Miss Bingley Requests

  Caroline gasped at the indelicacy of what he told her, even as she thrilled to be in the circle of those who knew the intimate secrets of a family as highly placed as this one.

  ‘Still,’ Mr Tryphon continued, ‘a new young wife could well represent a fountain of youth for an elderly husband.’

  Caroline nodded. Lord Torrance had lost his first wife, a woman not much younger than he, and one possessed of a sour disposition. ‘Or,’ she said, filled with a spirit of adventure, ‘the lady found her own fountain of youth, in the form of a young lover!’

  Mr Tryphon feigned shock, opening his eyes comically wide and placing a hand before his mouth. ‘Miss Bingley. Surely a sheltered young lady such as yourself could not possibly imagine such a thing!’ She smiled, trying to appear enigmatic, and he leaned in even closer and said softly, ‘Your imagination is one of the things I adore about you.’ For a moment, before he moved away again, she thought that his lips brushed her cheek, but the touch was so fleeting she did not know if it was her much-valued imagination.

  During supper, he encouraged her to take a little wine. ‘For medicinal purposes,’ he said, as he held out a morsel of beef on his fork for her to try.

  Caroline shone all evening, she knew it because her heart was filled with such a glow it escaped the confines of her body. Other people were drawn to her light; never before had she been the object of so much attention. Everyone wanted to make her laugh; everyone wanted to hear her opinion on the latest fashions or the last play they’d seen at the theatre. Unaccustomed to having people cluster around her, she never felt overwhelmed, never worried that what she said might appear foolish to these sophisticated and powerful people. For Mr Tryphon stood at her side, a source of encouragement and support. When she was a woman of such beauty and accomplishment to him, how could she fail to be so to everyone else?

  She was still glowing when Charles helped her and Louisa into the carriage for the trip home. Mr Tryphon and Eleanor stood in the doorway of Eleanor’s house, the light behind them shining on to the stairs and the walkway beyond, glistening on the pavement, for it had rained earlier. Both raised a hand in farewell as Charles entered the carriage and pulled the door shut. Caroline leaned out the open window to wave her own goodbye.

  ‘It is indeed very good,’ Charles said, ‘to see you are once again yourself.’

  ‘Who else would I be?’ she answered saucily, and then laughed at his surprised expression.

  He grinned at her and said, ‘I have only been waiting for this, to see you healthy again, before giving you some news.’

  Beside her, Louisa leaned forward and said, ‘Charles.’

  ‘She is fine, as you can see,’ he responded.

  ‘I think we should wait.’

  ‘She needs to know, and it is better coming from us. What if she runs into them on the street?’

  ‘That seems highly unlikely,’ Louisa said in a tight voice.

  ‘Enough!’ Caroline said. ‘I will not sit here and permit the two of you to talk about me as if I am not here, or not in my right mind.’ She glared at both of them. ‘What is this news?’

  Louisa sighed loudly and turned to look out of the window at the street. Charles sighed also, but more quietly, and then said to Caroline, ‘The Darcys are back in town.’

  ‘I see.’ Caroline was not sure what she felt at hearing this. Joy, certainly, for it could only mean Mr Darcy was going to propose. Just as she’d thought; now that his foolish infatuation was over, he would turn to her. But thinking of Mr Darcy, even picturing him on bended knee, brought only a sense of disquiet. Instead, images of Mr Tryphon rushing in and pushing Mr Darcy to one side filled her mind. ‘How long,’ she said to Charles, ‘have they been here without you letting me know?’

  ‘Three days. And I am sorry if my withholding the knowledge of their returning to town has upset you. It was done out of the best of motivations, in case it sent you into a graver illness and extended the time during which we did not have the joy of your company.’

  ‘Nicely put,’ Caroline said, and indeed it was good to hear that her presence about the house had been missed. ‘But you should know me better than that. The doings of anyone other than those in my immediate family can have no effect on me.’

