Page 26 of Friendship and Forgiveness (Mr. Underwood’s Elizabeth & Darcy Stories #7)

It was a familiar room that Caroline woke up in the next morning.

As her father’s business had been centered in Manchester, he had never owned a townhouse in London, and generally when business brought him to the capital he had stayed with the brother-in-law of his partner.

Then later when she had attended school with Elizabeth — at an establishment which, as the advertisements proclaimed it to be, was within easy reach of the metropolis — the two of them had frequently spent weekends, shorter holidays or the first few days of the longer holidays with the Gardiners.

Except in cases where they were entertaining other people and Elizabeth and Caroline were forced to share a room, this room in the Gracechurch Street house had been hers.

The reddish light of dawn beamed through the London fog and her window, and Caroline let out a long breath.

Nightmares all night, of course. But somehow they had not bothered her. Again and again that gun had been pointed at her, and she’d been unable to do anything. And each time, as Wickham went to pull the trigger he’d been shot, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was there.

Lord! Caroline hoped she would not go as soft in the head as she had with Mr. Darcy over him. He didn’t even like her. Or maybe he did.

But she owed him a great deal, and she would not forget that debt ever.

Rather than going downstairs, Caroline sat in a small chair by the window and leaned against the sill, pressing her nose against the cold glass. She was still very tired.

Her rescue of Lydia was the same type of foolishness and impulsiveness that she’d shown with Darcy, just turned towards a selfless aim, rather than a selfish one. Maybe that made her… what she had done to Darcy was still equally bad, but perhaps it made her less bad.

It was just… Caroline had cultivated a sense ever since she’d committed her crime that she was supposed to despise herself. She should expect nothing from anyone else but spite and dislike, and if anyone did still like her, it would be Elizabeth. And Elizabeth would like her because she was a loving loyal friend, and excessively sentimental.

She deserved nothing but to have a garden, cultivate herself, and avoid entanglements with anyone who might encourage her to fall back into her old habits of thought. She could provide the children of her family — both the Bennet sisters and her own blood siblings — with a loving and generally helpful aunt.

And suddenly that sense of the important part of her life having ended, with all its potential being destroyed by one act, one night, when she was twenty was flaking away, like the skin of a molting lizard.

It wasn’t anything about her having found redemption, or that she’d done something which made her deserve forgiveness, or deserve anything at all. She had not been thinking anything but that she deserved to suffer and Lydia didn’t when she encouraged Wickham to pick her as his victim instead.

No.

The gun.

The gun was enormously clarifying. It was impossible to feel as though… being unhappy was important after watching that gun with all her soul.

She was in fact the first one up and down to the breakfast table, except the maid and the footman were also up and arranging things for when the family would wake up. They were talking together in a slightly flirtatious mode that they dropped the instant they perceived that one of the quality perceived them.

Caroline smiled at them, filled with a glow of happiness. She felt drunk. But different.

The colors were more intense.

Her hand looked beautiful. The scent of the April flowers set in vases around the breakfast table nearly made her cry. If she’d died, she would have never been able to smell flowers again, except maybe those that grew in heaven, if she reached there.

But in this second, Caroline had no doubt that she would reach heaven when she died.

This small, sublime, London world around her was too beautiful for any other possibility to be true.

She pretended to read a book from one of the shelves, but really Caroline just marveled at the grain of the wood in the walnut table. The way that her dress draped over her knee. The way that the freckles on the maid’s nose stood out against her milky skin. The taste of the milk.

Mr. Gardiner was the first of the family down, dressed for business, and freshly shaved, with skin that glowed rather red. He smiled at her. “Hello, Lina. Sleep well?” He then paused, as though that was not simply a courteous question, but one whose answer might not be the polite “of course” to a host.

But she nodded and smiled. “I did.”

“Very good. So our Eliza is to marry that Darcy fellow. Strange how the world turns out.”

“Oh, beyond bounds!” Caroline replied with enthusiasm. “But I am so happy for her!”

He studied her face, the genial gray eyes looking for something, and then he nodded satisfied, and cut open a roll, and started to butter each half. “But what sort of man is he? I could hardly pin him down only from what I saw yesterday, and beyond that I’ve heard such conflicting accounts that I can hardly determine for myself how happy I ought to be for Lizzy.”

