Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sebastian let out a breath of relief as the knocker hit the wood of the door. It had been far too long since he had seen his old friend, and he was eager for the comfort and familiarity of his company. There was not a part of him that expected his best friend to ever miss his wedding and if he had in fact married Beatrice as had been planned, Nathaniel would have been there.

As it was, however, with the wedding being more urgent than expected, his friend missed it and it was something he did not appreciate. The door swung open quickly, revealing Nathaniel himself—a broad grin on his face.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the elusive Lord Casterbridge," the shorter man exclaimed with a laugh. He pulled Sebastian into a hearty embrace and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I was starting to think you had forgotten about your old friend."

Sebastian laughed at that and he shook his head easily. "Never, Nate. You know I could never forget you, no matter how hard I tried."

With a carefree laugh, Nathaniel ushered him inside. "Let's go to my study."

The two men moved easily to Nathaniel's study, where a fire was already crackling in the grate. Nathaniel was quick to pour two glasses of brandy and he handed one to Sebastian before settling into a plush armchair. His eyes was twinkling with mischief. "So I suppose congratulations are in order," he said and raised his glass in a toast. "To the newly married Lord Casterbridge. May the marriage be fruitful and pleasurable"

Sebastian grimaced at this. "So you've heard."

"Of course I've heard," Nathaniel said eagerly, leaning forward. "The whole ton is buzzing with the news. Sebastian Fairchild, London's most notorious bachelor, finally leg-shackled—and to the sister of the girl everyone expected him to marry. You must tell me everything because I have no doubt that there is a story. So? What was it? Was the sister you chose just far more seductive than the first?"

Sebastian sighed at this. "Would you believe me if I told you that it was an enormous misunderstanding?"

Nathaniel took a gulp of his brandy, his eyes fixed on Sebastian. "I might if you told me what the misunderstanding was," he said simply and Sebastian smiled. It was good to have Nathaniel back, even if only because he appreciated someone believing him.

"We were at a ball and Lady Caroline and I happened to be outside. When we made our return to the ballroom, she tripped and fell. I caught her and as you'd expect in this city, the entirety of the ton chose that moment to see us."

Nathaniel remained quiet, though a grin played around his lips. Sebastian shrugged with a lopsided smile. "So her father insisted on marriage to save face, and I agreed. I was meant to marry one sister regardless, so I thought why not simply marry the other."

At this, Nathaniel finally burst out laughing. "No one else would marry in that manner, my friend," he let out and Sebastian shook his head, though he too laughed softly. "Did you at least make the intimacy worth it?"

Sebastian shook his head with a laugh. "It is not like that, Nate."

Nathaniel looked at him through narrowed eyes, swirling his brandy in the glass before taking another sip. "It's not the most auspicious start to a marriage," he said at last. "But perhaps it is not so terrible. What is she like? Your wife?"

Sebastian couldn't help but smile. "She is something else," he said with a laugh. "She is beautiful, I have to admit. And she is witty, and there is something about her… something that I don't think I'd ever seen before."

Nathaniel grinned mischievously. "And did she live up to the expectation after the wedding?"

At this, Sebastian's face flush and a frown appeared between his brows. It was banter between him and Nathaniel as always—they'd never been shy to share details about their experiences. Nate knew all about Lady Amelia and his past paramours–especially about the parts that perhaps made them a little less ladylike. When Sebastian remained quiet, a curious frown appeared between Nathaniel's brows.

"Come now, Bas," he insisted. "You simply must tell me. Is she delicate like a porcelain doll, with you having to be careful not to break her? Or is she more like a wildcat who was forced to be proper for too long?"

To his surprise though, Sebastian didn't want to share intimate details about his wife, even with his best friend.

"She's great," was all he said gruffly, his tone making it quite obvious that he would not discuss his wife's skills in the bedchamber.

Nathaniel didn't press the matter. Instead he grinned, then wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, if the marriage bed proves unsatisfactory, you know there are always other options," he teased, his tone light. "A man in your position is hardly expected to be faithful, after all."

Sebastian frowned pensively at this. "I thought about it," he admitted. "No one would even raise an eyebrow if I considered getting a mistress and… to be honest, there is a part of me that is quite unwilling to sacrifice the life I've grown accustomed to. But I saw Lady Amelia today and she… she propositioned me and I must admit, I did not feel any desire. I think… I think I want to do right by Caroline."

