Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter Nine
Darcy was still sitting on the stairs with Miss Bennet. She had laid her hand on his shoulder. She was a good person. Through the pressure of her hand he could feel all her goodness seeping into him. It overwhelmed him too much to speak.
Elizabeth waited until he would finish what he had begun to say. She was intrigued. He was going to ask her something, something that he felt he had no right to ask and that she would despise him for. What could it be? She would not despise him. She felt sorry for him. "Yes, Mr Darcy?" she asked softly when it was taking him very long to speak. Perhaps she should encourage him a little.
"You are aware, perhaps, that you are very lovely," he said.
That was not what she had expected and it took her by surprise. "Me?" She had forgotten about herself while she had been listening to him. It cost her some effort to consider her own person again and then some effort to understand his words. She was lovely? Why?
"Yes. Are you not aware of it?"
Elizabeth blinked. She looked away from his intense stare. "Er...Mr Darcy, I do not understand you." What could be his point?
"It is admirable that you do not know you are lovely," Darcy thought out loud. "I am afraid this makes my problem all the greater."
"Which problem would that be, Mr Darcy?"
"May I call you Elizabeth?"
"You may." Elizabeth wondered if this had been the question he had meant to ask all along, but somehow she doubted it. It was not something that she would despise him for and she could not imagine it being a very difficult question to ask.
"Elizabeth..." Darcy tested how it would sound if spoken aloud. He had said it many times in his mind. It sounded very good. "I do not know what to do."
She had gathered as much. "I do not think you can do much. This was your sister's decision," she said kindly. "As painful as it is to you. There is nothing anybody could do. But what were you going to ask me?" She was still curious.
Darcy shook his head in embarrassment. "Forgive me. I could not impose myself on you in such a manner." A little kindness and he was lost. Fortunately he had realised just in time that it might not be the same for her. She had listened, but she would not have come to respect him for his confidences. Perhaps it was the opposite. He should be stronger.
Elizabeth saw his expression become more proud. He was regretting his behaviour, she surmised. There was nothing she could do about that. She could tell him there was no need, but she was not sure she would be completely happy yet with Darcy imposing himself on her either. Perhaps it was for the best that he had some temporary regrets. She understood it must have been difficult for him to reveal all of this. He would, she was certain, regret this regret when he realised that it was better to let it all out.
"I...thank you," Darcy said stiffly. "Perhaps..." But then he shook his head at himself and got up as stiffly as he had spoken. "Thank you. I hope I can count on your discretion."
Elizabeth nodded. He was an interesting character. His departure would give her time to reflect on him. "I am not offended and I will not speak," she assured him. He had not asked if she was offended, but it was likely that he might wonder about it later. It was best to reassure him right away.
Darcy looked at her gratefully and then fled.
Georgiana had distanced herself from her relatives when she did not find them to hold the same idea of what the truth was as she did. She had not called on them anymore and they had been reluctant to call on her when she had proved to be contrary every single time.
She had withdrawn as much again as she used to. Her husband was not often available for support either. He had an occupation during the day, naturally, but he said this required him to do some things at night with his fellow officers that were not for women. Georgiana had met but a few of these other officers, but she knew none of them were married. There would really not be any place for her there should she insist on coming along.
Besides, if George told her something, it would be the truth. She did not believe that he was capable of lying to her. What reasons could he have to do that?
Precisely what her husband did on his outings was unknown to Georgiana, but she trusted him, as he was always very attentive and caring to her when he was home. There could not be a kinder or sweeter man than George. At first she had been thinking her brother was the only nice person on earth, but she had come to reconsider that opinion. Perhaps her brother was not so kind after all. He should have supported her more.
George was going to be sent abroad, but she was past the stage of being torn about it. She was no longer doubting that she would follow George to wherever he would be sent. There was no point in staying here alone if all her relatives were so incapable of understanding and supporting her. She would be alone in the world if it were not for George.
George had been shocked when she had said it to him. He had tried to convince her that it would be better for her to stay home, but the Darcy stubbornness had asserted itself. It was from France that she wrote her brother.
Darcy had been ashamed of his openness, even though Elizabeth had seemed to think there was nothing to be ashamed about. Still, he had taken pains to avoid her afterwards.
This had been easier when she was still at Netherfield, because enough opportunities were left to meet. He did not want to stop seeing her at all. All he had wanted to avoid was that he might be tempted to be weak again, for he considered it a weakness to reveal his feelings. He had absolutely no objections to seeing Elizabeth from a small distance. It was even something he needed, but this had become a little difficult when she and her sister had returned to Longbourn.
Suddenly he wished he had not been such a fool as to keep his distance. He should have spoken to her and by now they might have been friends. What must she be thinking of him now? He had ruined his own chances at becoming more intimately acquainted with the lady. No woman would accept being confided in, then pushed away and finally approached again. He would not blame her at all if she despised him. No, he could never blame her for anything.
It was all his own fault. He should not have spoken, but if he had not spoken, he would not have come to appreciate her more. Yet if he had not spoken, she would not have come to despise him. What could he do now? Anything he would say would make things worse. There was no way things could improve. He would undoubtedly make sure that any situation would be ruined by his pride, embarrassment, reserve or awkwardness.
He simply did not have the ability to deal with feelings. It was feelings that had ruined his sister's life and now they were threatening to ruin his own life as well. Somewhere a little voice told him Elizabeth might help, but he was too afraid to have any confidence in that. It was silly make-believe, something that he could not believe in because it might only give him more pain if it turned out to be self-deception.
He had seen Elizabeth a few times on his walks, although they had never spoken because Darcy had taken another path before they could meet. One of these days, however, there would not be such an opportunity and he would be forced to greet her. This was not something he was unwilling to do, but he did not mind postponing it for a while longer.
After some time the young lady began to be a little frustrated by his escapes and she attempted to time her walk a little later so that he would be meeting her on a very long stretch that would not offer any escape routes except blatantly offending her by sneaking into the shrubbery, which, she supposed, he would not do because he was a gentleman. While his embarrassment might cause him to avoid her, he would never affront her.
She succeeded in her scheme.
Darcy had been dragging his feet, but he had not managed to walk slowly enough to make up for her later departure. He found himself to be without alternatives when she came into sight. All he could do was walk on -- slowly.
"Miss Bennet."
"Mr Darcy." There was a gleam of self-satisfaction in her eyes. Her scheming had worked out.
He did not know what to say and said the wrong thing. "Are you a little later today?" He realised it was the wrong thing when he had spoken. Elizabeth was not stupid.
"If you are so well acquainted with my schedule, Mr Darcy, I must wonder at your regular avoidance of me," she said archly. He must be a troubled soul. Perhaps there was something she could do to help him. She was not in the habit of feeling that way and it puzzled her. However, she was not given to suppressing her curiosity and if something puzzled her she had to investigate.
Darcy felt embarrassed. "I..." he began, but he could not think of a suitable excuse.
"I was wondering if perhaps you thought I would not notice." He said nothing and she continued. "But after seeing you avoid me several times can you wonder that it puzzled me why you do not take a different path altogether?"
"I can see why it would puzzle you," he conceded. It was a miracle that he could even speak calmly, but he ascribed it to the gentle curiosity in her tone. "But I..." He still had no excuse.
"There must be something down that path that is more interesting than me," she remarked with a smile. "I have to insist that you show me."
Darcy looked alarmed. "You insist that I show you?" She could not be wanting to accompany him! What would he say? It would be very impolite to stay silent all the time, yet he had no idea what they could speak about.
"Yes, so I can make up my mind about being offended or not. I shall not be offended if it is something interesting."
"What if it is not?" He looked horrified now. There was absolutely nothing down that path. It would become all too clear that he had been avoiding her on purpose. She was offering him a gentlemanly way out, but he could not take it. He was too honest for that.
"Let me be the judge of that. Do you want to show me or would you prefer not to? Would you prefer to walk on alone?"
There was more to it than that. Darcy felt as if he had to decide on something important. He feared that if he said he would walk on alone, she would be lost to him forever as a friend, but he might also lose her if she discovered what an idiot he actually was. He stood indecisive for a moment. If both were distressing, he might as well settle for the one that allowed him to enjoy her company for a little longer. "I will show you the path," he said. The genuine smile he received in response made him wonder if this was going to be as distressing as he had imagined.
"Thank you. I am all anticipation." She took the arm he offered.
He looked alarmed again. "Perhaps you should lower your expectations a little." Perhaps he was speaking as much to himself as to her, he realised. He ought not to be so affected by simply walking with her arm in his.
"But Mr Darcy," she said in a faintly teasing tone, "you are too critical and demanding a man to take just any path, I am sure. It must be for a special reason."
It was, but not the sort of reason she might be imagining. "How would you know I am critical?" What else did she know about him?
"That is a guess. Am I wrong?" She did not think he was.
"I do not think you are, but I do not know if it is very good."
"Good of you or good of me?" Perhaps he did not want her to know what he was like. He seemed to regret that he had confided in her, but she did not know yet why. At least, she could not be sure until she knew a little more about him.
"Good of me."
"Sometimes it is, sometimes it is not," she replied thoughtfully. He was too critical of himself -- that much was certain. Perhaps he agreed that it was not always only good.
"That helps," Darcy said sarcastically.
"Sarcasm, Mr Darcy?"
"What if it was?" he asked a little apprehensively.
"Sarcasm is good." Perhaps she could wriggle a few more sarcastic remarks from him. They might be revealing. She pointed ahead. "Is that not where you generally leave the path?"
He pretended to study his surroundings as if he was not absolutely sure. "I think it might be."
"If you are always so cautious about how you phrase things, perhaps I should assume you are always speaking in understatements?" she asked and then she coloured when she remembered he had said she was lovely. Perhaps she should not assume understatements everywhere.
"This is the path." He did not know if he always spoke in understatements, but it was very likely. It seemed quite a safe course of action.
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth was looking around herself curiously, as if she was seriously interested in seeing what could have attracted Darcy on this path. She knew there was nothing, however. He had only been trying to avoid her.
Darcy did not speak. He was still attempting to come up with a good excuse for his ungentlemanlike behaviour, but if he was honest to himself, he had to admit that Elizabeth was very likely on to him. She appeared to be a most perceptive young lady. It might not be only bad that she could see through him, he told himself, but he was uncomfortable with it nevertheless.
They walked for some time without speaking, enjoying their surroundings and the peaceful sounds of the woods. Elizabeth had not taken this path since she had observed Darcy take it, but she was well acquainted with it nevertheless. "Do you not like the small clearing up ahead, Mr Darcy?" she asked sweetly.
"Clearing?" Darcy nearly stammered. He had no recollection of ever seeing any memorable clearing. He felt as if he was being put to the test.
"Have you never got this far?" She checked herself before she could ask him if he had always hidden in the shrubbery near the beginning of the path. He was not yet ready for such teasing.
"Er..." To be truthful he had never paid good attention to his surroundings. He had always been too caught up in thinking about Elizabeth, but of course he could never tell her that. What would she think? "Yes, I quite liked it." He peered ahead, wondering if it was soon to come into view. He might be able to make a more intelligent comment about it once he saw it.
Elizabeth smiled a smug, catlike smile. She had caught him there.
Darcy was oblivious to her smile. He walked on in relative comfort, soon forgetting to look for the clearing when she did not bring it up again. He had never known that walking with another person could be so enjoyable. Generally other people talked far too much, but Miss Bennet seemed to know when he appreciated silence.
