The clock chimed in the silence that had fallen since his last words. Richard stood, “Pardon me, I believe my visiting time is at an end. I shall walk you out, Chartley.”
Although annoyed, his lordship stood. “Thank you for a delightful visit, Lady Crenshaw. Lady Belinda, I hope we might meet again under even pleasanter circumstances.”
She nodded her head to escape saying anything. Richard walked straight to Belinda and took her hand, bowing over it before delivering a kiss. “Bella dama, su personaje eclipse a las estrallas.” Belinda immediately blushed, and her heart pounded in her chest.
“I thought you did not speak Latin?” His lordship said.
“Spanish, I believe,” Belinda answered for him.
“Indeed,” Richard said with an earnest look in his eyes before letting go of her hand. “Lady Crenshaw,” he said with a bow and then led his lordship through the door.
Belinda’s mother looked after them with a mixture of annoyance and amusement on her face. “My, my. Well, what did he say?”
Between her French lessons and the Spanish she had learned from soldiers at the hospital, Belinda gleaned the meaning of Richard’s words. “He said my character outshines the stars.”
“How charming!” her mother cried. “I know you are tired from last night, but before you arrived, the Colonel issued an invitation from his mother to dine with them on the morrow. I have accepted. Be sure you return from the Hospital in enough time to dress.”
“Yes, mother,” Belinda said in a daze and left for her room.
To her mother, Richard simply said pretty words designed to flatter a woman. However, Belinda believed he meant something deeper. First, he called her beautiful lady. That would appease most ladies’ vanity, but Belinda tired of the emptiness of beauty.
More to the point, he referenced her character. She well knew the source of her name. The Rape of the Lock satirized the fragility of Society’s standards. In the poem by Alexander Pope, a lock of a woman’s hair is stolen. The Baron uses it as a form of subjugation over the woman, who has lost esteem in Society as her beauty is now flawed. Many soon become angry for Belinda’s sake and a battle ensues, meant to mock the battle for Helena of Troy. However, the weapons are wit and songs. Belinda threatens to kill the Baron if he does not return her lock but soon finds out that her hair has disappeared and joined the stars. When Belinda is dead, her lock shall live on forever.
Was Richard indeed saying what she believed? To him, her character outshined her beauty and artificial adornments? The legacy of her character could outlive anything else said about her? Certainly not if she married Lord Chartley or anyone else without her heart in it.
*****
Caroline entered the breakfast room, surprised to see her brother within it at this hour. He greeted her casually but, bitter at having been dragged to Hertfordshire and then ignored, she could not return the friendly tone. “I am surprised to see you. Tired of Jane and Mrs. Bennet already?”
“Hardly.”
It seemed he was unwilling to say anything else, and she hoped if he did not intend to depart for the day, the others might remain as well. “Where are the others? I hope Lord Arlington is not ill.”
Charles tossed down his napkin. “That is precisely what I wanted to speak to you about.”
“I will send for a physician at once!” Caroline hastened to the bell and was about to ring it when Charles’ voice broke through her rapid movements.
“Arlington is perfectly well. Sit down.”
Although confused, she obeyed. “That was a cruel joke.”
“It was no joke. You misunderstood me. Just now, you cared only for Arlington’s health and did not spare a moment to ask after Darcy or Georgiana. I would point out that you have known them much longer and have claimed deep friendship with them both.”
“What are you saying?” Caroline stared at her coffee. Of course, she considered Arlington first. He was the only one who seemed considerate of her and his precedence demanded the first concern.
“You have to cease these grasping ways.”
“What?” Caroline’s eyes met her brother’s. The very man that had nearly called a London physician to look after Jane Bennet’s harmless cold mere weeks ago.
“It is no secret you believe Jane Bennet beneath me. You treated her nicely enough when we were first in the country, but you were terribly rude to the rest of the Bennets.”
“They are intolerable!”
“No. They are—”
Suddenly, Caroline had enough of duty and sacrifice. Her brother would hear her real thoughts. “Do not dare make them into something they are not. They have no fortune, no fashion, or extreme beauty. Their relatives are in trade.”
“So are ours!”
“I know!” The desperate tone of her voice echoed off the walls of the room. Tears pricked her eyes.
“I am very aware that we have relatives still in trade. I know our fortune will never remove the stain of its source. It is our duty to marry better, to find a position in society for our future generations.”
But she hated seeing that the Bennets immediately had a better chance at all than she. If her father or grandfather had chosen to become a solicitor instead of amassing more wealth, would they have been considered equals?
“Our duty to whom, Caroline? Mother and Father are dead.”
As if she needed the reminder. If her Father had lived and if Mother had not been as frail, she might have had the courage to follow her heart.
“I believe they were weakened long before the fevers struck,” Charles said. “They allowed no true happiness into their lives. Mother always worried about society and how to do better. Father was terrified of making a mistake; that is why he never bought an estate. They never followed their hearts. You know they barely tolerated one another.”
