matter, for it was upon Lydia’s success that the evening hinged, in Caroline’s estimation.
The gentlemen of Cranbrook were very kind – her brother Sam, Mr. Middleton, and even Robert Fitzwilliam would all dance with her, once they had taken their wives to the floor, and Caroline was quite delighted with their civility. It was what she had always wished, to mix so comfortably in society such as this.
The ladies were not to be outdone in friendliness. Cecily was quite decided that the two were to be sisters indeed, and was really most eager to come to know her better. Emily followed Cecily’s lead, having heard such warm praise of Caroline from her cousin Elizabeth, and Kate’s gratitude for her endeavors with Lydia was equally apparent. Even shy Georgiana Darcy seemed more friendly and open to Caroline than she had ever been, in the years of their acquaintance, and of course Harriet was always inclined to like anyone or anything that Georgiana liked.
Caroline had never been one for female friendship. She had done well with Mary Crawford at school, though perhaps the saving grace of their friendship had been that they saw one another but once or twice a year thereafter. Certainly her last few years in London had not been so easy – Caroline had been aware that most of the ladies of the ton tolerated her, at best. But here she was truly among friends; she experienced a strange sort of euphoria unlike anything she had felt before.
In such a state of mind, she was approached by Captain Wentworth, to solicit her hand for the supper set.
“I have paid my civilities to your charming young ward,” said he, “and I must make myself agreeable to you, Mrs. Sutton.”
She laughed, setting aside her wine as she allowed him to lead her to the dance. She was, perhaps, very nearly drunk, but did not mind the sensation at all; she smiled widely at the handsome captain, fleetingly wishing she had met him in the gallery at the Banfields’ ball in September. “Tonight, Captain Wentworth,” said she, “I agree with everybody.”
“I see. Then shall I observe that you are the loveliest woman here?”
“No,” Caroline laughed, wagging a teasing finger at him as they began the movements of the dance. “I am accepting compliments only on Lydia’s behalf.” She gestured in Lydia’s direction, and smiled at Henry Audley, who happened to catch her eye.
Captain Wentworth smiled at Caroline. “You seem to take a prodigious deal of care of her.”
“I hope I do,” Caroline said. “She is a dear, sweet girl, and has made a great many friends here in Kent. I am very pleased, for she was rather terrible when first she came to me.” Caroline instantly clapped her hand over her mouth, cursing herself internally for making such a speech to the man she wished to court Lydia – but no, she was actually cursing out loud.
Captain Wentworth only laughed at her as Caroline attempted to regain her composure. “Do not distress yourself, Mrs. Sutton – you mustn’t forget, I was once a sailor – I have heard a great deal worse, though never from one so fair. I daresay I must commend you on your ingenuity of word choice. Such eloquence you possess – you must be a delightful instructor for young Miss Lydia – I should rather like to attend such a lesson.”
“Good Heavens – please tell me she has not said anything so uncouth to you!”
“Not at all, though she certainly has a great deal of conversation,” he replied with a look of mirth.
“You should meet her mother!”
He laughed again. “I understand she is quite a favorite of her mother’s – that is what Miss Lydia has informed me, at least. She seems very different from her sisters, whom I met in London. Your friend Mrs. Darcy is her eldest sister, I think.”
“Yes – you know, of course, we are all somehow related,” Caroline laughed, remembering their first conversation.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Yes, Mrs. Darcy is a very elegant woman, though I think Lydia better suited to a more candid companion, such as yourself. I would not call Mrs. Darcy reserved, exactly, though I believe one of her other sisters rather was, and Mrs. Fitzwilliam is certainly less spirited than her younger sister.”
“Am I to gather you like Lydia best out of the four?”
The movements of the dance separated them for a moment, but when Captain Wentworth turned back to her, he replied, “Am I to gather that you would wish me to? What is it, exactly, that you desire?”
Caroline blushed at the intensity of his expression. “Think whatever you like, sir. It can certainly be nothing to me.”
They fell silent for a few minutes after that; though Captain Wentworth was often looking as if he would speak, he did not. Caroline began to grow exasperated with the man, both for refusing to cooperate with her little scheme, and for looking upon her as she would much rather have him look upon Lydia. And then, as she glanced down the dance and watched Lydia flirt with Henry Audley, she grew rather indignant with Lydia. How could the stupid girl prefer Henry Audley, when there was such a man as Captain Wentworth amongst them?
