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

  “I am so glad it pleases you,” Lavinia said. “And now tell me; is your family in good health?”

  And though Caroline despised repeating these bothersome social conventions she reminded herself that this was the most important call they had paid since her arrival in Kendal, and went to the trouble of responding to each inquiry and of asking the proper questions in return. When the requisite dialogue was complete, she searched for a subtle way to steer the discussion in a direction that would result ultimately in an invitation to continue their acquaintance now that they were living within so easy a distance of each other.

  Perhaps, Caroline thought, it would be best to remind Lavinia of their former association, their many hours of girlish chitchat while at the seminary, or of their—admittedly sparse—written correspondence over the past years. Such memories might incite feelings of nostalgia, which naturally would lead to a renewal of their friendship.

  And this was essential, for Caroline would not allow herself to languish in her exiled state.

  Yes, nostalgia was the proper tool.

  Caroline lifted her chin and had just resolved to speak of their shared history when the door to the chamber jerked open and in strode William Charlton.

  The ladies all rose with alacrity, and Lavinia, with a hand to her breast, said, “Oh! William, you startled me!”

  The Honorable Mr. William Charlton, the second son of Lord Charlton and now his heir, appeared equally surprised to have discovered the room to be occupied, and he bowed awkwardly to the gathered ladies. “I do apologize, Lavinia, but I did not realize morning calls were still taking place.”

  Lavinia’s brow furrowed. “It is yet morning, as you see by the position of the sun through the window.”

  As the rest of the party turned to observe the sun’s placement in the sky, Caroline studied Mr. Charlton. She had not seen him in the past few years, but time had been beneficial to him. He had filled out in both height and breadth, but he was still rather thin, and Caroline could not complain about his choice of clothing or coiffure. Yes, he had gone from having all appearances of youth and irresponsibility to improving in manliness, though perhaps not in responsibility.

  Or so she had heard.

  Mr. Charlton turned away from the window and adjusted the sleeves of his coat, his dark head angled down in concentration. “Yes, yes, apologies again. I have been at the accounts for so long I assumed it must be nearly sunset! But that is neither here nor there, for no matter the hour, I must not neglect our guests.” He lifted his eyes and surveyed the women, his gaze stopping briefly at each one. “Mrs. Newton, a pleasure to see you. And will you not introduce me to your companions?”

  “This, sir,” Mrs. Newton began as she gestured to Caroline, “is my youngest daughter Caroline. Surely, you must remember her from your youth.”

  “Ah!” he said with a bow. Caroline curtseyed deeply and then raised her eyes with practiced allure to find that his expression had brightened considerably. “I do remember you. Did you not attend the seminary with Lavinia?”

  “Indeed, I was most fortunate to spend a great deal of time with your excellent sister while we were both in London as girls.”

  Mr. Charlton smiled at her, and his polished air and appearance struck Caroline. He certainly had changed.

  “And this,” continued Mrs. Newton, “is Caroline’s companion, Mrs. Pickersgill.”

  Bow and curtsey were exchanged, and then the ladies returned to their seats. Mr. Charlton took one of the high-backed chairs for himself and smiled broadly at Caroline, saying, “I am very pleased to see you back in the Lake District, Miss Bingley. I do hope you and Mrs. Pickersgill intend a long visit, though I myself would much rather be in Town for the season.”

  “I could not be in better agreement, Mr. Charlton. I have the greatest fondness for Town and will be very pleased to return there as soon as my visit here is through.”

  “I do not know, my dear,” Mrs. Newton said. A small frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I have always had a certain fondness for the countryside. I hope you will not rush back to your brother and his friends in London before regaining some appreciation for the county in which you were born.”

  “Indeed, Mama, I do not mean any insult to Kendal. I only wanted to convey my preference for a different sort of life, one that contains more variety than may be found in a less populated region. Do not you agree, Lavinia?”

  Lavinia seemed momentarily at odds with herself, and Caroline found that rather surprising. But perhaps she had imagined the confusion, for her friend’s next words were rather definite. “I prefer Town. The company here is unvaried and tedious, but I will remain as long as I am required, for it is my duty to our family.”

