by Jayne Bamber
Mr. Willoughby had left the house before anyone else came down to breakfast, and Caroline began to think of doing the same. In this respect, she was no less eager than Lydia for Mr. Audley to propose, that they three might return to London together, and put some distance between herself and Captain Wentworth.
This was not to be. The announcement was made at dinner – Cynthia Sutton was to wed Henry Audley as soon as the banns were read. A shocking scene ensued. Lydia gave a tremendous screech and burst into tears before she fled the room. Caroline moved to follow her, but Cynthia, seated at her side, grabbed Caroline by the arm beneath the table, holding her in place. Amidst the commotion of so many cries of surprise and congratulations, Cynthia leaned in, still tightly gripping Caroline’s arm, to whisper, “What a fine husband you have bought me.” Louder, she added, “I do hope you will stay for the wedding.” Giving Caroline a significant look, she dropped her voice once more to add, “Lest anyone discover your whereabouts last evening.”
Caroline withdrew her arm forcibly, and glowered at Cynthia, but had not the time to reply before Sir Gerald was addressing her directly. “Of course Mrs. Sutton will remain for the wedding! Seymour is certain to come home now, for three weeks is ample time for him to receive the good news and make his travel arrangements. Oh yes, Mrs. Sutton shall not leave us now.”
Caroline grimaced athis ill-timed affability, and gave a small nod of agreement. It appeared she would be remaining, a plaything for Cynthia to torture as she liked. She began to understand why Cynthia had not mentioned the name of her betrothed the previous evening. It was not to suggest that she had gotten her talons into Wentworth, but because she desired that Lydia should get no forewarning of what was to be announced – she clearly took relish in Lydia’s distress, made so public to everyone. Hateful woman!
She was not able to make her escape until after the meal, when the other ladies withdrew to the drawing room. She retired upstairs, as she would have done anyway, if only to avoid Captain Wentworth. She found Lydia in her room, weeping on her bed in quite the same state as Georgiana had been the day before, and ere long Georgiana herself joined them to commiserate, with Mary in tow.
There was a great deal of weeping and embracing – far more than Caroline could endure, particularly as she knew herself to be the author of Lydia’s current despair. Lydia expressed a wish to be gone from Rosings at once, and here Caroline must disappoint her again, for Cynthia had made it quite clear that if Caroline did not remain in Kent for the wedding, no doubt to be the subject of further insult, there may be some whisper of her dallying with Mr. Willoughby. Given most of their party’s ignorance on the true reason for his departure, it was not too far-fetched to be believed, and she could not take such a risk, not so long as Seymour yet lived to divorce her, and sink her completely into ruin.
In the throes of Lydia and Georgiana’s despair, Sanditon was mentioned again – Lydia retrieved the pamphlet from Caroline’s room, which adjoined her own, and presented it as a desirable alternative to remaining in Kent – Mary regarded it with interest, but pronounced it to be an ill-advised reaction, and Georgiana only wept harder at the notion of it – Caroline was obliged to inform them that such a thing could not be possible.
How her heart truly ached for the girls! What a sad lot they were, the four of them – what an awful thing, to be a woman!
The next day was little better. Lydia and Georgiana begged off their lessons, determined to wallow in their misery, and there was little that either Caroline or Mary could do to comfort them. Each thought the other better off – Georgiana thought Lydia might cling to some hope that the worst would not come to pass – that Mr. Audley might yet change his mind – while Lydia lamented that at least Georgiana was spared the pain of being forced to watch her love marry another. They were unified in their desire to be gone from Kent, and the prospect of Sanditon was mentioned once more, but Caroline was forced to disappoint them. She had no wish to admit the reason why, that she was a hostage to Cynthia Sutton’s machinations, and could only insist that she had not the permission of the Darcys to take them away, nor the desire to insult her father-in-law by refusing his cheerful demand that she stay for the wedding. And then there must be even more trouble in store for her, more wish to be away, for she knew that Seymour would yet again fail to appear.
