Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Georgiana seized Caroline’s hands, a look of gratitude washing over her. “Yes! That is it – the rest is all true – I wrote to Aunt Jennings wishing to know the truth about Willoughby before he ever proposed, so that I might be better prepared – it is not the full truth, but enough of it.”

  Kate seemed to struggle within herself for a moment, but in the end she relented and agreed. “I shall do this,” said she, “but it shall not be my fault if Mr. Willoughby discloses the full truth to Robert when he is confronted and made to leave.”

  “I shall speak to Willoughby,” Caroline said. “It may not be my place, but I am happy to do it. I am rather out of sorts from my journey this morning, and it shall be a pleasure to rid Rosings of his presence.”

  Kate looked rather taken aback, but after a moment she began to smile. “Indeed it is not your place, however, I am far from objecting – certainly I should hate to be on the receiving end of your displeasure, and I do not know if Robert could be half so frightening as you! Certainly Mr. Willoughby deserves a good dressing down. Georgiana?”

  Georgiana began to weep again. “So long as I do not have to see him myself, nor ever speak of this to my brother.”

  “Whatever can be done for your comfort, Georgiana, shall certainly be attempted,” Kate replied. “I will leave you now; I believe I must send word to Cranbrook that they had all better stay away tonight.”

  Kate quit the room, and Caroline remained to condole with Georgiana for another half-hour before she perceived Lydia, through the window, walking back from the dower house, and decided to intercept her. Certainly Mary would be more comfort to the poor girl; the greatest kindness Caroline herself could do Georgiana was to keep Lydia well away from her.

  Lydia was not pleased to discover that Kate had warned all the party at Cranbrook away from Rosings for the evening. Though she could spare some little sympathy for Georgiana’s present dismay, her first thought was for herself. She lamented a dozen times over that it was unfair, as Caroline unpacked her trunk in her bedchamber – just enough that she might have clothes for a few days, for she still desired to be gone from Rosings as soon as possible. “I know Henry would have paid me his addresses tonight, for now that you are back, and the money is quite settled, there can be nothing to stop him!”

  Caroline gave Lydia a wary look. “The money quite settled? Whatever do you mean?”

  “The money for us to marry, of course. Stupid Cynthia mentioned something to her brother Sam, who told Henry that your journey to London was to arrange for some money to be settled on me, so that Henry and I might be wed.”

  Caroline groaned. “Good Heavens! I cannot imagine how anyone could have gotten such an idea! Certainly Mr. Audley can have no expectations on me, where your dowry is concerned. He must speak to Mr. Darcy himself about it, or even Robert. They are both quite in a position to be of assistance to you, I am sure, but he must propose before anything can be settled upon you. And he had better do it soon, Lydia, for I warn you, I do not mean to stay in Kent much longer.”

  Caroline attempted to ignore Lydia’s subsequent protests, smoothing out the gowns she had taken from her trunks. Digging out a chemise, which she had folded very ill indeed, something fell to the ground, and Lydia reached for it. “What’s this?”

  Caroline glanced over at the pamphlet that had fallen from her things. “Oh, the most unusual fellow stuffed it into my hand as I was walking down Harley Street. He was babbling on about how the heat would grow unbearable ere long in London – as if I do not already know – and told me to bring myself to Sanditon. I stuffed it in one of my inner pockets as I fled his tedious company!”

  Despite her ill humor, Lydia laughed. “Sanditon indeed! I can well imagine just who it was that gave you this. A tall, lanky fellow, sandy blond hair, rather handsome?”

  Caroline eyed her suspiciously. “How could you know that?”

  “He is one of Mr. Darcy’s tedious, tiresome friends – I met him at their nuptial ball – you were there, were you not? Oh yes, I remember it well. But I suppose you might not have had the time to speak with Mr. Parker. He rattled on about Sanditon all night long. I cannot think him quite sensible, though I believe Georgiana did.”

