Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of April 14, 2005
Part 7
Bingley had more observational skills than people sometimes gave him credit for. He wondered if he was the only one who had noticed some odd things about his sister. He did not want to alert anybody to anything, but at any rate, even if she could not enlighten him further, his other sister deserved to know what had happened to Caroline. Darcy wanted to keep it all a secret, but that would never work. Caroline had relatives, after all.
Bingley singled out Louisa. "Did you notice anything odd about Caroline's behaviour?" he asked. "Today?"
"She seemed a bit dispirited, more so than before. Tired."
"Tired," he repeated. That was not so strange if she had played the Colonel's angel during the night.
He suspected that Fitzwilliam had hit his head in some manner while tumbling down the ladder. Darcy had been so blinded by the blood that he had not thought of someone taking a tumble. Bingley had had it happen to himself once. It had not brought down the entire bookcase, however, yet enough books for him to consider this a possible explanation for both the chaos and Fitzwilliam's headache.
Bingley firmly believed in angels, but not in angels causing headaches. Something more earthly had happened to that head.
There was still the angel, though. Perhaps Caroline had appeared in her chemise and in Fitzwilliam's confused state he had thought she was an angel. The chemise worried Bingley, especially since it had apparently gone missing afterwards and there was but one way that a chemise could accomplish that.
Perhaps she had gone to fetch an extra chemise to support the Colonel's head. Bingley liked that explanation much better. Yes, it must have gone like that. And then, when they had left, they had left the chemise and Mrs Reynolds had found it in the morning. Oh dear! That could be misconstrued and it was no wonder that his sister had so hurriedly taken Mrs Reynolds out of the room.
"Nothing else?" he asked. Perhaps Caroline had confided in Louisa. She would of course never tell her brother about any nightly meetings with the Colonel, however accidental, but she might have asked Louisa how to save her reputation.
"Before we went shopping I looked for her, but she was not in her room. She just told me she was, though, but she was not. That was perhaps odd."
"I think I know where she was," Bingley said slowly, remembering Colonel Fitzwilliam's suggestion to go reading. "And I think the Colonel's mother knows too, for she took both of them with her to her house."
Louisa's brain did not yet make the connection. "Colonel Fitzwilliam? Caroline? Why would his mother take them?"
"I think they like each other," was Bingley's tentative conclusion. One meeting could happen to anybody, but two? A second meeting definitely pointed to some mutual interest.
Louisa's eyes could not grow any wider. "Are you suggesting she was with him when I searched for her?" She pressed her hand against her mouth. That was a most horrible and shocking thing.
"That is what I think."
"How do you know?"
It was starting to be very clear to Bingley. "He said he was going to lie down and I heard him ask her to come reading."
"Charles!" Louisa exclaimed. "You heard him ask her and you let them proceed?" She did not know whether to be more shocked by the Colonel or by her brother.
"I did not know it would actually happen," he defended himself. "He said it was a joke. If they carried on, I think they waited until I was gone. I did wait for a bit, but I looked like a fool, because he came out of his room and asked me if I had lost my room. I..."
He should have taken the Colonel's reappearance as a clue, but it was always later that things started to make sense. Perhaps he had only delayed the Colonel's mad dash into his sister's room. But no, she had been absent from her room, so it had to have been a movement in the opposite direction.
"I know she has been dissatisfied and unhappy with her position since your marriage, but to throw herself away on Colonel Fitzwilliam..." Louisa could not understand it.
"But I think she likes him." Bingley had not detected any dislike, in any case.
"Are you certain? I have never detected any partiality in her. This is not because she is bored? Being snared by a Colonel is a high price for boredom."
"Since his mother took them away, I think she may indeed be snared by him -- or his mother."
"A house of her own! But with the Colonel." Louisa was not yet convinced that it was all true. "No longer with us. Surely that could not have been her objective? Does she dislike us so much that she would prefer the far less fashionable accommodations of a Colonel? No, no, Charles. I think you are mistaken. I cannot imagine it."
"Do not speak to this about anyone," Bingley advised. "Our ignorance would reflect badly on us. What we think is of little importance now that his mother has made her move. I cannot see it end in any other way than marriage. He is a younger son. He needs a Caroline."
"Lovely," said the Earl, rubbing his hands at the arrival of the party. "You look mighty fine in your riding gear, Honoria. And such rosy cheeks. Lovely."
Caroline had been expecting that she would be examined or berated and therefore the complete lack of attention for her person confused her. She watched with some consternation how the Earl greeted his wife rather fondly and how the Countess was not at all embarrassed.
The Countess turned towards her and studied her blush. "My dear, I found them together," she spoke to her husband.
"How is that possible?" he asked in surprise. "I had forbidden that."
"Indeed you had. That is why I took them."
He turned out not to be so surprised by that after all. "Very good. I have had a room in the east wing prepared for the young lady --"
"The east wing?" Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted in alarm. The family had their rooms in the west wing. The distance between the two wings was in keeping with his father's title.
"Ah, I am not making things easy for you, son. Why should I? In the east wing. You can have no business with a lady during the night, can you? Well, that is what the unobservant fools at Pemberley would think, but your mother and I are much more familiar with all of that, hence the east wing."
"I assure you I had no plans." The Colonel coloured for the thoughts Caroline must undoubtedly have.