At the end of the path Elizabeth's smile grew even wider. "I must turn left here, Mr Darcy." He had not asked why they had not seen a clearing. She had not thought he would.
"Oh." It sounded vaguely disappointed, but also somewhat disoriented.
"Longbourn is that way." She pointed.
"I...know." He made up his mind and decided to be a gentleman -- a selfish gentleman. He knew she always walked here alone and that she really did not need an escort, but how could he avoid offering her one? Perhaps she always walked alone because no one offered. "If you do not mind, I shall see you home safely." That ensured he could enjoy her presence a little while longer. He was glad he had managed to speak those words confidently and without faltering. What an escort he would be if he could not even speak decently!
Elizabeth smiled. She appreciated the offer, even though she knew the way much better than he did. "Perhaps you could be more talkative then, Mr Darcy," she teased, hoping this was gentle enough not to offend. He might withdraw.
"I do not know what you could want me to talk about. I never know what choice of topics would satisfy my listeners," Darcy said stiffly. He felt this as criticism and he felt this acutely.
"Perhaps you ought to think less and just speak," she advised, deciding that perhaps Mr Darcy was too old to be so extremely sensitive. He ought simply to tackle his problem in a less childish manner and it would all come right.
The suggestion genuinely baffled him. "About what?" He was not someone who could just speak. He was someone who weighed his words carefully. Some people possessed the talent to say whatever they liked at any time, but he was not of those. Some people were quick and spontaneous, and he was slow and deliberate. It was a fact that could not be changed. Topics did not occur to him the way they seemed to occur to other people, some of whom did not even appear to need a topic in order to open their mouth.
"Well, do you never have things you want to share with the world? Or that you simply want to comment on because they strike you as interesting or funny?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. She could not imagine it. The tone of his question almost made her laugh incredulously, but she feared this would have the wrong effect. She wanted to exchange ideas with him, not to scare him into silence. "Do you look upon the world without having any thoughts? Really? Does nothing inspire you? Or do you really have a boring inner life?"
"Are my words a reflection of my inner life?" Darcy asked with some scepticism. He would protest against that. It was not fair to judge his inner life by the amount of talking that he did. It would seem virtually non-existent in that case and he knew he had plenty of thoughts, some of which he knew to be admirable. He did not look upon the world with a blank mind -- far from it -- but he did not see why everyone else should be privy to his thoughts. It had never occurred to him, however, that people might think he had no thoughts at all. He had always been thinking that restraint, reserve and self-control were virtues.
"They ought to be."
"Do you honestly know people to whom that applies? Not to your own case, I am sure." He did not think she made useless conversation and not even the admirable Miss Bennet could have an inner life completely devoid of useless thoughts. His inner life was not devoid of them either, but that was a secret he guarded most diligently.
"I speak my mind."
"Your mind, possibly! But your heart? Even you will not voice everything that occupies you." Darcy was not so easily convinced of being wrong. He was not unwilling to speak if it considered an exchange of arguments. If questioned about this, he would say that the topic was clear in such a case and that he had too much of a dislike of the truth being misinterpreted to stay silent. He did not consider this conversation.
She was happy that she had him talking at last. "But that is still better than nothing at all. On certain occasions it is better to share."
Darcy looked doubtful at these words, despite the fact that he had just shared some words with her. "I would rather not."
"But you have," Elizabeth reminded him. They had sat on the stairs and he had poured his heart out to her. Reluctantly, but he had done so nevertheless.
"But I still would rather not," he said a little petulantly.
Elizabeth tried out many responses in her mind and finally settled for a calm "I know." He was one of the most frustrating people she had ever met. She wondered why she felt the desire to draw him out. Could it be his fortune and his good looks? She glanced aside. Even a Mr Darcy with a troubled frown was interesting to behold, but she knew she was not that shallow and that he would not fall for it even if she were. There was the situation with his sister. He was a good man and he deserved a friend. That must be it. His appearance would play no role in this whatsoever. She looked back ahead again and towards the other side.
They walked to Longbourn in silence until Darcy halted when the house was beginning to come into view. "I...I think it is best that I take my leave of you here, Miss Bennet..." It did not seem like a very good idea to him if he delivered her all the way to her house. They would meet other people and he might be forced to explain himself. He had seen enough of her mother to know that he would not like to be drawn into a conversation with her. He did not trust himself to behave in a way that Mrs Bennet approved of. He would either be cold and distant, or he would stutter and stammer. The latter did not happen very often, so it would likely be the former, but even Darcy could see that a mother might ask questions if her daughter was escorted home by someone who had no gracious manners to recommend himself.
And apart from that, Elizabeth herself might think less of him if he did not know how to behave himself properly. She had been very understanding so far, but he would perhaps push his luck if he did not make an effort to be agreeable to her mother. It seemed rather a basic skill, now that he thought of it. Other people generally did not have problems with it. If he did not manage, they might think he had a disagreeable character, when it was merely that he could not say things in an agreeable manner when it counted most. He frowned again.
"Elizabeth." She wondered why he had asked if he could call her that if he never used it. Being one of five Misses Bennet, she would prefer friends to address her in a more personal manner so she would not feel so interchangeable with her sisters. They were her sisters and she loved them, but they were not alike. She would appreciate it if the difference were stressed.
"E-Elizabeth. I should not want your father to give you any trouble for having been out walking with a man." That was a most stupid thing to say, he realised.
"I doubt that my father --" Elizabeth began, but then she checked herself. He might get the wrong idea of her father. He might not notice, but he might care. She did not actually know. The situation had never occurred before. "My father and I generally do not give each other any trouble." Her father, she assumed, would trust her.
Darcy would prefer to linger, but as it would be odd even to him to linger without speaking, he grimaced, bowed and muttered an incoherent farewell. Then he walked away and realised that perhaps he should have asked if she was going to run into him next time or not.
There was no shortage of lady friends looking after him, it seemed. Miss Bingley, in her capacity of mistress of Netherfield, felt she was responsible for the well-being of her guests to some extent. She had noticed that Darcy had had a little more life in him lately, or perhaps hope. While it had pained her that he had not wanted to share anything with her, she had been happy to see it nevertheless.
She had had two choices when she had realised he did not care enough about her to take her into his confidence. She could either turn away from him and resent him for giving her pain, or she could accept the pain as a lesson and continue to be his friend. He was not giving her pain on purpose. It was her own fault for feeling it. It had taken a few introspective sessions to come to that conclusion. In the end she had decided he was still a friend she cared about, regardless of what he might think of her. She would still feel his pain even if he did not feel hers and she would help him out where she could.
It was in that spirit that she had looked at the mail that had been delivered and she had seen a letter from France for Darcy, written in Georgiana's youthful hand, if somewhat untidier than she was wont to write. Caroline's heart had stopped for a second. France! For a long while she had simply stared at the letter, realising what this meant, but not being able to comprehend it fully. Then, thinking quickly without doubting, she had stretched out her hand. The letter had disappeared.
It had burnt on her skin. Never before had she held back anyone's correspondence. It took some time to get used to the fact that she had just done so. She had been absentminded going about her tasks and duties, suppressing her curiosity and fear until she would have time to think about the letter at her leisure.
Finally freed from the daily business of running a household, she slipped into the park unnoticed. Louisa was bound to notice her absence and if she remained in the house her sister was bound to find her, since there were not many places that Caroline could hide, given her dislike of dust, cold and other inconveniences of seldom-used rooms. The park was no better, really, but at least Louisa would not be able to send out servants to look for her. At least, that was what she hoped.
She walked for a while until she reached the small folly, which was at least a relatively clean and dry place to sit, as well as offering her a good view of anyone who approached. She would not like to be taken by surprise. Sitting down, she retrieved the letter from its hiding place and she turned it around in her hands. It was most certainly from Georgiana, written in a hurry or a troubled state of mind.
Caroline did not have to ask herself what Georgiana was doing in France. At first she had hoped that the girl had fled her husband, but she had soon dismissed that idea as foolish. It was not likely that a young girl with no friends would flee to France. No, she must be there with Wickham and that was a very worrisome thing. She knew soldiers were being sent to the Continent, but she would have thought that their wives were not so stupid as to follow them. Things were going very wrong if Georgiana had felt she needed to accompany her husband, away from her relatives, on such a journey.
Darcy would in all likeliness not be able to take this news well. Caroline bit her lip and stared at the letter again. She should not let him see this letter, not when he had just recovered a little. What was more important: honesty or Darcy's sanity?
She decided that sometimes deceit was allowed, but to make absolutely sure she was not doing the wrong thing she would have to read the contents of the letter. Suppose she withheld it and it contained good news! Then she would really be a bad person. However, she was reluctant to open correspondence meant for someone else.
It took her another fifteen minutes to come to a decision about that. Then she opened the letter and quickly read it, having to reread passages constantly because she wanted to be quick. She lowered the letter onto her lap and closed her eyes. "Foolish, foolish girl," she muttered despairingly.
It was not until she had the letter memorised that she left the folly. The letter was again in its former hiding place, but it did not burn on her skin anymore. She was now convinced that it belonged there and that nobody else at Netherfield ought to see it. In a less serious case she might have thought of confiding in her sister, but she did not think an indiscreet person like Louisa would be of any help here. The fewer people who knew about this, the better. Georgiana was a sweet girl. Caroline did not want to make this scandal known to everybody, in case Georgiana should at one point be recovered. Her reputation would forever be tainted.
Her brother, as indiscreet as Louisa, had once told her that Darcy's cousin was handling things in London. Apparently he had not handled things too well, or else Georgiana could never be in France, but being in London he might know some more about this. But he was a man. He might not have known what passed in the mind of a girl. He might have underestimated his young cousin's feelings. Yet for all his failing to guard her, as a military and well-travelled man he seemed the prime candidate to get her back from France.
If he knew she was there, that was. Georgiana might not have written him. Caroline did not think she could wait for Georgiana to inform Colonel Fitzwilliam, or to wait for the Colonel to take action. She would be remiss herself if she kept this information to herself and if she thereby allowed Georgiana to get herself into even greater trouble.
She entered the house with a thoughtful expression. If she was a man she could feign an urgent business trip. Nobody would believe that of a woman. Had Louisa not been there she might have got away with some shopping excuse, for Charles accepted everything -- eventually -- and Darcy would not care. But nobody would accept that a woman could have to go to London for something urgent. "Very well," she said to herself reflectively. "Nobody shall know until I am gone."
Caroline did not feel at all guilty for taking her brother's carriage. He would just have to use some other means of transportation in the meantime.
Suddenly she realised there was the small but important matter of not knowing where Colonel Fitzwilliam resided. She frowned at the realisation, but she told herself she was resourceful enough and in possession of enough servants to solve that problem. If all else failed she could always go to Lady Catherine's house in town to inquire, never mind what that lady might think of the inquiry.
When she got to her brother's house, she immediately sent a servant out to find out the Colonel's address and to deliver a note there. She was wise enough to tell the servant she had a package from Darcy that he wished her to deliver in person to his cousin, in case servants started gossiping about what business an unmarried young lady might have with an equally unmarried young colonel. If she did not take care it would be all over town in a day.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was surprised to receive the note, especially with the additional information that Miss Bingley had come from Netherfield with a package that Darcy had instructed her to hand to him personally. Before reading the note he had wondered what could possibly be in the package and why, with such a clear message, Miss Bingley had insisted on writing a note. He broke the seal and unfolded it.
I should like to talk to you about your cousin Georgiana, but I hope you are aware of the difficulty of arranging a meeting in town in broad daylight. I await your discreet suggestion urgently.