  “Did she?” Caroline snatched the pamphlet away from Lydia and looked down at the picture printed on it, a fine seaside scene with a quaint little village situated at the top of a cliff. “Sanditon,” she mused, and set the pamphlet on her end table – perhaps it might mean something to Georgiana, and give her some comfort in her present state. For all the ills Sanditon seemed to boast of curing, Caroline could only wonder if heartbreak was amongst them. If it was so, perhaps she and Georgiana could both use a trip to the coast.

  Lydia’s momentary distraction had passed, and she voiced her displeasure with Caroline a while longer before Caroline could bear it no longer, and sent Lydia to her own room. Lydia did not come downstairs for dinner, seeing little point in it if Mr. Audley was not to be present to make love to her. Neither did Georgiana or Mary come down, and the residents of the dower house went to Cranbrook to dine. Caroline was left to the company of Kate and Robert and the Crawfords, and they were very dull indeed. To be the awkward fifth among two happy couples could not be comfortable for Caroline under any circumstances, particularly after the day she had had. To begin with a tedious journey from London, and then to be forced to pay such a hefty sum to a vicious blackmailer, and finally to be obliged to comfort a young woman who was at least at liberty to speak openly of her heartbreak had been quite enough, without this reminder to Caroline of her own loneliness. She could not but repine her own want of a true partner in life. She would never have what Kate Fitzwilliam and Fanny Crawford had, at least not until Seymour died, and Caroline had done her dutiful mourning. In such a state, she could only think of Captain Wentworth and the kiss they had shared, which may never be repeated.

  She retired early, determined to push the kiss from her mind and attend to what she must. She had intended to write Mr. Willoughby a note, once he had returned from the hunt, instructing him to meet her in some neutral location, such as the library, which would not be occupied at this hour. She did not expect to enter the guest wing and discover him in the corridor, dressed only in his shirt sleeves, lurking outside Georgiana’s bedroom with the apparent intention of importuning the poor girl.

  Acting instinctively, she accosted Mr. Willoughby at once; she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down the hallway, pushing him through the open doorway of his own bedchamber and following him inside before closing the door. “Mr. Willoughby,” she said, relishing the opportunity to unleash so much pent-up rage. “You will not be speaking with Miss Darcy again – not tonight, not ever. You will be leaving this house at first light, and thanking your lucky stars that Mr. Fitzwilliam was not the one to reprimand you.”

  “Reprimand me? I do not even understand how I have displeased Georgiana – Miss Darcy. She told me only that she did not wish me to visit her brother. I only wanted to speak to her; I had meant nothing untoward in knocking on her door.”

  “From what I hear, it is not the first time you have meant something untoward, sir.”

  “What’s this?” Genuine confusion was written on Mr. Willoughby’s countenance – he did not know of Mrs. Jennings’ letter.

  “I shall tell you what it is,” Caroline snapped. “It is the end of your understanding with Miss Darcy. You will not importune her, nor anyone in her family. You will never speak her name, mention your acquaintance with her to anybody, or even allude to having been in Kent at the same time as she. Is that quite understood?”

  Mr. Willoughby grew indignant. “It is certainly not. You are nothing to Georgiana – you are not her nearest kin, you are not her guardian, you have no right –”

  “I have the right to speak as her friend, and she has given me permission to speak to you fully on her behalf, having no wish to encounter you again, sir. Perhaps you were not aware that she is the niece of Mrs. Jennings, a lady whom I
understand you are well acquainted with.”

  Mr. Willoughby’s face went white as a sheet, and he staggered a few steps backward. “Oh, God.”

  “Oh, yes.” Caroline squared her shoulders, her stance triumphant. “You begin to understand.”

  He let out a heavy sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I would have told her. I would have told her everything.”

  “When? On your wedding night? Five years from now? When your son comes of age?”

  “You do not understand.”

  “What I understand does not matter. It is what that poor girl is suffering – at your hands – that I am concerned with. Where does your interest lie? Are you thinking of her, or yourself?”

  “I love her!”

  “And she loves a lie. You allowed her to fall in love with the man you wanted her to see, but now she has seen the truth, and she cannot love you. I think you had better leave this place, for there shall be no changing her mind.”