Nathaniel lifted a brow at this. "Sebastian Fairchild. Are you saying you will be a devoted husband?"

Sebastian laughed softly and shrugged. "I may not have chosen the marriage," he said carefully. "But I am in it now. And I will do my utmost to be the best husband I can be. I… she will adjust to life as a wife as I will adjust to life as a husband. But I will not be my father."

Nathaniel lifted his brows, though the look on his face was one that seemed quite impressed. "I wish you and your wife happiness, my friend," he said simply and Sebastian smiled.

"Thank you Nate. It means a great deal to me. And I must confess… I do find myself quite enamored with her, if that is the right term. She is beautiful. But there's more. She's… so at ease with being herself. There is nothing holding her back and it's something I rather admire."

"Are you claiming that this might be a happy union after all?" Nathaniel teased and Sebastian laughed with a shrug. "Who knows?" he said simply. "I will not pretend to be in love with Caroline. But I do believe that we have a great deal in common and I am not against the idea of getting to know her better. And I will admit that I do find the idea of teaching her the ways of life and love quite alluring."

Nathaniel simply laughed at this, his eyes gleaming with delight. "Oh, ever the rake, Lord Casterbridge," he teased, and Sebastian shook his head.

"I can hope that she sees me as more," he said simply and Nathaniel nodded.

"A wise approach. And the sister you were meant to marry? How does she fare in all of this?"

Sebastian sighed at this and shook his head.

"Lady Beatrice," he said with a frown. "I am afraid she's not doing well. Caroline hasn't complained much, but she's mentioned a thing here and there. She seems to feel cast aside and betrayed in all of this. She's taken the situation rather hard and unfortunately she is taking it out on my wife."

"I suppose it's understandable," Nathaniel murmured. "To have one's prospects so suddenly upended and by her own sister no less. I am certain it is a bitter pill to swallow."

"She is shy and rather reserved," Sebastian admitted sympathetically. "Which makes it worse. I was hoping that I could ask you to keep an eye out for her when you return to society."

Nathaniel raised a brow at that and Sebastian shook his head quickly.

"I'm not asking you to court her or anything of the sort," he explained quickly. "Just… be kind to her. Ask her to dance if you see her sitting alone or engage her in conversation… I was hoping to help her feel less alone."

Nathaniel sighed dramatically, though not without a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You ask a great deal of me, Sebastian," he teased. "To take pity on a beautiful, eligible young lady? How will I survive this ordeal?"

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head. "I am sure you will manage. But truly, I will be most grateful. She struck me as a sweet girl, and she doesn't deserve to suffer in this way—and nor does Caroline. I am hoping if she sees that she's not without admirers, she will speak to her sister again."

"Very well," Nathaniel agreed with a laugh. "I will do my best to be a gallant knight to your fair sister-in-law. But you owe me for this, Fairchild. I expect your firstborn child to be named in my honor."

Sebastian laughed with another shake of his head. "If the firstborn is a son, I might consider it," he teased, and the two men clinked their glasses together with a laugh.

"Now tell me," Sebastian said quickly, the tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned back in the chair. "How was your time in France? I want to hear all about the trouble you undoubtedly got into."

Nathaniel grinned at this and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ah, France," he sighed with a grin. "The land of wine, women and wickedness. I fear I may have left a trail of broken hearts from Paris to Provence."

Sebastian scoffed and shook his head, though the grin around his lips gave away his amusement. "Why am I not surprised? You have always had a way with women."

Nathaniel grinned. "Luckily seduction was not the only item on my agenda," he teased. "I was the very model of a cultured gentleman. I even tried my own hand at painting a landscape or two."

"Painting?" Sebastian raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Your father will disinherit you if you tell him you've taken up art," he remarked, and Nathaniel laughed.

"Oh, I am by no means planning on abandoning business and taking up painting as a career," he said with a laugh. "But I am a man of many talents and I thought that I ought to get a hobby if my best friend was going to get married without me."

Sebastian could only laugh at this, though the laughter soon subsided, and he looked at his friend seriously.