  Mr. Charlton smiled, tight-lipped and rueful. “I do so wish that such duty had fallen upon neither of us. When Harold departed this mortal coil, he left us quite ensnared. He was so much better suited to the barony, its seat in Parliament, and the overseeing of this estate than I shall ever hope to be. I regret every facet of the situation.”

  Caroline could not believe that he was foolish enough to value his title so cheaply. “While I certainly feel deep sorrow at your brother’s untimely death, I cannot imagine viewing the inheritance of a barony as a thing to be regretted.”

  “Can you not, Miss Bingley?” asked Mr. Charlton.

  “My brother has always been perfectly at ease with his station as second son,” Lavinia added.

  “I do not deny it! I have no wish to.”

  Caroline nearly followed her impulse to snort at Mr. Charlton’s naïveté and then corrected herself. Less than a month in the country and she was already losing the polish of Town. When she spoke, she made certain that she did so with the highly cultured tone she had affected over the years. “Your beloved brother was a gentleman of the highest order, respected by all who knew him. But it is human nature to improve one’s mind and position, is it not?”

  Brother and sister remained silent, and sensing a dark turn in their countenances, Caroline struggled to speak, but Rosemary’s cultured voice next filled the room. “My friends tell me, Mr. Charlton, that you will be adequate to the title once it becomes yours.”

  He smiled. “It is clear that Mrs. Newton and Miss Bingley are much too generous in their opinion of me, for I intend to make at best a mediocre member of Parliament. It is only through my sister’s good graces that Oak Park remains running at all, for given to my control, it would surely have disintegrated by now.”

  Caroline nodded. “Mrs. Winton is well suited to running a large household.”

  Mrs. Newton’s large brown eyes studied Lavinia, but she smiled as she said, “It was kind of Mr. Winton to spare you, but it must be difficult for you to endure the separation. I do not like being parted from Mr. Newton when he is required to travel.”

  “I bear the distance as best I can, Mrs. Newton.” Lavinia looked pointedly at her brother before continuing. “And indeed, Mr. Winton has been very generous in sparing me.”

  Conversation paused as brother and sister exchanged another look, and then Mr. Charlton said brightly, “Shall we all not walk about? I would greatly love an excuse not to return to my papers.”

  He stood and offered Lavinia his arm, which she ignored. “I believe I shall stay here if Miss Bingley will remain with me,” she said, glancing now at Caroline. “I would cherish time to hear what she has been doing these past years.”

  “I would be honored,” Mr. Charlton said as he transferred the offer of his arm to Caroline’s mother, “if you would join me, Mrs. Newton. Do give me an excuse not to be about my labors.”

  Mrs. Newton looked between Lavinia and Caroline before nodding her assent and taking his arm. “I would not wish to hamper your business, Mr. Charlton, but I do hope my daughter will be able to rekindle her friendship with Mrs. Winton, and so I cannot deny you.”

  “I do so appreciate a woman who cannot deny me,” he said with an innocent smile. “And you, Mrs. Pickersgill, can you deny
me?”

  Mrs. Pickersgill stood. “I am certain I could deny you under the correct circumstances, sir, but I find this is not one of them. I will walk with you and Mrs. Newton.”

  With that, they disappeared from the room, leaving Lavinia and Caroline to stare at each other across the vast physical distance that separated them.

  Caroline had the oddest impression that the divide was composed of more than mere space, but she could not say why she thought that. It must be a fleeting feeling brought on by the sudden silence in the room.

  “Do take the seat beside me, my dear, so we can speak more freely.” Lavinia gestured toward the space beside her.

  Gratefully, Caroline covered the distance, keeping in mind to move without haste, and lowered herself onto the stiff cushions. She gestured about the chamber. “I can see very well that you are suited to keeping your father’s household, though I am certain you dislike being away from Mr. Winton so long.”