  Mr. Willoughby glowered, and stepped toward Caroline. “Perhaps there shall be – if I could but speak with her – you only wish to prevent me, because I daresay her mind is entirely changeable on the matter.”

  “She is seventeen years old,” Caroline hissed. “Of course her mind is changeable, but I cannot allow you to prey upon her weakness.”

  He froze, looking as though Caroline had struck him, a thought which had certainly occurred to her. “That is not fair. I have never taken such liberties – I would never….”

  “How can such a thing be believed? How can such a man be trusted? Or do you simply mean to suggest that you should never meddle with a girl like her the way you have done with a penniless orphan girl? Commendable indeed!”

  His glare was poisonous. “Spoken like a bitter woman, indeed. Where is your husband? How right has he done by you? Is this why you have come to plague me – because you have reviled your own husband, and seek now to repel me?”

  Caroline saw red as she hit him with everything she had. The blow delivered was a hard one, and Mr. Willoughby reeled from the impact – Caroline recoiled, clasping her right hand in her left – she had struck him so hard she had even hurt herself. And yet, how good it had felt! She was not the least bit sorry for it, until she looked up and saw a trickle of blood at Mr. Willoughby’s temple. “Oh, God!”

  He tapped his fingers lightly against the wound, glancing down at the blood on his fingertips, and then back up at Caroline in astonishment. “You pack quite a punch, Mrs. Sutton!”

  “Yes, well, that is for Eliza Williams,” Caroline said, determined to show no sign of the remorse she really felt – she reminded herself silently that he certainly had deserved it. Still, she was a lady, not a street urchin. She moved to the end table, took a washcloth out of the basin, and approached Mr. Willoughby, who dropped his arms to his sides and allowed her to dab at his bloodied temple.

  “Do you play nursemaid to everyone you attack, Mrs. Sutton?”

  Caroline scowled. “As it happens, I have never hit anyone before – but do not think I shall not do it again, if I must.”

  Taking the washcloth from her, Mr. Willoughby went to a little writing desk in the corner of the room, and reached for a bottle of brandy there. He poured a little bit onto the cloth to clean his wound better, and gave a heavy sigh. “Am I to understand that I shall sustain another such injury if I attempt to plead my case to Georgiana?”

  “Miss Darcy,” Caroline growled.

  He rolled his eyes. “And I suppose I cannot persuade you to deliver her any message for me, either?”

  “Unless your message is that Mrs. Jennings’ information was entirely untrue, no, I shall not. But it is true, is it not?”

  He threw down the washcloth in contempt. “Yes, it is true. But for God’s sake, what man hasn’t sown a few wild oats before settling down with a good woman?”

  “The kind of man Georgiana Darcy deserves! I have every faith in there being such a man in existence, and you would do better to leave her in peace so that she might find him. She will not have you, sir, and I have every confidence that nothing you could say would have any other result than causing her more pain. If you truly love her, the best you can do is spare her that.”

  Mr. Willoughby gave another heavy sigh, and averted his eyes. “I had no notion of finding you such a high stickler, Mrs. Sutton.”

  Caroline laughed bitterly. “Nor I.”

  “I suppose I shall find you standing guard outside her chambers all night.”

  She folded her arms and give him a hard look. “If I must. Truly, if you ever bore her the slightest affection, do her the mercy of leaving her be. I daresay hers is not the first heart you have broken. Mrs. Jennings’ information was quite comprehensive, you see – and Marianne Brandon is now her cousin by marriage.”

  Mr. Willoughby looked stricken again, and actually sank down onto his bed with a look of tremendous misery. “I shall never cease to atone for that. And so I must go. For what it is worth, I would never have wronged her, never have caused her pain if I could have helped it. I would have tried every day to make her happy. Are you certain…?”

  Caroline held up her hand to cut him off. “As I said, sir, it matters not what I think or feel. Georgiana is absolutely certain. Knowing the truth, she shall never have you. I can think of one lady who might.”

  “Pardon?”