Miss Bingley was intent on meeting him -- discreetly. He was only vaguely acquainted with the lady and he could not believe that she wanted to meet him for less honourable purposes, out of the blue and mentioning his cousin, but there had been ladies who had used stranger excuses to arrange discreet meetings.
And why the urgency? Surely someone who had not seen him for a while would be able to do without him for a little while longer? He would expect them to renew the acquaintance first before sending out discreet and mysterious notes.
He wondered if he should reply at all. The note was so short and devoid of social niceties that he had no choice but to rule out a desire for his person, however.
Chapter 11
Caroline's departure was not known until the housekeeper informed Bingley of it. "Shopping?" he repeated uncomprehendingly. "She needed to go shopping in town? For what?"
His housekeeper could not give him any more information than that Miss Bingley had taken the carriage.
Darcy shrugged at the news. He could not care less where Caroline had gone to and why. He had Elizabeth to think of now. Whether Caroline was there in the evening to keep them company was something he no longer cared for when he could be distracted by pleasant thoughts of his own. He convinced Bingley that his sister was old enough to decide things for herself, no matter that he would never allow his own sister to do this.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was very curious what Miss Bingley could want with him. He sent back a sealed note addressed to Darcy, hoping she would take the hint and open it. In it he suggested a picnic place just out of town, not too popular with ordinary families and not too popular with couples either.
He admitted that the lady did a good job of forging Darcy's handwriting. It almost made him think his cousin was in town when he received the reply less than an hour after having sent his servant out. When he opened the note, however, it was written in a different hand and the writer very decidedly turned down the suggested meeting place.
The Colonel heaved a sigh of exasperation as he read the note again.
The picnic place you suggested is undoubtedly as scenic as it is unsuitable. I am sure a military man such as yourself could figure out a way to meet me unseen in my back sitting room tonight at nine o'clock to discuss a very serious matter. I hope that this does not pose too great a challenge.
Of course it did not pose too great a challenge to get into a lady's sitting room. Perhaps the greatest challenge was to imagine which serious matter she would want to discuss.
Caroline had made herself comfortable and she had been waiting for half an hour -- in case he was early -- when Colonel Fitzwilliam slid into the room upon the second chime of the clock. "Punctual," she praised him, taking in his appearance to see if he had changed since she had seen him last. He had not. She was not inclined to think of him very favourably, however, what with his picnic suggestion and his inability to handle the delicate situation with Georgiana.
"You requested my services, Miss Bingley?" he inquired formally, but with a raise of the eyebrows.
"I do not know if your services are that much of a help, considering that Darcy requested them and you failed him," she said sharply.
"I beg your pardon?" One did not usually get invited over by pretty ladies only to be criticised. It was a bit confusing.
Caroline decided not to wait. "Were you not to make sure no harm befell your cousin Georgiana?"
The Colonel's expression changed. He sat down and looked at her inquisitively. "Has any harm befallen her? Your words seem to suggest so."
She handed him Georgiana's letter so he could judge for himself.
He read it attentively. Upon his first reading he did not yet see any harm in the situation, but when he read it again to see what Miss Bingley was distraught about, he began to understand that this could be a very bad thing indeed.
He turned over the letter. There was another thing he did not quite understand yet. "But this is addressed to Darcy. How did you come to be in possession of it?" He had never known his cousin to be so trusting of other people that he would confide in a person outside his family. This was a matter of great importance to the family, not something he would have guessed Darcy to involve Miss Bingley in.
"I am his hostess. It is my duty to ensure my guests remain sane," she said proudly. He had better not find fault with that. She was convinced that she had done the right thing.
Fitzwilliam frowned. "You took it from him?" It would make sense that Darcy had not told her voluntarily, but he could not see how Darcy could have allowed her to take the letter.
"I took it before he could see it," she explained. "You see, he has been in such a bad state that I thought this news would only lead to a regression, just when he was beginning to recover."
"Are you..." He was not sure what he wanted to ask her precisely. What had moved her? "Was it really this bad or are you merely concerned about him?"
"Am I imagining things because I wish I could be of use to him, you mean?" she asked with some bitterness.
"Well, it does happen..." the Colonel said defensively.
"I know it happens." She had been guilty of wanting to help him for a while. While she still wanted to help Darcy a little, she was more interested now in helping Georgiana. "But I assure you that even you would have been concerned about him had you seen him. There is a small difference between wanting to help someone and not wanting to contribute to his ruin."
He inclined his head a little. "Granted. I shall have to take your word for it. Why have you called for me?"
"You obviously messed up," she stated.
He wondered how she could say that with such absolute conviction when she did not know anything about it. "I did?"
"How could you let her go to France? Did you know anything about it?"
"I did not." With some guilt he tried to remember when he had last visited Georgiana. It was already a while ago. She had been able to leave without anyone knowing.
"But was it not your duty to look out for her?"
"She is a married woman. There is only so much looking out that I can do."
"Darcy thinks he can depend on you."
"I tried."
"Not hard enough."
Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed. "Look, Miss Bingley...I have tried to talk to my cousin many times, but all I succeeded in doing was making her angry with me."
"I can understand that," she inserted snappily.
He glared at her. "I have even called in the aid of my aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, because I felt a woman would be of more use than a man."
Finally he said something sensible. Caroline nodded. "And then?"
"She ran into the same problems. We could not talk to Georgiana about Wickham without her accusing us of being prejudiced against him, of hating her, of not accepting her choice. It does become tiresome after a few times. Can you blame me for giving up and placing the matter entirely in the hands of my aunt?"
"I think you merely preferred a carefree life, Colonel. You are not interested in other people's troubles if you cannot derive any pleasure from them."
"That is a very bold statement for someone who does not know me."
"I know enough about you."
"How?"
"From the fact that you wished to meet at an obscure spot in the countryside, perhaps?"
The Colonel closed his eyes. "May I remind you that it was you who first suggested a discreet meeting?"
"For serious purposes. I suggest we return to our topic. What can we do about Georgiana? Or is it too troublesome for you to think about? Do you not care about your cousin?"
"I care about my cousin."
"Well then. When will you get her back?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at her in amazement. It was a preposterous suggestion. He started to pace the room, stopping to stare into the fire reflectively. She was perhaps right, although he would never say so. He had perhaps given up too easily and it might indeed be his fault that Georgiana had managed to get away to France without anyone being aware of it. Georgiana would not be helped the slightest bit if he started to quibble about this matter with Miss Bingley. He turned around and looked at her, suspecting that she had been staring at him all the while. "May I ask why you suggest that I go to France?"
"Because you are well-travelled and trained in such tactics as might possibly be required," she replied readily, wondering if he was coming around to see her point of view.
"Not because you think it was my neglect that caused this?"
She wondered if he felt any guilt. If he did, there was no point in making him feel more. "No. I have to remember it, however, to account for a possible refusal."
"I see." Colonel Fitzwilliam turned back to look into the fire. "So you believe that I might refuse because I do not care enough?"
"That might be possible."
"What if I told you I cared and I still refused?" He was curious what she would say to that.
She would not necessarily believe him in such a case. "Then I would ask you to explain your motives."
"Should I, to someone who does not belong to our family?"
"That is for you to decide. I care about your cousin. I believe that if I have the power to do something about her situation I should not stand idly by, but I should use it, even though I may not belong to your family," Caroline said quietly. "If her own family prevent me from acting, I cannot blame myself for not having tried."
He sat down again. "If the girl herself prevents us from acting, we cannot blame ourselves for not having tried either. Do you see my point, Miss Bingley?" He gazed at her very earnestly. "You would say we gave up too soon. We would say Georgiana might be bringing this all onto herself because she refuses to cooperate."
Caroline looked down at her hands. She clasped them together. "Yes, I would say you gave up too soon. You cannot be wishing for her to be ruined. I do not understand."
"Separating her from her husband will only make her hate us forever, because it will have happened before she has come to realise what an utter --" he stopped himself. "What a sort of man he is. We could tell her, but she would not believe us. The only way is to let her experience it, as hard as it might be."
"That is cruel," she said softly, feeling shocked.
"It is," he admitted. "But we have no choice."
"But nothing good could come out of this trip to France. She might not even return."
"We have to let her deal with it as the grown woman she believes she is."
That was so cold-hearted. "I still say someone should go to France to see how she is doing and to talk her into coming back."
"She will not come back if her husband has to remain there," Fitzwilliam predicted.
"Surely he cannot be wanting her there!" Caroline exclaimed. "He would think it a nuisance to have her around him at all times." He would need time and freedom to engage in vicious activities.
He shrugged. "That is very likely. However, it is not for us to interfere. If he has had enough of her I am sure he would have enough powers of persuasion to send her home. After all, he was persuasive enough to make her fall for him. And, like I said, if we interfered before Wickham has misbehaved Georgiana will have a grudge against us forever."
"Then you will not go to France?"
"No."
"Then I will," she decided, frightening herself a little. The absolute horror with which Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at her also frightened her.
"Do you care for him that much?" he asked.
"Him?"
"Darcy," he clarified.
"No. I am doing this for his sister." Her lower lip trembled and she bit on it. She did not care for Darcy anymore, only as a friend. However, if she did not do this for his sister, she would feel as though she were harbouring resentment against him for not loving her.
"You would be going to great lengths for the sister of a...friend." He looked at her searchingly.
Caroline was afraid of his inspection. She looked away. "He is no more than a friend to me, I assure you."
"Something is not right," the Colonel finally concluded. "I cannot put my finger on it." There was enough sadness in her tone to make him believe that Darcy was indeed no more than a friend, but it did not explain why she would go to France to rescue Georgiana. Perhaps she wished to be more than Darcy's friend, but he would have expected her to remain at Netherfield to comfort him.
"There is no need to," she replied sharply. "I shall go to France regardless of whether you know why." It frightened her, but she could not go back on her word now.
"Do you think this will make him love you?" the Colonel asked quietly. He had heard of stranger schemes, but they did not often work. It would be ironic that someone might have to set out to save Miss Bingley when she was out to save someone else.
She coloured in embarrassed anger. "No, that is not my objective."
As unbelievable as it might be, something in her voice made him think she was not lying about that. This was intriguing. "Then what is?"
"I am doing this for myself and for Georgiana. Is it so hard to believe I could be genuinely concerned about another person without wanting anything in return?"
"From what I have heard of you, yes," he said frankly. "So this is merely a personal pilgrimage?" It was an interesting image, Miss Bingley on a personal pilgrimage against selfishness.
"You could say that." She was still embarrassingly red and she pressed one hand to her hot cheeks, speaking with as much dignity as possible to make up for her undignified appearance.
"That is something I would like to see," he could not help blurting out.
"That proves my point. You are only willing to do things that give you pleasure."
"I am not sure it would give me any pleasure to accompany you. Are you good company? A woman on a mission is never good company."
"I should not want you to keep me company either."
"That settles it then." Some serious matters were decided after very little thought, he reflected. But perhaps that was because the course to follow was so glaringly obvious.
"How?" Caroline looked confused.
"It will be my personal pilgrimage to suffer your company while doing the unselfish thing for my cousin." The Colonel pulled a martyr-like face.
"How would this be a pilgrimage for you?" she questioned. She supposed he would mock her at every opportunity. He would have the time of his life.
"You suspect me of liking ladies too much, do you not?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, then. Would it not be a punishment for me to travel with one who is so decided against me?" he asked cleverly. "It would require me to feel humbled at all times and I might return a better man."