"You know I would have wanted you there," he said simply, and Nathaniel nodded. "And had it not been for the scandal, I know I'd have been there," he said gently. Sebastian simply nodded and Nathaniel sighed.

"In truth, as much as I enjoyed my time in France, I missed London. It is home, after all."

Before Sebastian could answer, Nathaniel leaned forward and laughed softly. "Besides, France does not have the same gossip. Did you know that Lord Wilmington was apparently caught in a rather compromising position with his wife's lady's maid? In the stables no less! Rumor has it that he was truly caught with his trousers around the ankles!"

Sebastian shook his head and a wry smile tugged at his lips. "Ah, the scandals and shames of high society," he said with a laugh. "Though I suppose I cannot truly talk, given my own recent brush with infamy."

"Fair enough," Nathaniel conceded. "But at least you had the decency to marry the girl. From what I hear, Wilmington is trying to buy his wife's forgiveness with increasingly extravagant gifts. The poor woman has acquired so many new jewels, she is practically a walking chandelier."

"There is truly no place like London," Sebastian said, and Nathaniel laughed, leaning back in his chair.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Home sweet home."

Home.

The word reminded him of his wife waiting in his own home and Sebastian rose to his feet. "I walked here," he admitted. "Would you mind terribly if I borrowed a carriage? I suppose I have to head home too."

Home had never truly been a place where he'd longed to be, but now that he had a wife waiting for him, Sebastian found himself wanting to be there.

"Of course you can borrow a carriage," Nathaniel said quickly, his voice interrupting Sebastian's thoughts. "I'll get one of the servants to get it ready for you."

As the men walked to the stables, Sebastian couldn't help but think of the scandal Lord Wilmington was facing.

For so long, stories like those had disillusioned him with marriage. He was certain that it was only natural to find reprieve from a wife in the arms of other women.

But with his wife waiting for him at home, Sebastian could not deny that he did not want to find reprieve from her. Not in the slightest.

Chapter 14

While her husband directed his focus on work and was away from home, Caroline found herself in the middle of the bustling kitchen. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried to absorb the flurry of activity around her. Mrs. Hawkins was moving so quickly that she hardly caught sight of her—one minute she was barking orders at the scullery maids, the next she was directing the flow of dishes. Caroline felt rather out of place.

"Now, My Lady," Mrs. Hawkins said with her usual gruffness as she turned to Caroline, "The key to running a smooth household is organization and discipline. You must keep a tight rein on the staff, ensure that everyone knows their place—and their duties. It will not do to have maids gossiping in corners or footmen shirking their responsibilities."

Caroline nodded slowly. Was all of this her responsibility? Was she meant to bark orders and keep an eye on staff? She'd always known, of course, that running a household was a significant undertaking, but seeing it firsthand and having to do it no less, was something else entirely.

She could only nod mutely at Mrs. Hawkins' orders, her eyes following the older woman as she took charge of the controlled chaos of the kitchen. A frown settled between her brows as her thoughts drifted to her own mother.

She always made it look so effortless. One of Caroline's very first memories of her, was how she glided through the manor with a serene smile and an air of unruffled composure. Running a household, to her, was as natural as breathing and Caroline was certain that Beatrice too would find it natural. She swallowed dryly, a sudden pang of homesickness washing over her.

As difficult as life had been over the course of the weeks before her marriage, Caroline suddenly missed the familiarity and comfort of it. She missed the quiet grace with which her mother took charge of the household—so different from Mrs. Hawkins' briskness. She missed her father's familiar voice, her sister's laughter—the warmth of Wentworth Manor.

"Mrs. Hawkins," she said at last, her voice soft, though she tried to keep an air of authority in it as she'd so often heard from her own parents. "I wonder if I might take a brief respite. I… I would like to visit my family."

Mrs Hawkins looked up at this, her brows lifted and Caroline stared back at her firmly.

"Of course, My Lady," Mrs. Hawkins said quickly, her face creasing into a smile. "I shall have a carriage arranged for you. And I will see to the household in your absence."

Relief rushed through Caroline and she flashed Mrs. Hawkins a bright grin. "Thank you, Mrs. Hawkins," she exclaimed and rubbed her hands together. "I think I shall quickly rush to my bedchamber and dress more appropriately—if you will arrange that carriage swiftly."

