Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Read online

  “Oh bother!” Louisa said as she touched a hand to her forehead. “Is it from Charles?”

  Caroline checked the handwriting on the direction and nodded as anticipation welled within her.

  Louisa leaned back into the sofa cushions and sighed. “Charles never has anything of consequence to say, but now we are obligated to take the trouble of writing back.”

  “Do not trouble yourself,” Caroline said as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. “I shall make the necessary replies, for he likely has no interest in hearing of the seaside’s improvements on your skin coloring.”

  Louisa regarded her with an icy expression. “You are in a fine temper tonight, Caroline. Perhaps you might take some fresh air….”

  Louisa continued speaking, but Caroline did not hear a word of it, for as she began to decipher her brother’s messy handwriting, the room around her fell away.

  Several strategic words fairly leapt from the page: “pleased to announce my engagement to Miss Jane Bennet…other happy news of Mr. Darcy’s proposal to Miss Elizabeth Bennet…double wedding in Hertfordshire.”

  No, it could not be, Caroline thought, as she reread the letter more slowly this time.

  Each word stabbed at her heart and pricked at her soul. It was true. Mr. Darcy was to be married.

  There, in that blasted inn at Scarborough as her sister’s voice droned in the background, Caroline’s heart had rent in two. All her dreams of Pemberley had been spoiled and all her hopes for her brother destroyed in one practically illegible epistle.

  She quickly thrust the letter into her sister’s hands and excused herself from the Hursts’ company.

  Behind her, she heard her sister say, “Ah, you take my advice after all and are seeking some night air. It will be a benefit surely….”

  Caroline did not respond to her sister, but rushed to her chamber, determined to hide her feelings somewhere deep within her and do her duty. She would write to her brother immediately and assure him of her felicitations, for that was what a sister ought to do, even if she believed he had chosen to wed a fortune hunter.

  And that is precisely what Caroline did, though she gripped the pen with such ferocity that it nearly shattered. She looked upon the paper with tears in her eyes, and the words came in fits and spurts as she struggled with her sentiments. She knew what she must say, but she certainly did not want to say it.

  She must say how pleased she was to hear of both engagements, how eager she was to attend the double wedding, how everyone would surely be blissfully happy from now on. But she simply could not issue a statement of outright approval.

  How could she?

  It had been the brightest wish of her family, especially of her father, that Charles might marry a woman of standing, and to see him shackle himself to a lady of significantly lower rank was painful. Caroline could neither approve nor rejoice in his decision.

  But truly, Charles did seem pleased with his choice. Of course, Charles was easily pleased by everything and everybody he met. This was precisely why Caroline had been forced to conspire with Mr. Darcy to remove him from Miss Bennet’s sphere early in their acquaintance.

  Their party had stolen away to London, but Miss Jane Bennet could not be so easily thwarted. Under the encouragement of her sister Elizabeth no doubt, Jane had also gone to London to stay with her relations in Cheapside, causing Caroline and Mr. Darcy the trouble of concealing her presence from Charles for the duration of their stay. Caroline had not enjoyed her deceit, but she had believed herself to be acting only in the best interests of her family.

  She had hoped that such a separation from Miss Bennet would remind Charles of his duty to his family and allow him to meet another young lady, albeit one who boasted a large dowry or who hailed from a titled family, with whom he might be equally pleased.

  Unfortunately, his attachment to Miss Bennet was complete, and his feelings for her were much more deeply felt than Caroline and Mr. Darcy had imagined.

  Yes, she had misjudged her brother and the force of his sentiments and had taken actions that injured him, but she had done so with the best of intentions. Indeed, both she and Mr. Darcy had nothing but the very best of intentions.

  But now Mr. Darcy was to be married as well.

  And to Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

  One of the wealthiest, worthiest gentlemen in all of England was to wed a mere country miss of no fortune or standing.

  Each time this thought entered her mind, Caroline was forced to lay aside her pen and paper for fear that her tears might cause the ink to run, leaving evidence of her brittle emotions for her brother to observe.

  Caroline did not care for such displays of her own fragility. She did not care for the appearance of weakness in anyone, especially herself.

  She must remain aloof and practical.

  She must find a method of coexisting peacefully with the Bennet sisters, and the most expedient method for that was to scribe a letter to Jane, for she had a softer heart and more forgiving temperament than her sister Elizabeth. Besides, Caroline had no wish to throw herself upon the mercy of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the woman who had been the source of her greatest sorrow: the loss of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s favor.

  And so when she had finished her letter to Charles, she added a page to Jane:

  My dearest Jane,

  It is with true joy that I write to you this day, for I have just received my brother’s letter, which informed me that I will soon be able to call you my sister. A happy thought indeed!

  I hope you will not misinterpret my behavior to you in London, for I was acting based upon a misunderstanding of the true nature of my brother’s fondness for you. Had I but comprehended the violence of his affection for you, my dearest friend, I would have never taken such pains to protect you from what I believed to be certain disappointment. My hesitancy to call upon you and your relations in Cheapside or to invite you to dine in Grosvenor Street issued from nothing more than my earnest desire to protect you from sorrow.