Caroline made an inarticulate sound of incredulity as she looked back at him, letting his words sink in.
Chapter 12
Caroline had written a short note to her brother, informing him that she would not return to the Netherfield. She had invented a stay with a friend for that purpose, knowing that Charles would not have kept track of who her friends were anyway. It might not fool Louisa, perhaps, but that was a risk she had to take. Anyway, there was not much her sister could do if she suspected anything. She would be long gone and without a trace, she hoped.
She did make sure, though, that Colonel Fitzwilliam did not tell anybody that he was going to France, much less that he was going on a trip with a woman who planned to take on his name as soon as she set foot on French soil.
They had discussed this part of the plan and it had seemed best to both of them to pretend to be married rather than a pair of friends, because they would undoubtedly be suspected of being a pair of illicit lovers.
"I hope you have arranged a good boat," was the first thing Caroline said when she met Colonel Fitzwilliam in Dover. The waves were such that she feared she would never reach the Continent. It was cold too. She had no wish to arrive in France all frozen and soaked. To be truthful she did not know what else to say. She supposed a more polite greeting would have been in order, but she was highly embarrassed to be here in the first place, as well as very anxious and afraid of what awaited her on her trip.
"It cost me very little," he answered, noting with some disapproval that her hooded cloak pointed all too dramatically to an elopement, the way it obscured her hair and face. What had she been reading? What plays had she been seeing? He reached out and pushed back her hood.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, feeling vulnerable and revealed.
"Let us not overdo it," he said softly. "In case someone is watching, he would find it only natural for me to wish to see more of you." This was supposed to be his wife, after all, or in any case a woman he was so familiar with that he dared to take her to France in plain daylight.
"And who is overdoing it now?"
"Not me."
"So it is me?"
"That cloak...it just screams elopement." And elopement in a very bad play at that.
"I am not eloping," Caroline protested primly.
"So take off the hood."
"You could have met me inside. Now we are standing in full view," Caroline pointed out. "In broad daylight." Everyone could see her.
"That is done on purpose. What with the many couples with hooded cloaks who meet here after sunset..." He shrugged. "People will forget us if there is nothing memorable. Besides, no one has heard us speak. No one knows our names. They would have, had we met inside."
"Have you done this before?" she inquired, curious about his knowledge of such matters. She wondered if it was experience or common sense.
"Of course," he grinned, taking her arm and leading her to the quay.
She did not know whether to believe that. Perhaps she should make some effort and not believe it. It would not do to antagonise him already before they left. In all likeliness he was exaggerating so she would react. She would not give him that amusement.
"How," Caroline asked when she was safely seated, "can this tiny boat take us across the Channel?" She was a little afraid. Naturally she had been to France and Italy before, but that had been on a much larger ship. With this one it seemed as if waves might roll over the deck any minute and it rocked back and forth worryingly. And that was disregarding the absolute squalor and disrepair on board. She had bit back comments about it, because the crew should not remember them, but now they were alone she could no longer be silent.
"It does so every day," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. It had been cheap, but respectable enough. If Caroline thought this was bad, she ought to take a look around the harbour. "Have something to eat and do not think about it." He indicated the basket of food on the small table.
"I am sure I cannot eat." She would become nauseous.
"Then sleep." He stretched out on a scruffy berth himself.
"Bah," Caroline guffawed. "No." This was such a cheap boat that there was only one cabin for passengers, one they had to share. There had been none of that gentlemanly sacrificing. The Colonel had not suggested that she take the cabin while he sat on deck. She had not known they could lie down. She had expected them to sit. "Do you mean I should take the upper berth?" she asked.
"But you do not want to sleep."
"I might." And if she did, she was certainly not going to go through any trouble trying to climb up only to fall off with the next high wave.
"In which case you would want the bottom one," he deduced.
"Very perceptive of you. I cannot believe this is all you could spend on a vessel." Caroline did not even want to look around herself to find more faults.
"It was not." Colonel Fitzwilliam hoisted himself onto the top bunk with ease. He was generous today. "But why spend all our money on this crossing when we might need it further on? As long as it sails any boat is good enough."
"Are you sure the linen is clean?" she asked, staring at it suspiciously.
"I just lay on it. Probably not."
"I meant --" Then she decided he was not worth devoting any explanations to. She sat down on the berth. "Are there any...mice?" she asked when she heard rustling.
"Rats, maybe," he said indifferently. There were always undesirable consequences of travelling cheap. He had wisely not informed Caroline about any of them.
She shuddered, finding herself too close to the floor to be safe. "Can we...switch beds? I insist that we switch. I hate this. Why am I doing this?" She stood up again and stamped her foot. "Take me away from here! I want to get off board."
"Too late. You wanted to rescue Georgiana. Would you really allow a small rat to thwart you?" He had to know how firm her intention was.
"A small rat? You speak as if it is nothing!" But he was speaking to her conscience now. Of course she would not be thwarted -- by nothing.
Fitzwilliam sat up and extended his hand when he noticed a certain setting of her jaw. The lady would not give up. That was a good sign.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Take it."
"And what will you do with it?" she asked, highly suspicious, not giving him her hand.
"I will use it to pull you up to a safe position." He did what he promised and dragged her onto the top berth, which was harder than he had envisaged, but he was enough of a gentleman not to comment on a woman's weight.
"This is all highly unusual," Caroline said with a heightened colour. She wondered if she did not prefer the rats to sitting on a bed with the Colonel. All this had not been part of their discussions and preparations. This practical side had been left completely out of it.
"It is," he agreed, clasping his arms around his knees and staring at the opposite wall.
"I cannot be at ease," Caroline huffed. His calmness annoyed her. She was sure he did it on purpose.
"If you cannot be at ease now, Miss Bingley, Mrs Fitzwilliam will not catch a wink during our journey," he said in the same calm and patient voice.
"Do you have to call me that?" she shuddered again, even though they had discussed this beforehand. Then she wondered why she would not catch a wink. That was something they had not discussed. "Why not?"
The Colonel glanced sideways. "Surely I do not have to explain that to you." He wondered why she asked.
She frowned and felt helpless. " You do," she said in a small voice, hating herself for it. She did not like to give him opportunities to make fun of her.
"It is not wise to be separated from me at any time and most certainly not during the night. I thought," he said when this seemed to shock her, "that you had understood this."
"N-N-Not quite."
"We shall not travel in style."
She looked around herself. "Will it all be like this?" She did not know if she could continue in that case. It would be a journey of horrors. She was not used to such poverty and inconvenience.
"No, it will not all be like this. I shall do my best to find better accommodation to spend the night in, but I thought that for a daylight crossing it would not matter much." Apparently he would have to be careful in the future. She would be complaining all night and she would not sleep, so she would be complaining all day as well. It was not something to look forward to.
"Why is it not wise to be separated from you? I speak French."
He would almost laugh at that, if the topic had not been so serious. "I doubt that would matter to anyone with bad intentions. No, you must stay with me. I have travelled."
"So have I."
"No, your entourage has travelled around you so that in fact you were not displaced. You have not really travelled." Servants would have made sure her journey was comfortable. There would not have been any hardships.
"Is travelling equal to spending the night in sordid flea-infested places?" Caroline wrinkled up her nose.
"More or less," the Colonel replied in amusement. "But for my own comfort I shall try to find better accommodation. We still have a long way to go. But," he resumed, "it is best not to be separated."
"But at night....I should like to be separated from you at night. Otherwise I cannot sleep." She spoke a little anxiously, fearing his opinion was going to be the opposite.
"I thought that we had decided that we would pretend to be married," he said, staring at her. "In some accommodations it might not be possible or advisable to sleep in another room." Her obtuseness puzzled him.
"I had not realised that. Perhaps I should reconsider." She realised furthermore that the Colonel had taken charge. He was not at all standing idly by, laughing at her while she was making inadequate arrangements. She had not even been given the opportunity to do so and because of her inexperience she had not even noticed. Perhaps the Colonel might be useful and not as annoying as she had at first feared. "Or not." He would mock her if she reconsidered.
"Go back?" He raised his eyebrows.
She reconsidered reconsidering. Yes, he would mock her. "I wonder if I really know what I am doing," she said doubtfully. How could she go on doing something if she did not even know what she was doing?
"Yes, I wonder that too."
"I am ruining my reputation to save Georgiana's. Is that stupid or is that laudable?"
"I would say laudable if I were not the one protecting your reputation. I could hardly praise you for accusing me of ruining your reputation."
He confused her. "So what are you thinking?"
"Nothing. I just came along for the laughs." That was all he wanted to say on the subject and she soon stopped pressing him.
Chapter Thirteen
The raw French of the common people was vastly different from the elegant language spoken in the drawing rooms of the polished society. Caroline had trouble following it. She was glad they were not speaking to her, but to each other. Then they said something to her, but she did not understand it.
"It is best," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had observed her blank looks upon being spoken to. They could now speak freely because they were seated in the carriage Caroline had insisted on hiring. He could have told her it would be much easier to let him handle it, but she had insisted and so he had not interfered. It gave him a good idea of her French skills too -- they were useless. Undoubtedly she could converse tolerably well with a sophisticated Parisienne, but a country coachman was en entirely different thing. "That we behave as though we are not too refined --"
Caroline merely raised her eyebrows. He was certainly bold, implying that he was refined.
"On the one had, being refined opens doors, but on the other, it might have all sorts of negative consequences," he finished, correctly interpreting her look. "So perhaps, despite your doubtless proficiency in French, you ought to say as little as possible."
"Do I sound refined then?"
"I do not know what you wish to hear, so I shall be diplomatic and silent."
Caroline resented the implication that she was stupid. He knew her from what others had told him about her and from their short deliberations in London. That was all. One was not even first-hand knowledge. "May I remind you that you practically know me only from our correspondence --"
It was the Colonel's turn to raise his eyebrows now. He had thought he was being polite, but the lady's reaction indicated otherwise. Women were truly incomprehensible creatures at times. "Your scandalous little missive suggesting a discreet tête-à-tête?" Correspondence was too flattering a term for it.
She gave him a haughty look. "You do not know me at all well. You cannot know me."
"It follows," he said politely, "that you cannot know me either and that therefore you cannot make any assumptions about my intentions."
"I know you," she said immediately.
"How could you know me and not allow me to know you? I find that very curious." Since they had a very long stretch of road ahead of them, he settled himself as comfortably as possible, preparing to discuss the subject at length. He was not afraid she would not like it -- she had very little choice but to listen and unless she offered a topic of her own, this would be what they would talk about, whether she liked it or not.
She turned her head towards him. "From your written reply to me I knew all there was to know."
"I have to protest against this compliment. I do not write well enough to be able to convey all the intricacies of my character in merely a few lines," the Colonel said in a pleasant tone.
Caroline looked out of the window. "It was hardly a compliment."
It then followed that his character was not perceived as intricate. "For a simple person I am giving you quite a lot of trouble, am I not?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked sympathetically.
"I know you think I am all that is silly and stupid," she muttered. "But I wish that you would keep it to yourself. There is something really unpleasant about always being confronted with it."
"What is the fun in keeping something funny to myself?" the Colonel wondered in genuine surprise.
"Funny?"
"I shall humour you then and discuss only serious matters. For instance, what shall we do if we find Georgiana unwilling to contemplate a return?" The trip was going to be long. He would have other opportunities, perhaps not even before five miles had passed.
"I hope we shall find her reasonable."
"But your tone conveys your doubt," he assessed.
"It was not, in my opinion, a very reasonable thing to do, to go to France."
