Section I, Next Section
Part 1
Caroline Bingley was having a wonderful time in Bath, compared to all the horrors she had had to suffer in Hertfordshire. Her friend Miss Copeland was not too burdened by the care for her invalid mother, for Mrs. Copeland had an excellent nurse, and so the two young ladies were free to do exactly as they liked. They frequented the Assembly Rooms a good deal and met so many people that they were always visiting or being visited.
"We have not seen Lord Bennington today," Caroline remarked as she and Miss Copeland were walking back from a visit to the Misses Preston.
"I heard there was another race next week and he went into Somersetshire to prepare for it," said Miss Copeland. "Tell me how you like Benny."
"Do you call him Benny?" Caroline asked curiously.
"Oh, I do. He said I could," Miss Copeland said coquettishly. "We are good friends. But you did not answer me, Caroline."
"He is very agreeable."
"Extremely so," Miss Copeland agreed. "I daresay that half the ladies in this town think so. If you want to succeed with him..."
"Diana?" Caroline cried.
"Do not be embarrassed, dear friend. I should quite understand."
"But I am not..."
"I know," Miss Copeland soothed. "It is quite below us to admit such a thing, but let me tell you a little secret. Lord Bennington needs a woman with a considerable fortune, dear Caroline. His late father was rather a rogue, you see, and he left Benny with all kinds of debts. He only barely managed to preserve his family estate from being sold. Did he not tell you?"
"No."
"I daresay he was too proud to own it. It is of course a dreadful thing to lose one's family estate because of the actions of one's father. I myself should not admit it very gladly either. Do not tell him this. He told me in the strictest confidence."
"I shall not."
"But do tell me how you feel about him," Diana pressed. "You have known him for a week now."
"I do not think a week is long enough," Caroline said evasively. "I do not want to think about such things. It will only lead to insecurity and confusion."
"Or to marriage."
"Why do you not marry him yourself?" Marriage was the last thing Caroline wanted to think about. Friendships were alright, up to a certain point, just keeping clear of any tangles.
"I do not have the money." They came upon a fashionable lady looking at something displayed in a shop window. "Miss Elliot!" Miss Copeland exclaimed.
"Miss Copeland," Miss Elliot replied, her gaze sweeping over Caroline lost some of its coldness when she saw that Miss Copeland's companion looked to be very presentable. Perhaps this was a worthy acquaintance.
"Oh, this is Miss Bingley."
"Miss Bingley," Miss Elliot curtseyed.
Caroline observed her. From afar, she appeared to be young, but from close by it was clear that she was not quite so young, even though she was still remarkably handsome.
"Miss Elliot, I hear that your cousin and his friends will be travelling into the country on your invitation," said Miss Copeland. "It will be such a loss for Bath to be deprived of all the fashionable young men."
"Indeed you are mistaken, Miss Copeland. I should not call Mr. Elliot and his band of friends fashionable, taken on the whole. Some of them are, but others..." Miss Elliot's mind saw a perfect answer to a problem that had been plaguing her for some time now. She absolutely abhorred spending time on her cousin's friends, and yet as the most perfect hostess in the county, she could not ignore them unless there was somebody else to give them attention. "Perhaps, Miss Copeland, you and Miss....-- Bingley, was it? -- would be so kind as to accept an invitation to Kellynch? You would not have to miss the company you so appreciate."
Part 2
Miss Copeland and Caroline had accepted the invitation and were now on their way to Kellynch Hall. It was but fifty miles but they had set out early. Caroline did not mind another change of scenery. Bath was really a small place, she reflected. She kept seeing the same faces everywhere. Most people would be elsewhere this time of the year. Although everyone was pleasing company, their conversations must be very superficial, because she could never remember what exactly they had been talking about. She did not mind. Too deep conversations were disturbing, for there would always be a link to something she did not want to think about.
On her lap rested a package that she had not opened yet. Her fingers touched the brown paper. It was coarse and practical; not something she would choose herself. The cord around it was bound tight and she could not even get her finger under it. She did not know if she should open it. It was plain to see where it came from. The package was covered with official-looking seals and stamps. She did not recognise the handwriting, however, and that puzzled her.
"Why do you not open it?" asked Miss Copeland after watching Caroline absentmindedly play with the parcel for twenty-five miles. She was immensely curious about the package that had been delivered just before they had left. It had evidently been everywhere already, because it looked grubby. Things with such vague addresses as 'Miss Bingley, Bath,' would eventually arrive, after many detours, she knew.
"I do not know," Caroline said listlessly. "It might be disappointing. I would rather not open it if it may be disappointing."
"Who is it from?"
"Oh, someone I know," she said vaguely. It had to be.
"But you will never know what she sent you." Miss Copeland naturally assumed the sender was a woman.
Caroline looked confused for a second and then smiled wryly. Oh yes, Diana thinks respectable ladies can only receive packages from women. She did not correct her friend's assumption. "No, but if I never open it, I shall never be -- I shall remain indifferent, which is what I want."
"It might please you."
"And it might not. There are three possibilities. I have a fifty-percent chance to remain indifferent, twenty-five percent to be disappointed and twenty-five percent to be pleased. The odds are too small. I shall not open it."
"I really do not know why you calculate that so coolly," Diana sighed. "I should just open the thing."
"Yes," Caroline put it aside. "Perhaps later." A few miles later she picked it up again.
"Are you finally going to open the thing?"
"No, I merely like to have something to hold."
"Perhaps there is something even nicer to hold inside the package. Shall I open it for you?" Diana offered. "I am getting sick of that package."
Caroline was getting sick of trying not to speculate too, so she handed it over. She looked out of the window as Diana cut the cord and unwrapped the paper.
"This is doubly packed. The inside package has got documents in it," said Diana in amazement. "You were afraid to be disappointed by papers? Oh wait," she said when something fell out. "There is a little something here. Looks like a man's watch."
Caroline took the watch and examined it. It was a compass.
"Here is the little note that was stuck to the outside of the inside package," said Diana, who had already read the note. "It says not to pay attention to the documents because the murderer has been caught -- which murderer? -- and that the sender does not understand why it should be sent anyway, but that it was the colonel's orders."
"Thank you for reading my private mail, Diana."
"There was nothing private about it," Miss Copeland huffed. "Why should anyone want to send you documents about murderers? Oh, here is another note. Dear Caroline. Oh my! Who is writing this? There is nothing but an unintelligible scribble at the bottom. Must be a man. Included is your statement. Please revise it if necessary. It started out so well. Why does it turn so cool now?"
"Because he is Colonel Coolness," Caroline said calmly, snatching the note from her friend's hand.
"Ooooh."
Caroline read through the note herself. Apart from the addressing line, there was nothing to become excited about. In fact, it was rather disappointing in all of its coolness. I knew it. She folded the note and stuck it into her pocket, along with the compass. She wondered about the compass. He did not mention it in his note. Was she supposed to be able to guess the significance of a compass? Well, I cannot.
