Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

D espite the mostly sleepless night, Darcy was ready and eager to leave his bed at his usual time the next morning. After a hasty breakfast, he was equally eager to find some occupation to dispel his nervous energy and therefore proceeded directly to the stables for a ride. Once he returned, his restlessness only partially abated, there was still some time yet until respectable calling hours, so he retired to his study to pursue some other avenue of employment. He filled this period of anxious waiting with as much work as he could reasonably get his hands upon, glancing at the clock every few minutes or so and cursing the slowness of its hands.

At long last, it was time to meet Georgiana in the entrance hall for their planned visit. He arrived before her and paced the marble floor for several minutes, impatiently watching the staircase for her appearance. He was just on the point of sending a servant to fetch her—or, better yet, venturing upstairs himself to mitigate the agony of more interminable loitering—when she appeared on the landing on Bingley's arm. Immediately, Darcy deduced the cause of her tardiness.

"So sorry to delay your excursion!" Bingley said upon reaching the lower floor. Given his friend's wide grin and affable demeanour, Darcy could not discern any real sense of remorse. "I could not sleep what with all those odd noises—you have a draughty old pile here, my friend!" Bingley winked and then laughed at his own jest. "So I gave it up as a lost cause about an hour ago. When I emerged from my chambers in search of something to do, I found your delightful sister prepared to go out, asked where she was going, and she graciously invited me to come along without too much begging on my part. You do not mind, I trust?"

No, not at all. Why not bring the entire household, servants and all? And I am sure Freddy would enjoy an airing; we shall make a merry caravan. With a thin, forced smile, Darcy did his best to appear amenable to Bingley's inclusion in their scheme. "Of course not. You are most welcome."

Movement from Georgiana caught Darcy's attention. She mouthed him an apology and gave him such an exaggerated expression of repentance that his vexation immediately dissolved in favour of wry amusement. It seemed she was constitutionally incapable of rebuffing the vigorous determination of the Bingleys, even when cheerfully applied. At least Bingley uses his abilities for good and not self-serving chicanery. He smiled for his sister's benefit, and her features were articulate in their relief.

"I suppose we cannot take the curricle now we are three. I shall instruct the stable master to hook up the coach. Excuse me."

Caroline stifled a yawn behind her hand as she descended the main staircase. Waking early for the second day in a row was not her preference, but if she intended to distract Mr Darcy from dancing attendance upon the horrid Eliza, some sacrifices were required. Rising before noon was taxing upon her constitution, but until the blessed day her rival returned home to her tedious family, more vigilance would be required.

At the closed door of the breakfast room, Caroline took a moment to pat her hair and smooth out a wrinkle in her gown—a gorgeous silk taffeta frock of vivid jonquil, edged in lace along every hem and well worth the exorbitant cost—before nodding imperiously at the footman to open it. He did so, and she entered the room on an elegant glide, prepared to greet the Darcys with a pleasant veneer. Alas, it was empty.

"Where is everyone?" she demanded of the footman still stationed at the door with his hand on the knob.

The man bowed slightly and regretfully reported, "Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mr Bingley have already breakfasted, ma'am."

"Already?"

"Yes, ma'am. Some hours ago now."

Caroline's stomach gurgled, but she pointedly disregarded it. "Oh well, I was not especially hungry in any case. Where have they gone? The blue saloon?" A lovely spacious room, if not for the preponderance of silvery, celestial blue. It might be considered a fashionable hue in certain circles, but it was far too dull for her tastes. A Pomona green, perhaps, or better yet a bold Pompeian red would be more striking. When she was mistress here, she would redecorate it in a more vibrant Oriental style with a great deal of gold ormolu and delicate furnishings. Pemberley could be so much more if left in her capable hands.

"No, they are not presently in the house."

Curses. Caroline detested being out of doors. She could not abide getting dirty. "The rose garden, then?"

"No, Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mr Bingley have gone into Lambton. Mr Darcy said to assure his guests that he would return by two o'clock."

Caroline clenched her hands into fists and tamped down the urge to screech. She had not believed that Mr Darcy would call upon Eliza with such alacrity, given that he had seen her just yesterday. Clearly, she had underestimated her adversary's charms.

Spinning about, Caroline marched away from the unhelpful footman and back up the stairs. She turned down the hall that led to the guest wing, and upon reaching Louisa's door, she thrust it open without knocking. "You will not believe this!"

There was a squawk from behind the bedcurtains, a scrambled rustling, then Louisa's bedraggled face appeared between the heavy aubergine drapery. She blinked rapidly in the early afternoon sunlight that crept in around the matching window curtains as she replied dazedly, "Caroline? What ails you?"

"Mr Darcy has lost his head over Eliza! Even now, he, his sister, and our traitorous brother are in Lambton calling upon her. At this hour! Mr Darcy should be attending to his guests round the breakfast table at this very moment, not gallivanting about the countryside after pert misses and their lowly relations."