"For her or for you?" Fitzwilliam interrupted quickly. The opportunities he was given were marvellous.
Caroline sighed. This was going to be a long journey and perhaps she would do well to become less sensitive to his remarks, for he was only out to tease. "For her."
"Help me to understand the female mind," he said, as futile as his request might be. If females were incomprehensible to some degree, he was sitting here with the worst of them all. "Had you been young and unreasonable, what would you have done and why?"
She looked out of the window pensively. "Had I been swayed by the charms of someone like Wickham, you mean? Had I been under his spell sufficiently enough to elope with him?" She thought about it and was not sure it could happen. She would have seen through him. Besides, there was nothing attractive about the man. Unconsciously she shuddered.
He kept a close eye on her. "Yes."
"I am sure it would not further the discussion in any way if I said I could not imagine it, so I will merely stress that it is absolutely unthinkable that this could have happened to me. Assuming that I was a different person -- but how could I give you my opinion if I am a different person?" She looked confused.
"I want you to put yourself in the place of a young girl. Imagine that you are the type. Imagine that you had been under his spell. What would you have done?"
"I might have followed him," Caroline said hesitantly. "As I would likely have believed in romantic nonsense."
"Something you do not believe in now?"
"What I believe now is of no consequence, but if you must know, I think it would be silly to believe in it."
"Would you not have cared about your brother's opinion?" Georgiana did not seem to have cared about Darcy's. She had left without contacting him.
"Not at all," she replied. "What could he know of love? I should have thought myself a better authority on the subject. I would perhaps also have had a little bit of that contrariness and think that only I could know what was best."
Colonel Fitzwilliam thought it was highly likely that she would have had a little bit of that contrariness, considering that she had more than a little bit of it still, but he said nothing.
"Love makes one very silly."
He would have to agree with her there. "Indeed."
"It makes one do very strange things that generally have the opposite effect of what one strove for." She spoke somewhat wistfully.
"Indeed. I must say that I have observed this rather than experienced it," he was eager to add.
"For you have of course never been in love."
"Not in such a way that it ever led to anything," he said evasively.
"Even those ways might hurt," she said bitterly and then regretted her words, because it was not related to the topic at all.
He was gentleman enough to ignore that. She could never be wanting to clarify that and he knew enough of ladies to know that if they absolutely wished to share any information, they would. "But, if one is inclined to do silly things, could one of them involve following one's husband to France?"
"Certainly. I think she would have sensed that Darcy was opposed to the match and that he was not the one to turn to if she felt any pain or hurt.."
"And the more relatives are opposed, the sillier a girl is going to be?" The more Darcy had been told to get married, the more stubborn he had become about not wanting to. Fitzwilliam could see some similarities with Georgiana.
"She would want to be with her husband if she loved him. We know he is a cad, but she would not see that. She would love him, I suppose. He probably does things that would make her love him," Caroline surmised.
"What could such things be?" Colonel Fitzwilliam very often noticed he was loved by ladies without doing anything special. While he was not yet trying to make any lady love him, it might be useful knowledge at some point.
Caroline looked disturbed. "Do not pry." If she had to be truthful he was not really prying, but she was merely loath to reveal her feelings on this matter. A bitter grimace passed over her face. Answering him would only remind her of what she would never have because it was an illusion. People who married only deluded themselves -- like Georgiana.
"Pry?" He failed to understand that. How was he prying? He was only asking an innocent question.
"Do not pry into my deepest thoughts because they are not relevant to the situation at hand."
"You are having the greatest trouble imagining yourself in another person's place," he said in wonder. He could, to some extent, place even himself in Georgiana's position and he was not even a woman. It should be easier for women, he thought, unless they were completely selfish, but why was she here is she was selfish?
Caroline was afraid he would misunderstand her character if she showed too great an ability to do so. "I cannot help that."
"So much for our tries to second-guess Georgiana then. I can only imagine that if she has gone all the way to France, she must be under some grave misapprehensions that might also prevent her from seeing enough reason to come back with us. Or were you merely thinking of finding her to see if she is not being duped by Wickham? Just for your peace of mind?"
He was being confrontational on purpose, asking her all those questions to which she could not give very good answers. "I should be surprised if she was not being duped, but until I know for certain, I do not know if I could live with the idea of not going there to find out. Suppose she is a victim, would it not be completely heartless of me to let her suffer? I have always been fond of her as a young friend." The age difference had perhaps not offered too many opportunities to show this and neither had Caroline's focus on Darcy allowed her much time to really converse with his sister.
"Would you come to my rescue if I was being duped by a woman?"
"Only if you were a friend of mine." She would not do anyone else the favour.
"Miss Bingley has a conscience," the Colonel remarked. "I am pleased to hear it." She seemed to go to great lengths for friends who were not even very close friends. He was still suspecting she was doing it for Darcy, though.
"Why? What is it to you?"
"Suppose I got snared by a French woman on our way, I find it reassuring to discover that your conscience would protect me."
"I am essentially a selfish creature," she warned him. People had said so often enough. She had accepted it as a possibility.
"Then I shall hope that by that time I will have made myself so indispensable to you that it would be in your selfish interests to help me." He sat back and let that sink in, watching the green countryside roll past very slowly. They had made good time, but quite frankly he wondered if they could catch up with Georgiana before she was beyond France. He somehow did not think Miss Bingley would want to go that far.
Chapter 14
Colonel Fitzwilliam had chosen a respectable-looking inn to spend the night. He had stayed there years before and he was pleased to note nothing seemed to have changed inside. The proprietor of the inn was most accommodating to le colonel Anglais et sa femme and put them in one of his larger rooms. Madame must needs be very fatiguée by this trip, an assumption Fitzwilliam did not care to correct. It would come in useful, as they would be less likely to be disturbed.
They had eaten in one of the dining rooms below, but Fitzwilliam had soon suggested that they retire. Caroline had not known for what reason. Upstairs in their room, he did nothing but study maps. "Can we not make some conversation?" she asked in exasperation, not having brought anything to occupy herself with.
Colonel Fitzwilliam laid his maps aside. "Certainly. Fire away."
"Where are we going next? Do you not think you ought to tell me?"
"I was studying the maps purely for my own amusement. I was going to give them to you later so you could plan our route."
"Me? Why do I have to do that?" Caroline asked. She had no idea how to read maps, much less to plan a journey. She knew her geography, but road maps were an entirely different thing. If she could not see all of the Continent, how would she know which side of the map was north? She assumed it would be the top, but one could not always be sure of that.
"You are our leader, Madam. I merely follow your orders," the Colonel said formally.
"That is not true." He had been leading them up till now. She had done very little, except for giving her permission to stay here -- not that she knew what would have happened had she not given it. They might have stayed here all the same.
"Whose wish was it to go after Georgiana?" He held out the map to her.
Caroline left her seat at the table and walked over to the bed where he had been spreading out the map. Before this, she had deliberately avoided looking at the bed. That something to deal with when bedtime came around, not before. "I do not know how to read a map."
"Then it is time you learnt." He was surprised at her willingness to look at it. That made him quite willing to explain things, should she be interested in learning. "You have been taught your geography, I take it?"
"Of course, but my teachers did not assume I would be left to my own devices in the middle of nowhere." They would have assumed that there were coachmen planning the route. She only knew where things were, not how to get to them. Thinking that, she realised that knowing one thing would automatically lead to the other, but it was a novel realisation that she dared not explore fully yet.
"You are not left to your own devices and we are not yet in the middle of anything. We are in the north of France."
"I knew that." Caroline sat down on the bed. "So where are we?" She hoped he would not reply that they were in the north of France. She did not mean that.
Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed his finger on the map. "We are here."
"That is really close to England. We have not travelled much in all that time," Caroline observed. She could not see England, but she could see the sea and that was where they had come from, she presumed.
"We do not travel very fast, but our consolation is that a regiment does not travel much faster than we do."
"Why not?"
"Because I hope so."
That was not helpful. "Are you actually reassuring me with untruths?"
"Yes. Are you terribly disappointed?" He looked at how she studied the map. "At least you have the right side of the map up."
"Had you expected me to read it upside down?" It was of no consequence that she had expected to do that too. She would never tell him that. He would only make fun of her.
"I did not know what to expect. However, after this trip I expect no less than the best from you. You will be able to read it perfectly." Fitzwilliam sat cross-legged and rested his elbows on his knees. "Show me where we will go next."
"How...how would I know?" Caroline protested. Not all of France could be seen on the map. "I assume we go this way." She pointed south -- or at least she assumed it was south. "But how would I know it was a good road?"
"The coachmen will know."
She looked up from the map indignantly. "Then why are you asking me!"
"It is always good to have a back-up." He had to smile at her face. "In case we come to be without a coachman at some point."
"Will we? I thought we had money enough between the two of us." She had never worried about this before, but he made her reflect on it now. What would happen if they ran out of money? The journey might be longer than they had envisaged and it might cost more. There were so many things she did not know. How much did it cost to travel?
"We should have enough, but I do not know what will happen if you see pretty bonnets along the way."
"Perhaps you would not believe me if I said I am quite capable of restraining myself in that regard." She held her chin up with dignity. Perhaps she had spoken too soon and she would succumb to something along the way, but now that she had said this, she would try to stick to it. It would be difficult, though.
"I shall not tempt you by pointing anything out," the Colonel promised.
"It is not likely that you would be capable of pointing out anything worthwhile anyway."
"I have sisters."
"I am so happy for you." Caroline returned her attention to the map. They had some funny place names in France. "Where is Paris?"
Fitzwilliam pointed at Paris. "It is not on our way. Perhaps when we return I shall be good to you and travel through Paris." But he rather feared that by the time they were on their way back, they would be so sick of travelling that they only wanted to get back home as soon as possible.
"How extremely kind of you." She held her hand to her mouth to hide a yawn. "I am tired."
"I shall move to the table so you can have the bed." With a quick movement he had closed the curtains around the bed.
"Now it is dark," she complained.
"Yes, but I shall not be able to see you."
Caroline wondered if he could keep that up until Spain. She knew she ought to want that, but there were disadvantages to everything. Darkness was one of them.
"There you are again," Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked with more curiosity than he felt when she appeared from behind the curtains. Somehow he had known she would not stay behind them too long.
"It would be useful if I had my night gown." It would also have been useful if she had unpacked her trunk, but her maid usually did that for her. Now she would have to go and find it.
The Colonel wisely said nothing to that. This was only the first of many more temptations to come. He could not already give in in the beginning. He should perhaps try to remain strong for as long as possible.
"As you may have guessed, I usually travel with a maid," she said by way of explanation, feeling a little embarrassed to be caught rummaging through her trunk.
"And now you travel with a man who..." he paused and reconsidered, "...does not unpack your trunks for you."
"After this trip I expect no less than the best from you," she countered. "You will be able to unpack them perfectly."
"Oh dear."
"Well...?"
He stared at her. "You do not really expect me to assist you, do you?"
"Actually, yes."
He took a moment to think about that. "How far may my assistance go?" Perhaps there were advantages to making himself useful.
"Not that far," she said sharply, feeling proud of her timely insight into the male character.
"What is the use of unpacking if we are to pack it again tomorrow morning?"
"Practice. Gaining experience." She had to say that, not wanting to admit that she had not thought of the fact that she would have to repack it in the morning. He was right, of course. Things had better stay packed.
He rolled his eyes, but he had to confess he was curious. It was not often that a woman offered him free access to her trunk. Perhaps he should bring that up and let her have second thoughts about him helping her. The idea might scare her. "I do not often get any glimpses into a woman's most personal belongings," he said.