Mrs. Hawkins merely nodded, and Caroline rushed to her bedchamber where she exchanged the rather plain dress for one more appropriate for tea. Within the hour, she was seated in a carriage, watching the familiar countryside roll by as the carriage moved towards her family home.

As the carriage came to a halt in front of Wentworth Manor, Caroline felt a sudden rush of nervous anticipation. For some reason, the manor that she had grown up in suddenly felt different and she wondered whether she should have let her family know that she was coming to visit.

Nonsense, she decided as she alighted from the carriage and made her way up the stone steps. They‘re still my family.

Before she could reach the knocker, the door swung open—the butler lifting his brows in surprise when he noticed her.

"Lady Caroline," he exclaimed, and a grin appeared on his face. "We were not expecting you, but I am certain you will be welcome. Please, do come in."

"Thank you, Louis," Caroline muttered as she stepped into the foyer. Though everything looked exactly like she left it, the familiar comfort of her home seemed to be gone.

"Caroline? Is that you?"

She turned at the sound of her mother's voice and a smile appeared on her face when she saw Lady Wentworth descending the grand staircase easily. "I did not expect to see you today."

"Mother," Caroline said warmly, though she suppressed the urge to rush forward and embrace her. "I do apologize for coming unannounced. I just… I suppose I wanted to see you."

A fine frown took residence upon her mother's face. "Darling, your wedding was a day ago," she said coolly and Caroline felt her cheeks flush.

"I know, I just… I was hoping we could talk about… the intricacies of running a household. I am afraid I feel quite in over my head," Caroline admitted and her mother sighed, her gaze softening.

"I ought to have spoken to you about this before the wedding," she admitted softly. "I do apologize, darling. Let's go to the parlor. I will have Anne bring us some tea."

Caroline nodded eagerly before following her mother to the drawing room. Only once they were seated, each armed with a delicate cup of tea, did she ask the question she had wanted to since the carriage had come to a standstill in front of the manor.

"Will… will Beatrice join us?"

At once, her mother's face fell and she shook her head with a sigh.

"Beatrice… is not quite ready," she admitted but quickly forced herself to smile. "Besides, this is not a conversation to be had with unmarried women. The running of a household will not interest her at this time."

It was true, Caroline knew. It was not so much that Beatrice would not be interested in the conversation, but she was rather certain that her sister would only be pained by the conversation seeing as it ought to have been her running Sebastian Fairchild's household.

"How is father?" Caroline asked, avoiding her mother's eyes and attempting desperately to postpone the insecurities that brewed within her. Her mother flashed her a smile–one that seemed to suggest she understood her daughter's worries.

"He is healthy," she answered, though the smile vanished and she looked at Caroline curiously. "It was odd for us both to not have you in the house anymore, but we accept that you have your own family now."

Caroline flashed her mother an uncomfortable smile. "We've been having lovely weather lately."

"Indeed, lovely as ever," her mother said with a knowing smile. "Though I believe the cold is on its way. Now, Caroline. What is it you really want to ask?"

"How do you do it?" Caroline finally asked with a sigh, foregoing all hope of small talk. "How do you manage to make everything seem so utterly effortless?"

Her mother simply laughed at this, then shook her head. "It is not effortless, Caroline," she admitted. "In fact, it is quite hard work. But we are Wentworth women and we do all that we do with elegance and grace."

Caroline frowned slightly at this and she leaned forward, her entire demeanor pleading with her mother.

"I just… It is different there," she admitted. "The housekeeper, Mrs. Hawkins is nothing at all like Mrs. Smith. She's brisk and busy and I am not quite certain I will be able to be the lady of the house, tell her what to do."

At this, her mother shook her head with a sigh. "Nonsense, Caroline," she admonished. "You will simply have to. She is one of your workers."

"You're right," Caroline said, taking at least a bit of heart. "I am in charge and I will simply run the household in a way that makes me comfortable."

"Exactly," her mother agreed. "You run it in your own way."

Caroline nodded and rose to her feet. "I shall go home," she announced, "Thank you, mother."

They shared a quick hug before Caroline turned around and made her way back to the carriage. She spotted Beatrice almost the second that she stepped outside. Her sister was pacing along the gravel path, her face pensive and withdrawn.