“Oh, very! I always thought highly of Mr. Darcy.” Caroline then flushed, with a strong sense that, given how she had behaved, she was not in fact quite permitted to praise Elizabeth’s suitor.

Seeing her chagrin, Mr. Gardiner laughed. “Deuced odd world. Eh?”

After that Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner came down, accompanied by one of the children, who shyly waved at Caroline and sat next to her.

Elizabeth sat on her other side, and took Caroline’s hand and squeezed it. “Sleep well?”

Shortly after Mr. Gardiner left to attend on his business Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy came.

As soon as Elizabeth’s suitor was announced, a broad, completely happy smile crossed her face. Caroline was delighted to see how complete happiness made her friend appear even more becoming than her usually envy worthy self.

Mr. Darcy had no eyes for anyone but Eliza when he entered the room. Those dark serious eyes fit on her, and Elizabeth stood up, inclined her head with a grin, and whispered something to Darcy in a low voice that didn’t carry, but he replied with a wide smile that made him look more friendly than his usually serious self.

He voluntarily made a slight incline of his head to her, “Miss Bingley.” But he said nothing else to her, and Caroline Bingley was in truth almost astonished that he said so much.

Following him was Colonel Fitzwilliam, who soon approached her and sat next to Caroline on the sofa. He asked with a serious look, “Are you well?”

“I… I believe so.”

His eyes searched her closely. Caroline flushed at the study.

He was the same as always — Colonel Fitzwilliam was not a man she could ever call precisely handsome , but he was a man who she found that she now liked to look at very much. However, he tended to silence while they sat there, rather than the effusive and teasing ebullience which Caroline had come to expect from Colonel Fitzwilliam.

The Gardiners’ children were introduced to the room, and Caroline eagerly watched to see how Colonel Fitzwilliam would speak with them, play with them, or ignore them.

As it happened within five minutes he was fully engaged in wrestling with the two boys, being dramatically defeated in their contests again and again, while effusively proclaiming to the eldest Miss Gardiner that she must take care to avoid being captured by any dragons, because if she were a great many knights would lose their lives seeking to save her.

In a word, he was as ridiculous as he ordinarily was.

Oddly Caroline felt… a little hurt.

She’d found herself to expect a certain sort of behavior from Colonel Fitzwilliam towards her, and that he would throw most of his attention at her, unless she’d contrived to make such an impossibility — i.e. by asking Elizabeth to pester him.

And now, while he remained in the same portion of the drawing room as her, he said little towards her.

The simple shine and certainty of the morning began to fade away again. She was still a young woman who had damaged her reputation severely, and who would never be seen without that thought being one near the surface.

Nothing could ever be quite the same, and she accepted that.

But still it gave her a melancholy sense.

Outside a brief shower came a few minutes after Darcy and his cousin arrived, and lasted some twenty minutes.

In the sequel to the rain, Darcy and Elizabeth suggested that they go for a walk out on the street, either going west to walk around the tower and maybe visit the royal animals and the menagerie in the Lion Tower, or they could go the opposite direction to the church yard around St. Paul’s.

“St. Paul’s certainly,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I’ve no notion to coo over leopards, lions and monkeys again. Miss Bingley, join me in pushing the far more sensible notion of a church yard.”

She smiled at him. “From the point of view of sensibility , I think neither has any advantage over the other.”

Darcy shrugged. “The churchyard can be accomplished more quickly, and I must ride to Longbourn to speak with Mr. Bennet this afternoon.”

“See,” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Caroline with a grin, “it was the more sensible option. And you nearly left poor Mr. Bennet to be interrupted over his dinner by a proposal of marriage directed towards one of his daughters. For shame! For shame!”

Ah! Now this was more like what she expected from Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Much as I respect, honor and love Uncle Bennet,” Caroline replied with a laugh, “and even though I am sensible of the importance of his welfare, he would not begrudge us the sight of the lions.”

“Not even to protect his digestion? Singular fellow, but I must bow to your greater familiarity with Mr. Bennet than my own.”

Elizabeth giggled. “Papa will feel no indigestion at having Darcy ask to marry me.”

“I’d certainly be unable to digest it,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, “if he applied to me in such a case.”

“Mr. Bennet is better able to handle those with more hair and height than himself than I perceive you can,” Caroline said to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

He laughed, and he grinned at her broadly, and she flushed.

The four of them spilled out onto the street laughing and bantering. Mrs. Gardiner had insisted that her children needed to dedicate themselves to their studies, and so neither she nor they could accompany them.