"Well done, Elizabeth," remarked William Walter Elliot to his cousin as he observed the two ladies alight from the carriage. "It looks like the next few days will be fun."
"I must warn you not to misbehave yourself. You are aware of the consequences," she said coldly. "Sir Walter might not be so accommodating to you next time."
"Sir Walter --" Mr. Elliot began. "But he is entirely under your influence, dear cousin. It is you whom I should take care to please. And I am not being good to you by bringing Lord Bennington over?"
Miss Elliot narrowed her eyes. "You can go too far, Elliot." She stepped away from him to play the good hostess.
There was a cunning smile on his face as he watched her walk away.
Part 3
Miss Elliot had welcomed them very cordially and they were now all sitting down to dinner. Caroline glanced down both sides of the table from where she was sitting. Most of the guests at Kellynch seemed to be male, although Miss Elliot had taken care to invite a few more local women to make it a more civilised gathering. Caroline was grateful to her. The men were without exception young, unmarried, reckless and boisterous, and she did not doubt that their conversation would sink to very low levels if they had no one to temper it. Already they were teasing and challenging each other about some upcoming event, which she deduced to be the race Miss Copeland had spoken about.
"Please tell me, Mr. Garrett," she said to her neighbour. "Why is the honour of victory so important? I cannot quite make out the conversation."
Mr. Garrett gasped. "Honour? But my dear Madam --"
Caroline let that pass.
"Undoubtedly it is a great honour to win, but there is more at stake! Palmer, who is our treasurer, assured us that there is as much as two thousand pounds for the winner and it could increase if more people decide to place a wager between now and the start of the race."
"Do you mean it is the winner of the race or the winner of the bets who receives two thousand pounds? I do not quite follow."
"The winner of the race receives that. It was my fault. I should not have said that it was a wager, because it is not, really. People donate money."
It was incomprehensible to Caroline why people would do that. "Why do they?" she frowned.
"Because it is sport, Miss Bingley," Garrett explained patiently. "I know the notion of sport is sometimes incomprehensible to a lady, but I cannot explain it otherwise."
"I am sure, Mr. Garrett, that you have a hard time explaining it to all the ladies," she said sweetly.
"Oh, I do not mind," he said generously. "Have you got a favourite yet?"
"I confess I do not know anyone taking part, except Lord Bennington, and even him I only know slightly."
"I was under the impression that you were neighbours in Bath."
"Indeed, we were, but only briefly. About a week, I should say."
"And now you are guests in the same house!"
Caroline wondered to what Mr. Garrett's enthusiasm tended, but she assumed that he was merely trying to make polite conversation. "Who do you think will win?"
"Naturally I hope it will be myself, but if I must make an honest guess, I should say...well, Benny is a great driver. So is Howe. And Elliot has laid his hands on some very good horses. He could surprise us all." He lowered his voice. "But those fellows have one handicap. Their carriages are in too fine a condition to be all too reckless with them. Someone like Puckerface, whose carriage won't mind a bump or rattle, well, I say he could be a good outsider, because he won't mind driving through mud."
"Ahh," said Caroline. "And where are you racing?"
"We shall be making a little circle. The start and the finish will both be here."
"Have all the villagers been warned to stay off the roads?"
Garrett chuckled. "They will find out soon enough. We are not likely to slow down for a farmer. We are more likely to fly by so fast that he won't see us."
Caroline was certain that she would not donate any money to this stupidity, even though some of the young men had been agreeable. It was hard to believe they could be taking part in something as foolish as this. Perhaps it is because I am female that I do not see the fun.
Part 4
Caroline realised that she had not written to Louisa for a long time. Perhaps Louisa would want to know where she was. There was nothing else to do anyway, since she had declined to go for an airing in one of the carriages, claiming a slight headache. Miss Elliot and Miss Copeland had accepted and she supposed they were now being driven along at great speed along a bumpy and muddy country lane with branches sweeping into their face. Caroline could imagine a more pleasant way of spending the morning.
Dear Louisa,
I attempted to write to you before, but what I had to say was too difficult to express well and I tore up about a dozen attempts. I have now decided against going into details. Many things have happened to me since I last wrote you from Netherfield. If Charles tells you I have turned out rather wild, do not believe him. Yes, it is true that I spent several nights away from Netherfield and in very odd places. However, there are excuses for it, although I shall not give them unless you do not blame me for the loss of my reputation (which I think must be lost, considering how people like to gossip). I hope I am not alarming you. I am perfectly alright. There is really nothing to worry about. I was in London a week ago but I could not visit you, for I was on an errand for Colonel Fitzwilliam. (How is he thought of in town?) I am writing you from Kellynch in Somersetshire. You will want to know what I am doing here, since I was supposed to be in Bath. Well, we accepted an invitation from a Miss Elliot and we are now at her home to attend some silly carriage race that will take place here later today. (You know how Diana likes reckless men.) It is all rather inane but at least here everybody is unmarried and they have not got the silly notion that you are nothing without a husband.
She finished her letter and folded it. Outside she could hear excited voices. No doubt the race was on the verge of beginning and she would soon be fetched to watch. Her suspicions were proven right when a footman came to deliver a message from Miss Elliot. Caroline got up and accepted her cloak from him, all the while thinking that this was the only footman she had seen so far. The Elliots must not be very rich at all, though they keep up the pretence admirably well. She joined the cheerful crowd outside and forced a smile.
"Will you wish me luck, Miss Bingley?" asked Lord Bennington.
"Good luck, my Lord."
"Benny, if you please."
Caroline caught Miss Elliot looking at her coldly. She did not know how to interpret the look, for it seemed to be Miss Elliot's favourite facial expression. "Oh, I do not think I should..."
"Miss Bingley," someone else at her elbow addressed her. "Do you think I shall win?"
She turned to face him. It was Mr. Thorpe, whom she really could not stand. "I do not know, Mr. Thorpe."
If she had to choose a winner, she would choose Mr. Howe. He was a friendly young man -- a boy, really. Her smile became a little more genuine when she shook his hand.
The start was near and the order of departure had been determined by a lottery. Not all carriages could drive off at the same time, of course, because the road would not be wide enough. To avoid trouble on the roads, the men were allowed to choose their own way to the inn halfway where they would have to collect a small proof of their having been there. The past few days there had been nothing but speculations on which route everyone was going to take. When it had been discovered that Caroline was in possession of a compass, she had been begged by more than one gentleman to lend it out to him, for their own compasses were not as trustworthy. Caroline had refused. Gentlemen were so careless with their belongings. It was bound to get lost if she lent it out.
She felt the compass in her pocket as she looked at the participants get ready for the start of the race. It could not go right, she was sure of it. They would either run into each other, or into another carriage. "Let us go up to that hill," suggested Sir Walter. Caroline had not seen much of him yet. He had only returned the day before. She had wondered what he would think of this scheme of his relatives, but it had seemed as if the presence of at least one titled person and another who was the nephew of one were enough reason to approve of the whole affair.