  “Yes, Mr. Winton….” Lavinia tapered off and then studied the room as though she were looking for the minutest imperfection in her decor. “I quite fancy myself the queen of the castle here. I take great pride in the daily running of the household, planning meals and such for my brother, but I had much rather not have had reason to come. I dearly miss Harold.”

  “I have no doubt that you still grieve his loss.”

  A shadow crossed Lavinia’s face, and then the weather seemed to clear. “Harold is very much missed by us all. It was such a disappointment to lose him just when he had come into his own. William, especially, feels the loss, for he must face the prospect of the barony without adequate preparation. Harold would have been a credit to the title.”

  Caroline recognized what was unspoken. William, of course, was not a credit. He was more like a debt that would never be paid.

  “It is a shame, then,” she said, “that your eldest brother did not leave an heir.”

  Lavinia’s eyebrows knit together briefly. “Indeed, that was a great loss, but at the very least, the barony is in no danger of being displaced by entail.”

  “Oh, that is good news indeed. But who is to inherit it? I believed your younger brother to be unwed.” A bit of errant disappointment crept into Caroline at the thought of an eligible gentleman of title being taken from the marriage mart.

  Why, she had never thought of the younger Mr. Charlton as anyone of significance, but now that he was to be a baron, he was ever so much more attractive.

  “Good heavens, no, William is not married,” Lavinia said on a laugh, and then she sobered. “Do not misunderstand. I have no intention of speaking ill of my dear brother, but he has a bit of a rakish tendency. He has shown no inclination to marry.”

  Caroline wondered how true Lavinia’s words were. Was there any inducement that might cause Mr. Charlton to marry?

  “It is of little consequence, for the title is safe,” Lavinia continued. “My own son Samuel is already being groomed for the position. He is set to inherit the title and land, so, you see, it has all fallen to me. I must preserve the house and land and see to providing an heir. The only thing I may not do is sit in Parliament.”

  She laughed, but it sounded hollow to Caroline’s ears.

  “Women are, more often than not, left to pick up where their masculine counterparts have fallen short,” Caroline said. “Of course, we do not receive credit for our actions. But by all accounts, you have succeeded, Lavinia. I am certain your son will do the title credit.”

  Then, only because it was the polite conversation topic, she inquired after Samuel. It was Caroline’s experience that mothers found no greater pleasure than discussing their children, and opening the subject resulted in long discussions of such things as spittle, babble, and random excreta that, relating to an adult, would have been highly improper.

  Apparently, Lavinia was not like other mothers, for she quickly looked around as though Caroline’s mention of her young son would cause him to appear. “He is well and with his nurse, I should hope.”

  “Is he very much grown?”

  “Oh, indeed he is. It seemed that he crawled for no longer than a week before he began to walk, and from there, he started running all about Oak Park. I do so love the boy.” Lavinia sighed. “But I confess that I much preferred him when I could hold him in my arms like a little doll. But now he is up and dashing about the house. I quite fear for my upholstery.”

  Caroline felt that perhaps Lavinia wished to discuss another subject, and she did not mind a change in conversation. Children in general were lovely, and they ensured the survival of the family name and property, but one could not speak of them everlastingly.

  Caroline caressed the arm of the sofa. “It is lovely fabric.”

  “Do you like it? I ordered it from the continent, and William did not approve of the expenditure. He ranted for days that the pattern was hideous enough to be hanging in the windows of a squalid coaching inn, but I believe it has quite grown on him now. Why just yesterday, he commented….”

  Lavinia spoke on about the fabric for some minutes before a pause came into the conversation. Caroline was preparing to inquire again after Mr. Winton, Lavinia’s absent husband, but instead, her friend turned to the topic Caroline had wished to avoid: “I must tell you that when you wrote of your…”—here, Lavinia paused as if searching for the correct noun—“…circumstances, I was incensed on your behalf.”

  “I thank you.” Caroline lowered her eyes and began to wonder if her hastily dashed missive to her old friend had been a wise idea. She had been desperate to find someone who might share her outrage over her expulsion from Netherfield, but perhaps she had shared too much.

