Caroline's ComeUppance

by Tess Quinn

  But despite these reasons for his social engagement tonight, a small part of him welcomed the chance to gauge Caroline’s temperament if she also attended; and why would she not, being an intimate friend of Lady Parkhurst. He did hope Caroline would attend tonight. Or perhaps not! Surely if she had had a change of heart, she would have sent him word through the contact he had left with her. Well, regardless of my fate, thought Sir John, it is time I made my appearance. He made his way out to the waiting carriage, having Joss join him in the ride to discuss business on the way. Perhaps Joss could be counted on to distract him from his indecisiveness over Caroline Bingley.

  ~~~~~~

  The lady was just alighting from a carriage at the Fenchurch home. She was attending tonight’s dinner for form’s sake but in truth her heart was not in it. She had spent the past three weeks alternately missing and then dismissing Sir John in her mind. He had himself told her of his skill at dissembling, so how to know what was truth and what was not in his admissions to her? And if she had truly been mistaken in his motives, then would he not have sought her out again? Yet he had been silent -- absent -- these three weeks. She had found herself checking the corners of the library of an evening, half expecting and half hoping that he would return in his enigmatic way to finish what she had so abruptly cut off. But the corners of all her rooms remained disappointingly uninhabited.

  Her wavering impressions, her inability to draw a conclusion with any conviction, had her out of sorts. Tonight’s dinner might prove a welcome diversion to Caroline or a colossal bore. At least she need not be concerned about encountering Sir John – he had reneged on every invitation issued for weeks and weeks. There was no reason to suppose he would suddenly accept this one. Sighing, though unsure why, Caroline mounted the steps to the Fenchurch house and determined to enjoy her evening.

  Lady Althea Parkhurst, soon to be Lady Althea Fenchurch, greeted Caroline as though she were already mistress of the house; as well she might, her wedding to Robert Fenchurch being only a week away. She had certainly wasted no time in taking full advantage of her upcoming married status. “Caroline, my dear. It is so good to see you here! I am so glad you have come this evening. I did so miss seeing you at Miss Delacrux’s coming out ball last week.” Caroline curtseyed to her friend and to Mr Fenchurch, then the two ladies quickly embraced. “I have a most delightful surprise for you, Caroline.”

  “A surprise?” Caroline could not think what might occasion such a thing from Althea.

  “Indeed, yes. For I think you will find you are to have a most welcome dinner partner this evening. I am looking out for your interests, my dear; but do not press me, for I will say no more.” At that, Althea Parkhurst laughed in her braying manner, and moved to greet her next guest just arriving.

  For a moment, Caroline was curious about Althea’s words, and as she moved into the parlour, she looked about her to see who might possibly fit her friend’s definition of an engaging dinner partner. There was William Fotheringdale, surely he did not suit anyone’s idea of “interesting.” And Mr Blackwell, Mr Sutton, and Mr Wetherington were all attending with their wives and were not to be counted.

  Caroline took note of a gentleman standing alone in a corner of the room, perusing his surroundings. He looked vaguely familiar, though she could not place having met him before. He was small and wiry, dressed in continental style. Could this be her mystery man? Caroline hoped not, as there was little about him to draw her interest other than that nagging feeling that they were already acquainted. But beyond this man, the other gentlemen present were all well known – and generally superfluous to Caroline. She decided to give up on her speculations and join Hetty Marston and Eugenia Bullchrist over near the fire, where she could at least be assured of gaining some useful gossip.

  That last thought fell like a stone into Caroline’s stomach, halting her progress towards her friends momentarily. She had a fleeting memory of a conversation about her penchant for gossip and its uses, and it left a sour taste in her mouth. Then there was also the issue that she herself had information about the most talked-of mystery in town this season, the infamous Sir John Ravensby. Could she, given her present feelings about the man, honour his confidence and hold her tongue when other chins wagged about his purported background? She swallowed her misgivings and joined her friends as they were positing on the identity of the small man in the corner.