"Well..." Caroline said slowly as she extracted a night gown and held it up for him to see. "I do not understand how you could get excited by the sight of a folded night gown." Perhaps she should stop speaking to him altogether. She was feeling some danger, but every time she tried to get away from it, she only felt the danger increase.
"I am not coming to look," he told her and began to jot down calculations on a piece of paper. Someone would have to think of times, distances and costs. "I am working. Someone should keep his eyes on the figures." Then he groaned. He was trying to keep his eyes off figures, was he not?
For at least fifteen minutes he worked in peace. Then he was disturbed again. Caroline stuck her head out of the curtains. "I am not at all happy with the situation."
"What is it this time?" Fitzwilliam said wearily. He began to long for bed too, yet he supposed he would have to give her some time to get settled in decently. He would have to suppress any fatigue for gentlemanly reasons.
"The situation." Her cheeks were red, but it was too dark to see that.
"Er...ought that to enlighten me?" He laid down his pencil and paper. He was too tired to play an interrogating game.
"About the bed. There is only one bed." She had been thinking she would be able to handle this, but after a while in the bed she thought she had been too optimistic. It was one thing to wave folded night gowns about, but quite another to share a bed. The former was exciting, but the latter was an absolute nightmare.
"I had noticed."
"But you do not seem unduly concerned." Her voice rose slightly.
"Well observed." He decided she was pretty slow in realising some matters, such as that there was only one bed. Perhaps if he got undressed she would not realise it until he was done. He started on his buttons. It would save time.
Chapter Fourteen
Colonel Fitzwilliam had chosen a respectable-looking inn to spend the night. He had stayed there years before and he was pleased to note nothing seemed to have changed inside. The proprietor of the inn was most accommodating to le colonel Anglais et sa femme and put them in one of his larger rooms. Madame must needs be very fatiguée by this trip, an assumption Fitzwilliam did not care to correct. It would come in useful, as they would be less likely to be disturbed.
They had eaten in one of the dining rooms below, but Fitzwilliam had soon suggested that they retire. Caroline had not known for what reason. Upstairs in their room, he did nothing but study maps. "Can we not make some conversation?" she asked in exasperation, not having brought anything to occupy herself with.
Colonel Fitzwilliam laid his maps aside. "Certainly. Fire away."
"Where are we going next? Do you not think you ought to tell me?"
"I was studying the maps purely for my own amusement. I was going to give them to you later so you could plan our route."
"Me? Why do I have to do that?" Caroline asked. She had no idea how to read maps, much less to plan a journey. She knew her geography, but road maps were an entirely different thing. If she could not see all of the Continent, how would she know which side of the map was north? She assumed it would be the top, but one could not always be sure of that.
"You are our leader, Madam. I merely follow your orders," the Colonel said formally.
"That is not true." He had been leading them up till now. She had done very little, except for giving her permission to stay here -- not that she knew what would have happened had she not given it. They might have stayed here all the same.
"Whose wish was it to go after Georgiana?" He held out the map to her.
Caroline left her seat at the table and walked over to the bed where he had been spreading out the map. Before this, she had deliberately avoided looking at the bed. That something to deal with when bedtime came around, not before. "I do not know how to read a map."
"Then it is time you learnt." He was surprised at her willingness to look at it. That made him quite willing to explain things, should she be interested in learning. "You have been taught your geography, I take it?"
"Of course, but my teachers did not assume I would be left to my own devices in the middle of nowhere." They would have assumed that there were coachmen planning the route. She only knew where things were, not how to get to them. Thinking that, she realised that knowing one thing would automatically lead to the other, but it was a novel realisation that she dared not explore fully yet.
"You are not left to your own devices and we are not yet in the middle of anything. We are in the north of France."
"I knew that." Caroline sat down on the bed. "So where are we?" She hoped he would not reply that they were in the north of France. She did not mean that.
Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed his finger on the map. "We are here."
"That is really close to England. We have not travelled much in all that time," Caroline observed. She could not see England, but she could see the sea and that was where they had come from, she presumed.
"We do not travel very fast, but our consolation is that a regiment does not travel much faster than we do."
"Why not?"
"Because I hope so."
That was not helpful. "Are you actually reassuring me with untruths?"
"Yes. Are you terribly disappointed?" He looked at how she studied the map. "At least you have the right side of the map up."
"Had you expected me to read it upside down?" It was of no consequence that she had expected to do that too. She would never tell him that. He would only make fun of her.
"I did not know what to expect. However, after this trip I expect no less than the best from you. You will be able to read it perfectly." Fitzwilliam sat cross-legged and rested his elbows on his knees. "Show me where we will go next."
"How...how would I know?" Caroline protested. Not all of France could be seen on the map. "I assume we go this way." She pointed south -- or at least she assumed it was south. "But how would I know it was a good road?"
"The coachmen will know."
She looked up from the map indignantly. "Then why are you asking me!"
"It is always good to have a back-up." He had to smile at her face. "In case we come to be without a coachman at some point."
"Will we? I thought we had money enough between the two of us." She had never worried about this before, but he made her reflect on it now. What would happen if they ran out of money? The journey might be longer than they had envisaged and it might cost more. There were so many things she did not know. How much did it cost to travel?
"We should have enough, but I do not know what will happen if you see pretty bonnets along the way."
"Perhaps you would not believe me if I said I am quite capable of restraining myself in that regard." She held her chin up with dignity. Perhaps she had spoken too soon and she would succumb to something along the way, but now that she had said this, she would try to stick to it. It would be difficult, though.
"I shall not tempt you by pointing anything out," the Colonel promised.
"It is not likely that you would be capable of pointing out anything worthwhile anyway."
"I have sisters."
"I am so happy for you." Caroline returned her attention to the map. They had some funny place names in France. "Where is Paris?"
Fitzwilliam pointed at Paris. "It is not on our way. Perhaps when we return I shall be good to you and travel through Paris." But he rather feared that by the time they were on their way back, they would be so sick of travelling that they only wanted to get back home as soon as possible.
"How extremely kind of you." She held her hand to her mouth to hide a yawn. "I am tired."
"I shall move to the table so you can have the bed." With a quick movement he had closed the curtains around the bed.
"Now it is dark," she complained.
"Yes, but I shall not be able to see you."
Caroline wondered if he could keep that up until Spain. She knew she ought to want that, but there were disadvantages to everything. Darkness was one of them.
"There you are again," Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked with more curiosity than he felt when she appeared from behind the curtains. Somehow he had known she would not stay behind them too long.
"It would be useful if I had my night gown." It would also have been useful if she had unpacked her trunk, but her maid usually did that for her. Now she would have to go and find it.
The Colonel wisely said nothing to that. This was only the first of many more temptations to come. He could not already give in in the beginning. He should perhaps try to remain strong for as long as possible.
"As you may have guessed, I usually travel with a maid," she said by way of explanation, feeling a little embarrassed to be caught rummaging through her trunk.
"And now you travel with a man who..." he paused and reconsidered, "...does not unpack your trunks for you."
"After this trip I expect no less than the best from you," she countered. "You will be able to unpack them perfectly."
"Oh dear."
"Well...?"
He stared at her. "You do not really expect me to assist you, do you?"
"Actually, yes."
He took a moment to think about that. "How far may my assistance go?" Perhaps there were advantages to making himself useful.
"Not that far," she said sharply, feeling proud of her timely insight into the male character.
"What is the use of unpacking if we are to pack it again tomorrow morning?"
"Practice. Gaining experience." She had to say that, not wanting to admit that she had not thought of the fact that she would have to repack it in the morning. He was right, of course. Things had better stay packed.
He rolled his eyes, but he had to confess he was curious. It was not often that a woman offered him free access to her trunk. Perhaps he should bring that up and let her have second thoughts about him helping her. The idea might scare her. "I do not often get any glimpses into a woman's most personal belongings," he said.
"Well..." Caroline said slowly as she extracted a night gown and held it up for him to see. "I do not understand how you could get excited by the sight of a folded night gown." Perhaps she should stop speaking to him altogether. She was feeling some danger, but every time she tried to get away from it, she only felt the danger increase.
"I am not coming to look," he told her and began to jot down calculations on a piece of paper. Someone would have to think of times, distances and costs. "I am working. Someone should keep his eyes on the figures." Then he groaned. He was trying to keep his eyes off figures, was he not?
For at least fifteen minutes he worked in peace. Then he was disturbed again. Caroline stuck her head out of the curtains. "I am not at all happy with the situation."
"What is it this time?" Fitzwilliam said wearily. He began to long for bed too, yet he supposed he would have to give her some time to get settled in decently. He would have to suppress any fatigue for gentlemanly reasons.
"The situation." Her cheeks were red, but it was too dark to see that.
"Er...ought that to enlighten me?" He laid down his pencil and paper. He was too tired to play an interrogating game.
"About the bed. There is only one bed." She had been thinking she would be able to handle this, but after a while in the bed she thought she had been too optimistic. It was one thing to wave folded night gowns about, but quite another to share a bed. The former was exciting, but the latter was an absolute nightmare.
"I had noticed."
"But you do not seem unduly concerned." Her voice rose slightly.
"Well observed." He decided she was pretty slow in realising some matters, such as that there was only one bed. Perhaps if he got undressed she would not realise it until he was done. He started on his buttons. It would save time.
Chapter 15
Caroline had tried to ignore Colonel Fitzwilliam and she had succeeded. Her fatigue had ensured that she fell asleep rather quickly, so that she was not plagued by thoughts of him during the night. When she awoke she did at first not even remember him until she opened her eyes and noticed that someone had slept beside her. He was gone now, but it reminded her of the night before when she had pulled the covers over her head in an attempt not to pay attention to him.
She sat up straight, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The curtains were closed around the bed, so she could not look into the room and no one could look into the bed. She wondered what time it was. It was not dark enough, so it was probably light outside. Curiosity prompted her to take a peek through the curtains. "Oh dear Lord!" she exclaimed in a soft, shocked voice and released the curtain. Getting out of bed was going to be a bit of a problem.
Caroline let herself fall backwards onto the bed and drew the covers over her head once more, as if this was going to wipe that image from her mind. This was a troublesome journey.
As if her agitation was not bad enough by itself, the curtain around the bad was pulled open. "You called, Madam?"
A muffled voice came from under the blankets. "Go away! I do not want to see you." Her exclamation had been a reaction to the sight she beheld, not a call for assistance.
"Remain in there and you will not have to," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He looked down at the bulge under the bedclothes. "Good morning to you too, Madam. Did you have a pleasant night?" Her reply was a grunt, but that could mean anything. "I did not catch your answer. Perhaps you should surface."
"I am more at ease here."
"Then I trust your night was pleasant?"
"I did not say that."
"However, you did imply it by saying you were more at ease in bed. I am happy to hear it. Listen. In a few minutes I shall have finished dressing and I shall go downstairs to find some breakfast. I have ordered some clean water for you. I shall leave you ten to fifteen minutes to get dressed, after which you must be done or you must not protest against my witnessing it."
She could not be hearing that correctly. Ten to fifteen minutes? He would be witnessing it? "I beg your pardon?"
"After a few minutes I shall leave for ten to fifteen minutes," the Colonel repeated. "Then I shall return." He eagerly awaited the lady's protest. The corners of his mouth stayed upturned.
"Ten to fifteen minutes?" Caroline was almost going to throw the blankets off, but she could check herself just in time.