  Louisa gave Caroline a look of frank disbelief. Ignoring her sister, Caroline continued, ‘I trust that this foolish, although well-meant, concern for me has not led you to snub the Darcys in any way.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Charles said. ‘I have seen Darcy only at the club, for the intention of this trip to town is to order new clothing for both himself and his sister. And this is news that should please you—they plan to return to Pemberley in a few weeks and we are invited to accompany them.’

  Pemberley. Of all places in England, it was her favourite—the expansive grounds, perfectly framed by every window in the great house; the refined elegance; the beautiful and expensive furniture and décor—although of course she had some changes in mind—the perfectly trained servants, all made the estate one of the most respected in the country. Travelling there as its soon-to-be mistress would be pleasant indeed. The image of Mr Tryphon receded a bit in her mind, but only a bit.

  Neither Charles nor Louisa said anything more, but both studied Caroline with worried expressions. She determined to reveal nothing of the turmoil this news had brought, and smiled serenely during the rest of the trip home to Grosvenor Street.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Darcys came for dinner the next evening. Caroline knew she was unusually subdued when they all sat down at the table, and Louisa kept sending her concerned looks. Her mind was full, leaving no space for witty conversation.

  From beneath her lashes, she studied Mr Darcy. While his gaze did pass over her from time to time, she could read no yearning, no sign of pent-up love. Of course, Mr Darcy rarely revealed his emotions, but she’d thought he’d want to show his feelings for her, because he regretted his foolishness in proposing to Elizabeth Bennett. He must be deeply ashamed of his behaviour, and she must be supportive of his feelings by never revealing that she knew of his folly.

  Caroline was almost grateful he was waiting. Her thoughts were so roiled that the tossing and turning in her head was even worse than the tossing and turning she’d done in her bed last night. She’d barely slept at all, although she felt surprisingly well today. She could only assume all the resting she’d done over the last many days meant she did not need her usual eight hours of beauty sleep.

  As she’d dressed for dinner, she’d studied herself in the mirror. She’d lost a bit of weight during her illness, and now her eyes appeared even larger and her cheekbones stood out more starkly, giving her a waifish yet refined appearance. While Genney had been able to cinch her waist more tightly, her bosom had lost none of its fullness, and swelled slightly above her décolletage with its usual smooth curves. Knowing she’d be seeing Mr Darcy tonight, she’d taken extra care with her appearance.

  As she’d sat at her dressing table, examining herself as Genney worked on her hair, she couldn’t help but think that before going out to Eleanor’s home the previous evening, she’d been in a hurry and so had not been as immaculately coiffed. That had not seemed to matter to Mr Tryphon. To him, she was always beautiful.

  As the evening progressed, Caroline did everything she could to facilitate Mr Darcy having some time alone with her. When the ladies left the gentlemen to their port and cigars, she lingered in the hallway instead of going straight to the drawing room with Louisa and Georgiana. She knew he could easily make an excuse to Charles and Mr Hurst, and follow her, but he did not.

  When the gentlemen joined the ladies, she begged off the card game, and sat in the furthest corner, first ensuring there were two chairs there, and stuck her nose in a book, but he, seemingly quite willing, joined the game.

  Later, when Georgiana sat down at the pianoforte, instead of turning pages Caroline retreated to the back of the room. She’d assumed Louisa would help with the pages and Mr Darc
y could join Caroline while all eyes were on his sister. But though Louisa did step forward, ready to aid Georgiana, Mr Darcy moved quickly to offer his service to his sister.

  Later still, when the Darcys, and Charles, for he was to move back into the Darcy house, were preparing to depart, Caroline lingered outside the front door, while those who were leaving called for their coats and hats, and waited for the carriage to be brought. Mr Darcy could easily have slung his coat over his arm instead of taking the time to put it on, and so he could have come outside, into the warm lilac-scented night air, but he did not. Caroline stood with Louisa and Mr Hurst on the top step and waved goodbye as the carriage rattled off.