"Your bruises are not yet gone, are they? I have furthermore set a strict daily schedule for the young lady. The day will start by reporting for duty at breakfast, for which purpose she will be collected from her apartments by a servant. Then I shall take her to the library where --"
"You?" the Colonel interrupted.
"I shall take her to the library to assign her some very nice edifying texts to summarise and comment on, which I expect will take her several hours. Depending on how quickly she works, she may have some time to see you and depending on what she has written, the meeting may be unsupervised. But, I stress again, that is dependent on her work."
"You cannot be serious," his son said in disgust, walking away because he could not bear to hear more.
The Earl shrugged. "Young people never understand that courting is hard work that calls for sacrifices."
The Countess accompanied Caroline to her rooms. "This is indeed a bit out of the way, but my husband insisted on teasing Richard. You will be collected each morning so you will not get lost."
"Was he not serious then?" She had no eye for her surroundings, but focused on what she had just been told. The Colonel's father insisted on teasing him.
"May I know whether you are serious about my son? Would you accept him?"
Caroline raised her chin. She would give the Countess all the respect that was due, but there were some small matters she wished to point out. "I am not still sixteen. I do not have to be locked away like a little girl. I might accept him if I saw more of him, but so far..."
"You have not seen enough of him, you think. That is precisely why I brought you here," the Colonel's mother said mysteriously. "I shall leave you to unpack and a servant will be ready to take you downstairs for dinner in an hour."
Unbeknownst to Caroline, the gentlemen of the house were discussing her. The Colonel was rather agitated, but his father was calm. "I am being made to look like a fool," the Colonel complained. "You are treating me as though I were ten."
"Not at all. I would have had some compassion for a ten-year old taking off his shirt, but a grown man doing the same in the presence of a woman is far from innocent." The Earl was quite proud of the image of propriety he presented.
But he had been hurt. "It is more innocent than you think. She will never have me if you treat me like a child."
"If I were to treat you like a child, I would put you in the same room and tell you to play peacefully."
"We would."
The Earl wondered if he had ever been like this, unashamedly confessing to such a thing. "I do not understand that you expect me to do exactly that -- to tell you that you may go and share Great Aunt Georgiana's east wing apartments with the young lady whose name I still have not heard."
"You were kissing Mother instead of asking for names when we arrived," the Colonel answered petulantly.
"Which is why I understand exactly where your priorities lie -- with your young lady, instead of with good manners and breeding." The Earl winced at himself. "Manners and good breeding, obviously. I have earned my bad behaviour; you have not."
"I have inherited it."
"My dear, your son would not object to sharing Great Aunt Georgiana's apartments with his young lady."
Every time something was not quite in order, Richard was empathically her son, the Countess knew, or perhaps her darling husband was keen on not leaving her out of the Fitzwilliam men's special bond created by bad behaviour by stressing that it was her son as well. "She may."
"Georgiana?" He did not know they had ghosts. Great Aunt Georgiana had long been residing in the family graveyard and as far as she knew she had always been quite satisfied with her spot, as it was sunny throughout the day.
"No, Caroline."
"She may share or she may object?" the Earl inquired when this was not clear to him.
"She may object."
"That is singular. The apartments are quite large. Do they not even contain a nursery?"
"That is a bit premature of you, to think of a nursery. Have you offered the suggestion to Richard? I thought you were trying your hand at playing frightening father?" she asked affectionately.
"Yes, yes, but he is playing stupid son, which makes it all very difficult. This young lady has affected his brain. Perhaps we should indeed lock them up in those apartments."
"But then we cannot see anything," the Countess commented. "And it is not at all what we ought to do."
"Well, we have our secret weapon for when things go amiss," he said, smugly taking up a relaxed posture. Whatever the boy did, there was his parents' brilliant foresight to rescue him.
Her eyes began to gleam. "Indeed we do! I always thought you were a trifle fastidious in these matters, but --"
"But finally you understand my brilliance?"
"Oh, I understood your brilliance long before. I think my understanding of your brilliance dates back to...hmm..." the Countess looked reflective. "I cannot fix on the precise moment, but I suppose it must date back to somewhere in the beginning of our acquaintance, or I would never have married you. Perhaps it was a gradual realisation."
"My brilliance is not something that comes upon you gradually," said the Earl, feeling somewhat offended. "For then it is not brilliance, because that makes itself known in an acute flash."
"Yes, my dear, naturally. And when do you propose to reveal your genius to your offspring?"
"When he believes himself to be beyond salvation, of course. Is there a more amusing or satisfying moment? But so far he does not even know he is headed in the wrong direction. His evil and old-fashioned parents are being tedious bores treating him like a child."
"Well, he will always be our child and therefore we have every right to be as evil as we like."
Part 8
A servant was indeed waiting to take Caroline downstairs. Colonel Fitzwilliam had not been to see her, although he would have been most welcome. Presumably he had not wanted to antagonise his parents already by doing something they would not like. She would have liked to speak with him in private, though, because she had not been able to do so since his mother had taken them away.
He was allowed to escort her into the dining room, but there was not even an opportunity to whisper, for the Countess accomplished to walk backwards on her husband's arm.
"Honoria, doorpost," he warned.
"But I need to keep an eye on them to make sure they do not take a wrong turn." They had spoken too little and smiled too much, so that she had to reckon with the possibility.
"I grew up here, Mother," Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded her. "I know where the dining room is."
"Growing up here is no guarantee for good behaviour. I wish your sisters were here to set a good example."
