She smiled, knowing that never before in her entire life had she been this happy. ‘I will.’ She hoped he would rise then, and kiss her again, this time taking her in his arms, but he remained gazing up at her, his gaze suddenly troubled.
‘What is it?’ she asked, suddenly afraid. ‘Does my acceptance not make you happy?’
‘It does,’ he said. ‘You cannot imagine how much. But as I said earlier, I cannot hide a single thing from you. You love me, and so I must be true to myself, so that I can be true to you.’
She laughed, her happiness pushing away all negative emotions. ‘I love every aspect of you, Stephen,’ oh, how saying his name out loud was the most beautiful sound in the world, ‘and there can be nothing that will change that.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘A woman as beautiful as you, on the inside as well as the aspect you show the world, could love no less fully. And yet, for my own sake, I must speak.’
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Speak, if you must. But promise me that when you are finished, you will kiss me again.’
The fire returned to his gaze and standing, he pulled her up and into his arms. It was as wonderful as she’d thought. His body was so warm, his arms hard and yet tender about her. She opened her mouth eagerly this time to his, feeling her head tip back with the force of his passion. Never had she felt so loved, and so safe, as here, with him, pressed close to his breast.
Too soon, he pulled away. ‘That is a promise of what shall be yours,’ he said, sounding as breathless as she. ‘But I must speak or I shall forget myself, and I could never forgive myself for being false to you.’
They sat together on the settee, and he turned to her, his expression serious. ‘As I said before, I loved you the moment we met. That was not the plan, although it was not an unwelcome occurrence from my point of view.’
Caroline pulled back a bit, although there was no space. ‘I don’t understand. Do you mean you did not wish to fall in love at this point in your life? Do you not feel ready to marry?’
‘No,’ he said fiercely. ‘I wanted to marry you from the start. But I would have proposed even if I had not fallen in love.’
A small shiver ran down her spine, but she did not speak.
‘If we had not met that time at the theatre, we would have soon met elsewhere. Eleanor cultivated your friendship so as to bring us together.’
‘Eleanor?’ She knew not what to think or say. ‘Why are you telling me such strange things?’
‘Oh,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I fear you will hate me. But I must tell you, before we are wed. I could not bear to see the disappointment on your lovely face once we are truly man and wife.’
‘I could never be disappointed in you,’ she whispered. ‘Please, stop speaking, you are frightening me.’
‘I must speak,’ he cried, anguish in every word. He tugged at his coat’s lapels. ‘You see these clothes?’
‘Yes,’ she said, now totally bewildered. ‘I have long admired your good taste and sense of fashion.
He laughed, sounding almost angry. ‘My sense of fashion! All of my clothing has been purchased for me by Eleanor. It was at her bidding that I met you in the guise of a wealthy young gentleman. She has long been spending the last of her money, and she wished me to wed a wealthy woman so I could share that wealth with her.’
Caroline gasped, and curled into herself around the sudden pain in her heart. ‘Why would she think you would give her money, unless—’ She paused, the thought too terrible to put into words.
‘Yes,’ he said bitterly, ‘she and I were more than just friends for a long time.’ He fell to the floor before her, burying his face in his hands. ‘All that stopped once I met you. You must believe me, it’s true. From the moment I first saw you, you were all I wanted out of life.’
‘Eleanor has betrayed me, made use of what I thought was genuine affection to help improve her own situation.’ That thought was so painful she could scarcely draw breath. Quickly she turned to something else, also horrible, but slightly less devastating. ‘You are not wealthy, then?’
‘Alas, no,’ he said, looking up. ‘I come from a good merchant family, as I was given to know you do, also. My father was not as successful in business as yours, and so while we are comfortable, we are no more than that.’
‘Your estate?’ she said faintly.
He hung his head. ‘There is none. But surely, Caroline, dear Caroline, if we are together, we shall be happy. Is that not true?’
‘I had thought so,’ she said slowly.
He knelt up and wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his head in her lap. Against her conscious will, her fingers twined into his hair, the other hand caressing his shoulder. ‘You have enough money for both of us,’ he said, his voice muffled, his breath warming the soft space at the top of her thighs. ‘Eleanor will have nothing, I promise you that. Her behaviour has been despicable, and I regret the very day I first took up with her.’ He lifted his head then, and looked up at her. Through his eyes, she knew, she could see into his very soul, and all that was there was a true and strong love for her.
‘We will live on my fortune?’ she asked. ‘You will bring no land to the family?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘But surely none of that matters. I love you and you love me. I know you love me, I could tell from your kisses, even if I hadn’t known already from everything else you have said and shown me.’