  No, that could not be the case, for it was right and proper to have divulged her anger and distress to a friend as dear as Lavinia. And it was not as if she had shared her full humiliation regarding Mr. Darcy. No, she had perhaps hinted that she had once had hopes in his direction, but she was certain that her friend was unaware of her true feelings on that subject.

  “Abominable the way your siblings have treated you,” Lavinia continued. Her voice seemed inordinately loud, and Caroline looked about her. She had no desire to discuss her situation so openly with her mother in the house.

  Had she happened to hear? Had anyone in the household not heard?

  “Quite so,” Caroline agreed more quietly.

  “Now, I must know all the details of the situation that brought you to us, for your last letter was too vague for my tastes. What occurred to cause your family to behave so abusively?”

  Caroline attempted to meet Lavinia’s gaze steadily, but she could not manage it and looked away. The story was far too embarrassing to be shared. “It is hardly even worth a sentence or two, much less an entire discussion.”

  “I can see very well that you have been injured over the matter.”

  “Injured! No, indeed. I am outraged.” Caroline knew very well that Lavinia was baiting her into divulging her secrets, but she did not care. She suddenly needed to commiserate with someone. “I have done nothing except that which any well-bred woman would do to protect those she loves. And that is all there is to the matter: I rightly opposed Charles’s marriage to Jane Bennet and attempted to separate them, and now they are angry with me.”

  Lavinia sat up straighter, giving the appearance of being incensed for her friend. “You did only what you believed to be right. I would have done nothing less had I believed an unsuitable woman cast her eye on Harold. Or even William. They really ought to forgive you.”

  “But there is nothing that requires their forgiveness! I was protecting my brother from a social climber.”

  “Of course you were, my dear. We must be careful of our brothers, must we not? Else they would all marry inappropriate women.”

  Caroline was about to make a suitable reply when she heard her mother’s voice in the hallway. “We are grateful for the turn about your sculpture gallery, Mr. Charlton, but I fear we have intruded upon your time long enough.”

 
; As the party entered the sitting room, Lavinia asked with a rather blasé tone, “Oh dear, must you go?”

  “I fear we must.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Mr. Charlton said. “Lavinia, shall we not escort our guests to their conveyance?”

  “Indeed.” The response came with little energy, but Lavinia stood, and when Caroline did the same, she interlaced their arms together.

  As they walked through the marble entry and toward the door, Caroline looked at Lavinia with some trepidation, which she hoped was well concealed. Would Lavinia issue an invitation? To dine? To drive? To do anything? Caroline would accept any of them.

  Certainly, Lavinia would not snub her, for they were schoolfellows and friends and had just shared intimate conversation.

  But now, as Mr. Charlton assisted her mother into the coach, it was almost too late. She was right behind and would soon be trapped within and back on her way to Newton House.

  Finally, the words of salvation came from the lips of Mr. Charlton. “My sister and I would be delighted if you would join our dinner party on Thursday. Everyone in the county is to be present.”

  Only then did he look to his sister for approval.

  From her vantage point on the stairs, Lavinia looked down upon them all. Her features were schooled into elegant perfection, and only the barest hint of a smile appeared on her face as she said, “Yes, indeed, you are most welcome.”

  “And do bring Mr. Newton and Mr. Rushton along. Would that suit you, ladies?” Mr. Charlton added as he took Caroline’s hand and assisted her into the coach.

  “We are honored, sir,” Caroline said, looking upon Mr. Charlton with new eyes.

  The idea that had begun to edge its way into her mind earlier struck her with full force. Yes, here, right before her, was a most tempting situation.

  Here was an unwed gentleman who would one day inherit a barony, and he was ripe for the taking. Indeed, he possessed all to which any woman might aspire: land, an ancient family, and a title.

  A smile spread across Caroline’s face, and she studied him from underneath her eyelashes. Certainly, he was a well-looking man: clean, properly attired, and unspoiled by the stench of trade.