Miss Copeland and she followed Sir Walter and some people she was not very well acquainted with. Sir Walter, whose importance had compelled him to volunteer for this role, was to fire the shot to signify the departure, so nothing could happen until he was safely on the small hill where he had a good view. After a few paces she looked back and saw that Miss Elliot being kissed by the driver of the last carriage in the line, Lord Bennington. Caroline resumed her walk thoughtfully. It was obviously not meant to be seen by anyone, for they were half hidden by his carriage. She did not know what to think of it, except that it was not surprising. The gentleman was titled, after all, and the lady must be nearing the age of desperation. When Miss Elliot caught up with them, Caroline took a secret peek at her, but Miss Elliot looked unperturbed. Again, this did not surprise her.
Up on the hill Sir Walter received his pistol from the footman and he stood firm, holding it up into the air. The spectators chose places a bit away from him, so they would not be deafened by the shot. Sir Walter fired, and the carriages were off one by one.
Some of the spectators cheered.
"The first test will be at the brook," a Mr. Musgrove prophesised when already some carriages began to overtake one another. "There is a large pothole --"
He was right. The second of the carriages swayed, swerved and lost its axle. The driver was catapulted high into the air and landed out of their sight behind a hedge.
Some of the spectators screamed.
The following carriages all slowed down and the drivers jumped off to look what had happened. The first carriage looked back and drove on regardless.
"Stop!" Sir Walter shouted in vain. "Deuced upstart Thorpe!"
Part 5
"Who was it?" people shouted near her and Caroline could not avoid the thought that she had known all along that something bad would come of this foolhardy scheme. She looked down on the confusion below as the first people on the hill began to make their way downwards. Caroline kept her eyes fixed on the hedge as she slowly walked down. Most people were too concerned with finding their footing in their hurry, but she had time to observe what was actually going on. The accident did not seem to have had a happy conclusion and she slowed down her pace. To view another dead body was not something she looked forward to -- though they would probably keep all the ladies away from it -- and there would not be anything she could do if the unfortunate carriage driver had indeed been killed in the accident.
Her assumptions had been correct. When she finally arrived down, as the last person, she found that the ladies were being kept away and uninformed. Although she was not anxious for any one of the men, some of her companions were, and they were not told anything. Sir Walter would not have them go near. Lest they should see his inefficiency in handling a crisis, Caroline thought. Letting them go would imply that he would have to go over himself as well.
"It was Lord Bennington," one of the Musgrove women whispered -- Caroline could not keep them apart yet. She only knew that they lived nearby and were somehow related to the Elliots.
Surprisingly enough, the news did not affect her as much as Miss Copeland obviously thought it would. Miss Copeland gasped and gripped Caroline tight, looking at her in concern. Caroline stole a glance at Miss Elliot, who looked properly shocked, but not as devastated as she would expect of someone who had been so close to Lord Bennington as to actually have been kissed by him. Caroline did not know which game Miss Elliot had been playing. Perhaps she was not playing any game. Perhaps she was just naturally reserved. Time would tell.
Sir Walter's footman -- the poor fellow -- was sent down to the village and Sir Walter ordered the ladies to be escorted back to the house for a good glass of spirits. He walked arm-in-arm with Miss Elliot, while Caroline hesitated between following them and waiting until the fainted Mrs. Musgrove had been revived by her husband's relatives. Apparently Sir Walter did not think his own daughter's condition serious enough to wait for.
"Did you see him fly through the air?" asked one boy of another in enthusiastic tones. It had not occurred to anybody to send the children away yet.
"Follow your grandfather!" a man ordered them, pointing after Sir Walter. Caroline was amazed. Sir Walter had not exactly behaved like a grandfather. Grandfathers were usually interested.
"But Papa..." the boy pleaded.
"We are all coming. Your aunt has come to her senses again."
The whole party set off for the house, while the gentlemen speculated on the cause of the accident and the ladies expressed the same things over and over again. After having heard their lamentations once, Caroline was in no mood to hear them repeated, so she took care to walk closer to the gentlemen so she could overhear what they were saying.
"I noticed just this morning that that hole in the road was getting deeper," said the younger Mr. Musgrove. "It must have been last week's rain."
"There was not that much of it," said his father.
"Still, it was getting deeper. I am glad that we did not speed through it."
"There was only one carriage that broke. It must have been the carriage. There are holes in all roads."
"He must have hit the pothole in the right way."
"The punishment for the indolent," was another gentleman's opinion.
Caroline listened to them arguing and defending their views of the cause. When it came to laying the blame, there was one gentleman who thought the defect had been in the carriage, even if he was out-argued by the advocate of the accident being a divine punishment and the gentleman who blamed it on the uneven road.
The notion of a divine punishment she gave no further consideration than a silent snort.
But despite the fact that the racing gentlemen had not spoken of anything other than the maintenance of their carriage and that it was not likely that one of the carriages had been in a very bad condition with all the attention they had devoted to them, she could not help doubting that a stupid hole could cause so much damage. After all, the first carriage had passed over the hole without any problems. She tried to recall if it had shaken or if perhaps its wheels had gone past it instead of through it. To her great disappointment she could not remember. She would have to inspect the hole to see if it was possible to avoid it, and how deep it was.
Remained the carriage. Although she did not voice her thoughts -- it was too soon for that anyway -- there was something about this accident that did not feel quite right. Perhaps I am imagining too much. Perhaps I am too influenced by the previous experiences. Of course this is a perfectly natural accident. Nobody was murdered here. Stop seeing criminal intent in everything. This is not Longbourn. This is the house of a Baronet.
Part 6
They all sat down in Sir Walter's drawing room and they were provided with a heartening drink to restore their spirits. It was not long before all gentlemen except Thorpe had joined them.
"What happened?" cried one of the ladies.
"We do not know," replied Elliot tersely.
"It all went too quickly," said Howe, who appeared to be shaken still. "Suddenly we were upon his carriage and we saw -- God save his soul."
"Did he not check his carriage beforehand?" Caroline asked.
The men seemed very much surprised that she would ask such a question. "He did," Howe answered. "We were all busy with the maintenance of our carriages in the past week."
"It was the hole in the road," said Musgrove.
There followed some more speculations, but they did not add anything to what Caroline already knew. She observed the assembled party instead. Sir Walter obviously thought it an incredibly unfashionable thing to have happened to someone such as himself. He was fingering his cravat uncomfortably while now and then making a well-mannered and noncommittal remark. Miss Elliot looked equally displeased with the situation. Caroline seated herself next to her to find out how Lord Bennington's tragic death affected her. She must be affected in some way, if only because of the loss of her marriage opportunities. Caroline did not doubt that Miss Elliot would have liked very much to become Lady Bennington, even if she did not appear to have had any feelings for the man. "Is it not a sad thing, Miss Elliot?" Caroline asked. "To have such a promising young man taken away from us?"
"Indeed," Miss Elliot sighed, but she did not volunteer any more information.
"Many a lady will be grieving, I am sure."