  The next weeks passed surprisingly quickly. Caroline said nothing of her frustration with Mr Darcy to her brother or even to Louisa, for she did not want to see the same concern on their countenances as had been there during her recent illness. She saw one or the other of her suitors most days, often seeing both at the same time. Being with Mr Tryphon now entailed even more pleasure than before; because since she had refused him, they both could relax into the joys of friendship. Mr Darcy still did not speak, and Caroline began to think that he was waiting for when all of them were at Pemberley. Of course he was, for there could be no setting more romantic, or more meaningful, a place to arrange an engagement that would bring joy to so many in both families.

  Being in the same room as Mr Darcy and Mr Tryphon, was not without its difficulties. Propriety demanded that she treat both with the same distant politeness. She could only hope her sister was the sole person to take note of the burning glances Mr Tryphon sent her way, and that Louisa did not observe the equally burning, though more circumspect, glances she sent Mr Darcy’s way.

  Mr Tryphon appeared perfectly happy to spend time with her, and did not mention marriage or any other official change to their relationship. He often took her hand in his, when he could do so unobserved, and sometimes, if they stood at a distance from other people, would caress her cheek. Other than this, his behaviour was that of a perfect gentleman. Caroline found she welcomed his touch. He made her feel alive.

  This last was a rather perplexing realisation. If the warmth of his finger on her lips made her feel alive, did that mean she had not felt alive before she met him? Did not feel alive when they were apart? And if she felt less alive when she was not with him, did that mean she was closer to being dead?

  These thoughts caused her great confusion, and formed lines on her forehead, which Mr Tryphon could always erase by smoothing his hand across it. Caroline wished she could speak of these thoughts to Louisa or to Eleanor, but did not. Eleanor appeared entirely too interested in what Caroline thought of Mr Tryphon, whether she found him handsome, whether he was not the most elegant dancer in all of London, and whether she was aware of the very great compliment he was paying her in devoting so much of his time and attention to her. Caroline could not imagine why Eleanor so frequently asked questions like these. The only thing she could think of was that her friend was jealous, but surely that was ridiculous.

  Fortunately, the muddle of thoughts receded somewhat as the time for the removal to Pemberley drew near. Details of packing and planning the journey served nicely as a distraction, and so Caroline took on even more of the preparations than she usually did.

  The day before their departure, Caroline went to Mr Darcy’s house to assist Georgiana. Pemberley was the girl’s home, but she was still very young and could not always make the best choices of gowns or shoes or jewellery to be worn in the country.

  Georgiana was delighted to see Caroline, of course, and led her up to her rooms, where the bed and seemingly every other horizontal surface was covered with clothes. The overall effect was like walking into a rainbow of colour and texture, the mixture somewhat disorienting, but Caroline was soon able to establish an organisation of sorts. Georgiana professed herself happy with the way this organisation would make her decisions easier, but while Caroline was engrossed with deciding whether gowns and overskirts should be arranged in pairs, so Georgiana could know which to wear together, or whether the two should be laid out separately, gowns on the bed, the others over the dressing table, the girl slipped out of the room, and so was not present to receive the benefits of Caroline’s hard work.

  Caroline waited for a while, thinking Georgiana had something of a personal matter of which to attend, but when she did not appear, even though Caroline spent some time rearranging the way she’d laid out Georgiana’s shoes, choosing to move them from the back wall to placing them by gowns they best suited, she set out in search of her.

  As she walked down the hallway towards the drawing room, she heard her brother’s voice. It was quieter than his usual buoyant tone, but she could make out the words. ‘I confess, and do not think poorly of me, I beg you, but I still think of her.’

  Another voice responded, male. He must be standing further from the door, for she could not understand what he said, but it sounded to her like Mr Darcy.

  She paused outside the door, which was pulled almost fully closed, curious to know of whom they spoke.

  It appeared a third person was present in the room, for a young female spoke. ‘They are sisters?’ Georgiana.

  The conversation continued, mostly between Charles and Mr Darcy, but her brother must have moved, or turned away from the door, for she could no longer hear either man well enough to know what he said. Her brother sounded melancholy, she thought, but then his mood must have changed, for his voice rose, finding more of its usual enthusiasm. ‘Yes! I do recall that incident! It was a delightful day, was it not? The sky clear, the sun trying its best to warm us …’

  Mr Darcy spoke again, and then Georgiana chimed in. ‘Oh, I would so like to meet her!’