"Beatrice," Caroline called out, her voice trembling. "Can… can we talk?"

Beatrice looked up and her eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, her face contorted in a mask of hurt, but her expression changed quickly—back into the stoic coldness.

"Caroline," she said, her voice trembling. "Shouldn't you be at home? Playing the role of perfect wife?"

Caroline flinched at the barb, but managed to force a smile onto her face. "I was here to talk to mother, but it's good to see you Beatrice," she offered. "I was hoping we could talk, that I could explain…"

"Explain?" A cold laugh escaped her sister's lips. "Do you want to explain how you stole my wedding and the man who was meant to be mine? How you ruined my chances of a good marriage? What could you possibly say to make any of that right?"

Tears formed in Caroline's eyes at the pure venom in her sister's voice, but she blinked them back, determined to stand her ground. "I never meant to hurt you, Beatrice. What happened with Sebastian… it was a terrible misunderstanding. And I wouldn't have married Sebastian, I'd have refused but if I did, your reputation would suffer too—you'd be ruined by association, I was trying to protect…"

"Oh, stop," Beatrice laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Stop pretending that you did not want this. Stop pretending that you are noble when we both know what a traitor you truly are."

A wave of guilt washed over Caroline and she shook her head. "I am sorry that you are hurting," she pleaded now. "But you must know that I never wanted this, never dreamed that things would turn out this way. Please, Beatrice, can we not find a way past this? Be sisters, the way we used to be?"

Beatrice laughed shrilly at this and looked down—though it was not quick enough for Caroline to miss the tears brimming in her eyes. "Do you expect me to be your sister while you share a bed with the man who was meant to be mine?"

"It is not like that," Caroline burst out before she could help herself. Beatrice's eyes flitted up at this and she lifted a brow.

"Not like what?" she asked eagerly and Caroline shook her head.

"It's just… not like that," she mumbled, but it was too late.

"You…" Beatrice let out, a shrill laugh following her words once more. "You are not his wife in the Biblical sense, are you? He didn't…"

More laughter interrupted her thought and she shook her head, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light Caroline had never seen before.

"He didn't bed you," she let out at last. "He doesn't want you," she continued. "What, are you spoiled goods after the scandal?"

"Don't," Caroline pleaded softly. "Beatrice, please…"

But there was no stopping her sister—her hurt, it seemed, had found a foothold in rage. "Oh, do not tell me what to do," she burst out. "You married the man, and now you are no more than a burden to him? It is delicious, dear sister… too delicious for words."

The words hit Caroline like a physical blow, the air rushing from her lungs as if she had been punched in the stomach. Tears blurred her vision, hot and stinging, and she felt a sob building in her throat, threatening to choke her.

"I'm not a burden," she whispered. Beatrice, however, seemed to take heart at the sight of her sister's misery.

"Of course," she laughed now. "You thought you would be my better, you'd marry the man promised to me. But you didn't realize… Sebastian Fairchild married you only to salvage both your reputations, whereas with me he had somewhat of a choice. Make no mistake… he will tire of you soon enough. His second choice… and then he will seek his pleasures elsewhere, just like any other man of his station."

It was true, Caroline realized. She had not been Sebastian's first choice, and as kind and courteous as he'd been, there was no guarantee that he would not tire of her and resent the forced union that tied him to her.

Beatrice seemed to enjoy this horrific thought and it was the absolute stranger she saw in her sister's face that finally caused the tears to spill over and stream down her cheeks. She turned away from Beatrice at last.

"I have to go," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "I cannot do this, I cannot fight you anymore."

She did not wait for a response. Instead, she rushed towards the carriage quickly, paying no mind to the concerned look the driver shot her.

"Take me home," she got out, her voice barely audible over the painful pounding of her own heart. "Please, just… take me home."

As the carriage rattled down the drive, carrying her away from the painful confrontation with her sister, Caroline pressed her face against the cool glass of the window, her tears blurring the passing scenery into an indistinct haze.

She had thought that by coming home, by seeing her mother and Beatrice, she could find some measure of peace, some relief from the doubts and fears that plagued her. But instead, she felt more lost than ever, adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.

All she could do now was return to Casterbridge, to the man she called husband and the life she had chosen. And pray that somehow, someway, she could find the strength to weather the storms that lay ahead.