Louisa glanced at the clock above the empty fireplace and heaved an exasperated sigh. "It is nearly one o'clock. We are in the country, and as nonsensical as you find it, many people this far from London ascribe to country hours. Should you wish to breakfast with Mr Darcy, you will have to rise with the sun, I daresay."

"I was up before noon!"

Louisa again glanced at the clock, as if to reaffirm the time. "And you have only just noticed Mr Darcy's absence now?"

"I had to make myself presentable, did I not?" She posed herself at a more flattering angle so as to show her gown at best advantage.

Not that Louisa seemed inclined to comment on it. With another sigh, she parted the curtains fully—blessedly, Hurst had not visited her in the night, so she was alone—and stood. "As I now shall. Ring for the maid, will you?"

"He could be making her an offer this moment!"

"With his sister and our brother in attendance?" Louisa snorted and crossed the room to tug on the bell pull herself. "Not likely. Regardless, I do not see how it makes much difference. Even without Eliza nearby, Mr Darcy would not be offering himself to you ."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Because," Louisa replied as she donned her robe and tightened the belt about her waist, "if he had any intentions towards you at all, he would have done so well before now. He has been on intimate terms with our brother since university and has never shown even the slightest interest in taking you for his bride. It is high time you gave up this fanciful notion of marrying into the highest echelons of society and redirected your sights to someone more attainable. Hurst knows a great many gentlemen who might suit."

"They are all like him, I suppose, consumed with shooting, drinking, cards, and stuffing their bellies." Caroline sneered at the prospect. "I thank you, no."

Louisa pulled the curtains open, allowing sunlight to flood the room. "Very well, but when Mr Darcy makes another choice—whether it is Eliza or some other fortunate lady—you will have to resign yourself to it. I shall begin drawing up a list of candidates for your perusal, and perhaps you can make the most of it when the Season begins."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Caroline slumped onto Louisa's bed with the sort of gracelessness their former governess would have rapped her knuckles for. "I have not given up, nor shall I ever cede the field to the likes of Eliza Bennet. I shall prevail in the end, even if I must do something drastic."

The door to Louisa's dressing room began to open, and she rapidly moved to close it again against the entrance of her startled maid. "No! I will not see you descend to any underhanded machinations. I absolutely forbid it."

"You are in no position to forbid me from anything!"

"That is where you are wrong." Louisa's tone was firm and her expression positively frightful. "Should I get so much as an inkling, the slightest notion, that you are intending to…to…do what I think you are plotting, I will tell Charles. See if I do not!" From behind the dressing room door, there came a timid knock, which was disregarded.

Caroline scoffed. "And what will Charles do, pray tell?"

"Send you to Aunt Bingley."

"He would never. Our aunt is an old crone who lives so deep in the middle of nowhere that I would never find a husband. Not that I need seek one because I mean to have Mr Darcy by any means necessary."

All of a sudden, the room was cast into a dreary, forbidding darkness, and an unaccountable chill seeped into Caroline's bones. She rubbed her arms to dispel it, her breath fogging the air before her. She looked to her sister, but Louisa appeared unaffected; either that, or she was too incensed by their conversation to pay any notice to the unusual shift in temperature.

"You stupid, stupid girl!" Louisa hissed, holding tight to the door latch to prevent it opening again. "Do you not realise that you are far more likely to ruin yourself than gain a husband with such methods? Mr Darcy is a gentleman—and a wealthy, well connected one at that—and you are the daughter of a tradesman. He will not be cornered into making a match he does not desire. You will be the only one who suffers should he refuse to propose—you and all your family, that is. Not only will you be excluded from good society, but also me, Hurst, Charles…I beg you, do not attempt anything so foolish!"

Caroline turned her head, sniffing even as her nose pointed into the air. Where is that wretched cold emanating from? "Mr Darcy is a man of honour. He would never slight Charles by sullying his sister and then refusing to make amends."

"Caroline, please. Promise me you will keep your head and not do anything irreparable."

"Really, Louisa, you ought to take your theatricality to the stage."

" Promise me! "

"Oh, very well!" Caroline threw her hands up into the air, exasperated by her sister's urgency. "I promise. I was not serious, in any case. After all, there is no reason my abilities should not be enough to win the day, even if Mr Darcy is, temporarily, taken in by Eliza. Once I have shown myself to best advantage, he will surely come to his senses and direct his attentions in a more proper course. Are you satisfied? "

Louisa eyed her warily. "I suppose…but do know that I shall remain vigilant. Do not think for a moment that you are not being watched."

With a huff, Caroline rose from the bed and removed herself from the frigid room. If she stayed much longer, she would turn the same dreary blue as the saloon.