Pride, Prejudice & Secrets (26 page)

“Wh…what? I am sorry…my thoughts caused me to miss part of what you just said,” she stammered.

“It is of little import, Miss Bingley,” Fitzwilliam said, with a shrug and a smile. “I was mostly rambling, I guess, explaining certain pointed references about my marital status.”

“Ah. I see. I suppose, that is.”

“Yes, I can see you are rather shocked by my blunt speaking, but you should meet my brother George. He has been a sailor since the age of twelve, and he is far more plainspoken than I. Far, far more. Why, he arrived at Longbourn, proposed, married, and departed in only three days. Even I could hardly believe such audacity.”

“Ah, yes,” Caroline said uncomfortably, wondering whether Colonel Fitzwilliam knew of her part in separating Jane Bennet from her brother.

“In my case, I have to speak clearly since I do not have an excess of time before I have to rejoin my regiment. As soon as Darcy and his wife depart, I must be on my way, which means I must act with despatch if I am to learn something of your mind.”

Of my mind?
she thought in perplexity.
What does this man wish to know of my mind? Now that he has made his interest clear, the initiative rests with me. He likely has little to no money of his own, so the basic question I have is whether the advantages of a connection to the nobility are sufficient to my fortune. I should be doing the questioning, not him.

But she did not voice her thoughts aloud, and Fitzwilliam resumed his exchange. “I assume you spent some years at a school similar to that my cousin Georgiana attended.”

“Yes, for five years. It was an excellent school.”

“I see.” Fitzwilliam nodded. Then, speaking in French, he asked, “I assume you speak French. It seems to be almost mandatory among the fashionable set.”

“You are indeed correct,
mon cher
colonel,” she said proudly in the same language and with complete fluency. “Also Italian and Spanish, though not as well as French. It is, as you say, almost required of a young lady of accomplishment these days.”

“I suppose,” he said gravely, switching to fluent Spanish. “Darcy mentioned you were accomplished, able to speak several languages as well as to sing and play with skill.”

“Mr. Darcy,” she said flatly, and disapproval was plain to hear in her voice.

“Of course,” Fitzwilliam said mildly, returning to English. “We are cousins, after all, and he knows you well since your brother is his good friend. What could be more natural than his speaking of you?”

Caroline definitely did not see the matter the same way, and she was not pleased to be discussed in such a manner even if the two men were cousins.
This is almost too much to bear!
she thought heatedly.
Not only do I have to look on as Mr. Darcy marries another, but now it appears he is acting as matchmaker on my behalf! As if I needed assistance!

“But actually I am drifting away from my main concern,” Fitzwilliam said, “for your accomplishments, great or small, are not paramount in my thinking. More important, you see, is the simple fact that Darcy and I are more alike than one might think, considering how different are the lives we live. He has chosen to marry a young lady who, I believe, will make him happy and fulfilled, though I believe you find his choice bewildering in the extreme.”

“I beg your pardon?” Caroline said, in her precise, upper-class English with more than a touch of frost in her voice.

“Exactly so,” Fitzwilliam said with a nod, and when Caroline looked at him blankly, he smiled ruefully. “You do not really understand, do you, Miss Bingley? No, I can see you do not, and I suppose it is not really your fault, at least not completely, considering the lessons you learned at your most excellent school. I am sure the well-meaning ladies who instructed you believed they were teaching you all the correct behaviours needed by a young lady of fashion to attract an eligible and worthy husband. I hope it does not come as too great a shock if I tell you that your teachers were incorrect in their assurances. Or perhaps it would be better to say that they were incomplete. They instructed you in how to attract a certain type of man, but I can assure you there are more types of men in our world than they would have you imagine.”

He smiled sadly at the shocked and offended look on her face. Then, seeing that she was at a complete loss for what to say, he said, “Here is a nicely placed bench. Perhaps you might prefer to sit while we continue our discussion.”

Caroline nodded coldly and sat in the centre of the bench, ostentatiously not leaving room for Fitzwilliam. If he was offended by such ungracious behaviour, however, he gave no sign and merely stood silently, watching her carefully.