"They are frightful bluestockings. I would not want to follow any example they set."
"Do you think any child of mine could turn into a bluestocking?" the Earl asked Caroline, who did not know what to respond since she was just being seated. "Cecy and Fanny have travelled down to London to attend all the concerts of some Italian opera singer. All of them. They shall be quite penniless when they return." Their father sounded glad for that.
"Alone?" the Colonel asked in shock. His parents were turning out to be quite strange and so were his sisters.
"No, with my sister Maria," said his mother. "She does not mind hearing about the virtues of velvety-voiced Domenico."
"Domenico! What good example could my sisters set? They might run off to Italy with velvety-voiced Domenico." He was tempted to take over his mother's opinion of the man without having seen him first. Was Aunt Maria enough protection if she liked the fellow too?
The Countess was not at all worried. "Oh, but not both. They will prevent each other, for to whom would the remaining one obsess if both Domenico and her sister were gone? Do you like opera, Caroline?"
"I have never attended to see a particular singer, but I usually go if I am in town." She was silent for a few seconds. "I do not know if I like it as much as your daughters do."
"It would be in your best interest not to," said the Earl. "Tactful answer! Although if you like Richard, who is quite the opposite of Demonico, I am sure you are not trying to please me."
"Domenico," corrected his wife.
"I think one should be glad to be Domenico's opposite," said the Colonel, who interpreted it as a dubious compliment. "He does not appear to be someone you admire."
"Frankly, Richard, I think we would not survive his addition to the family party," his father remarked. "Not people like us. And neither would he. His hair! His manners! He appears to be quite vain."
The Countess coughed. "Did I not hear someone take pride in his figure recently?"
The Earl looked quite blank. "Have you been speaking with other men, Honoria? I must keep a closer eye on you. Or was it Richard? He shows off his chest, or so I heard. If Demonico were to do that, I am sure Cecy and Fanny would come home instantly. Can we write to him?"
Caroline was happy to be away from the men for a short while after dinner. This family was a trifle too odd. She could not yet always discern when they were being serious. Either they were having fun at Colonel Fitzwilliam's expense without disapproving of him, or they were in some peculiar manner trying to get him to mend his ways. She had decided that it was wisest to say as little as possible lest they turn to her.
"You must be confused," said the Countess. "Something tells me you are not naturally a quiet and unassuming girl."
Caroline was glad that someone else said it first. "I am a little confused indeed."
"Just be a good girl and all will be well. Will you help me with a blanket I am making?" the Colonel's mother continued in the same breath, giving Caroline no chance to ask what she meant. She picked up some work from a side table. "My husband does not have the patience, nor does he understand why a baby should sleep under a pretty blanket. Now, what do you think? I was thinking this could be green, or would you say blue?"
It was the Countess who had escorted Caroline to her room without the help of her son, who was waved off in another direction.
Miller was already waiting to assist her and she was full of the butler. "I reckon he is not older than five and thirty! And he cuts a mighty fine figure. I have never seen such a dashing butler in any house."
"Plans, Miller?"
"Oh, you sound like Her Ladyship's maid, Madam! She was quite amused at me."
"Perhaps she has not heard you drool over the Colonel's valet," Caroline said sharply. People would be less amused if Miller swooned at every man in sight.
"Oh, yes." Miller's face took on a dreamy expression. "Another dashing man. But Madam, you do not seem to think the possibility exists: two dashing men."
"The possibility of chasing two dashing men does not exist. One must make a choice." Caroline suddenly felt very old, dispensing this advice. She was hardly an authority on the subject.
"One must even make a choice if there is but one," Miller said under her breath, half turning to pick up the hairbrush.
"I beg your pardon?"
"If there is but one dashing man one must still make the choice to chase him or to leave him to someone else. Dashing men never wait."
"I...do not like the subject, Miller," said Caroline, thinking of Darcy. She might have chased him. It was embarrassing to think about it. "I am determined not to chase."
"Luckily the Colonel is a good chaser, I think, seeing as how he was in your room. The butler would not look at me twice. I know why. He cannot appear too friendly or else they will no longer listen to him. So I must try to get him alone somewhere and assess his character." Miller had it all planned out.
"I am pleased you are considering to assess his character before you assess the rest of him," Caroline said sarcastically.
"The other way around gets one locked up in the gaol wing of his parents' house. Did I not say they would lock you into a tower? The only good thing is that I now get a grand room and I will undoubtedly lose my way, so I can get myself escorted up here by the butler."
"Surely he will send the ugliest young footman with you?"
"Surely he does not trust a young footman with me, Madam? He does not seem a trusting type of man."
In the morning a young footman was waiting for Caroline. "Why do you not come down immediately, Miller?" she asked, wanting to tease her maid.
Miller gave the footman an appraising glance. He did not do. "Some aspects of my toilette have not yet received any attention. I shall come down on my own shortly. I think I know the way." She slipped into her room.
Caroline shook her head. She was certain that Miller knew the way, especially the way to get lost on purpose. There was nothing she could do, however.
Colonel Fitzwilliam approached them a short distance down the corridor. He dismissed the footman instantly, considering himself a much better escort.
"Wait!" Caroline said. "Would you kindly wait for Miss Miller? I think she may get lost on her own." The footman resumed his waiting position outside Miller's door, blissfully unaware of Miller's wishes. Caroline did not dare to speak until they had turned a corner. She feared that the footman might catch something of excitement in her tone. "Will you not get into trouble?"