Cecily came to her rescue that afternoon, asking her to ride, and Caroline was eager for the opportunity to clear her head – until she discovered that Captain Wentworth was to be one of the party. Cynthia and Mr. Audley had come along, as well as Sam and Mr. Middleton – at least she might avoid him, and attach herself to Cecily.
“Poor Miss Lydia,” Cecily observed. “I thought she should break her heart when she heard of Mr. Audley’s engagement to Cynthia. I believe we all had supposed his interest to lie elsewhere.”
“And I had supposed you did not like partaking in such gossip, Sister.”
Cecily screwed up her face and laughed. “I believe I indicated that I did not agree with gossiping about those who did not deserve it,” said she.
“I see,” Caroline said carefully. That Cecily and Cynthia were not on the best of terms had been made apparent, but though Caroline rather hoped to find Cecily as much an ally as ever, she feared it might be too much to hope that Cecily would ever side with her, over her own sister. She was determined to proceed cautiously, for fear that anything she said might be repeated to Cynthia, and provoke her. “Perhaps, in Lydia’s case, it may be a blessing in disguise. She is still young – with some time, and some further improvement, she may yet do better than Mr. Audley.”
Cecily gave her a knowing look. “A blessing in disguise – is that why you gave Cynthia the money to marry Mr. Audley?”
Caroline schooled her countenance into as much indifference as she could – to feign outright surprise was quite beyond her, even after her theatrical experience. “I do not know what you mean,” she replied.
“Have no fear, Sister, your secret is safe with me,” Cecily replied. “I happened to spy on Cynthia yesterday – several times over, in fact. I thought it strange that Mr. Audley, who has been so very attentive to Lydia, raising not only her hopes, but I believe everybody’s expectation, should suddenly propose to my sister, so soon after her returning home. Cynthia has long desired an alliance with him – ever since she made his acquaintance, when Selina wed his elder brother. He has never been the slightest bit interested in her, nor has it ever been so great a secret. That she should return abruptly from Northumbria, without even giving any notice that she was coming, and within a week accomplish what she had so long desired and failed to achieve – it struck me as odd enough already. That I should overhear her lying to my father about how she had acquired ten thousand pounds, the very same day you return from an unexpected trip to London, struck me as stranger still, and when I learned of the reason why Cynthia is to be wed, now in particular, my astonishment was quite complete.”
Caroline looked off into the distance, collecting her thoughts as she formulated some reply. She could not but feel some suspicion as to the reason why Cynthia should be so determined to purchase a husband who was so visibly indifferent to her – she herself had witnessed as much more than a year ago, in London – and Cecily seemed to be alluding to some matter of great intrigue. There was more to the story than Cynthia’s long-time attraction to Mr. Audley, she was certain of that much, but she was obliged to put that matter aside, for the moment. Cecily had figured out what Caroline had done, at least in part.
She had to give Cecily some credit – nobody else seemed to realize that Cecily was by far the most intelligent member of the Sutton family, and despite her present distress, Caroline rather admired and respected Cecily for it. Of course, it put her in the uncomfortable position of being obliged to lie to a woman whom she held in high esteem. She had felt no reason to doubt the Suttons’ familial affection for her these last several weeks, particularly on Cecily’s part, but she was certain that it would only extend so
far – they could never learn of Seymour’s condition.
She knew she could not pass it off as being done with Seymour’s involvement – he might have helped his sister, but it had all been arranged too quickly, with him being in Scotland, and she feared it was too risky to even mention him. If Cecily was inclined to suppose that Caroline had given Cynthia the money to keep Henry Audley away from Lydia, so much the better – she could work with that.
“As you are more willing than I had thought to indulge in such gossip, let us be frank with one another, Sister Cecily. I shall answer your question, if you shall share with me what you know – you have hinted enough to make me think you really do wish to tell me the truth, regarding Cynthia’s urgency to marry – I have my own suspicions, which I should like to hear now confirmed from you, and then I shall happily tell you what my part has been.”
Cecily grinned at her. “No indeed, Caroline – you first.”
