by Jayne Bamber
“Imagine, if you can, that I do not care. My family banished me to Northumbria for two months, all for daring to cross high and mighty Miss Georgiana Darcy, and cast a blemish on her milky white perfection. They can all go to the devil, as far as I care. My siblings, and even my father, are so very well settled that it would do them little harm, should news of my brother’s disease be made known – it may do some harm to that baseborn wretch they have chosen to parade through all of society, and that I might well enjoy. Yes, I think I should rather like adding to her ignominy – baseborn, with a diseased brother besides! I daresay it would be well worth any damage done to me, for I can think of no greater punishment than what I have already endured, and sinking you in the eyes of the world may yet please me even better.”
“But why,” Caroline stammered. “Have we not been friends?”
“We, friends? Oh, I suppose you did amuse me with your condescension when first we met last spring, but I recall the last time we met in London, you could scarcely acknowledge that I was good enough for your brother, the son of a tradesman. What a fine friend you are.”
Caroline was utterly wretched; she blinked back tears, determined not to let Cynthia see how perfectly her words had hit their mark. “It was wrong of me,” she began to say, but Cynthia cut her off.
“Let me guess – you are sorry? Certainly you are sorry to be found out! But perhaps that may yet be averted. Certainly not from any kindness on my part – I shall never be kind to you, Caroline, on that you may depend. However, I may yet be willing to hold my tongue – to keep your secret. For a price.”
Caroline’s distress gave way to anger. “I see,” said she. “What price might that be?”
“Five thousand pounds,” Cynthia said with a look of great triumph.
“Five thousand pounds,” Caroline cried. “But why? Your dowry must be four times that, if not more – how could five thousand more pounds be of any use to you? Have you suddenly some urgency to wed?”
“Perhaps I have,” Cynthia mused, clearly taking pleasure in toying with Caroline. “And perhaps you are right. Five thousand pounds would enrich me very little – ten, I think, would be a better sum. Ten thousand pounds, and I shall keep your secret. Otherwise, all my family and friends here shall hear a rather embellished version of your sordid business, and half of London, ere long. I am sure everyone will be remarking on how shocking it is that you suffer from the same illness as your husband, yet bear no outward symptoms… yet.”
Caroline glared at her. “They would never believe it – I do not look even remotely syphilitic, and certainly never shall.”
“But will that be enough? Will that truly be enough to dispel any shadow of a doubt, once my brother is dead and you are a wealthy widow, who might have had her pick of handsome, eligible men? I am certain you can spare the money, and you shall have a better chance of making a happier second match, if there is nothing to give any suitors pause. Ten thousand pounds, Caroline. That is my price. You have one week.” Enjoying all the satisfaction of having the last word, Cynthia unlocked the door and swept out of the room, leaving Caroline to at last give way to all the dismay she felt.
It was too awful – everything she had feared may yet come to pass. And yet, it was not only the threat of blemish upon her reputation that distressed her, for she felt that the loss of the Suttons’ esteem must be the most insupportable part of all. Hateful Cynthia, to have discovered her secret! How certain Caroline had been that her plan would succeed – Seymour would die, leaving her a wealthy widow, beloved by her amiable new family, yet free to finally make a choice for herself.
That she would pay the bribe was instantly resolved upon – she knew not whether Cynthia was aware of the money Charles had gifted her, but certainly she could spare such a small portion of it, when the stakes were so high. She only hoped that it would be enough – that Cynthia would not betray her after all, once in possession of the money. And if Cynthia had gone to Dumfries, had seen Seymour herself, it was possible that her companions must also have seen Seymour’s condition, for Cynthia could not have traveled thither alone, when she had been staying with her sister and brother-in-law. And yet, Caroline had been too flustered – she had not thought to ask how she could possibly be assured that this secret would remain forever buried.
In such a state of woe, Captain Wentworth walked in on her, after she had been weeping for she knew not how long. She had abandoned all thoughts of her costume, had taken a seat on the sofa and crushed the fabric of her gown, weeping in such a posture that many of the flowers had fallen out of her hair, and lay scattered and trampled at her feet.
“Proud Titania,” he cried upon entering the room with his script in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He proffered it to her as he knelt beside her. “I expected you to chide me for imbibing so early in the day, and yet I find you may be in more need of it than I. A little something to calm your nerves, my queen?”
How she wished to tease him! And yet, she was too wretched – she could bring to voice no clever retort, and merely accepted the glass of wine with a miserable nod, and took a long draught of it.
He watched her with a look of intense concern, still kneeling at her side, one hand lightly resting on her shoulder. “This cannot be a case of jitters,” said he. “I know you are far too formidable to give way to such anxiety before our big performance. Will you not tell me what troubles you?”
There was a great burst of feminine laughter in the hallway, beyond what was visible through the open door, and Caroline looked up in alarm. Taking this cue, he stood and moved to close the door, turning the lock to ensure their privacy, and then he returned to her side, sitting rather close to her on the sofa. “You know I take delight in vexing you,” he said, tentatively reaching out to take her hand in his, “but I would hope you must know that we are friends, after all. If there is aught amiss – if I have given you any offense, or anyone else – I would hope you would simply be direct with me, rather than leaving me to plague myself with a hundred guesses of what might be troubling you.”