"With whom?" the Colonel inquired.
"With your father or mother?"
"Only if I fail to appear in time, but I had not planned to lose my way."
"Do they know what you are doing?"
"They might guess and they have not strapped me to a chair, so I suppose they are allowing this. How was your night? We have not had the chance to speak much since my mother took us away. Are you happy with your room? The food? Everything?" he asked hurriedly, not wanting their short trip to be wasted by silence.
"I cannot complain, but the worst is yet to come, is it not? When your father will lock me into the library with horrendously boring books." Caroline gave a resigned sigh. She would have to suffer that. It would perhaps only be once. Then her good character would be restored, she hoped.
"But he said he will allow us to meet afterwards." Colonel Fitzwilliam did not think it could be very bad. His father had never displayed any evil tendencies, yet it must be said that his moralistic sentiments had probably never been awakened before.
Caroline wondered how that would be. Perhaps she would have to ruffle his hair again. "How is your head? Is it any better?"
"A bit."
"And the bruises?"
"They are still there."
"Should I...oh, best not...but I would, you know, if your parents were not here. I should finish what I began or I shall feel very bad. I could give you the jar, because I do not want to be sent home by post like a fallen woman."
"You would have to fall first and it would spoil all their fun if they sent you home." He did not think they would do such a thing.
"But what if I misbehaved terribly?"
"Can you?"
She looked doubtful. "No, I do not think I can, not terribly, but it is all a matter of opinion, is it not? People always interpret situations differently. Perhaps I would unwittingly transgress."
"You are safe. My parents are fairly..." He tried to come up with a suitable word.
"Odd?"
The Colonel laughed. "Yes, that too! But what I meant was that so far they have always been able to see different sides of a situation." And quite naturally, any measures they could take would be to his advantage. They would never allow him to damage a girl's reputation. He would have to do the honourable thing, which he would not mind.
"Where is your livery, son?" asked the Earl after a quick glance at the new arrivals. "If you want to take the place of my servants I insist that you dress as one."
"Very amusing, Father." Colonel Fitzwilliam seated Caroline at the table. "I am punctual as ever, so you may be sure that nothing happened."
"Fitzwilliams can be incredibly fast," his father commented with a shrewd look. "Your punctuality does not signify."
"My dear," said the Countess an a mildly admonishing manner. "That is no topic for breakfast. Was your room to your liking, Caroline?"
Caroline had been expecting the worst, so she had been very silent. Now that nothing awful was happening, she relaxed a little. "Yes, My Lady."
"You will not be allowed to be there a lot, but I do think you should feel comfortable there."
"Before I get myself into trouble again, are there any secret passages in this house? I should like to avoid them if I can."
"I should like to know how you found them at Pemberley," said the Earl, leaning forward interestedly. "A few Mr Darcys ago there was one with a mistress and he was rumoured to have done some rebuilding so he could visit her in secret. But of course this rumour was only believed by my family and to my knowledge no Darcy ever actively searched for secret passages. Fitzwilliams are all upright people, although we have never advertised the fact, but at any rate none of them have ever felt the need to build secret passages."
"There is a secret passage from the room I stayed in down to the library. It opens when you lean or push against the panelling. I could not open it again and had to go to the other end, but..." Caroline glanced at the Colonel.
"I could!" he said cheerfully. "Yes, Father. I did so on purpose. I had to offer an apology of sorts."
"You never did," said Caroline. She felt herself begin to blush furiously.
"Well, I was interrupted by your maid, who whispered cad at me. I did not think it very desirable after that to bring up the matter for which I wanted to apologise."
"Of sorts," said his father. "Do not forget that it was merely an apology of sorts and nothing you sincerely regretted, which I feel to be a crucial distinction here. It can undoubtedly also all be blamed on circumstances beyond your control, such as secret passages inviting you in."
"I did indeed not sincerely regret it."
"It is probably no topic for breakfast," the Earl said with a glance at his wife. He supposed they could both guess. "But your mother has planned a chat with you after this meal, while Caroline and I shall be locking ourselves into the library to do some reading." He smiled brightly at her, as if it was going to be fun.
Part 9
Caroline groaned at the title of the book that the Earl laid before her: Proper Conduct For Young Women. "I have already read this at school." She had no desire to be read from it again.
The Earl raised his eyebrows. "So you were taught proper principles, but you were not taught to follow them?"
"It would be unnatural to follow them to the letter, My Lord!" Perhaps she had believed it to be possible when she was still at school, but by now she had discovered she did not know anybody who corresponded to the image of feminine perfection created by the book.
"Really? That is an interesting position. I suggest you read the marked chapters and argue your case."
"Argue my case?" Caroline looked doubtful.
"You have learnt, I hope, to construct an argument?"
She stared at him blankly.
"The book, I fear, drones on and on, but I think there are some points hidden in the text. Address those points."
She leafed through the book and read the titles of the marked chapters. "On the Delicacy of Woman, Comportment and Conduct, Why Gentlemen Should Be Avoided?"
"I am looking forward to your ideas on the latter especially. I have laid out pen and paper for you," the Earl pointed out helpfully. "I shall be at hand to ring the bell if you require any refreshments. I shall be sitting here with my book."
She did not yet know whether to be relieved, but the situation appeared to be more favourable than she had expected. Perhaps the Colonel's father was not such a bad man. "Are you not a gentleman to be avoided?"