‘I do love you,’ she cried in despair. ‘Oh, Stephen, I do.’ She leaned forward and down, this time initiating the kiss herself. ‘But,’ she said, pulling herself away and rising to her feet, ‘I cannot marry you.’
‘Do not say that,’ he cried, holding out his arms to her.
‘I have my responsibilities,’ she said, feeling her shoulders square as she spoke, ‘to my family. While the Bingley wealth did originate in trade, we have moved well away from that status. A marriage to you will not better our position in society; in fact, it will take us back, closer to our shameful start.’
‘But,’ he cried, ‘your brother is to marry a woman of no fortune and land. I heard the news. Everyone has been speaking of it.’
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push away her shame. ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘That is why I must marry well.’
‘Or not at all?’ he asked. He rose to his feet, his face shuttered now. ‘You would prefer a possible marriage in the future, one that might well bring you no joy even if it did bring land and perhaps a title, over the happiness and passion you know will be yours if you wed me?’
She wrapped her arms about herself, in part to control the trembling that had overcome her, and in part to keep those traitorous arms from reaching out to him. ‘I must,’ she said. ‘Alas, I must.’
She turned away from him, then, and it was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. She turned her back on him and left the room, making her way through the shabby rooms, empty now of their fashionable furniture and beautiful works of art, empty also of the sounds of laughter and gay conversation; but nothing to match the emptiness inside her.
She did not encounter Eleanor as she left the house—the only blessing in the darkness that surrounded her. In a daze, she found herself in the carriage, making her way home.
Home? The house in which she currently resided was Louisa and Mr Hurst’s home. And her brother’s current home, Netherfield Park, could never be a place where Caroline would feel at home, not with Jane as its mistress.
When she reached the house on Grosvenor Street, she found a letter from her brother, announcing Mr Darcy’s engagement to Elizabeth Bennet. The darkness that enveloped her was so thick that this new blow had little effect.
‘It does not matter,’ she said aloud to the empty house. She lifted her chin and pulled herself to her full height, looking down at the world from over her nose. ‘I am Miss Caroline Bingley. I am wealthy and well-educated. I am elegant and accomplished. While I have all these things, I will be at home no matter where I find myself.’
Why, she wond
ered, when all these things were true, when all these things had brought her the enviable position in society she now held, did she feel so alone? She sank down onto a chair, upholstered in the latest fashion and, uncaring that her shoulders slumped, buried her face in her hands.
* * *
‘Miss Bingley requests the honour of your presence …’
She paused to read over the words. Were they the right ones? Yes, she decided, they were, and picked up her pen again. ‘… at a ball to celebrate the engagements of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Mr Charles Bingley to Miss Jane Bennett.’
The sound of laughter caught her attention, and she glanced out of the open window to where Charles and Jane, Darcy and Elizabeth, played croquet on Netherfield’s grassy lawn. Darcy had his head thrown back, his laugh rising to the sky. Caroline had heard him laugh more during the past weeks than during her entire acquaintance with him before his engagement.
She forced a smile, almost convincing herself that the sight of such joy in people she cared for provided her with, if not happiness, a sense of lightness. Sometimes a woman in her position could not attain the life she sought. Sometimes she had to continue to do what was proper, best for herself and her family.
If joy did not grace her with its presence, she would find contentment in the presence of family and friends. Who knew, perhaps someday a fitting marriage for her would present itself.
She looked again out of the window. Darcy’s arms were about Elizabeth as he guided her through a stroke with her mallet. Caroline had not thought her heart could break into even smaller pieces, but each time she saw them thus, the pain inside her rose up anew.
She stood, determined to push these thoughts away. I must look not to what I do not have, but to what I do. I am fortunate in so very many ways. She pressed her hands against the burning in her eyes until she was once again in control, the perfectly elegant and accomplished woman.
Seating herself again at the writing desk, she continued the invitations for Netherfield’s next ball.
Also available by Judy McCrosky
Lifting Weights
Ink-Stained Fingers
Blow the Moon Out
Lake of Dreams
Spin Cycle and Other Stories
Author Biography
Born in Aberdeen, Scotland, Judy McCrosky lived there only a month, alas, not enough to get a Scottish accent. She grew up in Toronto, went to Oakwood Collegiate Institute, studied psychology at McGill University, and then at Queen’s. She worked in psychology for a few years, but thankfully discovered that she belongs in the arts. She now lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, which has been immortalized by many leading literary lights, including Mark Twain.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Judy McCrosky
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-68331-837-8
ISBN (ePub): 978-1-68331-838-5
ISBN (ePDF): 978-1-68331-839-2
Cover design by Zoe Foster
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
34 West 27th St., 10th Floor
New York, NY 10001
First Hardcover Edition: November 2018
Originally published in trade paperback in Great Britain by Accent Press, November 2016
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