"Is that not enough?" he asked innocently.
"No. Can you stay away for an hour?"
"I do not think that would be safe."
"I cannot dress in under an hour." As she was speaking, Caroline felt determined to try. She would have a good laugh if he returned after ten minutes, expecting to find her undressed, but instead finding her completely ready.
"You do not have to. I am merely saying I shall return after ten minutes. Whether you have made any progress by that time is of no concern to me."
She did not answer him and after a few second she heard him on the other side of the room. Still she waited, because it was not unthinkable that he might approach the bed and throw open the curtains. He was childish enough to tease her like that. Only after she heard the door open and close did she sit up again, cautiously peeking out of the bed curtains in case he had fooled her. The room was empty.
Caroline moved quickly. She was sure she had never dressed and washed herself this fast, but she managed. Her hair was not yet done when he returned, but she looked decent -- as well as smug.
"Hmm," said Fitzwilliam with evident disappointment, but then he thought ahead. "You do realise, do you not, that I will now not accept anything less?"
"Less than what?"
"Longer, I meant. I will now not accept anything longer than thirteen minutes." He had looked at his watch before he entered.
Whenever she thought she had beaten him, he turned out to have beaten her. Caroline stamped her foot in frustration and returned to the mirror. She still had to decide what to do with her hair.
Fitzwilliam set the tray with food on the table. He grinned to himself. Life kept being full of surprises. Who would ever have thought that Miss Bingley could get herself completely dressed in thirteen minutes? He might make a good little soldier of her yet. Then, with a glance at her long hair, he wondered if he wanted to. He settled himself down to watch her brush it. This, he discovered, took far long than thirteen minutes, but he did not mind, although he was sure she was slow about it to rile him. As usual, the girl had no idea that he enjoyed her attempt. He suppressed a snicker and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Caroline brushed her hair absentmindedly as she looked at the reflection of a pair of long legs in the mirror. They were stretched out comfortably. She took a little step aside and more of the Colonel's figure came into view. After a while she felt guilty for peeking and she returned her attention to her hair. When it was up and fastened, she glanced at the Colonel again in the mirror. He was already eating! She turned in indignation. "Have you already started?"
"With what?" he inquired, bringing a piece of bread to his mouth. "Eating, you mean? Of course. Food is more important to a man than the appearance of a woman. Did you not know?"
She laid down the brush. "I will not believe a thing you say. What did you bring for breakfast?"
"Food."
She surveyed the table. "Will it taste like food?" This was barely a peasant's meal, was it not?
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not deign to reply. Instead he drank his coffee.
Caroline sat down and grudgingly spread some jam on a piece of bread. It actually tasted decently, but she could not admit that now. She too drank her coffee.
"We shall pass Paris today."
"Could we not have had breakfast there?" She was sure it would have been up to a higher standard.
"We should already have been past Paris by now." He should not have let her sleep late this morning. He should have dragged her out of bed and forced her to get ready, but they were still too close to England. If he upset her now, she might choose to go back. "Next time we shall rise at dawn."
"Tomorrow, you mean."
He disliked being caught and searched to rectify the situation. "If we get any sleep. If we get no sleep, we cannot rise and then the next time will not be tomorrow."
"I need my sleep." She would not rise at dawn, ever. She would not voluntarily leave her bed if it was still dark.
"I thought you had a goal." They were not going to catch up with Georgiana if they slept late each morning.
That silenced her again. Life was so difficult. There were difficult choices to be made at every step. Her sleep or her goal? She did not need a reminder of what her goal was. It was Georgiana and it was impossible to go back on her word now.
He drank his coffee and glanced at her now and then. Watching her come to decisions on her own was far better for her than being told. Perhaps he was getting old, to be thinking this. When had he got old? Surely there were but a few years separating them? "How old are you?" he inquired suddenly.
"Why are you asking?"
"I hope I am not travelling with a girl fifteen years my junior." He thought of Georgiana. Caroline would be older than his cousin, he guessed, but he could not guess if she was twenty, twenty-five, or thirty.
"I had no idea you were that old," Caroline said candidly, adding fifteen years to her age.
"Does that mean you are not?"
"Old? No, I am not old."
He sighed. "Does that mean you are not significantly my junior?"
She might be. She was bad at guessing ages, but it did not matter how old he was precisely. "It would depend on how old you think you are acting."
"That is not important."
"Of course it is. I do not care how many years you were born before me. You act like a ten-year old."
Back in Hertfordshire it had not yet occurred to Bingley that his sister had not gone shopping in London. Louisa was more suspicious, knowing that Caroline was not good at making shopping decisions on her own. She pressed her brother to ride to London to investigate their sister's sudden departure, but he saw no reason to suspect anything was amiss.
"The third day, Charles." If Caroline had gone for one day she might have accepted it, but this was taking far too long.
"And she will return laden with packages when she chooses to return," he predicted.
"She would not buy anything without my advice." Louisa feared her role had been usurped by some other lady, but she could not think of any. "Please. It is unlike her to stay away this long. She has never done so before."
"There is a first time for everything," Bingley parroted Darcy. He often heard that from his friend when he could not make sense of him. Bingley had learnt that some things were beyond his grasp.
"The carriage returned without her. How do you think she is going to come back?"
"I am sure her friend will take care of that."
"Which friend?"
"The message was that she had gone with a friend to stay in the west of the country." He wondered if he had forgotten to show Louisa the note. It was very likely, going by her reaction.
"And you believe this?" Louisa searched her memory for friends from the west of the country. They had a few, certainly.
"Why should I not believe it?"
"She has never done this before."
Bingley shrugged. "Since I have often gone with a friend at such short notice, I see no reason not to believe Caroline when she explains it nicely in a letter. I showed it to Darcy and he agreed with me."
Darcy nodded vacuously. It was better to agree with Bingley and avoid Louisa's temper trantrum than to admit that he had been thinking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet too much when Bingley had shoved that letter under his nose. He could not recall what it had said at all. He rubbed his temples and thought of Miss Bennet again.
Chapter Sixteen
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who did not want to be questioned about his words even in retrospect, had decided that they would travel through the night. He had said that the next time they would rise at dawn and Miss Bingley had said this would be tomorrow, so he was determined to make that next time the day after.
Caroline was understandably not pleased with his decision. They had not spoken much while on the road anyway, but now she made sure she remained absolutely silent when she discovered they were still on the road well after nightfall with no prospect of stopping soon.
He was shrewd, having stopped only at one place that had food but no beds. They had had a quick meal there, but then they had travelled on.
"What are you doing to me? I need my sleep," she finally complained. It was unlikely that he would still give in, but she at least wanted him to know that she did not like it at all that they were not pausing for the night.
"You can sleep in the carriage."
"I cannot."
"Stay awake then." The Colonel was of the opinion that hardships helped to build a person's character and given that the next day he was not yet in need of a cheerful companion, he paid no attention to her complaints. They had some catching up to do.
That same evening, the Bennets had dined in company of the occupants of Netherfield. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, seated by Mr Darcy through some lucky coincidence, had noted that Miss Bingley's absence had not been adequately explained by her brother. Ever the curious, took the opportunity to ask Darcy about it, because Miss Bingley might be a potential rival. They were certainly good friends. "Does Miss Bingley often go shopping on her own?" she inquired.
"I do not really know. Apparently."
"You would not want your sister to do the same, would you?"
He half turned his face towards her, as if he did not quite understand her. "My sister?"
She feared she had offended him somehow. "Forgive me. I did not think," she said contritely. Mentioning his sister would remind him of the girl's plight and he might again withdraw into that shell. Why had she asked that question? She was stupid.
Darcy forced himself to reply. "My sister is quite a bit younger than Miss Bingley." He should think that would make all the difference.
"Indeed," Elizabeth said in embarrassment. She glanced down at her food. How could she salvage the situation? There was no way of solving the problem with his sister. All she could do was cheer him up, but she was not doing that very well. "Bingley does not seem to worry that the same might happen to his sister. I am sure it could happen to anyone -- and anyone's brother."
"Knowing Miss Bingley..." said Darcy after a few moments. He was grateful for her words, but he did not know how to reply to them properly. "Any man putting such a suggestion to her would not live." Unless, perhaps, he had a title and a great deal of money.
Elizabeth giggled.
A woman's amusement always spurred a man on. Darcy did not mind elaborating. "And any man putting such a suggestion to her is a fool."
"Good morning, Madam," Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted his companion when she stirred.
She groaned as she realised she was no longer in a completely upright position. A second later she was, even before having opened her eyes fully.
The Colonel thought some women were decidedly silly creatures. It had pleased her for several hours to lean against him, but the moment she woke up she wanted to pretend it had never happened. He supposed that it was also a great shock to find oneself waking up after having said one could not sleep in a carriage. However, he would get her again if she claimed to have been awake: she would consciously have taken up that position and somehow he did not think she would agree with that conclusion.
Caroline felt absolutely horrible. Her muscles ached, her head throbbed and she wanted to get out of the carriage that instant. She leant back and looked the other way.
He waited for her comments, but that haughty blush seemed to indicate that nothing was forthcoming. "We shall stop at Tours."
She gave him a murderous glance. "Tours must be several days away."
"Several hours, in fact."
That would be far too long. "I should very much like for us to stop within the next fifteen minutes."
He nodded and communicated with the driver. "There are no stopping places within the next fifteen minutes," he reported to Caroline.
She had gathered as much. "Create one. And not in the middle of a field," she added, looking out. The latter request might be a bit of a problem, as fields were the only thing she could see.
Fitzwilliam relayed her orders to the coachman and then sat back to await an appropriate place to stop. Thankfully that did not take long and the coachman was enough of a gentleman to stop at a farm to inquire whether the lady could refresh herself there. The Colonel availed himself of the opportunity as well and to his surprise Caroline returned before he had finished shaving.
She gave him a haughty glance and walked on to speak with the farmer's wife. Somehow it seemed less real to speak about one's husband in French. It was merely a term for that man. The farmer's wife offered them some food and they negotiated for a while about whether she ought to pay for it or not. Caroline felt very good. While Fitzwilliam was working on his appearance, she was being the useful one of the two.
Clothes creased, but clean shaven, he appeared some time later. They accepted one drink and then they were on the road again.
"I have to say," he began.
"No, you do not."
"I have to say you surprised me there."
Caroline did not know what to reply. What was he referring to? "I have to say it was a most rotten trick to have me sleep like that."
"How? I had nothing to do with it. I woke up and..." He stopped meaningfully. He had woken up and he had found her leaning against him. It was hardly a bad thing. It was merely something that happened on exhausting carriage rides.
The was one person who had slept even worse than the pair in France. Darcy not been able to fall asleep. When it had finally happened, he had woken a few times in the middle of bad dreams. What they had been about he could no longer recall, but he remembered all too well those feelings of distress.
The next morning Elizabeth met up with Darcy on his usual walk. She wanted to apologise for having brought up his sister. "I wonder," she said as she had reached him, "if my bringing up your sister caused you any troublesome thoughts during the night."
Some, but a gentleman never admitted that. However, a gentlemen also did not lie. "Not really."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. She did not have to probe into that any further. "I am sorry about that."
"It is not your fault."
It was not up to her to tell him to let it go. Instead, she could distract him and she did. He was an agreeable companion when he was distracted, she discovered. He no longer had that permanent air of depression and despair about him and occasionally he could even smile. To have him laugh was her next project. She was certain she would manage within a week.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's plan was to reach Tours without any more delays. To that end he took several naps so the time would go faster and he could not be prevailed upon to ask the coachman for stops. After one of them he found Caroline studying a map. This was interesting enough for him to keep his eyes half closed while observing her. "Dare I hope you have not given the coachman other directions, Madam?" he asked after a few moments.