  “If you wish to honor Georgiana, find Miss Williams. Acknowledge your son, make him your heir. Be the man Georgiana thought you were. You have no need to think of money in marriage the second time around; you are at liberty to do as you please. Let it please you to do what is right, what is honorable. Would that I were a man!”

  Mr. Willoughby nodded desolately. “I suppose there is some credit to that, Mrs. Sutton. Nearly every woman I know would make a better man than I.” He raised his hand to his bleeding temple once more. “Do you know, this is far from the punishment I deserve for my actions, despite all that they have cost me. It is not without pain that I must admit you are right. I cannot speak to what I shall do next, but I shall think on what you have said. I owe you nothing, but to Georgiana I owe a great deal. You may leave me now; I shall be gone in the morning.”

  Caroline turned to go, but paused as she opened the door, and turned back to him. “I hope you do think on it, sir, I truly hope you do.” It was with no little disgust, not only for him, but for herself, that she exited Mr. Willoughby’s room and quietly closed the door behind her. When did I become so sentimental?

  She had no time to ponder her own unusual compassion, for she was met with taunting laughter further down the corridor. Someone was there – somebody had seen her leave Mr. Willoughby’s room at so late an hour – and that somebody stepped into the flickering light of a sconce on the wall – it was Cynthia Sutton.

  “Well, well, well,” she cried, clapping her hands. “What an astonishing discovery. Had I known this was going on, I might have asked you for more money. But no matter, your tidy little sum has done wonders for me already.”

  Caroline seethed at Cynthia’s continued ability to appear where she was not wanted, and to arouse such confusion in her. “What are you doing here? Should you not be at Cranbrook?”

  “Should you not be in your own bedchamber at so late an hour?”

  “I believe I am asking you the same question,” Caroline snarled. She had done her penance to Cynthia already, and her patience with treachery was quite spent.

  “I am headed there now – and do not despair, Caroline, my dear friend. I shall keep your secret this time, so long as you play nice with me. I am quite satisfied with the turn of events today, and am in the mood to be generous. And now I must retire to bed, for I shall need my beauty sleep before I meet with my betrothed in the morning, and I must find it here at Rosings, as my intended stays at Cranbrook.”

  “What?”

  Cynthia grinned at Caroline with wicked glee. “Oh, yes. My father decrees it would not be right for me to sleep under the same roof as my love, now th
at we are engaged. The proprieties must be observed – a lesson you might be reminded of.”

  “Your betrothed?” Caroline was filled with a sense of foreboding. “Who...?”

  Cynthia merely smiled at her. “Never mind that – it is still a secret for now – you must be content to wait until the formal announcement is made. It will be such fun.” She turned away and disappeared down the hall, and a moment later Caroline heard a door at the end of the dark hallway open and close.

  She retreated instantly to her room, so overcome with trepidation that she feared she would be ill. Whatever Cynthia was up to, Caroline was certain that she herself had bought Cynthia a husband with the hush money she had paid her that morning – the only question was who. Her first thought was for Captain Wentworth. Had Cynthia noticed his interest in her, and contrived to buy him for herself? But no, he was not such a man. He might have had Harriet or Georgiana, if all it took was a pretty face and an attractive dowry, but for whatever reason he had turned his eye to Caroline. She had not wanted it, had not liked it at first, but neither could she bear the idea of losing him so completely.

  And yet she had no claim upon him, other than what he had bestowed upon her for reasons she could not understand. As much as she had tried to resist his advances, which she had never desired, she found the idea of losing his interest insupportable. And yet, he had no idea of her true situation, no reason to suppose that her husband might soon die, leaving her free to choose him, nor could she ask him to wait without confessing a truth she was not ready to give voice to. Fearing the worst, she fell asleep entirely wretched.

  The following day was no better. Georgiana kept to her room, with Mary attending her. Lydia begged off her lessons with Harriet, hoping every minute and every hour that Mr. Audley would appear, but nobody from Cranbrook came to Rosings until dinner. Caroline had reason enough for anxiety of her own, and yet she could not let it show – she could not indulge in her distress as Georgiana and Lydia did.