  As the dinner bell rang, William Fotheringdale joined Caroline and offered his arm, so it was that he escorted Caroline in to dine. As the appointed places at the table filled up, Caroline noticed the small continental man opposite her at table; so this was not her mystery man after all – and to Caroline’s right stood Mr Sutton, no mystery there.

  At last it seemed everyone had entered the dining room, and still the chair to Caroline’s left was unclaimed. It appeared that her mystery man wished to remain a mystery! Caroline noticed Althea glancing at the empty chair and then to her fiancé at the other end of the table, a question in her eyes. Robert Fenchurch merely shrugged his shoulders in reply. Caroline could only imagine Althea’s inner turmoil at having gaffed in commencing dinner before all her guests were present.

  Lady Parkhurst, as hostess, began to sit, signalling the other ladies to do the same. Just after Caroline had seated herself, and as the gentlemen followed suit, a body slipped into the seat to her left after all, after a deep bow and murmured apologies to Miss Parkhurst and Mr Fenchurch for his late arrival. Caroline froze on hearing the raspy voice. She dared not look to her left, but did not need to do so to know that her mysterious dinner partner was none other than Sir John Ravensby. Her glance to Lady Parkhurst brought a broad smile and mischievous raise of the eyebrows from that lady. Caroline tried to smile in return so as not to give away the sick turn beginning in her stomach.

  Carefully, Caroline drew a slow breath and closed her eyes to gird herself for what was to come. Why had she not anticipated this? Of course, Althea would put them together – had she not formally introduced them some weeks ago at her own engagement party? And hinted at that time of some interest in Caroline on the gentleman’s part? In her mind, Lady Parkhurst was doing Caroline a favour, as she knew that every other woman in the room would love to be partnered with Sir John. Indeed, Mrs Larkin, placed between Sir John and Robert Fenchurch at the end, was already claiming Sir John’s attentions in converse, anxious to learn something with which to amuse – or amaze – the ladies after dinner.

  Soup was served, and Caroline tried to eat, though she found she had little appetite. Mr Sutton was talking to the woman on his right, and so Caroline was left to herself for a moment. She sipped at her soup, and her eye lit once again on the small gentleman across the table from her. The proximity of Sir John to her left gave her sudden insight, and she recalled where she had “met” this gentleman before. It was on the night of her adventure to Hampstead Heath -- yes, this gentleman eating soup across from Caroline was the very one they had escorted from the Heath into town, who had spoken French in hushed tones to Sir John. What was the name again? The Comte of something… Caroline teased her memory, but the name did not come to her. She noted with interest, though, that this Frenchman was now to be found at the Fenchurch dinner party. He gave no sign of recognising Caroline; she assumed her disguise as a boy that strange night must have worked, thankfully.

  When he could extricate himself from Mrs Larkin’s fluttering, Sir John turned to Caroline. “Miss Bingley,” he said.

  “Sir John.”

  “I hope you are quite well tonight.”

  She replied in the affirmative, and countered with the same sentiment toward the gentleman. There followed an awkward silence between them. Caroline had glanced quickly at Sir John as he greeted her, but could not hold the look, and shifted her eyes to the soup, then across the table. The Comte had captured Sir John’s eye, and the Frenchman nodded formally to Sir John in recognition. Sir John returned the silent greeting, and then slid his eyes to Caroline at just the moment when she
was watching his interaction with the Comte. Their eyes met and held briefly; but Caroline could not quite identify the countenance she beheld. Sir John’s face seemed to hold both a challenge and a question, yet he seemed oddly discomfited.

  Caroline herself began to fidget under his continued surveillance of her. Every glance seemed to burn her skin where it fell. Fortunately, at that point Mr Sutton asked after her brother and his new wife, and so Caroline became engaged in conversation with him for some moments. Under other circumstances, she would have extricated herself as quickly as possible from converse with Mr Sutton; but on this night, she was grateful for his loquacious tendencies. From time to time, she felt Sir John’s eyes on her, but she studiously avoided turning in his direction. Thus, she managed to pass the dinner hour, but she was never so grateful as when Lady Parkhurst signalled that the ladies should withdraw.