"I am a nobleman," he answered solemnly.
Caroline rubbed her eyes repeatedly while reading. She did not know how anyone could read this for her own amusement. Writing about it proved to be easier than reading, however, and she knew she was not going to be let out of the library until she had written at least a page. If she wrote any nonsense there were still the other chapters to comment on, so she had best approach this task with some seriousness, while not suppressing her spirit.
A bad reader would assume her conduct to be severely lacking. A good reader would assume the author's understanding to be severely lacking.Has the author ever seen a real woman? I am tempted to think he has not. Despite all the different expressions of delicacy, he would not wish to be left buried under a pile of books if there were no one to rescue him but a delicate woman, whose limbs were not formed for strenuous work and who would be overset with fatigue and nervous afflictions if she subjected herself to any sort of exertion for which she was not created.
The sight of a gentleman quite evidently formed differently should furthermore make her cast down her eyes in horrified shame; it should make her turn her back lest she be overcome with improper feelings and curiosity upon perceiving his unclad torso; it should all be done instantly so as to make her unaware of the possibility of having any sort of thought. Would that she could rinse her mind of the improper memory!
A lady's reputation is fragile. To preserve it she may commit any sin conceivable. She may turn away from a person in need in cruel ignorance and helplessness; she may leave a person to die; she may not offer her assistance for fear of spoiling her purity of mind. She will have killed but she has remained pure.
Which weighs heavier on her conscience? The responsibility for the death of another being, or her delicacy and responsibility in turning away? If the author favours being left to die, I will allow him. I do not think him worthy of my respect and exertion.
The Father of the Victim should on the other hand exhibit the greatest gratitude for the lady's exertion, for it was through her labour that his dear son was restored to him in good health. Hardly any improper thought crossed her mind; any hesitation to help was quickly overcome and any shock at his attire was quickly superseded by the sight of blood, at neither of which sights the lady fainted. Indeed, if she shed a tear it was a purely charitable tear of desperation at seeing a lifeless form.
It must be said that she had more clarity of mind than the Victim when he opened his eyes, not to be disparaging about him, but to defend her own abilities and strength of character. The extent of his injury was not yet clear. One becomes inured to a certain sight; perhaps that is the evil of it; but she asked him to dress. Perhaps the evil is in that she asked him to dress because she was afraid they might be found; the evil was not in the sight itself. Although it was far from inspiring improper thoughts in her mind, indeed her main thoughts were directed to his bleeding wound and the blocked door, the sight itself was not so unpleasant as to require dressing if there were nobody else in the house.
The Victim's Father should be pleased to hear his son was laid on the sofa to rest his head, a bit of the lady's stocking pressed against the wound. He would be impressed with her frugality; cutting a piece off an undergarment would require a far more expensive replacement.
He should be pleased to hear she worked at piling up the fallen books away from the door. They were heavy, remember how they gave the Victim such an injury, and the author of this book would be quite amazed at a delicate woman's ability to lift even one, let alone fifty. Perhaps propriety would have demanded that she faint and lament alternately; conversely malicious tongues would suspect that instead of dressing the Victim she undressed him further.
She was, however, guilty of deceit. Given the Victim's warm gratitude, possibly caused by the upset of his head, and the fact that she was not known for this sort of charity, which made her a little reluctant to connect her name to it, she did not reveal her name when the Victim asked for it. It was an anonymous gesture of goodwill and charity, as they all should be, not undertaken with the intention to boast of them.
She was also guilty of hiding his spectacles. There is no excuse but the one already mentioned.
The fragility of a lady's reputation required the formation of a bond of secrecy between her and the Victim. Any of his care should be solely her responsibility. Imposing on another would require a revelation and the undeserved damaging of her reputation.
The Victim's Father should forgive her for any of these minor transgressions in his happiness to have his son restored to life and sanity. Life is but a compromise. Indeed, the Victim's Father should ascertain for himself which qualities he prefers, for he cannot have them all. Ladies are not taught to do good, only to be good.
Caroline wrinkled her nose. She wondered if she was not too overcome by righteous indignation. This was hardly a letter of recommendation -- in a normal family. She had to keep in mind that this family was rather peculiar and that some peculiarity on her side was probably encouraged.
I regret slapping him. I do not care what the book says; I regret nothing else. It made me feel useful.
When that had been added, she pushed the sheet away and placed her chair in front of the window. She had to keep herself from lowering herself by making too many excuses for her conduct. Her pride forbade that. She was not a bad girl and nobody should be allowed to make her think otherwise.
She regretted slapping the Colonel. If he was going to be made to marry her, he should not be thinking she disliked him. The recent events and her uncertain future caused her to look out of the window with some melancholy and sadness. Her life might be irrevocably altered because she had been good -- she might forever be known as bad, now.
"Have you finished?" asked the Earl.
"No, I have not. I am thinking."
"You are quite the scholar, Miss Bingley."
She gave no answer, but returned to the desk to write down another line. She did not know what she was, not anymore. Perhaps she was a scholar as well as helpful and kind.
I had never done it before, but it felt good.
Or perhaps she was only helpful and kind to undressed men, which would make her the worst sort of woman possible. She choked in alarm. It could be. She had never seen one before and she had never been very helpful before either. The two might be related.
She went back to the window to stare out, feeling quite distressed.
"Finished?" asked the Earl again.