"Will you, Miss Bingley?" Miss Elliot asked sharply.
"I am very shocked, but you must feel the loss deeper than I, I am sure, since you had known him longer. Did you know him well?" Caroline asked in a sympathetic voice.
"I knew him tolerably well."
"I was under the impression..."
"Which impression?" Miss Elliot asked immediately.
"Well, that you and he...-- that perhaps you and he would eventually be married one day, but I might have been wrong."
Miss Elliot drew in her breath angrily. "I had plans of that kind."
"You have my sympathies," Caroline murmured warmly. "It cannot be easy to lose a suitor." At your age.
Shortly afterwards the party broke up and Caroline retired to her room. She wondered why she was the only one who seemed to consider sabotage. Nobody of the others had mentioned it so far. Would that be because I am being influenced by the previous case? If it was indeed sabotage she could only find out by inspecting the hole in the road and perhaps by examining the wrecked carriage. Not that I know anything about carriages. The motive was not yet clear, unless it was the money. Had Lord Bennington been such a great favourite then? Garrett had told her that Benny was a good driver, but he had not said anything about him being a certain winner. But on the other hand, if Garrett had fiddled with the axle, he would not tell anyone that he saw Lord Bennington as a threat. At least Miss Elliot would not have had a hand in any possible sabotage. She gained nothing from killing Lord Bennington. She had only lost a potential husband.
She would get no further if she did not investigate a little first, and so Caroline went for a walk to the place of the accident. The hole in the road was indeed pretty deep, but she did not think that a carriage in a good condition would have any problems with it. That she would not want to be inside any carriage driving through this hole was an entirely different matter.
On her way back she encountered a groundsman. He tipped his hat and began to speak to her. Caroline was apprehensive at first, not knowing what his intention was. Half of what he said was incomprehensible, but the parts she could follow were very interesting, so she did not walk on. According to the indignant groundsman -- who had been scolded for not having done something about the state of the road -- the hole had been in exactly the same condition ever since the preceding Tuesday and many carriages had passed along this road without ever breaking down.
"So you think it was the carriage that caused the accident?" she asked.
The man spit on the ground. "I'm not saying anything, Madam. You won't hear me say things about the gentry. I don't trust them where there's money involved. However, I may think. Oh yes, I may think!" And he walked off.
Caroline stared after him for a second and stamped her foot. How incredibly vexing it was to be so ignorant about carriages! She would need a man to examine Lord Bennington's carriage closely, but she could not trust any one of them. Not until she had more certainty. And yet she needed a man. With a sound mind. She smiled suddenly.
Instead of returning to Kellynch Hall, she walked in the direction of the village with a springing step after having checked that she had enough money to send an express.
Part 7
Colonel Fitzwilliam blew the ink of his signature dry and reached for the next report. Another case closed. He liked that. But if he had not had his own men, he would have worried about the conduct of officers in general, with all the reports he read. Some seemed incapable of spending a day in Brighton without getting into mischief. Considering that every rake could purchase a commission, it was no wonder.
"Your letters, Colonel, and an express."
He recognised the handwriting on the express and read it eagerly.
If you know anything about the maintenance of carriages, come to Kellynch in Somersetshire. Stay at an inn and do not say you know me.
Fitzwilliam read it several times, but he could not figure out what she meant. Why not ask a coachman? The problem was apparently not as straightforward as that, because surely she would know that he could not have the expert knowledge of a coachman? In fact, he did not know if he had any useful knowledge at all. And why must he stay at an inn? Where was Caroline staying? He was immensely curious.
It was only after a quarter of an hour that he gave any consideration what other things had come in the post. Five letters had to do with work. Number six was from Darcy. Some of what his cousin wrote drew his attention especially.
You have shown such commitment to your duties that Meryton can talk of little else.
Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned, as he did not think that he had been interesting enough for Meryton to talk about.
The fact that you sacrificed sleep to be able to keep your suspect at gunpoint was especially admired.
He had never pointed his gun at anyone remotely near Meryton, so this part puzzled him even more. Besides, he had not sacrificed any sleep at all.
That is what Meryton thinks. I am inclined to think it a gross exaggeration, although I did think you were unnecessarily zealous when you interrogated me, so perhaps it is not as far from the truth as it seems. Bingley was pretty shocked by these rumours, for he had not thought that you had really considered his sister a likely suspect. Until you sent word (until I told him otherwise), he was half worried that she had indeed done it.
"Oh, of course," he said sarcastically.
He packed his belongings and travelled to Kellynch. The place was not big enough to boast a real inn -- which first made him wonder if he was in the right village -- but there was a public house that had a few rooms available.
When asked if he was travelling, he said the beauty of the area had been recommended to him by a friend who had once enjoyed an excellent meal here, something that always went down well with landladies. "I need to recover from all the work I have done lately," he explained to her, when she was fishing for his reasons. The woman seemed to accept this as a very valid reason and left him to himself to talk in quiet tones to a group of men at the other end of the bar, no doubt to pass on what the Colonel had just said.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked around himself when he had got his drink and wondered how he could contact Caroline when he was not supposed to know her. Perhaps it had been a very foolish thing to come without knowing that he was doing here. And yet, Caroline would not send for him if it was not urgent.
It did not take long before he heard of the accident. After the landlady had satisfied the curiosity of her other customers, she came back to tell him all about it, for she was so full of it that she really had to tell it to someone and everybody else had already heard the story.
Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Some, but not all. He was quick to understand that Caroline did not think it an accident for some reason, but why she could not have sent for him openly was still a mystery to him. There was one more thing he knew now, and that was where Caroline was staying. That made it a lot easier to set up a chance encounter.
Part 8
An opportunity to examine the wrecked carriage did not present itself since Miss Copeland was almost always in her presence and Caroline had no time to figure out where the carriage had been towed to. She assumed it had to be somewhere near the stables and the coach house. "Mr. Elliot, where is the coach house?" she asked.
He was caught up in the arrangements concerning Lord Bennington. The deceased's relatives had been notified and he was now preparing for a funeral to be arranged in case they should send word that he was to be buried there. If word reached his relatives, if there were any, that was, for nobody seemed to know who was the nearest relation to Lord Bennington. Sir Walter had vague recollections of a 'freckled thing,' but one could not send letters addressed to someone like that. Elliot certainly hoped people knew where to find him on the occasion of Sir Walter's death. Therefore he was not in the mood to consider Caroline's question. "You should ring for the footman if you wish to order a carriage," he said curtly.
"But --" she spluttered. She did not want to order one. When he walked away, she gave up.
"Where do you want to go?" Miss Copeland asked.
"I do not want to go anywhere." She was given strange looks by everyone and she did not mention the coach house again. After all, she did not want anyone to know about her interest in the case.
Thorpe, who had driven on after the accident, had returned after completing the race, eager to know if he had won. He seemed more upset that there was no money to be won than to hear of Lord Bennington's death. He incessantly proposed to hold a new race, an idea that did not find any support anywhere, because of the impropriety of the situation. It seemed not to get through to Thorpe, who only sulked more when he could not get his way.
