Other Mr. Darcy
Page 21
“Then no great harm has been done,” said Caroline.
“Oh, yes,” said Robert Darcy. “Something else rankles even more. That is not a matter so easily forgotten.”
Caroline hoped he did not intend to confess something very private. She waited uneasily.
“I cannot quite believe it, but you proved far cleverer than I. You did warn me that something was not quite right.”
“Cleverness had nothing to do with it,” she replied tartly, “I was not under her spell.”
“You were not under the captain’s spell, either,” said Robert. “You were able to see through them from the very beginning.”
She shrugged. “You may think me fanciful,” she confessed, musingly, “but I feel an odd kinship with them.” In the familiar depth of the library, with the shadows from the candlelight dancing around them, the world no longer looked quite the same. She sensed she could say this and not feel foolish.
“Sometimes I think that my whole life is a pretence, that I cannot know who I really am. I have been so shaped by my schooling and the expectations of others that I no longer understand what I was meant to be. And in that, perhaps, I feel some kinship to the Trewsons. They become what people expect of them.”
“You bear no resemblance to the Trewsons, Caroline,” he responded. “You do not dissemble to take advantage of others.”
“Perhaps not, but does that make the pretence any more justified?”
Robert waved his hand impatiently. “You at least are not trying to be something you are not.”
“I have spent such a long time trying to be a lady. But am I really one? Or is it only a mask that I wear, to cover up my awareness that I am not?”
He shook his head. “You are being too harsh, as always. I do not understand why you constantly malign yourself.”
“Your cousin would disagree.”
“It comes to that,” he said softly. “It always comes to my cousin.”
“No!” she said, knowing where his thoughts had taken him. “You mistake me. That is not what I speak of. I no longer have any interest in Mr Darcy’s attentions. I realized that the moment I came to Pemberley. But I have been hurt by him in more ways than one. If I do still have an ideal of an English gentleman, it would be him. He has judged me harshly and passed his verdict: I am not a lady.”
“I think it is you who have misjudged my cousin, Caroline, and you have read too much into his words,” said Robert. “There are reasons for his conduct.”
“What reasons could possibly account for his insistence on his—and your—superiority?”
For a moment Robert struggled, then seemed to reach a conclusion. “I should not speak of this, but I say it in the strictest confidence. I know I can trust you not to reveal it to anyone.”
He paused. She waited.
“You must not be hard on Fitzwilliam,” said Robert. “He is not himself. He has been very anxious about Elizabeth. No one must know of this, but the doctor has told him that it is very likely Elizabeth will never be able to bear children.”
She put a hand to her mouth in dismay. Whatever she had imagined, it had not been this. “Oh. Poor Eliza! How devastating it must for her!” She reeled as the implications sank in. “When he spoke of you being his heir, I thought it hypothetical, because I thought them likely to have children.” She closed her eyes. “And theirs is such a happy marriage.”
Robert nodded. “So you see why you must not take his condemnation to heart. It is his way of railing against fate. It was unfortunate that you were the target of his vexation.”
What Robert Darcy told her changed everything. She only wished she had learned of it earlier. But then, how would things have been any different? She had become friends with Eliza without that knowledge. And as for Mr Darcy, he would not have appreciated her pity.
“Sherry?” asked Robert, breaking into her thoughts.
She declined. A thought flashed into her mind, blinding in its clarity.
“Is that why you are railing against your fate?”
He frowned. “I am not sure what you are referring to, Miss Bingley.” She was not Caroline any more. She was Miss Bingley. His voice was distant, and quite, quite cautious.
“If you are Mr Darcy’s heir, then it has become very hard for you to leave England, has it not?”
For a moment he did not answer. “I am not prepared to talk about this at the moment,” he said, finally.
“I will not press you to do so. One does not always want to bare one’s soul.” She paused. “And sometimes, if it is important enough, one does not even know how.”
And with that, she left him to his brooding.
Chapter 17
On her way to her bedchamber, Caroline scratched on her sister’s door. There was no light under it, however, and, after waiting a few minutes, Caroline continued with heavy steps to her own room.
The next morning, with allowances made for her sister’s late mornings, she repeated her attempt. This time she found her sister propped up in bed, with a book in her hand. She did not return Caroline’s greeting.
“Louisa, I am sorry. I wish I could have spared you this.”
Louisa stared down at the book, motionless.
“I did not anticipate that the news would be so bad. I meant only to find out more about Captain Trewson.”
Louisa did not respond.
“I should have waited until we were more private. I should not have broken the news as I did, over the dinner table.
Silence.
“For heaven’s sake, Louisa, say something!”
“What do you wish me to say?” said Louisa, tossing down her book. “Everyone is mocking me downstairs. I am certain of it,” said Louisa. She took a shuddering breath. “And they are right.” She stared down at the bedcover. “Remember what Mrs Drakehill used to say, Caroline? That a lady should see the world from above, as though standing on the top of a tall mountain, with everyone else far below?”
Caroline remembered very well.
“And how she used to make us walk around with sharp pieces of wood sewn into our collars so we were forced to keep our chins raised?”