  ~~~~~~

  As soon as they were ensconced in the parlour, Lady Parkhurst made her way to Caroline. “My dear, whatever were you playing at?”

  Caroline replied, “I have no idea what you are referring to, Althea.”

  “Of course you know very well that I am referring to Sir John. You were the envy of every woman tonight, placed as you were for intimate conversation with the man, and yet you took pains to focus your attentions on Mr Sutton. Really, Caroline, I sought to help you but it is of no good if you will do nothing to help yourself when the situation presents itself!”

  Caroline laughed, but it sounded hollow even to her. “I am certain Sir John did not want for conversation; Phyllida Larkin kept him well occupied, I believe.”

  “Perhaps so,” said her friend, “yet Phyllida will have gotten nowhere with the man. He may have given her his ears for dinner, but his eyes continually sought you out.” Althea paused for a moment, then nodded sagely and added, “Ah, I begin to see your intent. My apologies for doubting your arts – Caroline, you are a master! For what better way to draw the gentleman’s eager attention than by your own studied disinterest. I pray you, however, do not play that hand overlong, my dear, or the gentleman may give up on you. I own I think the only reason he attended us tonight was to see if you would be present.” Miss Parkhurst brayed again, drawing a few eyes from among other ladies about the room. “Yes, Caroline, you did well in attracting him with your studied avoidance.”

  “I assure you, Althea, I had no such thought.”

  “Mr dear, no need to protest to me. I quite approve. Obviously, your ploy worked. I have no doubt that, when the men join us, Sir John will make an immediate path to you.” Lady Parkhurst paused for a moment, then seemed to take note of a mousy woman at the opposite end of the room. “Caroline, dear, do excuse me, will you? I must go have a word with Bitty Forsythe. I am trying, you know, to steal her cook from her, though if you breathe a word of it, I shall deny you for all time.” Without waiting for a reply, Lady Parkhurst smiled her horsy grin, and walked off to her quarry.