Caroline sighed heavily. In for a penny, in for a pound. “In truth, you have already guessed the greater portion of it – I could not bear to lose Lydia. She is full young yet to be wed, and I rather like having her as a companion. I wish to keep Lydia with me a while longer, if the Darcys will permit it, and when she does wed, I would wish it to be a man of considerably greater means. I am confident she will receive a better offer, perhaps in a year or two more. And so, hearing that Cynthia wished to settle things with Mr. Henry Audley at last, I decided to enrich her dowry. I might have given such a sum to Lydia herself, if I thought it would have done any real good, but from what you told me of Mr. Audley’s situation, he must require a great deal more than that to make his estate soluble once more – perhaps as much as Cynthia’s entire dowry. My contribution, if given to Lydia rather than Cynthia, would not have been enough, and would have deprived me of my amiable companion. And so, I have purchased her future happiness and my own present contentment – and apparently Cynthia’s, as well. If Mr. Audley feels any disappointment at exchanging one paramour for another, he is certainly genteel enough not to show it.”
“Yes, it is just as you say,” Cecily agreed. “Cynthia may have finally managed to purchase the man she has long desired, but I believe he has paid the greater price, to turn his estate into a profitable one.”
“They are to be wed so soon – at least Lydia will not have long to repine over their very convincing display of romantic felicity,” Caroline observed, hoping to prompt Cecily into revealing what she already suspected.
“Indeed,” Cecily replied. “I trust it need not be said that I expect you shall be discreet – you are a member of this family after all, whether or not my brother chooses to treat you as such.”
“Of course – certainly you know you can trust me.”
“I do, or I should not be sharing this with you, and really, I think your ten thousand pounds has bought you the right to know the truth. As I said before, I watched Cynthia closely yesterday. In addition to her conversation with our father, I overheard another one, between she and Mr. Audley.”
“Not the romantic proposal every girl dreams of, I suppose?” Caroline shook her head, almost disgusted by the bitterness she had unwittingly betrayed.
Cecily grimaced. “Cynthia was obliged to flee our sister Selina’s estate after discovering herself with child, and rather than throw herself upon the mercy of our father, she seemed to have found a much simpler solution in appealing to you. Once her dowry had been bolstered, she approached Mr. Audley quite candidly, and they reached an arrangement that would suit them both. She will save his floundering estate, and he will give her bastard his name. How fortunate for her that she recognized your desire to separate Lydia from Mr. Audley, and made the most of it – in truth, I had no notion that you disapproved of his attentions to your ward.”
“That is exactly what I had intended,” Caroline replied. “I should never wish my feelings to be so transparent.”
Cecily was quiet for a moment, staring contemplatively at Caroline, who began to fear that her lies had gone too far. If so, she could only hope that Cecily would take pity on her, and realize how much it had pained her to tell them at all.
And yet, how much clearer everything was to her now! She had thought it strange that Cynthia would have gone to see Seymour by herself, without the company of her sister Selina and her brother-in-law, and Caroline had begun to fear that they, too, must have seen Seymour’s condition. Yet she had been far too distressed on her own behalf, fearful of Cynthia’s threats, to wonder why Cynthia should be making them at all.
She must have gone to Dumfries once she had realized she was with child, for it was certainly a nearer distance to Bellingham than London, and she may have preferred to appeal to her brother than her father. And yet, she had arrived to discover him in no position to help her, but the discovery had given her the idea of blackmailing Caroline for her concealment of Seymour’s condition, to secure the funds to purchase a husband as quickly as possible. That Henry Audley was already in Kent must have been a happy coincidence for her – Caroline wondered, if Mr. Audley had not been in the country, whether Cynthia would have sought him out, or merely secured whatever available gentleman at Cranbrook she could. Good God, would she have prevailed upon Captain Wentworth?
Aloud, she mused, “Poor Mr. Audley, having to fall on the sword like this.”
