Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (14 page)

Caroline knew not how to respond.

"May I speak plainly?" he asked, his eyes wide and questioning.

"Of course, sir," Caroline said. She wondered if he might be on the verge of proposing marriage.

He cleared his throat and turned to face her fully.

"I have a dreadful fear that I shall destroy Oak Park when I run it without the oversight of my father and sister. I cannot seem to retain money. It slips through my grasp, and I do not quite know how. I do not wish to end a pauper."

Caroline studied him, trying not to show her surprise at this turn of conversation. Was he already losing his family's fortune?

She hoped not, but this could be a fortuitous error, for perhaps he would more quickly see her advantages if money were at stake. She did have a large dowry, and she would excel at managing Oak Park if he did not care to do it himself.

Yes, she would make an excellent baroness, especially if she had full control over the entire estate.

"Well, Mr. Charlton, you ought to use your attributes--your home and family name--to secure a wife of large dowry and leave the running of Oak Park entirely to her."

"And have you a large dowry, Miss Bingley?" he asked, his voice now a whisper. He leaned close as if hoping to catch her response, and Caroline backed away slightly.

"I do, Mr. Charlton," she whispered. Her whole body seemed to vibrate suddenly, and she could not tell if the sensation arose from hope or fear of his proposal.

He smiled and leaned closer. "And would you fancy running Oak Park?"

Mr. Charlton's lips were a breath from her, and Caroline could scarcely move enough to say, "Indeed, I would."

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she was waiting to feel his lips upon hers when suddenly, a voice ripped across the garden. "William!"

Caroline's eyes flew open, and she jumped back, looking around for Lavinia. Had she seen her brother leaning in so closely? Had she been attempting to stop the scene from unfolding?

Lavinia was nowhere to be seen.

Caroline sent her questioning gaze to Mr. Charlton, who had righted himself. His eyelids lowered in disdain as he explained, "My sister is home and has already seen the ledger, I assume. She is likely crowing at me from the library."

"Oh," Caroline breathed. She knew Lavinia would not thwart a romantic scene between her closest acquaintance and her brother, and she felt rather silly for having momentarily doubted her friend.

"I must go," Mr. Charlton said. "I would invite you to come inside and socialize with my sister, but I fear you will not like her mood. Will you excuse me?"

"Indeed, Mr. Charlton, I would not stop you."

"I shall have your carriage sent around," he said as he took her gloved hand in his and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. "I shall call upon you soon."

Mr. Charlton then gave her a flirtatious smile and left her standing alone in the dried-up flower garden that one day she hoped to own.

• • •

Caroline counted her interaction with Mr. Charlton as an unmitigated success despite his abrupt removal. She had managed to discuss all the subjects she had hoped to address with him. They had discussed marriage, and it seemed that he had very nearly kissed her.

Though Caroline's own emotions were unsettled as a result, she had lashed them tightly into place now. Sentiment was hardly a creditable reason to decline a proposal of marriage to a baron!

She would continue to put herself in his path and show herself to best advantage. From there, the logical progression for him was to consider her as a specific partner in marriage.

Caroline spent the remainder of the afternoon in her chamber at Newton House contemplating her next interaction with Mr. Charlton. Her calling card in Lavinia's salver ensured a return of call from her friend, and it was likely that her brother might accompany her, for it was he who had last received her. They had some sort of connection, though she was rather unsure how to define it.

As twilight began to fall, Caroline knew she could no longer ignore her promise to her mother to coax Rosemary out of the sickroom and into their company.

With reluctance, Caroline left the comforts of her room and knocked once on the door to her companion's chamber, entering before she was bid to do so.

She discovered Rosemary still abed.

"Mrs. Pickersgill, how do you do?"

Rosemary eyed Caroline with more than a hint of irony in her expression. "As you can see, Miss Bingley, I have not recovered."

Caroline took a moment to study the woman. Her eyes were red rimmed, her nose swollen, and her face puffy. "Yes, you do look dreadful."

"How kind of you to say, Miss Bingley," she said as she dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. "May I be of service to you?"

"No, but you may be of service to my mother. She would like you to join us tonight if you are not too ill."

Rosemary looked away. "I do not want to disappoint Mrs. Newton, but I cannot...." Her voice trailed off, almost as if she had begun to cry.