However, he had made one important point that nobody could ignore, even if they did not react to it. What to do with the money that had been collected? Most were tacitly agreed that this was of later care, although nobody could prevent himself from imagining himself so much the richer. How to dispose of the money would obviously become an issue of controversy when all the commotion over the accident had died down.
Caroline wondered if the money could have been a motive. Could anyone have been so thick as to believe that the race would continue after a fatal accident?
Yes, Thorpe. She did not have to think long for that. Is he also thick enough to draw so much attention to himself by bringing up the money all the time? Surely anyone devious enough to consider sabotage would also be devious enough to deflect any unwanted attention from himself?
Perhaps the accident had not been intended to be fatal.
This thought occurred to Caroline when she was having breakfast the next day and it opened up all sorts of new possibilities. Unfortunately, the company prevented her from working her ideas out and she had to save them for bed time.
What if the objective had been to put Lord Bennington out of competition, but not to kill him? It was possible. Far more possible than intended murder, Caroline thought. Still, the culprit would not step forward in that case either. He was likely to be shocked at this scheme gone wrong. For the thousandth time Caroline wondered if there had really been a scheme. Without any conclusive evidence for the cause of the accident she could not assume anything.
And without the help of a gentleman she could not get any conclusive evidence. Had Colonel Fitzwilliam received her note? Surely he would not think he could only come if he was an expert on carriages! She had realised that her note had not been very explanatory and she had considered sending a more detailed one after it, but he would perhaps never get it if he departed upon reception of the first one.
She was looking forward to seeing him again and she blushed in annoyance when she realised a few silly things about herself. If he should transport her on his horse again, she would not mind at all. But in order to accomplish that, she would have to get lost again and she suddenly realised that she had a compass, so it would be impossible to get lost. Did he give me the compass for that reason? Did he not want to find me lost again? Did he not like it? He must not have liked it then. That was a very disappointing thought.
Meanwhile, Colonel Fitzwilliam was studying ways of throwing himself in Caroline's way as inconspicuously as possible. He decided to call at Kellynch to pay his respects to the deceased, who had after all been an acquaintance of his. Since he did not know the Elliots, they would not know how far his acquaintance with Lord Bennington had gone, or how far it had not gone. He would be a traveller, incidentally hearing of his friend's death, and it would only be natural that he would seek to find out what had happened.
After breakfast he set out to Kellynch on foot. He was shown into the drawing room where he found a good-looking woman, who turned out to be Miss Elliot.
"I heard a friend of mine had died," he explained, hoping that she would not require him to say exactly what he had come to do. Sometimes it was not necessary to be specific.
She nodded. "It was a most tragic accident."
"Benny was quite a good friend of mine," the Colonel sighed.
She nodded again, but he could not detect any sympathy in her face.
"Could I perhaps see him?" he asked.
Miss Elliot's face expressed distaste. "See him?" she asked.
"To say goodbye? Do you never say goodbye to your close friends? It is a tradition in my family to always say goodbye."
"I do not think -- perhaps you should ask my cousin --" She was obviously not eager to deal with such requests herself.
At that moment, Caroline walked in with Miss Copeland. "Colonel!" she said rather flatly, due to being in company.
"Miss Bingley," he bowed."
"Ahh, Miss Bingley, you seem to know Colonel Fitzwilliam, am I correct? Could you look after him for a minute?" Miss Elliot said quickly. "I -- I must find --" she said vaguely. "I shall be right back." And she left with no intention of being true to her words.
Caroline looked at Fitzwilliam expectantly, trying not to jump from one foot onto the other.
He gave Miss Copeland a sideways glance. "Perhaps you and the other lady could show me the body of my friend, Miss Bingley."
"Oh, ghoulish," Miss Copeland cried out. "I will have none of that. Please excuse me, Caro." She left the room hastily.
"The body of your friend?" Caroline asked with raised eyebrows. "Who might your friend have been? And you know my dislike of dead bodies."
"Did I say dead?" he asked. "I came to see you."
Part 9
Caroline stared at him.
"I told Miss Elliot I had come to see Benny because he was a good friend, but you know I came to see you. Do not look so surprised. You summoned me yourself."
Caroline breathed out. "I know that, but you were speaking of bodies."
"Have you not got a body?"
"I have a body, but not a dead body."
"I know. Otherwise you would not have spoken," Colonel Fitzwilliam said seriously. He clasped his hands behind his back and studied her. "Are you well?"
"I am well."
"You do not look well."
"Complimentary, are we?" Caroline asked sharply. She was not aware that she did not look well. Why was she not looking well?
"Piqued?"
"It is not gentlemanlike to say a lady does not look well."
"Oh, so I should say you look incredible when you look as if there are important things on your mind? What is bothering you?"
"This case..."
" I have heard it was an accident. There is no case."
"There is now. You are here. Let us go for a walk," Caroline said abruptly. "We shall go past the stables and the coach house."
"Ahh," said the Colonel. "Carriages? You do not mean to test my skills by making me do funny things with them, I hope? For I should fail you sadly."
"You do not know anything about them? Why did you come?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam was tempted to explain, but he could not. He did not know why Caroline had sent for him to help her investigate the death of someone he had not wanted her to be acquainted with. He hoped she was not doing it because she had liked the man. "I know a little," he said instead. They went outside. "Was Miss Elliot not to return in an instant? What will she think when we are gone?"
"She will be pleased," Caroline shrugged. "I do not know how you scared the woman off, but I daresay it was effective."
"I merely asked her to show me the corpse," he said innocently. "Remember?"
"Oh, yes. Did you know him well? I do not know where the coach house is," Caroline hesitated.
"This way, I think," he pulled her the other way. "I knew him, though he was not a friend."
"Why not? Did you not like him?"
"I will not tell you anything about him unless you swear to me that you did not care for the cad."
Caroline gasped. "That is a very bold statement."
"I know. And it is true, too."
"Do you call people cads easily?"
"No, only people who scheme to marry rich ladies because they cannot keep a single penny in their pockets."
"Then I wonder why he was after Miss Elliot," Caroline said sharply.
"Was he? Is she not rich?"
"The Elliots give the appearance of being so, but they are not, really," said Caroline. "One with a discerning eye can see it in an instant."
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows. "I am amazed that your discerning eye does not seem to work in both ways," he commented.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"No, you meant something and I want to know what you meant. Did you mean you are rich but you pretend to be poor?"
"I would never admit such a thing to you. You must take me blindly and close your discerning eyes."
Caroline stopped to look at him. Before she could fix her eyes on his face, she discovered a person ducking behind a bush. She frowned, for who could want to observe them from behind a bush? It was not possible to identify the person. "Not now," she said softly. "Do not look back, but somebody is spying on us from behind a bush."
"Are you seeing ghosts?" he laughed incredulously.
"No. There really is somebody there. I am scared. Maybe there really was somebody following me this morning. I kept hearing footsteps around the corner. What do we do? The person will wonder who you are and why I am talking to you. He will think I know more than I know."