"Er...I am not sure. I need to think about my character. It confuses me."
"Why?"
"Certain character traits that I recently discovered may not be as good as they first appeared." She blinked rapidly. "But I had never killed anybody before either. It is not good if they only surface when someone has been killed, is it? Not really killed, but that was what I feared at first. I had pushed and everything collapsed and then there was a body under it all."
"It is good that you have never killed anybody before."
"But is it equally good that I never helped anybody before either?" she asked with a sob.
"Go," said the Earl after a moment's deliberation. It would not be wise to take a crying girl back to Richard. It was best to be a selfish coward and to send the girl on her way by herself.
She stared at him in confusion.
"Leave the room."
"But..."
"Soldiers do kill. Go."
Caroline did not know how to find her room, so she peeked into several of the common rooms to see if she could find the Colonel or his mother. Eventually she found them.
Colonel Fitzwilliam stood up immediately when he saw her teary face. He wished to do something, but his mother's presence held him back.
"What happened?" asked the Countess before her son could say or do something foolish.
"I thought about myself." Caroline looked at her bravely. "Should I pack my things so you can send me home by post?" She expected she deserved such a treatment.
"Richard, I order you to keep her here. Send her home by post!" the Countess muttered to herself as she walked towards the door. "What nonsense!"
The Countess found her husband reading over Caroline's work. "Well?" she asked.
"Precisely what I had been expecting. A stubborn girl." He handed her the sheet of paper. "And what did he say?"
"He says she would not have dared to be so good if he had betrayed any knowledge of her identity." She read quickly. "Which seems compatible with her story. The poor girl. The first time she attempts it, she lands herself in serious trouble. I do not wonder at her confusion. But what is this? I regret slapping him. I do not care what the book says; I regret nothing else. It made me feel useful. I had never done it before, but it felt good."
"I had not wanted to draw your attention to that, Honoria."
"Have you asked her what she meant?"
"I am pretty sure that a young lady writing this down does not think the same as an old married couple reading it."
"Richard did not mention being slapped." He had only mentioned teasing to her. It was not unlikely that he had gone too far, though.
"At breakfast he implied that he had kissed her, which in the case of a well-bred young lady amounts to the same thing, does it not?"
"I was never a well-bred young lady," the Countess muttered. "I would not know."
"I have always said it was your son."
"And this fake helplessness, my dear? The complete impotence when there is a caring lady at hand? He did not get that from me."
"But he may have seen you do it."
"He would have had to see you do it first."
A thought struck the Earl. "If he has been watching us, I think we may need to go and see which other behaviour he thinks worth imitating."
"What happened?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked Caroline. "Did my father make you cry?"
"No, I did that myself. Life is unfair and painful." She should not again fall prey to self-pity, for there was never anyone who cared.
"Only when something hits you over the head. I am beginning to think that eloping was not such a bad idea after all. Then at least I would have been able to correct my own faults. You are not going to want me anymore now. They blame me for everything and they are right. If I had not undressed myself, it would all have turned out differently. You would never have thought there was no harm in treating my bruises, for instance."
"Indeed. But you are not going to want me anymore if I said..." she said and then hesitated.
"Said what?" he asked quickly.
"I am not sorry you undressed yourself," Caroline whispered with a blush.
He felt excited by that surprising answer. "You are not?"
She shook her head. Her hand disappeared into her pocket and came up with a jar that she showed to him to prove her words. She had been carrying it in case another occasion to use it arose.
"Oh..." he gasped. "Here? No, not here. Come with me."
That had never been her plan, but she would not argue with his suggestion.
The Earl and the Countess hurried but they could not find the couple anywhere. "They are taking that promise of unsupervised time very seriously," said the Earl. "I shall have to search for my secret weapon in case they are taking it far too seriously."
"Search? You do not know where it is?" his wife cried.
"I looked for it this morning, but..."
She nearly had a fit at the thought that it might have gone missing. "Our entire scheme is based on the use of the secret weapon!"
"Do not become excited, my dear," he said soothingly. "It was in a top drawer, that I know. I cannot help having many of those. I merely forgot which cabinet. Probably."
Part 10
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not lack strategic skills, although it might have appeared otherwise to his parents. He now seized the opportunity to take action, although he was in the habit of not explaining himself overly much to subordinates. His companion did therefore not know what he was going to do, but as she breathlessly ran after him she wondered. "Am I going to be compromised very much?"
"You can either be compromised or not at all. I do not think there are gradations in the matter." He had never actually thought about that. "Why?"
"Because you looked at me like that."
"How?"
"Well, intent on...something. And when gentlemen are intent on...something, it invariably leads to being compromised. It was all in that book of your father's! The chapter dealing with why to avoid gentlemen. All gentlemen have evil intentions towards chaste young ladies -- except of course the author!" she realised.
"Such books are meant to keep you ignorant so that you have a better chance of being compromised by rakes like that author."
Caroline gasped.
The Colonel halted. "I do not mind enlightening you."
"On which subject?" she whispered, much impressed and a little afraid.
"On the subject of my intentions. As I have said before, I have no time for a lengthy courtship. It would be interrupted and I do not want it to be interrupted. You are hardly an insipid little creature who would sit patiently until it pleases me to come back to pay my attentions. One could court such a creature for years without having any competition or even opposition. It is very safe. If one favours shooting game, fishing and other gentlemanly pursuits I daresay it would be the perfect wife. She would never complain about her husband's absence and she would never have any plans of her own. If one comes back she would still be sitting there like a dead fish."