Caroline studied the side of Rosemary's face as if it might divulge something to her.

She had never looked upon Rosemary as anything other than a servant. She had never considered that the woman experienced emotions.

She moved around the side of the bed and looked down at her. It appeared that her mother had been accurate in her earlier assessment; the woman did have a particular sadness about her. Caroline had never marked it before this moment.

This realization elicited a strange reaction on Caroline's part, for she experienced a wave of pity that nearly overcame her when she saw a tear fall down her companion's cheek.

She was suddenly almost overcome by the urge to sit on the edge of Rosemary's bed and have a chat with her, as she had done many times in the past with Louisa when they were young girls. Caroline edged closer and nearly settled beside her, but something prevented her from doing so.

Uncomfortable, she moved toward the window and pretended to look at the surroundings. She did not like the peculiar feeling that had risen in her.

"My brother would not approve of his servant neglecting her duties," Caroline said, almost by rote.

There was a silence so lengthy that Caroline finally turned again to observe Rosemary, who was staring blankly ahead, but the tears had been wiped from her face.

"Yes, he would have cause to terminate my employment today," Rosemary said and then paused. When she spoke again, her tone was rough and breathy. "I beg you would forgive me, but I cannot join your family for dinner. I cannot."

That peculiar feeling nudged Caroline forward again, and she came nearer, almost without her own volition. "What is the matter, Mrs. Pickersgill?"

"Forgive me, Miss Bingley, but I care not to share my sentiments with one who asks only out of"--she squinted up at her--"a convoluted sense of duty."

Rosemary's words stung, and Caroline was surprised to hear herself say, "I am sorry to hear that, for in my brother's absence, I am responsible for you and cannot have you skulking about and neglecting your duties."

Her companion sighed heavily, her strawberry blond hair fluttering around her face upon her exhale. "I have had a letter late this afternoon. It contained ill news."

"Ill news? Of what nature?"

"Of a private nature, Miss Bingley. I beg you would forgive me, but I cannot speak of it to you."

"But this news, it has further sickened you?" Caroline's words sounded harsher than she had intended. Of all people, she comprehended the physical effects one might experience from an emotional blow. "Was it regarding a gentleman?"

Rosemary nodded slowly. "In a manner of speaking."

If Rosemary were suffering the same emotions that Caroline had experienced over Mr. Darcy's marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, well, she would not berate her.

Instead, she approached the bedside, and though it was hardly an intimate gesture, her proximity surprised them both. "I shall make your excuses to my mother."

Rosemary looked at her, and relief crossed her features. "I thank you, Miss Bingley."

Caroline, suddenly uncomfortable with her feelings, turned away. "And then you may return to your duties."

She went to the door and had nearly shut it behind her when she heard Rosemary say, "Thank you, Miss Bingley."

Eleven

"Shall we all not ride out?" asked Mr. Charlton. "My sister and I have come dressed for it, as you see, and our horses are at the ready. This early March weather is shockingly warm and rather appealing. What say you?"

"Oh yes, William," Lavinia said as she clapped her hands together, "what a good idea. Our ride from Oak Park was invigorating, and I do so long to take a turn around that little pond out back."

Caroline looked at her friend in abject horror. Did she not recall what had happened the last time they had ridden out together?

Likely not, for that had been years ago, and as Caroline studied her friend's countenance now, she saw only an innocent pleasure and desire to be in the saddle.

Caroline sighed. She had been pleased when Lavinia and Mr. Charlton had called upon her that morning at Newton House, but she had not anticipated such an outing. Perhaps she should have, for Lavinia and Mr. Charlton had arrived on horseback looking quite pleased with themselves.

"Oh dear. Though you are charmingly attired, I fear I am not correctly dressed for equestrian activities," Caroline said, hoping desperately that this excuse would suffice.

"Oh, 'tis nothing, Miss Bingley," Lavinia said with a wave of her hand. "We shall wait for you to don your riding habit."

"But...," Caroline said as she sought a way to avoid riding horseback. Her eyes landed upon Rosemary, who had been sitting quietly in the corner. "I do not believe Mrs. Pickersgill cares to ride."

Rosemary did not look up from the mending in her lap to see the intent expression on Caroline's face. She simply said, "I would be happy to ride if it is required."