"We are still bound for Tours," she replied coldly. "Someone has to keep an eye out while you sleep, Colonel. Besides, I think it is not fair that you can take naps while I must go sleepless." She had tried to close her eyes too, but sleep had not come. The carriage was far too uncomfortable for that. "I feel and I look wretched."
"The sacrifices a woman on a mission must make," he remarked. "Shall I tell you what I am denying myself? Perhaps it would make you feel better."
"I think you are not the type to deny yourself anything." He certainly still teased her enough and he made sure he could take enough naps.
After Caroline's remark silence fell over the carriage once more and it lasted until they entered Tours. To her surprise they stopped at a very decent-looking hotel, when she had expected another shabby establishment. She was shown up to a room that was quite acceptable and the general cleanliness of the place made her wonder why the Colonel kept insisting that it was dangerous to be separated from him. Surely in this hotel she would be able to get her own room without anyone bothering her? However, she could not suggest this to him, as he had to go downstairs almost immediately to arrange several things.
She took the opportunity to order a bath. To prolong their stay she also gave some of her clothes -- and his -- up to be washed. Now they would not be able to leave this nearly luxurious place until they had got their clothes back. It had cost her some effort to search his trunk too, but in the end she had believed that if only her clothes were in the laundry, he would depart regardless. Missing his own underclothes might hold him back.
Fitzwilliam stayed away. He had not yet returned when Caroline finished her bath and she did not know what sort of clothes to put on. If they were to dine downstairs she would have to put on something more elegant than if they were to eat up here. She preferred to go downstairs. The smell of the food would remain in the room and downstairs there would be more to see.
When Colonel Fitzwilliam finally returned to the room, he found Caroline in bed in her bathrobe, sleeping, and both of their trunk on the floor with everything spilling out of them. His first thought was that they had been visited by a thief or perhaps a curious chambermaid. "Caroline!" he called. There were no curtains around this bed. It would have been very bold of a thief to search their trunks with Caroline in full view, unless she had been away.
She was rudely awakened from her slumber. "What is it?"
"Who has looked through our trunks?"
"Oh. I have." She frowned. Was she not allowed to do that?
"What for?"
"I gave your underclothes to the maid to be washed."
"How long is that going to take?" he exclaimed. Tomorrow was Sunday. He was certain clothes would not be washed that day. They might be hung to dry tonight, but nobody would take them down.
"I do not presume to know anything about laundry."
He bit back a comment and merely shook his head instead. "Are you..." He could not stay here with her all the time until dinner. It would be at least an hour. She would certainly drive him crazy, certainly considering that he would have to spend the time after dinner here with her as well, not to mention the entire night and the time before breakfast. "...up for a walk?"
She would have to get dressed first. "I am not dressed for a walk, if that is you mean. I am not even dressed for a walk about the room."
The Colonel rested his elbows on the chimney piece and rested his face in his hands. "Caroline, you try my patience."
"Why? I am not doing anything."
The worst of it all was that he guessed she was indeed unaware of doing anything. He sighed and moved to the window to look out. "Get dressed for a walk about the park. Please."
Chapter Seventeen
"Do I stand out as an Englishwoman?" Caroline asked the Colonel after she had observed several women pass them. The fashions were significantly different here. She wondered which were better.
They had both been studying women during their walk, albeit for different reasons. He had naturally not been looking at what they wore precisely, as long as their figures came out well in it. "Why would you?"
"Do I not look different?"
Fitzwilliam had no clue how or why she looked different. There were some pretty Frenchwomen here as well. "I am sure you are more gracious and refined." That should be the desired answer.
"My clothing...does it not make me stand out?"
"You would stand out if you were not wearing any," he replied without thinking much. As he spoke, he realised he would be punished for that remark. Perhaps he deserved it.
Caroline clicked her tongue in annoyance. "I give up talking to you. Perhaps we could meet at the park gates in half an hour. I would prefer to walk alone." She withdrew her arm from his and gave him a haughty look.
"Do not reply to any strange men."
She did not even bother to answer that silly comment and she walked back in the direction they had come from. Fitzwilliam, for the first time in his life deserted by a woman in a park, sat down on a bench to contemplate the situation. Stretching his legs had been good, but having an immobile spot from where to observe the ladies who passed was even better.
A strange and well-dressed gentleman in a small town was quite a sight and soon all unattached young ladies in the park had walked past him at least twice -- except for Caroline. Since he was evidently seated on a park thoroughfare, he wondered how she managed to avoid him so well. For a brief moment he wondered if she had indeed met a strange Frenchman, but then he dismissed that thought as ridiculous. He was certain she could translate a French book, but not communicate with an ordinary Frenchman.
When it was close to half an hour after Caroline had left him, he got up and slowly strolled towards the park gate through which they had entered. He suppose there were more entrances, but Caroline would have meant this one. As he stood there waiting and she did not appear, he became a little concerned. When she failed to have materialised after another thirty minutes, the Colonel shuffled his feet, looked at his watch again and told himself not to feel hungry. He sat on a large rock and drew lines in the sand with a twig.
It would not bring Caroline back any quicker if he thought ill of her, so he tried to not to ascribe any selfish and cruel traits to her. However, the fact that she was ignoring the time she had set herself was something that could not be overlooked. He wondered if she took pleasure in keeping him waiting. Some women did. Whenever he was on this track he felt tempted to go back to the hotel, but invariably he then felt concerned that she was lost.
The park was not large and it would be difficult to get lost, but she might be waiting at another gate, in which case it would be pure foolishness to leave his place, because she would eventually realise she was in the wrong spot and she would try to find him. If they both moved they would surely miss each other.
Finally he had to consider the possibility that she had left the park altogether, either voluntarily or by force. In that case he could wait forever. He did not want to think too much about this one. A fierce young lady like Caroline would not allow herself to be abducted from a park, but he had also thought she was more sensible than to leave the safety of the park in a foreign country.
At some point he would have to come to a decision, however. Dinner would soon be served at the hotel and if Caroline failed to turn up it might also mean she was already there. Another five minutes and then he would go back.
When four minutes had passed she showed up, walking briskly, a minute after he had stopped glancing in that particular direction. "Oh, you are still here!" she called, sounding as if she had not been counting on that.
Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped his twig -- deliberately. He did not understand how she could look so excited at having kept him waiting.
"I thought you might have gone back."
He was not sure which feeling to allow the upper hand, but most certainly not curiosity. He was not even sure what he felt. He stood up, but said nothing.
It made Caroline nervous. She had important news that she had hoped would offset his anger, but now he did not betray a thing. "Well!" Why did he not say anything? She frowned up at him. "I do not know what you are thinking."
"Do you care what I am thinking?"
"I do."
"But you did not care what I was thinking forty minutes ago?"
"I have news."
"I am sure you do," he said coldly and turned. She had very likely been shopping for useless items, while he had been waiting and fearing something bad had happened to her.
"I thought gathering this news was more important than your ego."
There was a little choking sound at the end of her sentence that made him turn back again. He was not sure if he was being mocked or if she was about to cry. "Nothing could be more inferior to your ego than mine."
"Do not speak in riddles," Caroline said in annoyance. She had no time to analyse his words. She had news and his reluctance to hear it was unnerving her. "I suppose you would say I spent my time foolishly and selfishly." She could bear that from anyone, but not from him, for some reason. The chance that he would say it was so large that she felt helpless. He was not pleased. Any fool could see that. Less roughly than she would have expected she was taken by the arm and led out of the park.
Women in obvious distress sometimes tugged at a man's heart. Caroline with a little choke in her voice certainly did so. "Do not ever do that again," he said emphatically. He was not sure what to think and neither did he really want to think anything. It was best to put the matter behind them.
"I am sorry, but I --"
He did not want to hear an apology. "Do not ever do that again."
"But I --"
He meant it. "Caroline. Do not ever do that again."
"Nothing is the matter with either my hearing or my memory," she said in a sharp tone and then continued in a more complaining manner. "How can I tell you the news if you will not listen?"
"Oh." Colonel Fitzwilliam did not know whether he wanted to hear the news. "Does it involve any Frogs?"
"I did not know you had a thing against Frogs. Not against lady Frogs, surely?" She had seen his glances.
"Not against ladies," the Colonel could not help but reply.
She was almost going to let herself be drawn into this argument, but then she realised it was irrelevant. "You are distracting me. Let me tell my story."
"If you insist."
She took a deep breath. "I heard that -- no, let me start at the beginning. No, what would you care about that? I shall start at the end. Wickham deserted."
Fitzwilliam wanted to hear the entire story again when they were seated at dinner, but then more coherently than the first time.
"I ran into an Englishman," Caroline began.
"Young?" he wished to know immediately. Because he did not seriously think anyone could fall for a Frog, Englishmen were dangerous.
"No, quite old. At least thirty. Does it matter how old he was?"
"Yes. How does one run into an Englishman?"
"They stand out. I told you so. He called my attention and begged my pardon for asking me whether I was French. I understood him perfectly." She looked smug, knowing he did not have a very high opinion of her French skills.
"Of course. He was English."
"He spoke in French."
"My point still stands."
"I told him I was English. He made me a compliment." She giggled as she thought of it.
"Spare me the details." The Colonel shuddered. "It was obviously a froggified Englishman."
"I will spare you the details, because you would not agree with him in the least. I continue. We sat down on a bench --"
"You sat down on a bench?" he cried out, completely horrified. He had never thought Caroline capable of such behaviour.
"We considered the grass, but it was wet."
"You sat down with a strange man?"
"No, he was not strange. He was nice. And he was English. Will you stop focusing on the least important details of the entire story? It is rather annoying." When she received a grudging nod, she went on. "We started talking. He asked me why I was here."
"I hope you did not tell him the truth."
"What do you take me for? That I was with my husband, who was off watching other women? Or that I was with a man I was not married to? No. We were respectably married and off to the south of France to stay with friends." She was quite proud of that invention. Her new acquaintance had believed it immediately. Why did she have to be travelling with a man who thought she was brainless?
"Oh. Did he not ask where I was?"
"Would you? Of course he did not. He knew you were in the park somewhere, but he was content to leave you where you were."
"Smug." He really disliked her for jumping to such conclusions, especially if they were correct, and then to wear such a smug expression on her face.
"But one topic led to another and I heard about all the English in the vicinity, as well as all the English who passed through the town lately. Say, do you know Sir Roderick and Lady --"
"No. Stick to the facts."
"He mentioned Wickham's regiment, as of course he went over to hear if there was any news from England."
"He must be young if he still cares about news from England," Fitzwilliam commented morosely. Why could it not have been an old fellow?
"Stick to the facts. I mentioned that I knew someone who knew someone and so forth who was in that regiment and so I heard all the news. Apparently it was all planned."
He wondered why Caroline could not tell a clear and detailed story. "What was?"
"Wickham's desertion."
He would come to that in a moment. Being in the Army himself he wanted to discuss such a matter at length, but there were things that were even more important. "And Georgiana?" Somehow he did not think Wickham would have made plans that included Georgiana.
"Well, apparently Wickham did not take her because she was ill all the time and the other officers had no use for her either, so she was taken in by a local family until she wants to be sent back to England, while she keeps saying Wickham is going to come back for her." She gave him a knowing look, counting on him not to believe that either.