  Caroline was left with her thoughts. She still could not reconcile that Sir John had made an appearance tonight, and felt a heaviness in having encountered him without warning. She could not help but be recalled to their last meeting.

  ~~~~~~

  Like all her encounters with Sir John so far, their last one had been full of surprises. It had begun with his unaccountable appearance in her library late at night a few weeks ago, and after the initial shock of finding him there, they had actually had a momentous conversation. He had shared much of his personal history with Caroline, and made his proposal to her. Indeed, his candour and sensitivity had drawn Caroline in, and she had begun to feel that she could envision a life with this man.

  Until she had asked some questions, and his true intentions had surfaced. Though he claimed that she mistook his meaning, Caroline still could not but believe that she had marked his aims well. Her mind went back now to the point where their discourse had taken a bad turn, their final conversation replaying in her thoughts uninvited.

  “Sir John,” Caroline had said. “I believe my greater curiosity, sir, is just what would I bring out in you?”

  “My best, my dear… my best. Perhaps I might even become a gentleman for you!” Again, he laughed. “But do not depend upon it, for such a triumph may even be beyond your considerable talents to evoke!” Suddenly, Sir John turned serious again. “But I have come to the end of my tale, Caroline. What would you still know of me?”

  Caroline considered carefully, reviewing in her mind what she had heard this night. She could not yet come to consider her own feelings too closely, and so she began by asking him less intimate questions. “When were you born? What is your age?”

  Sir John laughed at this first question. “Two and thirty at my last anniversary. I own I have some years on you, but hardly an old man yet. I think I still have some good years left in me.” His grin brought a blush to Caroline that she tried in vain to quell. Sir John raised his eyebrows at her in an impertinent invitation, but Caroline (though if truth be told she was tempted to an indiscretion) refused to be diverted from her purpose now that she was given leave to question him.

  “Your foster family. What is their name?”

  “Ah, I should have known you would move quickly to that which I am not prone to share. That knowledge, my dear, I will not tell until we have an understanding; for from that fact, others may too easily be discerned.”

  Caroline sighed in frustration, but she accepted the answer she had foreseen. “Very well. The man who took you under his wing, who apprenticed you for your… activities… who is he?”

  Sir John looked about to demur on answering once again, then stopped to reconsider. Finally, he said, “I will tell you his name, but I must first ask you to swear yourself to secrecy. The gentleman is well known, yet not the complete scope of his activities on behalf of the Prince is fully understood. He and I would have it remain so.” Caroline nodded her agreement. “Very well,” said Sir John. “I work for Sir Arthur Wellesley, a gentleman of some note and who may well spearhead the Prince’s Army if Napoleon’s continued antics lead us to open warfare.”

  Caroline sighed audibly. Sir Arthur Wellesley was highly placed indeed, and it was indicative of Sir John’s importance and influence to be a protégé of this great man. Not simply that, but she could well understand the level of trust Sir John placed in Caroline to impart such information to her.

  “You say you have lived… worked… in France these past twelve years. Why do you return now? And why this cautioned entry into society?”

  Now Sir John sighed. “I returned because of a change in my circumstances which not only required my immediate attention in England, but signalled that perhaps my best contributions might be made in another manner than I had been accustomed to doing. It was not wholly voluntary, but I accept it. There is nothing nefarious in it.”

  “And what was the change in circumstances?”

  Sir John looked down, shook his head slightly from side to side: “I cannot tell you that, not yet.”

  Silence fell in the room, tension escalating until Caroline chose whether to accept the scant information on offer. Finally, “That man, the night we went out. The man you delivered from Hampstead Heath. Who was he?” Sir John considered a moment, then answered, “The Comte de Varlois. He had a death sentence hanging over him by The Committee. We assisted him in transferring some of his assets to England under an assumed name, and then we helped him to escape France. In return, he will provide what information he can – and some needed treasury donations – to assist other French families in jeopardy.”

  Caroline was getting frustrated. Sir John seemed willing to answer her questions about his work, yet everything approaching his personal life was not to be touched upon.

  “Who are you?” she said with exasperation. “Where do you come from?”

  “Again, I cannot tell you. Or rather will not. Caroline, such knowledge is immaterial. Judge me by the man you see in front of you, not my history or my bloodline. I care not for the trappings of s
ociety.”

  “Ah, but you see, that is what I cannot reconcile,” cried Caroline. “You claim to have no pretensions, yet you live your life by them. You claim no interest in society, yet now you court them! Who are you?”

  “I am a man of circumstance, and will use whichever one I find myself in to advantage. But for purpose, Caroline… not for sport, not for personal gain, not for a boon to my ego. I am a plain man who lives in a fancy world of intrigue, but though it is perhaps of greater import, it is not so different than the intrigues you talk of every day in the drawing rooms of London.

  And I am a man who would have you for a partner. We are not so different, Caroline, and together we could be formidable.

  You thought once to make a match with a man who hates the lifestyle you crave. I would not ask you to eschew that life; I would have you court it, to embrace it. You could become what you have wanted, a respected maven of the ton. Not give up society, but use it, and use it well. You have honed your skills among the best liars and cheats and dissemblers. You trade gossip. You learn things. We are not so different, you and I. Only our fields of battle differ. You could help me in that – a true partnership in every way. If you but used your wiles – and you are a master at them --”

  As Sir John spoke, Caroline came to a realisation. She gasped, interrupting his fervent speech. “Oh, no!” she cried. “You have said enough, I see how it is! You say you want a partner, and now I understand fully. You do not want a wife, a partner of the heart! You want to press me into service for your life’s work; and buy my silence and cooperation with a marriage contract!”

  “No!” Sir John’s reply was immediate, yet Caroline’s eyes had halted him from saying more.

  She glared at him now. “You almost had me fooled,” she said. “You almost convinced me that you cared for me, that you loved me.” Some part of Caroline registered surprise that she herself had even wanted it to be love, but she would not allow herself to think about that now. “But it is all more of your lies. You simply love my skills and what they can do for your advancement.”