"Somehow I gather that is not your idea of a perfect wife," she said with a voice that trembled a little.
"I do not have much time to go away," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. "I would often be forced to spend time with my wife. She is allowed to speak, or else I could just as well buy another painting of a beautiful woman."
"Another?" she exclaimed.
"It can be sold -- if replaced."
"By...?"
"A wife."
"But not of the dead fish kind." She imagined him with Anne De Bourgh, who was the closest thing to a dead fish she could think of.
"Would you like a dead fish husband?"
Caroline shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. "There was a time that I would not have cared, as long as I could have become someone." She would like to say she had changed, but that was not for her to say.
"Someone with a dead fish husband. Would you not rather have a live Colonel?" He gave her a persuasive grin. "He will have you, whether you think you are someone already or not. He knows better."
"I am not given much choice. Am I, Colonel?" she asked weakly, pressing her back against the wall when he took a step closer.
"It would be stupid of me not to use everything within my power to persuade you to make a certain choice, but you have the choice nevertheless. Would you choose to remain the unwelcome addition to either your sister's or your brother's household? Or would you choose to have..." He stroked her face with a finger. "...me?"
Caroline closed her eyes. Her heart beat rapidly and her cheeks were burning, yet she was determined not to be as silly as a heroine from a cheap romance. "You do not happen to have a piece of paper by any chance with which you could fan my face?" she asked.
"I do, as a matter of fact." He retrieved it from a pocket and fanned her face. "What is your answer?"
Her eyes fluttered open. "I shall die if you do this to me every day. Where did you learn these tricks?"
"It is not a trick. The trick is in learning not to do it. Which is silly, because you evidently like it," the Colonel said with childish enthusiasm.
"Not too much at once," she begged, grabbing his hand when he raised it again. She should not be made to forget about important matters and if he started caressing her there would be a large chance of that. "What is that you were fanning me with?" she asked curiously.
He hid the piece of paper behind his back. "Give me an answer first."
"It does not seem fair if I cannot do the same to you." She felt she ought to be hesitant, but she was not sure why.
He brushed that answer off. "You can. You did. Answer?"
"Yes." She stretched out her hand. "Now let me see. I saw something interesting written on it."
"How come you had the presence of mind to read?"
"I have no idea. It is best to keep a certain presence of mind when in such close proximity of a --" She examined the paper and her eyes grew large. "Oh!"
"Still yes?" he asked anxiously. She was awfully cool and clearheaded. It was almost unnatural.
"Yes."
The Countess had the Earl empty all drawers of all cabinets -- supervised, of course, or else he would simply claim to have done it thoroughly when he had not done more than glance at the contents. Even her strict supervision did not lead to their finding the secret weapon and when even the drawers in their upstairs apartments had been searched, the Countess began to fall prey to slight despair.
"This is not a good conclusion, my dear," she said cautiously. "Are you certain you had it?"
He looked indignant. "Quite certain! Do I ever lie?"
"No, no," she soothed. "But you are a little forgetful at times." He might have stored it somewhere else entirely.
"I am never forgetful about serious matters."
"Indeed. If this ever becomes a serious matter I will make sure you will never forget," the Countess told him in an amiable tone.
"While he may be your son, I believe he inherited enough common sense and decency from me."
"Yes, yes, but we cannot trust in that. We need to have certainties or at least a solution. Perhaps the unsupervised time was a bad idea," she mused. It was always so difficult to predict how something would turn out.
The Earl had a good plan. "We shall ask them what they did -- if they ever come back -- and then supervise them all of tomorrow."
"Wonderful idea, my dear. What if nothing happens until nine months from now? May I remind you that your eldest son only has daughters? Which is why we needed to prompt your other son --" She sighed heavily. "But this will undoubtedly turn out to be one of the ironies of life. We should probably have stayed out of it altogether."
"I am fairly sure Richard knows his brother only has daughters," his father said hopefully.
"Yes, but will he remember it on the moment suprême?"
"He is a trained soldier."
"Trained to take advantage of the moment and if he thinks we are the enemy there is not much we can do."
Colonel Fitzwilliam had indeed taken advantage of the moment, but it had been less ruthless and more selfish than his parents were fearing, although he even remembered that he would have to dress for dinner, a fact he mentioned reluctantly.
"I suppose you must indeed," his companion answered with a smile. "...dress. Am I not bad for smiling?" she wanted to know.
"Oh, smiling is the least of your offences, my dear," he said as he pulled his shirt back on.
"Are we to sound like your father and mother?" Caroline asked interestedly. "My dear? And what of my offences? Or yours!"
"Mine?" Colonel Fitzwilliam sounded surprised. "Offences? Who undressed me?"
"I was only obeying you."
"If I told you to eat a worm you would not obey me either. But," he said, embracing her. "It pleases me to see you giggle."
"It pleases me to see you and giggle." She wondered if she liked him because of his spectacles and how superficial this might be. It could not be that. It had to be the chest. That was even worse and she hid her face against it with another giggle.
"Would the husband and wife business please you?" He was not yet certain it might. It was difficult to look ahead when one was enthralled by the moment. She had always appeared too haughty to even think of officers, an attitude she could not possibly have abandoned suddenly and completely. Marrying one ought to be an adjustment.