"You see!" Lavinia said. "It is the perfect day for riding, my dear. Everyone agrees."

Caroline clenched her fists in her lap. She had no wish to ride, and she could not fathom why going about on horseback was revered as a skill a young lady ought to have. Why, that was the reason carriages were created, was it not? To prevent young women from being forced to set themselves on the back of a wild beast and gallop madly about the countryside. Yes, a carriage was much more sensible.

She sighed. She must make sacrifices if she were to win Mr. Charlton, and this must be one of them. Caroline could not turn away this opportunity to converse with him.

She relented. "Then, I suppose, we shall ride."

"Do hurry and dress, Caroline." Lavinia waved a hand at her. "You too, Mrs. Pickersgill. William and I shall await you here."

Caroline and Rosemary went upstairs, and while the maid assisted her in changing into her riding habit, Caroline thought back on her illustrious history with equestrian activity.

It was not pleasing.

It had begun when she was but a young girl and still wearing her family's newly gained wealth with all the comfort of overly tightened corset stays. Her family had only recently been able to afford to keep a donkey for the children, and Caroline had not yet found her confidence with the animal. Her father had managed an invitation to a harvest celebration on the grounds of Oak Park, and Caroline would be able to interact with the children of the upper classes for the first time in her young life.

At the celebration, the adults had been about their conversations and activities, leaving the children to their own devices. Someone had proposed pony rides, a suggestion that horrified Caroline. She was supposed to try to impress her companions by showing that she had the same accomplishments they had, but she could not ride. She also knew, however, that her hesitancy to participate would only be evidence of her status.

So she had gone to the stables with the other children, and because there were not enough mounts, they took turns riding or leading each other about the grounds. It had all been surprisingly pleasant until it had come Caroline's turn to ride.

Caroline could not recall what happened, but she knew for certain that she had hit the ground after only a brief time on the pony's back.

The breath had left her body, and she had struggled to inhale. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she did not allow them to fall. She continued to gasp as a shadow appeared above her. She wondered if it were death coming for her and closed her eyes, willing death away, and continued to attempt to draw breath.

"Caroline!" The voice was not that of death, but Lavinia Charlton, the girl she admired most in the world. Caroline opened her eyes to find her idol leaning over her. Her young face blocked out the view of the sky above her. "What is wrong with you? Relax. Just try to slow down a bit. You will soon be able to breathe."

She had only been able to cough and choke in response, but Caroline was quickly able to inhale and exhale normally, and she began to feel awkward.

"Are you well now?" Lavinia asked.

Cough. "Yes."

"Are you certain?" the girl demanded.

Caroline had nodded quickly.

"Good," Lavinia said loudly, "for I have not gotten a ride and I do not want to have to take you back to the house."

Lavinia grabbed her by the arm, yanked her into a standing position, and said more softly, "What could you possibly have been thinking? You know nothing of horses, do you?"

Caroline stared at her, and she stared back. Time seemed to freeze while her blood heated. "No."

Lavinia glowered. "You have never ridden before?"

Caroline narrowed her eyes. "I have ridden my family's donkey."

"Donkey?" She looked appalled. "You should go home. You do not belong here."

Caroline had only stood and watched as the children continued their game. Yes, she should return home. She looked down at her muddy dress. It was likely ruined, and her mother would not be pleased.

But Caroline's displeasure had come from another source. Lavinia's words had haunted and humiliated her, and she had vowed that one day she would belong amongst the elite, and then Lavinia herself would accept her.

And today, even as she allowed herself again to be swept along to the stables, Caroline vowed that she would not end on the ground in humiliation. She would devise a method for avoiding the ride altogether.

Along the way, she reviewed some potential dodges in her mind.

Perhaps she could muster a convincing fainting spell. She rejected this immediately, for she had no desire to be viewed as a swooning female.

A sprained ankle? No, indeed, for that would necessitate an undignified, unattractive limp for the remainder of the day at least. It would not do to be seen dragging about when she was trying to show herself to best advantage.

A sudden head cold? Apoplexy? Gout?

She dismissed them all.

No, Caroline was not a creator of excuses; she spoke plainly. It was a matter of pride.