Caroline nodded.
“She taught us never to forget our status in life. Yet I set aside her teachings, thinking myself beyond them. Now I am reaping the seeds that I sowed. I was gripped by sentiment, and I allowed myself to believe—oh, I do not even know what it was. You, however, did everything that is proper. You did not step down from the mountain, nor did you once lose sight of our position. You set out, quite correctly, to investigate Captain Trewson’s background. I, on the other hand, must pay the price of my folly. It is my punishment.”
“But Louisa,” said Caroline, “it was not from a sense of superiority that I questioned his motives. Nor was I primarily concerned with his status. My concern sprang more from distrust. There was something about the two of them I could not like, and that is what prompted my actions. Believe me, Mrs Drakehill did not cross my mind.”
“And to think that I wished to marry him! When he is nothing more than a common actor and a thief.”
“We know nothing about his origins. Perhaps he is a gentleman fallen upon hard times.”
“No gentleman would behave as he did.”
“We cannot know what he is, or was,” said Caroline firmly.
Louisa stared at her as though she had acquired a distasteful disease.
“We know he is not a gentleman.”
“How can we know that?” cried Caroline. “His manners and speech make it very likely that he is. That does not change the fact that he is a villain.”
“What talk is this? You have been spending too much time with that fiancé of
yours, listening to his seditious sentiments. Did they not have a Revolution in the Colonies, as they did in France? You must be careful not to be influenced by his coarse opinions.”
Caroline threw her sister an icy look. “Once and for all, Louisa, I will not allow you to speak of Robert Darcy in this manner. He has helped me a great deal, and I have come to regard him as a… friend.”
“If Mr Hurst were here, he would be alarmed at your conduct.”
Caroline snorted. “You were not so eager to speak of Mr Hurst a few days ago. If Mr Hurst really were here, he would have most likely been asleep, since that was his favourite occupation.”
“You are beginning to sound distinctly vulgar, Caroline.”
Caroline rose to her feet. “I do not believe so. But if I am, then I rejoice in it, for it has helped me speak my mind.”
***
She fetched her pelisse and went out to the garden. After days of rain, the sky was blue at last, and she needed some air to clear her mind. As she crossed the hall, however, the sound of an altercation reached her, and she drew back just in time as Mr Bennet advanced down the passage to the library, followed by Mrs Bennet.
“You can be quite sure, Mr Bennet, I will not return to Longbourn,” said Mrs Bennet, rather breathlessly. “You may choose to ride ahead, but we will follow later. I will not leave now.”
“I see no purpose in remaining, Mrs Bennet,” replied Mr Bennet. “Eliza is recovering slowly and she is well enough to manage without our tender care. I do not wish to be a burden on her. And I am concerned about Lydia. She will do far better at Meryton. There is little to occupy her here, and she will soon find a way to cause trouble.”
“But how can you be so insensible to Mary’s situation? For her sake at least, we are obliged to stay.”
“Mary’s situation?” said Mr Bennet. “I fail to understand you.”
“But you must know I’m expecting Mr Bass to offer for her.”
“I cannot speak for your expectations, Mrs Bennet. But allow me to say I would be a very poor parent indeed if I allowed Mary to marry Mr Bass. Besides, you are presuming too much. Much as I esteem my daughter, I hardly think he will offer for her after such a brief acquaintance. I have bowed to your superior knowledge in the past, and you have done very well, for now both Jane and Eliza are happily married. But I will draw the line at having Mr Bass as my son-in-law. You will have to look elsewhere for a husband for Mary, my dear.”
“But Mr Bennet—”
The squeak of a door opening and shutting signalled that the Bennets had gone into the library. Caroline could not help agreeing with Mr Bennet. She would not wish Mr Bass on anybody, even if Mary was something of a prude. It was possible she would grow out of it as she grew older, or that she would find someone who would capture her fancy and charm her out of all her pretensions.
But Mary was not her concern. It was Eliza who needed her consideration. Now that she was aware of Eliza’s condition, Caroline understood why her spirits were so low. She could not betray Robert Darcy’s trust, of course, and hint that she knew the truth, but she would try harder to bring Eliza out of her melancholy. It was, after all, her purpose in coming to Pemberley.
Eliza was reading when Caroline joined her in the parlour. She put down her book and held out her hand with a welcoming smile.
“My father has informed me that my family is planning to leave soon. It will be very quiet when they go. I hope you are not planning to leave as well. You and Jane have been so good to me, I do not know how to thank you.”
“I have done nothing,” said Caroline, touched by Eliza’s praise. “I only wish you were better, and that we could do more things together. In any case, I will not leave until I am certain that you are in better health. We need to have you walking and riding again. You cannot stay indoors all the time.”
“I have never cared much for riding. Jane is the rider in my family, not I. A turn in the carriage, however, might be just the thing.”
An idea came to Caroline, partly propelled by her own curiosity, and partly by concern for Eliza. The more she considered it, the more the plan appealed to her. She could hardly wait to see if they could put it into effect. Eliza needed a change of atmosphere, and a short journey in the open air would do her some good.