“So you would tell me to marry any man, regardless of rank? Do you not wish for me to have security? Women are entirely dependent on men. Tradesmen expect loving and doting wives; the upper circles allow women to lead their own lives.”
“You mean take lovers!”
Appalled that he could think it of her, Caroline shook her head. “I would never dishonour myself so much, but it is the only way some ladies ever know love or happiness.”
Charles looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. When he spoke, it was with a soft voice. “It would not be that way if you accept the right gentleman from the start.”
“Who is the right gentleman for me, Charles?” She whispered.
Their conversation continued, and she explained the disadvantages of being a lady of wealth from trade. When her brother brought up Caroline’s attentions to Darcy, she clarified that she had only desired a man that might respect her. But when he foolishly brought up love as a suggestion for the basis of marriage, she could no longer hold back the truth. She recited the facts, and the words tasted like ashes in her mouth. It all sounded so perfectly logical in her ears, but her heart revolted.
“We will both have love, Caroline.” He waxed poetic about Jane, but Caroline listened with sadness. After ten years, she did not expect to find love. “Any gentleman you would meet now would have income, and you know, it is not impossible for me to add to yours if needed.”
His words surprised her. “You would do that?”
“If it made you happy.” He shrugged. “So it would mean I buy a bit smaller of an estate. What is that compared to my family’s happiness?”
Caroline squeezed his hand and shook her head. “Oh, Charles. Let us hope Jane is better with economy than you.”
It was a sweet, thoughtful gesture and Caroline then vowed, if she ever did fall in love again, she would avail herself on her brother’s kindness if needed. Some would be too proud, but she knew the cost was too high.
“Say you will come with us today.”
Caroline took a deep breath. What right did she have to resent the Bennets? Life had not been kind to them either. She had a greater fortune, the blessing of a g
ood education and most important of all, a brother who loved her and could support her. For the first time in a long while, Caroline chose to count her blessings. “Just allow me to finish my breakfast, and then I will get ready.”
Charles smiled and walked to the door, she called after him. “I really did worry about Lord Arlington. I am not as heartless as you think.”
Charles shook his head and exited. When Caroline met him outside the carriage a half hour later, his smile was all the payment she required for the trials of the day.
*****
Arlington sat in Mrs. Bennet’s drawing room amidst two courting couples and nearly danced in joy when Georgiana and Miss Mary Bennet had suggested the younger girls go to the other room to play the pianoforte. Unexpectedly, Miss Mary asked Caroline if she would like to accompany them. Arlington plainly saw her hesitation, but even more surprising, she accepted and followed.
Since arriving at Netherfield, he had taken the time to notice Caroline Bingley, and he rather thought no one else had really seen her before. Frequently, she looked lost as conversation circled around her. Often times when called upon to give her opinion, or when she attempted to interject herself, her sarcastic opinions were too strong for the company. She excelled at individual conversations when she did not have to keep up with the banter of many. Arlington rather supposed she was like Darcy in that respect. If she only gave herself the trouble of trying, she could be quite the conversationalist. He hoped her going with Miss Mary was a signal of good things to come for her.
Just when he was about to pity that it seemed no one else took the time to notice Caroline, Arlington perceived Jane Bennet’s concerned gaze follow the lady in question. Relieved, that Caroline had a friend in her future sister, and desiring male company that did not include besotted lovers, Arlington inquired after Mr. Bennet. He soon realised his mistake as Mrs. Bennet prattle about her husband soon turned to promoting her daughters to him. Only quickly thinking of a compliment silenced her on the subject. After complimenting Mrs. Bennet on her tea, and her profuse thanks, he was ensured a few moments of silence from her. There was a lull in Elizabeth and Darcy’s conversation, and they overheard Bingley and Jane talking.
“He seldom leaves the library now, only when the officers come,” Jane had said of her father.
“Oh? Any officers, in particular, who are his favourites?” Arlington hoped, for Darcy’s sake, the answer was not Wickham.
“It is the same ones who always visit: Captain Carter, Mr. Saunderson, and Mr. Denny,” Jane said. “Mr. Wickham has not come in several days. Papa sits here for the visit and then invites them into the library for cards and chess. If any of you prefer them, I am certain he would enjoy a match.”
Arlington slid a look to Darcy. This did not bode well. “Perhaps on the next call,” Arlington said and stood. “Darcy, we had better leave if you still want to go shooting.”
Arlington took his leave of Mrs. Bennet and the ladies in the other room while Darcy struggled to pry himself away from Elizabeth. As they rode to Netherfield, they talked.
“So, Wickham does not attend Longbourn, but all of his cronies do,” Arlington observed. “I do not like it. He is up to something.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Speak with Mr. Bennet and any other area gentlemen. They ought to know that Wickham is untrustworthy with their daughters.”
Darcy shook his head. “Wickham’s design on Georgiana was for profit and revenge on me. No one in the area can offer him such.”
“His commanding officer ought to be forewarned.”
“Forster? Out of the question. He showed his colours with Bingley’s ball. Wickham was to be sent to London on a mission and instead attended; weaselled his way out of whatever duty Forster intended. You can only help a blind man if he agrees he is in need of assistance.”