Caroline sniffled and wiped away her tears, mortified that he should see her thus. “It is nothing you have done, sir. You have caused me no other distress than in discovering me in such a sorry state.”
He frowned at her. “Perhaps I really ought to leave you – but I cannot do it. I am sure I should never abandon my Titania to such misery, when I would so much wish to be of some use to you.”
“You have been,” Caroline replied, gesturing with her wine as she finished it off and set the glass aside.
Captain Wentworth gave her a sad smile. “You know that is not what I meant. Will you not tell me what troubles you? I promise, I shall not tease you – I should so much like to help.”
Caroline began to withdraw her hand, but stopped. She gave his hand a squeeze instead, but turned her face away. Much as it pained her, she was going to have to lie to him. She did briefly consider what a pleasure it might be to confide in him, to finally unburden herself fully to somebody, but she knew it would be unwise, particularly with him. This dangerous game they had been playing must come to an end at the conclusion of their theatrical, and his knowing her secret would only bind them together in such a way that could not possibly be undone. No, it was an indulgence she must deny herself, for any solace he might give her could only lead her down the path of temptation.
“I am afraid there is little that you can do to help,” she said. “Indeed, I am fully capable of sorting everything out to my own satisfaction – I may be obliged to go to London for a few days, but I am sure it is nothing I cannot accomplish – I shall have to provide my own consolation – there is nothing that you can do for me.”
“There is a great deal I would wish to do,” he said. He lifted one of the flowers that had fallen onto the floor, and gently re-pinned it into her hair. “I am not so wicked as my counterpart, King Oberon, you know. I very much wish to be kind to you, Mrs. Sutton.”
His fingers brushed her
ear as he fastened the flower back in place, and his touch sent shivers down her spine. How very close she had let him get – how tempting it was to let him come closer still. She was playing with fire now – she had been for some weeks, always believing herself so fully in control. Only now that he looked up at her, his face inches from hers, did she realize that she was not, nor had she been in quite some time.
Perceiving the effect he had upon her, he plucked another flower from the floor, and repeated his previous gesture of replacing it in her loose tresses. This time he attempted just a little bit more, his fingertips more deliberately brushing the curve of her neck as he pinned the flower in place – it was intoxicatingly intimate, and though she was dismayed by herself for allowing it, she was equally powerless to bid him stop.
He re-pinned a third flower in place, and still she had not stopped him, when he spoke at last. “Though you may choose not to confide in me, Mrs. Sutton, I believe I may guess the nature of your troubles. Miss Sutton has returned, from the far north of England – I understand she was living not so very far from Scotland these two months. If she should travel so far to return home for our theatrical, you must be wondering, as your family at Cranbrook has been doing this morning, why your husband did not accompany her in her journey home. I find myself asking the same question.” Here he lifted her chin with his fingertips, until she would meet his eye. “What could possibly detain a man from such a beautiful woman? He must be a great fool, to neglect you all this time, without a care for your being the most beautiful woman in the county, and in the presence of such a large party of gentlemen – has it not occurred to him that one of them might like you best, out of all the ladies in the area? Might even be tempted to win over your affections?”
It was too much. They had been dancing around it for so long now, both apparently aware of what they were about, without ever stating it outright. Caroline wished he had not given voice to it – she might have enjoyed the last few hours of this absurd delusion of hers, imagining a world where she had been free to enjoy his attention, and even act upon her own interest, without any fear or shame or scandal, but everything had changed now, and not just because of his words. She let out a shaky breath, unable to tear her gaze away from his. “Sir, I….”
She had not time to say more before his lips were crushing down upon hers. He cupped her face in his hands as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against hers as he kissed her with complete abandon, and though her husband had taken some liberties on the night of their betrothal, this was, in fact, Caroline’s first actual kiss.
She felt a great many things all at once – secret delight that he should be her first kiss – an urgent desire that it not come to an end – a great deal of contrition that she should enjoy it so much – hatred of the circumstances that must surely prevent her from ever enjoying another moment such as this, and a great many other things besides. Indeed, she had only just begun to push these thoughts from her mind and give in to the kiss completely, yielding to the power she could no longer deny he held over her, when he broke away.
His lips left hers a moment before his hands left her face, and he ran his fingers down her neck and along her shoulders for a moment before withdrawing completely. “I believe it would only be proper for me to apologize for that,” said he, “but in my heart I am far from sorry – despise me if you like, but I have wanted to do that since the night we met.”
Caroline could not tear her eyes from him, but neither could she give voice to any sensible reply. She longed to tell him she felt the same – perhaps not for quite so long, but for some weeks at least. But this could not be – she could not continue to indulge herself thus, nor give him any encouragement. As long as Seymour lived, she was not free, and her reputation was even more precarious than ever – should Cynthia detect any hint of the attraction between her and Captain Wentworth, her sum must redouble again!
Her mind reeling with panic, Caroline abruptly stood, fighting back tears. “This cannot happen – you must know – I am a married woman. If I were not… but it is pointless to conjecture. I must go and rehearse with Mr. Rushworth and the faeries.” Refusing to let herself look back at him, she quickly fled the room.