Caroline and Colonel Fitzwilliam found themselves somewhat in the role of chaperones, trailing behind the eagerly chattering couple. Unfortunately, within a minute of their quitting the Gracechurch Street residence, Colonel Fitzwilliam fell into the same silent manners he had arrived at the Gardiners with. He seemed to be rather preoccupied, and while he willingly shared his arm with Caroline, and looked at her rather frequently, he said nothing except in response to her words, and then little enough.

What to make of him?

Caroline could not decide.

Elizabeth and Darcy, naturally enough for two lovers who had entered into an engagement two days earlier, had few eyes and little attention for anyone else. Elizabeth was happy, she appeared to be even more herself than she ordinarily was, vibrant, excitedly gesturing, full of smiles and rosy cheeks. Frequently laughing.

But Mr. Darcy was both half the same, and half transformed.

He still had the serious noble mien, the reserved manners, and the intrinsic quietness and stability that was part of his basic nature. But he smiled often with Elizabeth, and he laughed sometimes. And he showed a deep pleasure in keeping her on his arm, in walking on the side closer to the road to guard her from anything splashed by passing carriages or pedestrians. His whole being seemed to be satisfied.

“They make a handsome couple,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said suddenly when they’d gone nearly the whole three quarters of a mile walk to St. Paul’s, and were entering under the leafy boughs of the trees in the park around the cathedral.

Caroline startled at his voice, since he had not spoken in ten minutes. “They match each other well, but in odd ways. Elizabeth is so expressive, while Mr. Darcy…”

“He is sensible, but less loud. But they seem to complete each other. I am happy for my cousin. Very happy for him.”

“And I am delighted for Elizabeth.”

He looked at her with a smile.

Caroline flushed. “Surely you do not think that I am so petty as to be unhappy that she will marry a man who I once wished to? My behavior then was… unreasoning. And—”

“No.” Colonel Fitzwilliam placed his other hand softly over hers on his arm. “I fully expected to hear that you are happy for her.”

Elizabeth and Darcy had ranged rather ahead of them, and they waved back to the two of them. When the groups rejoined, Darcy said, “We have determined to go in, and perhaps climb into the dome.”

“Planning to whisper confidences to each other from opposite sides of the whispering gallery?” Caroline asked Elizabeth. “You’ve always liked that.”

Elizabeth flushed. “Not secure enough for any important confidences.”

“For my part,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “I’ve no notion to climb a hundred stairs if I’ve not been ordered to by a general — Miss Bingley, might you make the circuit of the church yard with me, while those two madmen climb a tall set of stairs when they do not need to?”

Caroline flushed. “In a battle between your company, and climbing stairs—”

“I am not so repulsive as to lose that contest.” He laughed and winked at her.

Darcy and Elizabeth went into the cathedral, and Colonel Fitzwilliam fell briefly into his silence once more. The two of them walked under the trees and around wooden benches.

Caroline commented, “I do not think they can get into any great, ah, trouble in the cathedral.”

Laughing suddenly, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Your imagination is insufficient. But as Mr. Darcy’s imagination is also insufficient, they likely are safe.”

Caroline giggled. “If it is a matter of imagination , Elizabeth can certainly manage the task.”

“Then we must trust in their morals.” Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged. “In the end that is all we can trust with anyone.”

They walked past a street artist begging to paint the portraits of passing gentlemen, and turned one of the corners. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s steps slowed. She could perceive that he seemed to feel some sort of stress. Then he suddenly stopped, and clapped his hands together twice.

“By Zeus!” he exclaimed. “I am a great sight more nervous than I ever can recall being. Not a pleasant sensation! Miss Bingley, Caroline, I admire you exceedingly, and like a simple soldier I’ll simply tell you.”

“But—”

“No buts about it. I do like you. I can hardly explain it to myself. So do not expect me to explain it to you. I am a simple man, and I like the look of you, the smell of you, and the way you speak, and even the way you think. Well. There. Spoken.”

Caroline felt flushed through, and as she looked at him with a smile growing across her face, she thought that this felt right . Much, much better than if she’d managed to snatch Darcy. Besides, she had found she now liked Colonel Fitzwilliam far more than she’d ever liked Darcy.