She really is a lovely young woman, full-figured, graceful, and elegant,
he thought admiringly.
But proud and cold, and very, very certain that she knows what she is doing, even after failing so disastrously with Darcy. Can she accept that she must change her ways, no matter her fortune, before the two of us could be happy together? I do not wish a marriage such as her sister made with Mr. Hurst, and I am afraid nothing less than blunt speaking can reach through the layer of superciliousness she has assumed. But is it even possible? Can she choose the warmth over the cold? Can she ever come to see clearly the impression she makes on others?

He waited, watching her marshal her thoughts, and finally she said, “I see little sense in continuing this conversation, Colonel Fitzwilliam, at least on my part. I can understand why you might wish to pursue the matter further, but why should I?”

“Let me beg your indulgence just a little longer, Miss Bingley, so that I might address the point to which you just obliquely referred, which is your belief that my interest rests solely in your fortune. Let me just say that if that were so, I could simply lie to you and avoid all this distasteful, blunt speech. Had I done so and had you been so inclined, you could have then pretended to believe me, could you not?”

Fitzwilliam then looked at her in query, one eyebrow cocked, and Caroline had to restrain herself from squirming uncomfortably at having the subject of her fortune broached so openly. She might know that was his interest, and he might know that she knew, but such matters were never spoken of so openly in polite company. Everything was always indirect, inferential, and discreet.

Finally, seeing that he was not going to continue without an answer from her, she said uneasily, “Perhaps, Colonel. That is, after all, the expected practice.”

“Just so,” he said in agreement. “And we might then have gone through the usual steps of the fashionable courtship and found ourselves in one of those usual marriages in which you conduct your life with your set of friends and I conduct my own, spending my time at my clubs and riding to hounds. Why, we might go a week without spending more than a few hours together at one or another social function.”

“But that is the natural way of such things, sir,” she said, honestly confused that he might find such an arrangement unwanted. “What else would one expect of a marriage?”

“It is not the way Darcy chose, Miss Bingley,” he said quietly. “And it is not what I wish for myself. Nor, I would suggest, should you wish it for yourself if you could manage to free yourself of your mistaken notions.”

Caroline flushed, partly from anger at this overt reference to her failed ambitions with this man’s cousin. She and Louisa had spoken of it, of course, wondering why her efforts never seemed to engender any real indication of attraction from Mr. Darcy, but they were sisters. Hearing the topic raised by this vagabond soldier was…outrageous.

But, disturbing as it was, she could not be wholly angry with this man. The concern and sympathy in his voice was evident, and for the first time in her adult life, Caroline Bingley had the vaguest hint that something in her character might be in error. That was far more discomfiting, and it resulted in an unprecedented dip in her confidence and a rare moment of self-honesty.

“But I do not understand,” she said plaintively. “Why should you even care?”

“It was the Darcys who raised the subject. They realized you would be feeling wretched at seeing him marry someone else and were equally cognizant of the fact that, while I am not penniless, I do need to pay some attention to money when I marry. I believe their first thoughts may have been more humorous than serious in nature, but further consideration led them to mention the possibility to my parents and myself.”

“Your parents!” Caroline’s distaste at being the subject of such open discussion was plain to see. Then a further thought increased her ire. “And just what might have appeared so humorous to Mr. Darcy?”

“He is well aware of how careful I have been to avoid any marital entanglements. He and his wife started by teasing me about matching me with the sister of his good friend who had so relentlessly pursued him.”

Her face showed her shock at yet another blunt statement, and she was uncomfortably aware of his continued sympathy as he said, “Darcy always knew what you were doing, you know, as did Miss Elizabeth. In fact, it was her opinion that you likely knew of no other way to act, having learned what you believed to be correct behaviour at school.”

He saw the anguish clearly in her face; their conversation seemed to have materially affected her ability to control her expressions. And his sympathy was still apparent as he continued the dialogue. “It does not work, Miss Bingley. Really — trust me on this. I am the son of an earl, and I am well used to the ingratiating behaviour of young ladies hopeful that even a younger son of the nobility might still have access to immense riches. The fashionable set seems to believe that deferential and flattering behaviour to their social superiors coupled with condescension and malicious humour toward their inferiors marks a refined and fashionable lady. But I do not like it, and I easily recognize it. I am sorry to cause you pain, but I can see no other way to reach my object.”

“And that object is?” she asked coldly, rising to her feet to face him.

