Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (13 page)

He was watching her movements and smiling at her with an infuriatingly ironic expression in his eyes. "I should have expected to find you here after observing how little you ate at dinner."

Caroline willed herself not to blush. Of course, it did not matter if her face turned purple, she chided herself, for in this semi-dark, color was quite washed away. But indeed, she was embarrassed. It was true that she had been able to consume little at Oak Park. Her nerves had been much too strained by her circumstances. "I wish you would not observe me, Mr. Rushton. It is very rude."

His smile returned, and Caroline had the urge to remove it from his face, by force if necessary.

"May I join you?" he asked in a pleasant tone of voice.

"I wish you would not," she returned with exaggerated coldness.

"Excellent," he said as he came around the table, pulled out the chair beside hers, turned it around, and sat.

Caroline scowled at him. "A gentleman would leave. This situation is quite improper."

Mr. Rushton emitted a sort of throaty growl and said, "I would ask if you would do me the honor of sharing that tin of biscuits, but because I am certain you will respond in the negative, I find I must take them without your permission."

Before he could snatch the tin from her, Caroline handed it to him. "I would not deny you, Mr. Rushton."

She had expected him to say something mocking, but to her surprise, he said nothing, and that was infinitely worse. He merely chewed and looked at her intently.

He offered her a biscuit from the tin he now possessed.

She thought to feign disinterest, but she had come for this very purpose after all. She took one.

"And so if you will not deny me, Miss Bingley, tell me, what has really brought you all the way to the blighted north?"

Caroline stopped chewing and looked at him.

Mr. Rushton continued, "For I smell something suspicious in the air, and I must track it down. I cannot believe a woman, who so obviously desires the pleasures of town, would ever come here of her own accord."

"Can you not, Mr. Rushton?" Caroline studied him a moment and decided to deflect his line of questioning. "I should have thought a gentleman of property in the region would have reason to boast of its bounties."

"Indeed, it is a region of bounty and beauty, Miss Bingley, but have you not grown accustomed to the bustle of London?"

"I do not pretend to hide my regard for Town, but I also dearly love my mother." She lowered her eyes. "And she has brought me here."

He turned his head slightly, as if gauging the veracity of her statement and deciding he was skeptical.

"You do not believe I love my mother, Mr. Rushton?"

"No indeed, I am quite certain of your affection for Mrs. Newton," he said as he finished another biscuit, recovered the tin, and wiped his hands on his trousers. "In fact, it is one of your most redeeming characteristics."

"How very kind of you," Caroline said as she rose from her chair to look down upon him. "In you, I have found no such redeeming traits, and I wish very much that you would prevent yourself further thought on my account. I have nothing to conceal."

He had the audacity to snort in disbelief.

"You, on the contrary, seem to have a great deal to conceal," Caroline said.

He did not even possess the shame to look away under the force of her accusation. He simply stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. "You have heard the rumors then?"

"I am sure there are few who have not."

He only smiled.

"You are not contrite?" Caroline asked. How could a gentleman face the allegation of being a fortune hunter with such carelessness?

"Why should I be?" he asked with a shrug. His white shirt rose and fell with his movements, somehow exposing more of his chest. Caroline blushed again as he continued. "I have done nothing amiss. I am innocent. It is you who have chosen to believe idle gossip."

Caroline very nearly laughed. "On the contrary, I never believe idle gossip, only that which has been confirmed."

"Ah," he said with a smile. "So my guilt is confirmed then, in your mind?"

"It is."

"And what is your evidence?"

Caroline tucked her chair back under the table and pulled her wrap tighter around herself. "Every conversation I hold with you convinces me further of your unworthiness to be in my mother's household."

He laughed again and watched as she turned on her heel to depart.

"Good night, Mr. Rushton," she shot.

"Good night, Miss Bingley," he said as she swept past him toward the door.

She had almost made her escape when she heard him call out, "Miss Bingley."

She nearly ignored him, but something compelled her to look back at him. "What?"

When he spoke again, his voice was rather hushed. "I am certainly glad for whatever it is that brought you here. You amuse me, Miss Bingley. You amuse me."

"I am sorry that I cannot return those sentiments, Mr. Rushton, for you do not amuse me."

Ten

From the night of Lavinia's dinner party forward, Caroline could not step into the Charltons' society without Rosemary trailing alongside, keeping unending watch over her charge, but one day in late February, chance finally worked in her favor.

Rosemary had come down with a most horrifying cold, and her nose had turned cherry red. She was not fit to be seen in company, nor had she even exited her bedchamber in several days.

This offered Caroline the ideal opportunity to pay a call on Oak Park unaccompanied by her companion. And the occasion was even better than Caroline had ever dared hope, for she knew with certainty that Lavinia would not be at home that morning.