"We go into that building right behind you," Colonel Fitzwilliam decided. He advanced a step and pushed her gently over the threshold. He kicked the door shut behind him and they were in semi-darkness. "He cannot follow us here without raising suspicion, can he? And he cannot look through the windows because they are too dusty and covered with cobwebs."
Caroline silenced him when she beheld the wrecked carriage in a corner. "Look!"
"Is that Benny's carriage?"
She nodded, and wanted to take a closer look, but he pulled her back when he heard a soft scraping noise at the door.
"Quiet," he whispered. "Do not move. There is somebody at the door."
"He will know we are here to examine the carriage," she panicked.
"Nonsense," said Colonel Coolness. "Men generally do not take ladies into an old coach house to examine wrecked carriages. They usually have other intentions." He tried to figure out what would be the most natural way to embrace a woman and at the same time keep a half-closed eye on the ever-widening ray of sunlight creeping in through the crack of the door, and he dearly hoped it all looked as if he was solely concentrating on the mouth of his partner, who surprisingly enough did not protest, but he had always known Caroline was pretty sensible when it came to investigational matters.
The door was pulled shut just as quietly and Fitzwilliam paused. "All is safe. He left."
"Are you sure?"
"Hmmm...not quite. Maybe one more in case he looks through the windows?" he asked.
"Mmm...yes, it must look genuine," Caroline agreed. "I hope you do realise that this does not mean that I have bent ?"
"Nor have I, if your offer still stands."
"It does."
"So does mine."
"But I will not take it."
"Nor will I."
"Fine," she remarked.
"Indeed," he nodded.
"I warn you -- I have a strong will."
"So do I." Colonel Fitzwilliam dutifully kissed her again, to convince any possible onlookers that they were more interested in each other than in the wrecked carriage.
Part 10
Colonel Fitzwilliam walked towards Lord Bennington's carriage, leaving Caroline to recollect her senses. He postponed collecting his own, preferring to enjoy this feeling of warmth for another while.
Caroline saw him bend his knees to get a closer look. There was not much she could do to help him, so she walked back to the door and peered out. Dark coattails could just be seen turning around a corner some distance away. However, that did not tell her if that person had been here at the door, or who it was, for all the men in the house wore dark coats, even Colonel Fitzwilliam, as she saw with a glance in his direction.
She felt alarmed when she suddenly saw a group of three men come around that same corner and head in the direction of the building they were in. All three wore dark coats and there was no telling if she had just seen one of them a minute before. "Is there a back door to this shed?" she asked.
"No idea," Fitzwilliam replied, engrossed in studying the carriage from beneath.
"Do not be so mad as to crawl under something that could fall apart on you every second!" she exclaimed anxiously. "And hurry, for there are people coming! We cannot be found here."
"Ahh," he said with satisfaction as he apparently discovered something.
"Hurry!"
"I must take a better look. They will not come in here."
"Yes! They are coming." Caroline looked around nervously, to see if there was another door. They could not leave through the front door, because then they would certainly be seen. She spotted a half-hidden door at the back, behind the carriage. "Richard?" she tugged at his legs when he did not move. Reluctantly he slid out from under the carriage and Caroline pushed him towards the door. It was open. Quickly she pushed him out. Behind them she could already hear voices. "Just in time," she whispered.
"Let us listen to what they say," Fitzwilliam suggested.
"No, let us go," she begged. Caroline moved away from the coach house along a path that led to one of the gardens. She could not wait to be out of sight. Since Colonel Fitzwilliam could not make out what the voices were saying, he followed her. "Did you find out anything?" she asked when they sufficiently far away.
"I might have discovered more if you had not pulled me away."
"Yes," she said sarcastically. "You would have discovered what it was like to be discovered trespassing. What did you find?"
"Something very interesting." He looked et her appreciatively. "Your nose did not fail you, Caroline."
"What does my nose have to do with it?" she asked impatiently.
"It smelled foul play."
Caroline's eyes began to gleam with excitement. It was always nice to hear that you had been right. "Well? Tell me!"
"It was very interesting. The axle had been --"
"Hush!" Caroline interrupted him. "Miss Elliot! What is she doing here?"
They stood still and waited until Miss Elliot had caught up with them, her black coat flapping about her as she strode towards them with angry paces. "Miss Bingley," she said reprovingly. "Why did you take the Colonel outside?"
Caroline did not know what to say. She could not think of a lie so very quickly and to tell the truth was impossible.
"You did not return," Fitzwilliam bowed. "I asked her to show me the way to the village."
"You are quite out of your way," Miss Elliot said coldly.
"That is my fault," Caroline apologised. "I am not acquainted with the area. I thought the village was this way."
"You should not have let him go. Friends of Lord Bennington's are always welcome." She had not been very interested in Colonel Fitzwilliam at first, and had been glad to leave him to Caroline, but a conference with Sir Walter and a lengthy perusal of their books on the peerage had brought to light that Colonel Fitzwilliam was possibly related to the Earl of Matlock. Sir Walter and Elizabeth Elliot were always eager to promote their connections with the higher peerage and to entertain the son of an Earl was indeed quite something, very much worth the trouble of going out in the cold to find him to coax him back into the house again.
"Thank you, Miss Elliot," said the Colonel. "I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley, for inconveniencing you."
"You must come back into the house," Miss Elliot said decidedly. "I insist."
"What can I do but obey?" he said gallantly, offering his arms to them. With a lady at each arm he walked back to the house. "I have never escorted two such beautiful women."
Caroline glared. This gallantry to another woman was not at all offset by the pleasure of being included in the compliment and she let him know it, by gripping his arm so hard that he had to feel it. She was beginning to become utterly confused again.
However, Colonel Fitzwilliam had his hands full and could not do anything, although he did feel her grip most acutely. Neither could he tell her to release him, because that would sound rather peculiar. "I am glad you two take my arm in a civilised manner," he said instead, after having racked his brains for something to say. "I have a cousin who always leaves blue imprints on my arm." The pressure on his arm was released instantly.
Miss Elliot was a polite lady, if sometimes obviously uninterested in her conversational partners, and so she knew she ought to make a comment. "What a mean cousin you have, Colonel."
"Oh no," he replied. "She is rather sweet."
Caroline felt a pang of jealousy as they went into the house.
Part 11
Caroline was dying to know what Colonel Fitzwilliam had found out, but she was forced to wait, for Miss Elliot first made them come into the drawing room where she immediately rang for refreshments. "Where are you staying, Colonel?" she inquired.
"Oh, I am staying at the inn."
"The inn!" Miss Elliot exclaimed with obvious distaste. "You cannot be serious."
"I am."
"But why?"
"Do you never stay at inns, Miss Elliot?" he asked.
"Not if I can help it! I have friends everywhere."
"I am relatively friendless in this part of the country."
"What, do you not know anybody in Bath?"
"I did not want to impose on them."