  However, once I became aware of my brother’s true feelings, which he had experienced from your first meeting at the Meryton assembly, I have been free to treat you in the manner in which I have always viewed you—as a most honored friend and, now, sister.

  Please accept the most humble declarations of warmest emotion from

  Your most devoted sister,

  Caroline Bingley

  Caroline remained determinedly practical until the moment she sealed the letter and rang for the servant, who came in short order with the promise that the missive would be posted on the morrow.

  Then, upon the servant’s departure, Caroline pushed away from the small escritoire, walked calmly to her bedchamber, and collapsed atop the bed linens as grief for the loss of her fondest dreams overwhelmed her. Pemberley, Georgiana, Mr. Darcy, a life of confidence and ease…they were all lost to her now.

  Would Caroline never be able to exist without the fear that someone might discover her secret history? Would she always be forced to hide her lowly origins in trade? Would she be locked forever in an attempt to scrabble her way out of the middling classes toward the stability of polite society?

  No matter how great her inheritance, society would always view her as a pariah, an unworthy outsider, unless she married well or managed to insinuate herself into the very best company. Now she had no hope of either.

  It was utterly unfair that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been chosen to rise in society while Caroline, who had worked to gain an education, to become well versed on any topic of conversation, and to excel at every worthy accomplishment, had been bypassed.

  Caroline wept bitterly the night through, but in the morning she showed no hint of her true distress. If her eyes were a bit reddened, she would only claim that it must be the salty sea air that had irritated them.

  ~**~

  Having been so certain of her victory in assuaging the feelings of the entire Bennet clan with one simple letter, Caroline had been quite surprised when, upon retu
rning to Netherfield Park in November to prepare for her brother’s wedding, she discovered that Charles had not been as mollified as his fiancée.

  And what, pray, had been Charles’s response?

  He had begun thus: “Caroline, that letter was abominable.”

  Caroline had laid aside the book of history she had been pretending to read and looked into her brother’s usually docile blue eyes. They flashed cold with anger, but she remained calm, saying, “Whatever can you mean, Charles? To what letter do you refer?”

  His blue eyes flashed again. “You know very well to which letter I refer: the one you wrote Miss Bennet.”

  “Oh, that!” Caroline said with as much innocence as she could muster. “It was a letter of congratulations to your betrothed.”

  “Congratulations, indeed!” Charles clasped his hands behind his back and came off looking very regal, his head of light brown curls held high, as he continued, “Yes, you may have touched the heart of my dear, forgiving Miss Bennet, but from a brother’s perspective, it will not do.”

  “Will not do?” Caroline repeated. “If Miss Bennet has seen fit to accept my felicitations and explanations, then I can see no reason why you may not.”

  “Do you not, Caroline?” He paused for a moment, clearly pondering his next words, and then he took on an air of determination. It was rare for such an expression to grace Charles’s open features, but when he wore it, his desires must be respected, for he was the head of the Bingley family. “I am aware that you and Darcy conspired to separate Miss Bennet and me, and I am deeply ashamed at my own spiritless decision to believe you both when you proclaimed that she had no true feelings for me. Miss Bennet is so modest and reserved that I can well believe you both thought your interpretation of her behavior was accurate and that your actions were for my own good.”

  “Yes, I was only—”

  He held up a hand and his expression hardened further. “But Darcy confessed his part in the matter and the intentions behind it. He has apologized, admitted his wrong, and made amends.”

  Caroline could hardly believe her brother’s words. “Have I not done as much in my letter to Jane?”

  “No, Caroline, you have excused your actions and made no amends, and though Miss Bennet may allow the goodness of her heart to sway her opinion of you, I may not be so charitable. I cannot.” He paused, seemingly in contemplation. “Perhaps…no, indeed, there are others to whom an apology may be given.”

  Caroline stood and turned away from her brother, for she could not bear the force of his gaze. “To whom should I apologize?”

  “Well, to those you offended, naturally.”

  Over her shoulder Caroline said, “You refer to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “No,” he said. Caroline’s surprise at his denial caused her to face him as he continued to speak. “I refer to Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, as she shall be in a few days’ time.”

  There was a long silence during which Caroline pondered her choice of response while Charles paced the room with a grim set to his face.

  “Miss Elizabeth was most upset by your actions toward her sister,” he said, midstride.

  Here, Caroline very nearly made an unladylike snort. She knew well that Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s anger had its origins in more than Caroline’s actions toward her sister. She disliked Caroline for her attempt to gain Mr. Darcy as a husband and to become mistress of Pemberley.

  And Caroline found she could not blame her, for she despised Miss Elizabeth Bennet for attempting to win him and succeeding.

  Caroline’s hands clenched the book she still held, its pages wrinkling a bit under her harsh grasp. No, the prospect of apologizing to Mr. Darcy’s choice of bride was not to be borne.

  “Even for you, Charles, I cannot do it,” she said.