Indeed, Caroline must now seize every opportunity to associate privately with Mr. Charlton, for she could not properly woo a gentleman with her servant always about to remind her of his inaccurate reputation. And Caroline had no desire to call upon Lavinia. She went for the sole purpose of encountering Mr. Charlton.

Perhaps chance would smile upon her again and her plan would prove successful.

Caroline sat at her dressing table and studied her reflection in the mirror.

Today, she had chosen a cool blue dress that clung to her slim figure and complimented her skin tone. Her maid had worked for hours on a casual hairstyle with curls placed to frame her face as if they had fallen of their own will.

Caroline pinched her cheeks and hoped that her nose would not turn too red on the carriage ride to Oak Park. She had no wish to look as if she had fallen victim to Rosemary's cold.

Mustering her resolve, Caroline gave herself one last look in the mirror, stood, and walked quickly down the stairs and toward the waiting coach.

As she passed the sitting room door, she heard her mother call out her name.

Caroline stopped, removed all traces of annoyance from her expression, and moved to the open doorway.

"You are calling upon Mrs. Winton this morning?" her mother inquired from her seat before the fire.

"Yes, indeed."

Mrs. Newton laid aside her mending and said, "I do wish you might wait until Mrs. Pickersgill is well enough to come along."

"But why, Mama? Lavinia is my oldest friend. Surely, I do not require a chaperone to call upon her."

"Yes, you and Lavinia have long been acquainted. I only fear--" She broke off, studied Caroline a moment longer, and then seemed to change her mind about her next words. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I fear that our Mrs. Pickersgill has not made many friends here in Kendal."

"Nonsense, Mama," Caroline objected. "She could not help but acquire acquaintances, for she has been with me every moment since we arrived."

Mrs. Newton's eyes seemed to issue a warning that Caroline could not quite comprehend, but she only said, "Yes, I suppose you will enjoy time alone with Lavinia. It is only...." Her voice trailed off.

"Only what?" Caroline said with unconcealed annoyance. The carriage was waiting, and she must hurry if she hoped to catch Mr. Charlton alone.

"Do you not find Lavinia altered since you last saw her?" Mrs. Newton asked.

Caroline stepped back in surprise at the boldness of the question. "No indeed, Mama. I find her exactly as I left her."

"Ah, perhaps I am mistaken about Lavinia then, but I do not believe the same can be said for Mrs. Pickersgill. There is a sadness about her that I do not quite comprehend. I believe she is lonely. I wish you would coax her to join us tonight at supper. It cannot be good for her to remain so long in her room."

"She is ill, Mama," Caroline said. "We must not endanger her health by pulling her from bed too quickly."

"No, I suppose not, but if she is feeling better, I think you must invite her. Company often diffuses melancholy."

Caroline had noticed no such sadness in the woman, and she certainly had no compulsion to make any effort on behalf of a servant, but she would do anything for her mother, and, at the moment, she would do anything to be in a carriage on the way to Oak Park.

"I shall do just that, Mama. Tonight, I promise."

Her mother smiled, and that pleased Caroline. "Now, be off with you, and send my best regards to Lavinia."

Caroline complied and set off in the carriage to Oak Park.

As the carriage turned onto the approach road and the house came into view, Caroline surveyed the property, all that might one day soon be hers. Of all this, she could be mistress. The thought of such prestige caused in her a strange feeling of nervousness.

This was an important visit indeed.

Caroline exited the carriage and waited on the doorstep as the coachman directed the vehicle toward the stable to wait. She raised her hand slowly to the door knocker, gathering herself, but when she knocked, it was a quick, heavy sound that indicated that she was a woman of purpose.

The door opened, revealing a plain-faced manservant.

"Good morning, madam," he said.

"Yes, good morning," Caroline said as she looked past the manservant and into the house beyond. "Is the mistress of the house available?"

"No, madam, Mrs. Winton is not at home. Would you like to leave a card?"

"Indeed." Caroline removed a card from her reticule and handed it to him, again taking the opportunity of peeking over his shoulder into the house.

A heavy step echoed through the entryway.

Then she heard a male voice. "Dash it, Peters, I can find nothing in this house since my sister arrived. Where the devil is my.... Oh! Miss Bingley, I did not realize you were here."

Caroline offered Mr. Charlton a look of surprise in return. "And I did not expect to discover you here. I have come to call upon your sister, only to find that she is not at home."

Mr. Charlton approached the door, dismissed the manservant, and then leaned against the doorframe casually. "Yes, she has gotten off to some neighbor or other. I cannot keep up with her."

"How disappointing." Caroline looked up at him through her lashes with an expression gentlemen had always seemed to prefer. "Will you not be able to offer me some sort of consolation?"