"I shall send a servant to the inn for your belongings," Miss Elliot decided. "You will stay here."
"Thank you, Miss Elliot. That is extremely kind of you." He caught Caroline's eyes and tried to convey a reassuring look. He would get the chance to tell her later.
A man entered the room, and Miss Elliot introduced him as Mr. John Thorpe. Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed politely, gathering from the look on Caroline's face that Thorpe was not her favourite person. Fitzwilliam had no trouble believing that when he studied Thorpe's weasel-like features.
"Have you moved in, Colonel. Did Miss Elliot our gracious hostess offer you old Benny's bed now that he is no longer here to occupy it," Thorpe chuckled. He had the very annoying habit of not pronouncing question marks. Perhaps it was because he was not expecting any answers anyway. "Hello! I just got the most wonderful idea. If you are in Benny's bed, like, you might as well take his place in the race so we can finally continue. That wretched accident destroyed all our plans. Come to think of it, I think it is an excellent idea. What do you say. I say we go for it. Shall I take up the suggestion with the lads. Do you not think it is a terrific plan, Miss Elliot. Yes, I shall go now to tell them."
Fitzwilliam saw that both ladies looked displeased. If Miss Elliot looked as if she could kill Thorpe, Caroline looked as if she would kill Fitzwilliam if he participated. Caroline's opinion mattered to him and so he felt he had to say something to put her at ease. "It would be a disgrace, do you not think so, Miss Elliot? Poor Benny has only just passed away and I fear it would be offending his spirit if the race was taken up again so soon."
"That race should never have been taken up in the first place," Caroline said sternly.
"I am glad you think so, Miss Bingley, but men are difficult to persuade and with even my cousin participating..." Miss Elliot sighed.
"I shall not participate," he said firmly. "It is not to my taste. I find my enjoyment elsewhere."
Caroline smiled.
"Then what do you like, Colonel?" Miss Elliot asked.
"I am a man of quiet and simple pursuits, I am afraid. And I am quite devoted to my work."
"Indeed!" Miss Elliot was amazed. "Such is the fate of the younger son, but do you not find it awful to have to work?"
"Oh, not at all. If I had not had a profession, I might have spent my days in vacuous idleness and bored myself to death."
"But the people one comes into contact with! They cannot possibly be of the kind one would like to meet."
Fitzwilliam smiled and glanced at Caroline. "Not all, but some are definitely worth keeping as acquaintances."
"Miss Bingley, ought the Colonel not to be glad that he is here now? Away from savage company?" Miss Elliot asked. "Miss Bingley? Miss Bingley?"
Caroline had been looking back into his eyes and Miss Elliot suddenly no longer existed.
"Miss Bingley?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. He hated to break this wonderful spell he was under, but they had to save such occasions for when they were alone and not under Miss Elliot's inquisitive eyes. Besides, Caroline seemed to have swooned.
"Ye-e-es?"
"Are you alright? You look a little unwell," Miss Elliot said.
"Acquaintances?" Caroline squeaked, her eyes unfocused as if she did not know where she was.
"You do not seem well, Miss Bingley."
"Perhaps she should lie down," Fitzwilliam said in a concerned tone.
"Yes," Miss Elliot agreed. "Lie down, Miss Bingley. I shall fetch my smelling salts." She quickly walked out of the room.
Caroline inclined on the sofa. "I feel alright," she said in a small voice. "I am floating. I think I have a fever. I feel warm."
Fitzwilliam knelt beside her and placed a hand on her forehead. "You look a little flushed, my dear," he said softly. "But I do not think it is a fever. I think you have an attack of something I had before. I did not understand it at the time, but its significance came to me later."
"Which illness was that?" she asked anxiously.
He smiled. "Do you have any whirring or buzzing in your ears?"
"Oh, yes. I could barely hear what Miss Elliot was saying."
"You will be alright," he stroked her face.
"Please tell me the illness will not bring red blots to my face," she begged.
"It will not," he vowed and stood up because he heard hurried footsteps approaching.
Miss Elliot returned and held the smelling salts under Caroline's nose. She recovered quickly and sat up straight. "Oh, my heart is all a-flutter," she exclaimed.
"Mine too," Fitzwilliam murmured inaudibly. Her stupidity endeared her to him, even. How incredibly ridiculous. But he was glad he had come -- even if they would not crack the case, he had got two kisses. He knew for certain now that he had to have her as his wife.
Part 12
"I have ordered for your belongings to be brought to Kellynch Hall," said Miss Elliot. "This is my father, Sir Walter."
"Sir Walter," Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed.
"And my cousin, Mr. Elliot."
"Mr. Elliot," Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed again. He was also introduced to more men, but they seemed of lesser importance to Miss Elliot. The dreadful Thorpe brought up the subject of the race again and he needed all his attention to thwart attempts to draw him in. When he had finally convinced Thorpe and the others that he was not interested in carriage racing, he noticed in alarm that Sir Walter had seated himself next to Caroline. That old man!
"We have not spoken the last words on this subject, Colonel," said a sly-looking Thorpe in a private aside. "And you had better be careful -- Sir Walter likes his women young and pretty. Not too young, mind you, Colonel, but around Miss Bingley's age. Well, you can see what attracts us all in your friend. I could tell him she is spoken for -- what else could that romantic tryst possibly have meant -- but that would mean revealing what I saw and perhaps you do not want to compromise the lady, so perhaps I shall just advise him to go for it because she is not inexperienced. Unless," Thorpe said slowly and a sly grin spread across his features. "Unless you say you'll race."
Fitzwilliam suppressed the urge to wipe that sly grin from Thorpe's face. It would not do to hit the man in public, but he reserved himself the right to retaliate if Thorpe should threaten him somewhere outside some time. "I shall not race," he said coolly. He was not going to be afraid of the weasel, no matter how tough his threats were.
"As you wish, Colonel. I hope you will not regret your decision," Thorpe bowed and sidled away.
He cast a worried glance at Caroline, who was engaged in a lively discussion with Sir Walter and one of the young men. She did not seem interested in either of them -- while observing Mr. Collins's dead body she had looked more engaged than now. But I am not here to study Caroline, he reminded himself.
Instead he looked around. Miss Elliot gave Mr. Elliot a look of perfect dislike in response to something he said, to which he only laughed. It would be interesting to find out more about the relationship between the two cousins. In a family situation such as theirs it happened so often that cousins married, that it was odd that it had not happened in the Elliot family. Miss Elliot clearly did not like her cousin and yet she chose to converse privately with him at length, and they were not exhibiting any signs of breaking off their conversation any time soon.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seated himself next to Caroline's friend Miss Copeland, who was speaking to a young man named Garrett, but they were eager to include him in their discussion. For a while they spoke about the theatre, until he managed to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Who ever conceived of the idea of a race?"
"It was either Thorpe or Elliot," Garrett answered. "They both claim to have thought of it first."
"And then they asked you? Or did you volunteer?"