She excused herself and, with mounting enthusiasm, went in search of Robert. To her disappointment, she discovered from Mrs Reynolds that he had gone to make some purchases in Lambton.
This did not deter her for long, however. Thankful for the pleasant weather, she requested the groom to saddle her a well-behaved horse, and was soon on her way to the village. It was possible that their paths were different, and that she would find when she arrived in Lambton that he had already returned, but she was glad to be out of the house.
The countryside was carpeted in crisp new growth, sprouting up after the prolonged rain, the air smelled sweet and unsullied, and drops of moisture on the trees sparkled in the sunlight. The rolling hills, the wide sky and the unfettered fields provoked in her a sense of elation.
All too soon, it seemed, she arrived in the village. The sense of elation died down. She found Lambton narrow, cramped, and crowded. She left her horse at the inn stables, and enquired inside for Mr Robert Darcy.
Caroline discovered him in the tap room with a chunk of cheese, a half-eaten loaf of bread, and a mug of beer, laughing with the innkeeper with the ease of long acquaintance. She paused at the threshold, observing him as he laughed and talked, and a surge of envy passed through her.
She could never be like him—so free and indifferent to his surroundings.
Since she was very young, she had been taught to hold herself apart from those around her. It was as if she walked inside a bubble, walled off from other people. Or perhaps it was simply that she was a woman, and as a woman such easy camaraderie was denied her. Even if she were to step out of the bubble, she could not sit and laugh as he did with the innkeeper.
Caroline knew the instant he registered her presence. She lamented the wariness that passed over his features, the stiffening of his back. Even the innkeeper noticed, for he followed the direction of Mr Robert Darcy’s glance, and his gaze alighted on her curiously.
He came immediately to her. “A happy coincidence, Miss Bingley,” he said. “What brings you to Lambton?”
“You do, actually,” she replied boldly.
He gave her his lopsided smile. “I am generally perceived to be charming, and it is not unusual for the ladies to flock to me, so I should not be surprised you cannot stay away.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why then do I find that difficult to believe?”
“It happens to be true,” she said, with a smile. “Though not for the reasons you are hoping for, so you need not give yourself too much consequence.”
“Be still my beating heart,” he replied, with exaggerated fervour, putting his hands to his chest. “Do not wound me thus!”
He was playing the clown again. She would have preferred him to be as he was yesterday. But he made her laugh, and for once she was content. “I have a plan.” When she had been on horseback, the plan had seemed perfectly reasonable, but with him before her, she grew reticent, and began to think that perhaps she was imposing.
“Tell me then why you rode all the way from Pemberley to find me. The reason had better be good, or I will suspect you of having intentions,” he said.
“Hush,” she said, swatting at him playfully. “Will you listen to me or not?”
“I will be happy to listen. Do you not wish for some refreshment?”
Caroline shook her head. “No, I would rather walk through the village. It is too beautiful a day to be indoors.”
He paid the innkeeper and they moved outside.
“I have been thinking about Eliza, now that I know more about her condition,” said Caroline, “and I am convinced she needs a change. She is spending too much time in the house brooding. I know she is not strong enough to travel far, but I think a small journey might be just th
e thing. So it occurred to me that perhaps if we were to take her to visit your estate, she may be coaxed a little out of her gloom, and that in turn may help her recover.”
She flushed under his scrutiny. He would suspect, of course, that she was curious about his home, for he always seemed to guess her thoughts. Well, curiosity was nothing to be ashamed of.
But he gave no indication that he had reached that conclusion. Instead, his face lit up, and he began to elaborate on her plans eagerly.
“You have hit upon it, Miss Bingley. It is exactly what Cousin Elizabeth needs. A change of scene will speed her recovery, I am sure. I will issue an invitation. Under normal conditions, I would not expect anyone to stay, since it is within an easy enough distance. But given Elizabeth’s delicate health, I will expect everyone to stay for two or three nights at least. It is just the thing. I will send ahead to my housekeeper, Mrs Elliot, and ask her to start preparations immediately.”
“Not so fast,” said Caroline. “You had better consult with your cousin first. He may have something entirely different to say about the scheme.”
“Leave Fitz to me,” said Robert. “I will bring him round. Come, let us ride back and break the news together.”
***
When they returned to Pemberley, however, they discovered that their plan had to be postponed. Word had come that a party of Darcy’s acquaintances were to break their journey at Pemberley on their way from London to the Lake District. They were expected the very next day.
“I am so glad we did not leave after all,” said Lydia. “I hope you are planning to have a dance, Mr Darcy, for after all the unhappy events of the last few days, it is just what we need to cheer us up.”
Mr Darcy was not enthusiastic. Charles, however, thought it was a capital idea.
“A dance is just what we need,” he said. “We have grown quite dismal and dull these last days.”
Mr Darcy turned to Georgiana, who was watching her brother hopefully. “I will leave the decision to my sister,” he said. “What do you think? Should we have a small dance here tomorrow?”