  At this point Caroline, who still had no idea of what or whom they spoke, yet feeling a slight unease, opened the door. The three inside fell silent, all turning to look at this new arrival.

  Mr Darcy, as she’d thought, stood at the far end of the room, near the double doors which stood open to the delights of spring; a soft breeze and the sounds of birds twittering as they went about their business. He was his usual reserved self, and yet Caroline thought she detected the slightest hint of a flush in his cheeks, as if he had been thinking of something that brought about a heightened emotion.

  Her brother, to her surprise, looked very much as he had when the three Bingley children had been much younger, and Caroline had discovered him in the pantry, with traces of the pie he had been strictly forbidden to eat smeared on his face.

  Before she could examine him further, Miss Darcy approached and said, ‘Dear Miss Bingley, I am so sorry. You must have been awaiting my return for some time, and you are here only out of kindness. Can you forgive me for not returning at once?’

  With her brother and Mr Darcy looking on, Caroline could not possibly continue her examination or ask questions to determine what they had been speaking of. She smiled at Georgiana and, taking the girl’s hand, said, ‘Do not distress yourself. I was able to make good use of the time, and so the final packing will be completed very quickly.’

  Georgiana was effusive in her apologies and gratitude, and as she clearly wished to return to the task immediately, Caroline had no choice but to follow. As she left the room, she turned back and saw the two men gazing at each other, and each countenance showed an identical expression of mingled joy and loss that sent a shudder through her. It was only when Georgiana inquired if she felt a chill and wished for a shawl that Caroline was able to look away and close the door behind her.

  * * *

  There was one more obligation facing Caroline before she left town for Pemberley. She’d been invited to dine with Eleanor and Mr Tryphon that evening and, as she wished to bid them goodbye, she had accepted. She’d expected the occasion to be one of Eleanor’s typical intimate suppers, with twenty or more guests, but when she was ushered in, she saw the large marble-topped table was covered with a cloth only at one end, and there were only three pla
ces set.

  At Caroline’s surprised look, Eleanor smiled. ‘Surely you cannot think we’d waste any of our last precious minutes with you on other people?’

  Mr Tryphon pulled out a chair for Caroline, and took his place beside her. ‘I cannot believe you will so willingly leave us, your poor friends, to pine away during your absence.’

  ‘If only,’ Caroline said, ‘I could have both the pleasure of your company and the pleasures of Pemberley at the same time.’ To her surprise, she realised she meant this. She could picture Mr Tryphon in that grand house, walking its halls, playing billiards, dancing, sitting during a quiet time, contemplating the beautiful grounds.

  Mr Tryphon would not be out of place, even in such an enormous house. Perhaps his own house was equally grand. ‘I have described Pemberley to you in the past,’ she said, ‘but have not heard about your own estate. Surely you cannot insist on modesty with such a good friend as I.’

  He glanced at her, opened his mouth, but then closed it again without saying anything.

  ‘Dearest Caroline,’ Eleanor said, ‘you cannot seek to fill our last evening together by speaking of stone and stream. Please, do not deny us the pleasure of your conversation. You are such a witty speaker, your words filled with interesting observations. Stephen! I forbid you to say a word about anything other than Miss Bingley’s beauty. In fact, I command you this minute, without taking time to think, to tell us ten things you most admire about her!’

  ‘Ten things! How can you set me such a daunting task!’ He pretended horror, but Caroline thought, for a moment, that she saw relief in his eyes. He laughed, to show that speaking of things he admired in her was not daunting at all, and took her hand.

  ‘How shall I speak?’ he asked, raising her hand to his lips. ‘In what order can I list my admirations, for so many crowd my mind I cannot tell one from another?’

  ‘You are procrastinating,’ Eleanor said, waving a finger at him. ‘You were told to begin at once.’