***
The hour of their performance was upon them, and at last Mary had to admit to herself that she took just as much pleasure in their theatrical as all the other players. She had insisted on a more modest costume than some of the others – certainly none of her friends and relations were so very inappropriate, but Mary would accept only a few very simple modifications to her plainest day dress, along with the addition of a purple cape to mark her as Queen of the Amazons. She had learned her lines, all thirteen speeches, and had been thanked many times over for her assistance in helping her friends learn theirs as well. None were more pleased with her than Mr. Tilney, except perhaps Kate, and only on Mr. Tilney’s behalf.
That Kate very much wanted Mary to fancy the parson was perhaps one reason why she was so determined not to. She had fallen asleep with her head full of all that Kate and Georgiana had said to her the night before, yet she was still worried that his character so closely resembled that of Mr. Elton that he could not be trusted.
She had the greatest fear of it being nothing more than a repetition of her last experience. Mr. Tilney, like Mr. Elton, may very well be laboring under the misapprehension that, as well-connected as she was to such wealthy relations, she herself must be well-dowered, for she saw little else in herself to attract such a handsome and vivacious man. Certainly she had some merits, or so she had been told, but their acquaintance thus far had been too brief for him to have perceived them – therefore, she could see no other explanation for his desire to further their acquaintance.
Upon Georgiana’s recommendation, she had given some consideration to Mr. Rushworth, a man she was rather inclined to pity, given the whispers she had heard about him in London, and his perpetual awkwardness. She felt a certain kinship with him, as they were both less disposed, out of all their companions, to recommend themselves to the others, particularly those of the opposite sex.
That the play had inspired a great deal of amorous thoughts, and perhaps activities, amongst the players was apparent to everyone, except perhaps those that ought to have served as diligent chaperones, rather than willing accomplices. How Lady Catherine and her husband could tolerate the scheme still baffled her, particularly when it was apparent that the whole affair had been orchestrated by Mr. Willoughby to recommend himself to Georgiana with just as much ardor as Mr. Audley seemed to have for Lydia.
With such suitors, her younger sisters were in fine spirits. Though Georgiana assured Mary she had acted upon her advice, and written to Mrs. Jennings that very morning, she was nonetheless still as affectionately disposed to Mr. Willoughby as ever, and fully expected any question of his character to be exonerated in Mrs. Jennings’ reply. Mary hoped it would be thus – she could not possibly wish Georgiana to receive any news that might give her alarm, but only wanted her friend and sister-in-law to be quite sure. It was clear that Mr. Willoughby was sure of Georgiana, in all of his looks, particularly as he wooed her on stage.
A great many of their company, when they were not involved in a scene, joined in the audience. Two rows of chairs had been set up in the drawing room, facing the makeshift stage. In the first row sat Lady Catherine, the only one of their party who had taken no role of her own, as well as the newly arrived Cynthia Sutton. Mary knew little of her, beyond her involvement in the rumors about Georgiana, and she had found the woman just as disagreeable as ever; she had made several rude comments to all the ladies of their party that morning, without having been held accountable by her father or stepmother. Georgiana had made an earnest endeavor to avoid speaking with her, and the other ladies seemed inclined to do the same – Mary meant to follow their lead.
Also present were a few notable locals, the widow Barnes and Mr. and Mrs. Easton, for Mr. Tilney had invited the from the village to bolster the audience. Th
e row behind them was occupied at different times by those who were not presently performing on stage. As Mary herself only appeared in two scenes, and had no wish to tarry in the music room, which had been referred to as “backstage” – she was at liberty to watch most of the play as a spectator.
She did tolerably well in the first scene, for she had only one speech, and a very short one at that. Until her reappearance of the final act, where she was to appear as something of a heckler to the play-within-a-play, she was free to watch the rest of the action unfolding. Mr. Tilney, too, appeared only at the beginning and the end, and therefore kept her company as she watched her friends and relations give their performances.
She would watch in silence, better to enjoy the play, as she had only ever been to the theater once in London, but Mr. Tilney desired to whisper with her, and she could not deny that it certainly heightened her enjoyment of the entire thing.
“How very well cast is Bottom the Ass,” he observed to her in a hushed whisper. “Mr. Rushworth may dislike it, but I think it very well done – what tremendous swagger he lends the role.”
Mary laughed softly. “Hush! He will hear you.”
“No matter – I have told him so before. I hope he hears me observe that I cannot wait to behold the scene in which he depicts Pyramus, and falls upon his own sword.”
Later he observed, “It is a fine ass-head, is it not? We had tried to make our own, you know, but it was quite shoddy work – so delightfully badly done. I stole it, as a memento of all our folly here.”
Mary chortled with scandalized laughter. “A thieving parson! Well!”
And later still, “Here is Mr. Rushworth’s consolation – he may be the Ass, but to have all the fairies of the forest attending him – happy man indeed!”
They were shushed by Cynthia Sutton, and Mr. Tilney took Mary’s hand, gesturing for them to sneak into the music room, where the other players were waiting to make their entrance for the next scene.