“You ought to know,” Arlington muttered, growing exasperated at the exchange.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” He pushed his mount to a gallop so he might think in silence and reach the house faster.
Unfortunately, Darcy proved immoveable on the subject. They were still at an impasse when Bingley arrived hours later.
“I assume you left Longbourn to deal with Wickham?”
Arlington shook his head. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Darcy. He is too stubborn for his own good!”
Bingley, however, was of little use. Arlington, at last, succeeded in making Darcy see that he did have something to lose that Wickham might attack much as he did with Georgiana. Darcy refused to see the sense in going to Mr. Bennet about an engagement to Elizabeth and all the gentlemen agreed that Elizabeth was not ready to accept out of affection. Deciding it was useless to argue further, Arlington went upstairs.
In the stillness of his room, Arlington marvelled that he had not persuaded Darcy. Was he losing his touch? As a youth, he could swindle Richard and Darcy into anything. As a young man, he had persuaded many a lady out of her skirt. As an MP, he had convinced many an opponent to see the reason of his own desires. He did not know the art of compromise.
His father, of course, did. Recalling the letter he had read from his father earlier that day, old feelings of paternal resentment began to build, but for once, Arlington determined his father might be right, and he was willing to compromise. Most MPs married far younger than he was now. Ladies had a way of gossiping together and whispering in their husband’s ears. Many a woman had helped the party cause by their social graces and soliciting votes. The Earl strongly suggested that Arlington marry. It might as well be a lady that could not be manipulated by his father. Lucky for him, there was one dwelling in the very house as he.
Chapter Eight
“I am sorry, sir, but the Brigadier-General has been delayed and has yet to leave Chester.”
“What the devil is he doing in Chester?” Richard looked at Brigadier-General Gordon’s aid with annoyance.
“Visiting his daughter,” the young aid said.
Richard returned to his parents’ house, angry that he had been sent on a fool’s errand. He wrote Major-General Vyse to alert him he could not meet with Gordon yet and received a reply from his adjutant. The Major-General was currently away as well. When further prodding revealed he, too, was in Chester, matters became clear. The day ended with a summons to Chester from the Major-General in the evening’s post.
“I am a grown man and they treat me like an errand boy!” Richard said as he tossed his cravat on a chair.
Truman frowned. “You seem more annoyed than I would suppose over this.”
“Instead of courting Lady Belinda, now I have to ride over one hundred miles to Chester and, if I am fortunate, have just enough time to then ride on to the estate before Christmas.”
“Courting Lady Belinda, are you?” Truman’s tone was clear shock.
Richard smiled. “Well, I am trying to court her. If she could make up her mind if she is willing to accept a courtship.”
“You will forgive me if I do not understand how there can be room for confusion.”
Richard rubbed the back of his neck. “Have a seat, Truman. I think I could use someone to talk to.”
He gave Truman an abbreviated history of his interactions with Belinda. Truman grunted at the end. “I see it like you do, sir. You are honour-bound to her. It may be that she wants assurance that you are unlikely to die like her past beau. And if she loved him, she probably wants the same from you.”
“I cannot promise that…” Richard trailed off. The truth was, when he was with Belinda, he did not consider the pains of the past.
“Do you need anything else?” Truman had walked to the dressing room door.
“No, that will be all. Thank you,” Richard said. One of the best things about Truman was he knew when to leave and be silent.
There was no time to see Belinda before he left for his meeting with Vyse. She had remained faithful to her captain all these months, Richard had no worry that she would forget
their own encounters. He knew she needed time to come to her own decisions and perhaps the time between now and when he would return to London in January would give her the space she needed. And if she needed more time? Richard would give her as much as she needed.
As he walked to his bed that evening, for the first time in many years, he felt at peace. He supposed loving a good woman could bring that to a man.
*****
Truman awoke to a knocking on the bedroom door he shared with the Earl’s valet. It was the night watch footman. “Truman, express rider for you.”
Fear stole into his heart. The only correspondents he had were family. The Trumans were not poor, his father’s shop did well, but only catastrophe would justify sending a missive by express. Was it his father? Letty? Her children?
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tore it from the footman’s hand.
Dearest Jacob,
I can barely see through the tears to write this. My darling, sweet Meg has just breathed her last in my arms. Jake and Harry do not look like they may survive. Johnson and our father are ill. Nothing but the worst would have me write you express and so it has come to that. I’ve got Johnson’s brother minding the shop while I look after the invalids. Can you have leave to come and assist in the settling of matters? By the time you arrive we should know whether the menfolk will live or die.
Your devoted sister,
Letty
Again and again, Truman scanned the contents. His poor sister! Left to care for all of this. What if he had not even been in the country? How selfish he had been all these years! There was no time for regrets, however.
“Bad news?” The footman interrupted his thoughts.
Grimly, Truman nodded. “The worst.” Belatedly, he realized the footman remained because he needed to pay the rider. “Here.” He gave him enough coin to cover the cost. “Do you have the time?” His voice cracked.
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