"Well, they brought up the subject at our club and several of us were enthusiastic. Of course there are always those who say they will join in but who will cry off at the last minute," Garrett said contemptuously. "Like the married men. The women are always against it. Miss Elliot was against it from the start, but Sir Walter sponsored the idea so she could do very little against it, except find fault with Elliot all the time."
"Why was she against it?"
Garrett lowered his voice. "Because she dislikes Thorpe, I think. His background is quite common..."
Miss Elliot did not look as if she ever lifted a finger so Colonel Fitzwilliam did not see the point of asking whether she knew anything about carriages. The footman came to inform him that his belongings had arrived at the house and that if he wished to see his room, he could now come up. Fitzwilliam decided to do so. It would give him a chance to speak with the footman. Footmen and other servants often knew interesting things about the inhabitants of the house and their guests.
The footman and a young boy struggled with his luggage and he followed them. It was perhaps not wise to ask questions in front of the boy and his stuff was too heavy for the child anyway. "Let me carry that," he said to the boy. "It is too heavy for you."
"But Sir..."
"You go down, Toby," said the footman, whose name was Edgar.
"Are there no other servants?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"No, Colonel. Well, there is Sir Walter's manservant but I don't count him among the men, and there is the men who work outside of the house."
"Ahh," said the Colonel understandingly. "The Elliots' fortune must not be as large as it appears."
"No, Colonel."
"They disguise it well."
"They won't be able to keep it up for long," the footman confided. "They had counted on Lord Bennington's fortune and they have been overspending quite a lot in anticipation of it."
"Lord Bennington was as poor as a church mouse. He had no fortune."
"Really? Well, he is dead now, poor man, so he can't be of any use anymore. Either Miss Elliot or Sir Walter will have to find another rich candidate. Perhaps that lady who's now staying here. I heard she's rich."
"And she is mine," said Fitzwilliam. "Too bad for Sir Walter. Edgar, if you were a woman, would you not think she would choose me over Sir Walter any day? With me being younger..." And he was also a lot more things he dared not voice.
"Yours, Colonel?" Edgar was still catching up. "Is it not a great coincidence to find your fiancée here?"
"Yes. But she is not my fiancée yet, so please keep it to yourself."
"You must have been right pleased to find her here, Colonel. I do think she would prefer you."
Part 13
"Was it not dreadful?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked the footman, who was carefully placing his belongings in his room. "The accident, I mean."
"Oh, yes. We had not expected anything of the sort and I heard from the coachmen that Lord Bennington was an able driver," said Edgar.
"Did they get at any look at the carriages before the race?"
"Oh, no. They were mightily vexed about that. The gentlemen wouldn't let them interfere. They thought they could all do it themselves, that one gentleman especially -- Mr. Thorpe. He was always shooing the coachmen and the grooms away."
"Mr. Thorpe?" the Colonel said thoughtfully. "Tell me -- you have not seen him walking around with a saw, have you?"
"No, Colonel." Edgar was puzzled.
"Pity."
"Will you be needing me any more, sir?" Edgar asked.
"No, thank you."
Edgar left the room and descended the stairs, where he encountered Miss Bingley, who was just ascending them, having claimed a slight head ache. Thinking that, as the Colonel's near-fiancée, she might be interested in knowing where he was housed, Edgar bowed. "Miss Bingley, excuse me."
Caroline paused.
"The Colonel is in the second room after the arched hallway to the right."
"Thank you." Caroline continued upwards and wondered where to find the arched hallway. She had not seen any arched hallway, but it turned out that only the entrance was arched. "Ahh...here," she mumbled and counted off two doors and knocked on the second. "I cannot be seen in your room," she said as soon as Fitzwilliam opened the door. "But I suggest we go somewhere private so you can tell me what you discovered." She appeared to be in excellent spirits.
"I have several things to tell you," Fitzwilliam said, closing the door behind him. He led her into the arched hallway. "I have no idea where this leads to, but it is worth exploring," he said, until he studied the paintings that hung on the walls. "Perhaps not so suitable for a lady's sensibilities, however. Do not look aside, Caroline."
Caroline looked aside. "Oh!"
"I told you not to look."
"And you should know that it would have had the opposite effect!"
At the end of the hallway there was a small niche with a bench, which would not be seen from the main hallway. Opposite the bench were the service stairs. "I doubt that any servants will be coming up those," he remarked. "There are so many of them that they will all be needed in the kitchen. Sit down. Alright, where shall I start? Perhaps a word of caution first. It seems that Mr. Thorpe saw us."
"Where did he see us?"
"Apparently he saw us engaged in..." Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed. It was a rather delicate thing to mention.
"He saw us engaged in the art of fooling the enemy," Caroline said brightly.
"Quite right," he said. "Caroline, there is something I have to say to you about that, but now is not the time. Let me continue. Thorpe threatened to tell Sir Walter that you were willing to be courted by him, because as you know, he needs money. He said he would tell him if I did not participate in another race."
Caroline's eyes flashed fiercely. "That...rat...is blackmailing you? How dare he? How dare he say that I would be willing to be courted by that insipid Sir Walter? The man is insipid, stupid, vain, old..."
"But he has got a nice house and I do not," Fitzwilliam said cleverly. If this was not the right moment to make the woman see reason, he would eat his hat.
"Richard, you are using underhand ways to get me to live in that shed with you."
"Admit it, Caroline. I am everything he is not. I am not insipid, not stupid, not vain, not old..."
"I should feel locked up in such a house. I could buy you a bigger one."
"What is that little inconvenience to you if you can be with me? I told you before that I do not want you to buy me a house and if I should happen to come by a house in some mysterious way, I certainly do not want you to come running to me begging me to marry you, because I shall say no."
Caroline frowned. The chances of him inheriting some property were too great. If he did, he would be lost forever. "Do you have many uncles and aunts and so on?"
"Yes, they are all very old and they all have four houses at least."
She really did not look forward to living in that tiny house with him, but it sounded as if it could not be helped.
"Before you destroy my life by refusing me, darling, give me one more kiss so I can die," he said in a low, dramatic voice. "I cannot live without them."
"That is so mean," she hissed. "You should not be bringing emotional matters into this rational discussion, Colonel Coolness!"
"You have changed me," he vowed. If he could play cool, he could play besotted as well.
"Alright. One more kiss," Caroline conceded.
"Two?" he pleaded afterwards.
"Well..." Caroline was not unwilling to oblige. It seemed to last even longer than the first one and she would not mind if he asked for another.
"Three?" Fitzwilliam begged angelically, but before she could press her lips to his, he withdrew his head and grinned coolly. "If you want it, you can get number three when we are married, but not before."
Caroline was confused at first, but she soon became annoyed. "You should play by the rules, Colonel!"
"I was only fooling the enemy," he said in a cool and composed voice. Love was not unlike war, he reflected, and he was not being mean, only devious. "Now, about that carriage...I saw that certain parts of the undercarriage had got incisions in them, as if someone had been attempting to saw them through. The person stopped at such a point that any pothole would finish the job and cause the carriage to do whatever it did."