She would simply have to register her objections to riding, and perhaps if she manipulated the situation correctly, Mr. Charlton would volunteer to rest with her while the others rode out.

She and Rosemary caught up to Mr. Charlton, who was walking briskly alongside Lavinia, and was discouraged to see the childlike joy in his expression. Everything about him radiated anticipation and glee. His eyes were bright, his movements quick, and even his dark curls blew about despite the tall black hat that sought to keep his hair under control. Lavinia too appeared eager to be at the stables.

"Mr. Charlton," Caroline said. "I am so pleased that you thought of inviting me to ride with you this morning."

"Ah! Think nothing of it, Miss Bingley." The stables came into view over a small rise in the landscape, and if possible, Mr. Charlton seemed to quicken his pace further as he said, "I confess that this warm weather has quite given me the desire to be outdoors."

"Indeed, it has had the same effect on me," Caroline lied. "I have found the loveliest little spot in the garden and have been many hours in the sun there."

Mrs. Pickersgill glanced sidelong at Caroline, who returned a look of defiance.

Yes, of course, it was a lie. She had not rested out of doors all week, for the wind was far too brisk, and she had not the faintest urge of damaging her hair.

"So the lure of spring has drawn you too, Miss Bingley," Lavinia said.

"A nice spot in the garden is good for the spirit, or at least our mother used to say as much," Mr. Charlton added.

"Indeed, your mother was a wise woman," Caroline said, hoping to have made headway with Mr. Charlton. "I wonder if you should care to see my little niche. I should gladly give up a ride to have the honor of showing you."

"Oh, I would not give up a ride for anything," Lavinia said for him. "And neither would my brother nor your companion, I think, for it is too fine a day to neglect the horses, is not that right, Mrs. Pickersgill?"

Rosemary smiled. "It is a fine day for riding."

Well! Caroline was going to have to resort to honesty and forget the idea of keeping Mr. Charlton behind. Their party had arrived in the stable yard, and the stench of manure, hay, and leather assaulted Caroline's senses. She was preparing to make her excuses as she approached the barn's ingress, where she discovered Mr. Rushton awaiting them.

Apparently, he was to be a part of the riding party. He stood beside his horse, a hulking grey beast, and watched her approach as if she were the only person arriving.

She did not give him the satisfaction of an acknowledgment. In fact, in recent days, she had attempted to avoid him as much as possible, a difficult task given that they were residing in the same house. But manage it she had, and they had spoken but little. Besides, he and Mr. Newton had been busy mucking about in the library and debating bridge schematics. That was hardly conversation that might interest Caroline.

"Good day, Miss Bingley," he said with all evidence of politeness, but his eyes held mischief.

Any idea of making her excuses and avoiding the ride disappeared. She would not give Mr. Rushton the satisfaction of seeing her wheedle out of their equestrian activities. He had an uncanny way of reading her motives, and she had no wish for him to witness her giving in to fear.

There was much shuffling about the stable as mounts were chosen and readied. Caroline kept herself out of the way of the commotion as well as she could, and far too soon, the horses were prepared and led to the stable yard for mounting.

Mr. Rushton found her at the back of the group and gave her a curious look.

"Allow me to present your mount, Miss Bingley." He left his horse by the fence and headed toward a small bay pony a few yards away. "This is Mossy, your mother's mare."

The pony mare looked at Caroline with dark, unconcerned eyes. Even this calm creature seemed much too big and powerful to consider sitting upon, but if her mother rode this pony, she ought to be able to manage one outing. Besides, Caroline had been able to survive her equitation lessons at the seminary. Certainly, her education would not fail her.

Caroline stood by the pony, and Mr. Rushton seemed to be awaiting her for some reason.

"Am I required to introduce myself to the creature?" she demanded.

His pale brows lowered as he considered her. "Most people give them a pat on the neck at least."

"If you insist," Caroline said as she reached out her gloved hand to the pony's neck. Mossy flinched at the sudden movement, and Mr. Rushton again eyed her.

The others had mounted, and Mr. Charlton called down to them, saying, "Mr. Rushton, assist Miss Bingley, if you please. I am anxious to be away."

Mr. Rushton hardly acknowledged the order, but he nonetheless assisted Caroline to mount Mossy. He stood on the ground beside her and watched as she fumbled to position the reins and riding crop in her hands.