She was a little confused by that question. "Is that the visiting once a week business or are you talking about something else?"
"Where are you planning to live that I may visit you once a week?" he asked, confused too.
"Never mind. I think. Louisa -- never mind."
"It is customary for married women to live with their husbands and not with their sisters."
Caroline squirmed, but he would not release her. "I did not think I would. Never mind."
He was not going to do that. "So where was I supposed to visit you?"
"Are you doing this on purpose?" she asked uncertainly. "You are only stupid on purpose. Never mind."
"To be sure, it is exceptionally clever to take the world's most unaffectionate couple as a standard -- but I do like your opinion of me, even if it is too high." He had not immediately understood her.
"The world's most --" Caroline broke off. She was sure that was too harsh. "Never mind."
"They do not appear to be very fond of each other, but by all means correct me if they love each other to death in secret."
She tried to wriggle free from his embrace. "I have never given that any thought. Never mind."
"But you still think I am a sort of Mr Hurst who is indifferent to his wife all week and who probably remembers her just in time on Saturday evening?" Colonel Fitzwilliam pouted. Now that he had a grasp on the conversation again, he could increase the teasing.
"Never mind! Remember that I am to eat dinner shortly!" The thought of an affectionate Mr Hurst could still make her gag.
"Oh yes. Quickly, then. The husband and wife business I was speaking of has more to do with running the house and accompanying me outside the house, your representation as Mrs Fitzwilliam, in other words."
"Mrs Fitzwilliam," Caroline repeated in embarrassment at her misunderstanding.
The Colonel grinned. "As for the other thing, you will be alone during the day, but at night we shall be together."
"Always? The entire night? Er, evening? You do not have engagements?"
"Evening and night and early morning. Much the reverse from now, when you only have company during the day. But I was not asking you about that. I was asking you about the engagements, rather. You will be required to come to some."
"How was I supposed to know what you were asking?" she protested with a blush.
"Because there is no need to ask you if you like being in a room with me. You do. This is the fourth time and I have never detected --"
She pushed against him. "Go dress. I shall think about the Mrs Colonel thing, not that I can do anything but resign myself to it."
"We are a bit late for dinner," said the Colonel when he collected her outside her room. "But of course we had better things to do."
"Priorities," she nodded.
"So, what of the Mrs Colonel thing?" he asked as he dragged her through the corridors at a brisk pace.
"I shall have to...suffer it," she said gravely. "I shall have to wait. They will make you a general some day, will they not?"
He was speechless and looked aside, but she was smiling.
"It might not be so bad as I had previously imagined," she said, grave again but with a twinkle in her eyes. "After all, neither were you."
He lifted her up and swung her around. Then he kissed her.
"Richard! Where have you been?" The Countess sounded distressed at the sight, even though she had been known to do the same thing to her husband all over the house.
"Er..." He wondered why his mother looked both shocked and relieved to see him. "You gave us leave to go."
"Yes, yes, but that was before we discovered that it might all go wrong!"
"Nothing went wrong, Mother. We are merely a little late for dinner, but it looks as if you have not started yet either."
"We are eating a little later today because you could not be found."
"But it is by no means rare that I cannot be found."
"But you are never hiding away with a girl!"
"Mother, you gave us permission."
"Yes, yes." She still looked distressed. "But that was because your father had something to right the situation if it went wrong -- but we placed too much trust in that! He lost it. And now..." she looked from one to the other and shook her head. "We have let you run loose. We do not have any other option but to chaperone you until your father has remedied the situation."
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled at Caroline. There was no need to chaperone them.
"No," Caroline said decidedly.
"No?" Mother and son echoed simultaneously.
"I forgive you both for playing games with me, but I will not play games with anyone." She shot the Colonel a commanding look. A calm decisiveness had come over her. At least one person had to remain sensible in this mad household.
"Aha, there they are, Honoria," said the Earl, coming out of one the rooms. "I told you they would come back." He looked relieved.
"You never told me such a thing." She turned back to the couple. "Richie, tell me you have not betrayed our trust."
"In a sense I have," he had to admit.
Caroline's eyes had widened at his appellation. "Richie, I think you ought to explain." She gave him another commanding look.
"I have been very bad," he said with downcast eyes.
Caroline shook her head furiously when she saw his parents were hovering on the brink of believing him. They did not want to. She could see their opinion of their son was rather high and that they would rather not have it changed. "No, no! Do not lie to them. I will not have you do that." She felt in his pocket, struggling to extract something.
"You stole it," the Earl said accusingly when it occurred to him that the only thing that could be hidden in a pocket was a piece of paper. "Your mother was thinking I was growing old and forgetful, but it was you!" His voice rose in triumph. "Richard stole it, my dear! There is nothing wrong with my memory. Nothing! It was always in that top drawer!"
The Countess slowly let out the breath she had been holding. She waited to speak until there was proof.
Caroline handed the piece of paper to the one who looked most in need of convincing. She watched anxiously as Richard's mother studied it, but she thought she did not perceive any displeasure.
"And when are you planning to use it?" asked the Earl, who was all smiles now that there no longer was a problem with either his memory or his son. "No hurry now."
"I thought otherwise," his son replied.
The Countess silently handed the paper to her husband, who squinted at it. "You know I cannot read without my spectacles, my dear," he said, sounding a little vexed. "What does it say? It does not quite look the same as our secret weapon."
"It is a marriage certificate -- and it is not ours."