“Why, as I said, to investigate the character of a possible future wife. Why else do you think I am speaking to you in such clear and unambiguous language?”

“I am sure I do not know why you would do so!” Caroline said in frustration and irritation, stamping her foot sharply, which brought on certain movements of her shapely body that Richard found quite alluring.

He had to mentally shake himself in order to go on. “I was initially somewhat sceptical of my cousin’s suggestion, given that we did not get on particularly well yesterday. But since Mother and Father did not instantly reject the suggestion, though they did harbour a bit of scepticism, I consented to give the notion some thought. My paramount concern was to avoid a married life where my wife has her own life and I have mine. And, as so often happens, the spouses then seek the affection absent in their married life by taking lovers, which is definitely not in my nature, Miss Bingley. Not at all. So I determined to put the question clearly to you and determine whether we had any hope of getting on.”

Her lips were pressed together so tightly they were white, and he knew she was struggling mightily to control her anger, which Fitzwilliam observed with a modicum of regret.
After thinking on Darcy’s suggestion, it seemed worth a try,
he thought.
And, while an approach centred on brutal honesty may have been the best way to find out if this proud young lady has the capacity to change, it is clearly not the most civil approach. Nevertheless, it will either work or it will not, so I had best press on.

“If you would care to hear my opinion, I honestly believe there is a warmer, more amiable Miss Caroline Bingley inside that veneer of haughtiness in which you have been instructed. It is that warmer woman I require as a companion to share my life. But the question is whether I can reach it and whether you can restore it to your character. Or whether you even care to do so. But it is an essential component of what I am seeking. If you continue as you are, you may find a man of means who is far less intelligent than you, and he may thus be attracted by your arts and allurements. But I forecast that you will be dreadfully unhappy in such a marriage, as will your husband. If you would marry a man of sense, even if he were not me, you might give some thought to what I say.”

She was almost tempted. That lingering doubt he had inspired was sufficient to give her pause, as was the mere fact of this man’s interest. But then the fact of what he demanded of her, that she admit her faults and reject the lessons both she and Louisa had learned and in which they both believed, swept over her.
It is too much,
she thought.
What right has this conceited soldier to instruct me in the correct mode of behaviour, even if he is the son of an earl? And even more mortifying, to demand that I change my very being as the price of him condescending to consider me fit to marry! No, I will have none of it!

Gradually, her thoughts were revealed in her face, which became colder and colder until it was frozen ice, and Fitzwilliam knew he had failed.
Oh, well,
he thought regretfully.
Too bad. She really is a most attractive young lady. And I think I am right about her character. But if she does not wish to change, then there would be no hope for us. Mother always said that it was less than useless to expect one’s spouse to change after marriage except in the rarest cases.

Looking at her frozen face, he shrugged. “I can see I am wasting my time, Miss Bingley. I do apologize that my efforts appear to have caused you pain, and I will accordingly bid you farewell. Please accept my best wishes for all health and happiness in your future life. Goodbye.”

Giving her a short, sharp bow, he turned and left her, standing silently in the garden, looking at his tall, broad-shouldered figure from behind, infuriated beyond measure, and wondering why the pit of her stomach seemed to be telling her she was making a dreadful mistake. But she sternly suppressed her doubts, telling herself that the last person in the world to whom she should listen was a man advising her of her defects in conduct and demanding radical changes before she might be suitable to such an exalted man as himself!

Yet she could hear the calls and shouts from the front of Longbourn, followed by the sound of horses’ hooves and the crunch of gravel under wide wheels as the man whom she had so relentlessly pursued left with another woman, a woman he appeared to love deeply. Suddenly, the strength in her legs seemed to fail her, and she barely managed to sit on the bench behind her, pulling her handkerchief out as she tried to weep over her loss.

But no tears came, only a vast, cold loneliness as she wondered whether any man could ever love her as Fitzwilliam Darcy loved his precious Elizabeth. She tried to tell herself firmly that the man who had just walked away, head high and shoulders back, very erect as the precise picture of a soldier, could not have been that man. In fact, she despised his arrogance and effrontery as she had never before despised anyone.

As she sat, arms wrapped around her chest, rocking forward and back on the bench, she tried to tell herself she believed that. She had to believe that!