As if reading her mind, Captain Wentworth was moved to speak at last. “I know what you are about,” said he, “and though I do not wish to disoblige you, I think I must hint that it will not work.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
He cast a significant look in Lydia’s direction. “Cover her in all your fine jewels, if you like, but you cannot cease to outshine her yourself.”
“Pah! You are talking nonsense!” Caroline looked away. What an unusual man – if he was attempting to recommend himself to Lydia by flattering her, he was wasting his time, for she already approved of him. He ought to simply get on with paying his addresses to the object of his affection!
“I may very well be,” he said with a wink and a smile, “but I believe you promised to agree with everyone tonight – you cannot decline to do so now.”
“So you admit that it is nonsense to suggest that I am in finer looks than Lydia! I knew I should catch you out, sir.”
“Very well, I am caught,” he whispered. “I am a nonsensical man. Perhaps you begin to believe your ward could do better. Henry Audley is certainly an amiable fellow; Miss Lydia seems to think so.”
“Any number of people might think so,” Caroline replied, beginning to grow flustered by Captain Wentworth’s circuitous reasoning. Why could he not simply be direct with her, and state his interest in Lydia? Certainly she would acknowledge that he was the superior suitor.
Instead, he changed the subject completely. He asked Caroline a great many questions about herself, and thwarted her every attempt to draw the subject back to Lydia. Before long she was obliged to give up – perhaps he was more thick-headed than she had supposed, or perhaps he did not wish to make his intentions known to her at all. As a last-ditch effort, she turned the conversation back to him, asking after his own circumstances, and his time in the Navy.
He was voluble enough on that score, and even rather witty at times – she could no longer be in any doubt of his intelligence, and listened to him with rapt attention for long enough to forget about Lydia. Perhaps her schemes could wait – surely there would be time for such things after she came to know the captain a little better, and there was certainly no harm in making herself agreeable to the man....
***
Harriet was happier than she had ever been – coming to the country had been a wonderful idea, and thanking Georgiana daily for thinking of such a scheme felt not enough to Harriet, as much as Georgiana demurred.
She was pleased that her cousin had found such an amiable suitor in Mr. Willoughby, and rather surprised on her own account, by the attentions of both Mr. Tilney and Mr. Rushworth, which she received quite happily.
She bore up as best she could under her mother’s frequent admonitions that she was not to form any serious attachments, nor think of marriage for many years yet. Indeed, she might not have thought of marriage at all, were it not for these very reminders, for certainly receiving such pleasing attentions was so very new to her.
She opened the ball with Mr. Rushworth, and as he was so determined to be agreeable, Harriet thought she might take the liberty of giving him some hint that he really ought to think better of her cousin, for she could not like that he had ever insulted poor Georgiana. She found an opening to do so when Mr. Rushworth introduced the subject of flowers – there were certainly a great many of them adorning just about everything at the ball that night.
“My cousin Georgiana has been teaching me al
l about flowers,” Harriet said. “We are often taking our sketchbooks out into the garden at Rosings to make little drawings of the various flora and fauna to be found there, and Georgiana is so very knowledgeable about a great many species. She has taught me their meanings, as well as their Latin names and origins. She knows so very much! Did you know that centuries ago, tulips were more valuable than gold in the Netherlands? Or that there are some flowers that only bloom at night? The moonflower, ipomoea alba. I should very much like to see one! And thistle – Georgiana told me that long ago, when the Vikings tried to invade Scotland, a band of marauders got caught in a patch of thistle, and the villagers were able to escape while it detained them! She read about it in a book at Pemberley; she is so clever.”
“Is she? Well, I think it remarkable that she should arouse such a botanical interest in you, Miss Harriet. It is one of my chief interests, you know, for I have long been planning some improvements to the gardens at Sotherton, and I daresay I could use your wisdom on that score. We haven’t any thistle, nor any marauders to waylay, I hope, but now this moonflower sounds rather interesting – I shall write to my mother about it, for the gardens are her chief occupation of late, and I am sure she should like to have one very much. Oh, but if only you could see the place yourself, I am sure you would give me such ample advice on my arrangements!”
“I am sure I should like to see it,” Harriet said, “and Georgiana, too. Really, I am a novice myself, but she is very well informed. I admire her enormously!”
“Ah – yes, well, I am sure that is just as it should be,” Mr. Rushworth stammered.
Harriet took advantage of a turn in the dance separating them, and grimaced. Though Mr. Rushworth was not a particularly handsome man, and perhaps even dull compared to the other gentlemen in the area, she had once been rather inclined to think well of him, and felt that if only he showed her dearest friend some degree of kindness, her approval of him would be complete.