“Well,” Cecily said, “she has fancied him for years, and he really was the safest choice for her. After the scandal Mr. Rushworth has already endured, he’d never have taken her, and both he and Mr. Willoughby have no need of her money. Our dear Mr. Tilney might, but confessing a secret like that to a parson must have seemed too risky to her, and Captain Wentworth is so very inscrutable!”
Caroline gave a little chuckle. “I daresay you are quite right. I wonder what Mr. Audley must make of this – I do not know how very attached he was to Lydia, if he could have been swayed by Cynthia’s fortune, but I do not think he is especially fond of his bride-to-be, either. Poor Cynthia! I begin to feel rather sorry for her, even though it is all her own doing. To be obliged to marry a man who does not love you is not a pleasant thing.” Caroline abruptly clamped her mouth closed, uncomfortably aware of what she had said, and how it must sound.
Cecily laughed sadly. “Do not trouble yourself, Sister. The rest of our family loves and values you very well indeed. I am sure Seymour must conclude his affairs – his business affairs – in Scotland ere long, and when he returns, I am sure he will grow just as fond of you as we all have. Indeed, I am sure he should be grateful to you when he learns what you have done for his sister – have you told him of it?”
“No – in truth, the idea had not even occurred to me.”
“Well, let us write to him of it – we shall do so directly when we return to the house. I think he will be so pleased to hear of it that he must at last write to you – he has not yet, has he? Lydia says he has not.”
Caroline blushed, and cursed internally at Lydia’s indiscretion, but pasted a pleasant smile on her face. “What a fine idea – I daresay it shall tempt him to finally join us here, if news of all of our amusements was not sufficient enticement.” And how shall I ever explain it when he once again disappoints?
They rode for another quarter-hour before turning back toward the house. Captain Wentworth, Cynthia, and Mr. Audley brought their horses around to ride alongside Caroline and Cecily, and Cecily informed their companions of their intention to write to Seymour at once, with news of Cynthia’s engagement, and their shared hopes that he might finally join them in Kent.
Cynthia’s response was a scornful laugh and a roll of her eyes – she knew better than anyone what discomfort Caroline must feel. Captain Wentworth seemed to share Cynthia’s disdain, though he gave it no voice, but merely cast a dark look at Caroline. He claimed he had some business of his own at Cranbrook, which he had just recalled, that required his immediate attention – he rode away at once, leaving the others to make their way back alone.
24
Surrey,
May
All of Highbury seemed to have gotten over the loss of Frank Churchill, in favor of the gain of Mrs. Elton. Nobody’s pleasure was made more widely known than that of the lady herself, who never missed an opportunity to inform her new neighbors of her own popularity. Likewise, nobody’s misery, which must only be concealed, could surpass that of Emma, at such a turn of events. First Harriet had left Highbury, and now Mr. Churchill, who had scarcely been amongst them for long enough to sate their curiosity, had likewise been obliged to go away, and all of Highbury felt no interest in this loss; he had been supplanted by the arrival of a woman who Emma was quite certain she could never like.
After enduring another visit from Mrs. Elton, who brought with her a hundred new shocking ways of giving offense, Emma vented her displeasure to Rebecca, who was still a captive of the sofa until her ankle healed. “I suppose I must be honest with you,” said she, “as I dare say you would come to whatever conclusion you like, if I were not.”
“You are quite right to speak frankly with me,” Rebecca replied. “I can read you like an open book, my dear. As far as Mrs. Elton, you can at least take comfort in knowing that you are far from alone in your opinion of her – you are not the only one to be feeling what you do. In that respect, I daresay you have something of an advantage over Mrs. Elton – besides all the advantages of intelligence and decorum, of course, you have the additional advantage of being a native of Highbury – you must always be first and best, in the hearts and minds of your friends here.”
“She actually asked me to call her Isabella! Thoughtless woman!”
“Ill-advised for a number of reasons, I am sure.”
“It is almost enough to make me wonder if I really ought to be among so much society at such a time. It is still so very soon – what is seven months, compared to all my life? Plagued with one Isabella, when I am still not over the loss of another; it is enough to make me wonder if I ought to show my face to anybody at all.”