  “But you must.” Charles stopped pacing and turned to look full upon his sister. He appeared to be mustering his courage to continue, and Caroline knew that he was attempting to exert his own will and not allow her to influence him again. “Yes, you must. Mr. Darcy is my closest friend and is betrothed to Miss Bennet’s sister. We shall all be permanently linked. A family! If you cannot find it within yourself to make amends, then our family will always be divided, and you, I fear, will always be….” He hesitated again. “You will always be the person cast aside.”

  Caroline sucked in a breath at the harshness of her brother’s tone. He could not mean it. He simply could not cast her aside. But as she pondered his words, she realized their truth.

  Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were close, and they would often keep company together.

  Jane, of course, was easily swayed, and Caroline had thought to turn this to her advantage, but Jane was more influenced by her sister, and that had to be taken into consideration. If Elizabeth never accepted Caroline, then neither would Jane.

  And if Jane never accepted Caroline, then Charles would not be free to make her a member of his household once again.

  Mr. Darcy, of course, would not invite her to Pemberley if Elizabeth were against her.

  And this was intolerable, for an invitation to Pemberley and social intercourse with her brother and the Darcy family were crucial to her status in society.

  Alas, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was the key to Caroline’s return to society.

  Caroline studied Charles. What was to be said that might alter the course of his discussion? Could anything accomplish such a task? It was easy for Caroline—for anyone really—to believe that her agreeably inclined brother might be managed in every circumstance, but it was simply not true.

  Why, she only had to recall his treatment of her when every Bennet in Hertfordshire had arrived at Netherfield to check on Miss Jane Bennet, who had remained there to nurse her little cold. Yes, his countenance had clearly told her that she had better remain polite. The expression on her brother’s face then—when he required Caroline to be civil to the girls’ dimwitted mother—bore a great resemblance to the one he currently wore.

  Only now, his expression was even more resolute. This was the result of his romance with Miss Jane Bennet.

  He had allowed his family and friends to influence him more than his own heart, and he had suffered greatly. Realizing the error he had committed in being overly agreeable, he had clearly become determined that he should never again let anyone influence him.

  He was exercising that decision as he handed down judgment on Caroline.

  But Caroline was in no mood to accept his decision so easily. “My letter was kindly meant, even if you believe it to have been so poorly written. I do hope you can find it within your heart to offer me your forgiveness.”

  At this, he turned away, leaving Caroline to look at the hands clasped resolutely behind his back and to face the following words: “I forgive you, for you are my sister, and I cannot believe that you would purposely attempt to ruin my future happiness.”

  Hoping he had softened toward her, Caroline stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “No indeed, brother. I only wanted to save you from an unequal marriage.”

  He turned his head so that he could meet her eyes fully. His expression held a sincerity that surprised Caroline as he said, “But a marriage is not unequal where there is an equality of love.”

  Caroline could not conceal her disdain. “Can you name any unequal marriages that did not end in misery for one or the other?”

  “Those were marriages of unequal minds.”

  “Unequal fortunes must have the same effect,” Caroline reasoned, “for does not money provide the opportunity for the improvement of the mind? I can hardly believe that Miss Bennet is your equal if she spent her youth without the benefit of a governess. Why, she can probably barely embroider a cushion, much less play the pianoforte!”

  A muscle worked in Charles’s jaw, and Caroline feared an outburst of anger, but then he sighed. “And this is precisely why I must take bold action. You refuse to see the truth before you. I love Miss Bennet, no matter how much money she has, who her relations may be, or how tal
ented she is with needle and thread. She will be my wife, and I am unwilling to begin my marriage by inviting one who harbors such unrepentant disapproval to share our home. I shall not allow myself to be persuaded against my own good judgment, Caroline. I must act.”

  Cold fear rushed over Caroline, and her legs seemed no longer capable of supporting her, so she returned to her seat. She looked up at Charles, whose face was resolute, and realized that her situation was worse than she had anticipated.

  “I think it best if you removed for a time,” Charles said. His tone held an alarming ring of finality. “You must go home to Kendal.”

  “Home?” Caroline could not withhold her protest. “I have no home in Kendal.”

  “You shall go to our mother’s home, then, if you insist on grammatical precision.”

  “Yes,” Caroline said as her hands balled into fists. “I do insist upon it, for Newton House is not my home and it never shall be.”

  His reference to Newton House as “home” wounded Caroline more deeply than he could have realized. There were few people who knew how greatly she despised the very notion of home. Though she was a woman of no little fortune—20,000 pounds could hardly be considered insignificant—she had been denied the benefit of such a place from her infancy. Her father—heaven bless him—had expired before he had been able to purchase the estate his family deserved, and the inheritance, the bulk of which had been left to her brother Charles, had not yet been invested in family lands.

  No, instead, it had been spent on the lease of a country manor in Hertfordshire and would soon be spent further on her brother’s marriage to a country maiden. Imagine. Charles had the fortitude to commit to a woman, but not to a piece of real estate.

  These were great vexations indeed, for above all else, Caroline had always yearned for a home of her own. The ownership of such a place meant far more than the possession of a piece of property. It meant a husband: a landed gentleman or perhaps someone with a title. And it meant security and status that could not easily be wrested from her.