Mr. Charlton smiled at her broadly and brushed a curl from his eyes. "I was just about to walk into Kendal. Would you care to join me?"

Caroline despised walking, and she had no inclination to go as far as town in this cold.

"I enjoy walking a great deal, Mr. Charlton, but I have not the time for a walk to Kendal this morning. Shall we not take a turn about your garden instead?"

If his expression showed a bit of disappointment, he covered it quickly. "Yes, a turn about the garden would be a rather pleasant diversion. Thank you for the suggestion. I should have accomplished nothing valuable in town at any rate."

Caroline was pleased when he offered his arm, and she made certain to reward him with her most appealing smile as she took it.

"Come, let us go to the back garden. The plants appear to be a little less dead there than those in the rose garden at this time of year."

"I am certain that even your dead plants are appealing." Caroline heard herself utter those words and immediately wished to snatch them back. If she could not discover a method of showing her interest in Mr. Charlton in a less obvious manner, she would never succeed in winning him, and she would be subject to her brother's punishment forever.

They had taken one full turn about the garden, which was quite as dead as the rose garden to Caroline's eye, before Mr. Charlton spoke again.

"Tell me, Miss Bingley, do you not find yourself surprised at the changes taking place?"

Believing him to refer to the advent of spring and the transformation it brought, Caroline looked about the winter-wilted plants, and seeing no signs of life at all, she said, "No indeed, for spring occurs every year."

Mr. Charlton smiled. "Your interpretation is rather more literal than I intended."

"Oh?" Caroline asked, perfectly ashamed at having misunderstood him. "I do not care for figurative language, Mr. Charlton, but do enlighten me."

"Kendal. Have you not sensed the changes here?"

Caroline looked at him, but not in the coy manner she had used only moments ago. This look was full and questioning. Was he referring to his new status as heir? "A great many things have changed, Mr. Charlton. Do you object to these alterations?"

"I find that I do object. I quite enjoyed my life of leisure, but now I find myself pulled about by the whims of others."

"You speak rather too plainly, but I confess that I can well understand your position," Caroline said. Not caring to elaborate, she only added, "We must make of our circumstances what we can. It is useless to mope about and lament what cannot be altered."

"But changes are happening all around us. Only look at how families rise and fall in wealth. Those who were poor are now rising."

"You refer to the middling classes?" she asked with disgust.

"Indeed, I have read that one in seven people in London now account for the middling classes."

Caroline was indeed surprised. "That is a shocking number, but it changes nothing of true status."

"Does it not? Even here in Kendal, one must look only to Mr. Newton and perhaps even Miss Brodrick to observe the new stature afforded to such people. And Mr. Rushton, though he is a gentleman to be sure, had descended in wealth only to have risen again."

"Mr. Rushton is not wealthy," Caroline protested.

"Indeed, he is. Have you not seen his home in Keswick? His home in Town?" He studied her. "No, I suppose you have not. But I assure you that he has returned his family to the respectable situation it held in the past."

Caroline rather doubted this. Besides, true wealth constituted more than mere money. What of land, title, ancestry? "But Mr. Rushton has sold most of his family property, has he not? If he has no ancestral land, he cannot truly be counted as a gentleman."

"What does family land matter?" Mr. Charlton asked as he gestured broadly around him. "What does all this gain me? It is lovely, to be sure, but no one cares to work the land any longer."

"But do not you agree that land is a hallmark of a great family, of connections to the best of society through the ages? And these men of whom you speak, who have no land, they are but half-gentlemen; they have no breeding. And though they have money, they will always want for decent connections."

He looked down at her. "Yes, connections are important, as my sister has often reminded me."

"Mrs. Winton is very wise," Caroline said with what she hoped was a sage nod. "We must all cultivate our connections to our best advantage."

"Yes, yes, so she has said." He glanced around him, and when he spoke again, his voice held an edge of frustration. "She also speaks of duty and other such notions, but I cannot help but feel as if a life of freedom was ripped from me, and now I must behave in a completely new way. I wish most ardently to leave the business of Oak Park to someone more suited for the burden than I."

Caroline laughed aloud at his absurdity. "Why, Mr. Charlton, I find it utterly incomprehensible to hear you speak that way about your inheriting a barony! Only think of the advantages it provides. You may have your pick of friends and society, and any young lady would be honored by your acknowledgment of her."

Here, Mr. Charlton stopped, and again, Caroline looked at him through her lashes, letting them flutter a bit.

"Do you believe that? Any woman would be honored by me? What if I had no money at all, and only family name, reputation, and land to recommend me?" He gestured broadly at the house and land around him and then turned to Caroline. "Would you be honored by my acknowledgement of you then, Miss Bingley?" He studied her for a moment, shook his head once, and then looked toward the ground.