As she opened her mouth, he raised his hand. “No answers. Not yet. Let the idea sit around a while in your head. A rather sudden request — I have not forgotten you, and you turned round in my mind a great many times since we met last at Netherfield. But I do not expect—”

Elizabeth’s tale of how she had prompted Darcy’s second request for her hand gave Caroline the solution to the excess of words coming from Colonel Fitzwilliam.

She kissed him.

Her kiss was a rather soft and hesitant thing, but his lips seemed to know exactly what to do. He placed a hand behind her head, and his kiss left her breathless and shaky.

He then laughed. “Now kissing men in the churchyard of St. Paul’s? What else will you try?”

“It seemed to me,” Caroline replied tartly, “that the moment was appropriate.”

“This is what I like about you. You are impulsive.”

“And what I like about you is that you speak too much.”

He laughed again. “Not my hair or noble mien?”

“You are losing your hair, you are shorter than many men, and rather too muscular for fashion. I like you for your conversation.”

“That is enough to satisfy a simple soldier, who simply wishes to be liked.”

They began to stroll around again, wandering off on another circuit from the churchyard.

Caroline had to ask again, “You truly do not despise me?” She flushed and looked down. “I am full aware of my own deficiencies.”

“That is good, because I am only half aware of them, and I foresee from the experience of my friends who’ve entered the married state, that it shall take me at least three years before my knowledge of them matches and perhaps even surpasses your own.”

She giggled again. Every word from him somehow made her feel safer, but a scared little rabbit inside of her needed to softly ask again.

“I already told you that I did nothing particularly brave. Not with Lydia. I hadn’t pondered the danger for long enough that—”

“Worst thing about battle is that you have time to think. The only reason that anyone stays in the line is because they’re too embarrassed to let the others in line with them watch them run.”

“It isn’t something that makes it better. I still tried to force Mr. Darcy to marry me! I still did something unacceptable, wrong, and worthy of revulsion.” She stood away from him wringing her hands. “You must understand that.”

He looked at her, and his eyes smiled. He put an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her into an embrace, and she willingly let him pull her towards him.

“Just so. Just so. You understand that.”

“I still do things without thinking. The way I kissed you, or the way I told Wickham to take me instead of Lydia — it was the same sort of impulsiveness. I might make mistakes like—”

“You will not.”

“But—”

“It is not unknown for an officer or soldier to panic, become useless, run around without any sense in him the first time he smells the smoke of battle, and sees the blood splotch on the chest of the man next to him. Some of these officers are useless sorts, but some of them become the best soldiers. You may make mistakes in the future. It would be stupid for a man to only want to marry a woman who couldn’t , because then he would have to marry someone already dead, and that would not be valid .”

Caroline giggled.

“You must tell me the tale of how a marriage not being valid is such a matter of amusement.”

“It was what the parson that Wickham found said every time he tried to hurry him forward.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled. “You have the makings of a fine person. But as I said from the beginning, I like how you look, and I like how you think. I also think we will enjoy each other’s company. Beyond that, I have realized that I love you. And love is not a matter subject to reason. Simple soldier, madam. I leave these worries about everything else to delicate fellows of delicate sensibilities who'd wilt if taken from their hothouse.”

“Well then,” Caroline said smiling, glowing from within. “Then I will happily marry you.”

They kissed again, but they parted when they heard the footsteps of some, no doubt disapproving, pair coming close to them and stopping.

It was Elizabeth and Darcy.

Elizabeth’s smile was the very opposite of disapproving. “Caro! My dear, dear Caro! Might I be the first to offer you congratulations.”

The expression on Darcy’s face would have made a thundercloud appear friendly. But he nodded, stuck his hand out to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s, and shook it with a murmured congratulations. He then sighed, inclined his head to Caroline, and said in a dull tone, “Congratulations to you as well, Miss Bingley.”

Elizabeth elbowed Darcy. “He is extremely happy inside.”

“As his affianced bride, your knowledge of Mr. Darcy must be superior to my own, only being his cousin, who has known him closely these twenty-eight years. However —”

“No need to argue it over,” Darcy said. He sighed. “We are both delighted. And you may feel as free as you always have to visit me with your… bride. Elizabeth will not be merely ‘delighted’ but authentically and deeply happy when you do so.” Darcy shrugged, and then he smiled at Caroline with rather more sincerity than she thought he had ever looked at her. “I can admit when matters have passed outside of my control. Welcome to the family.”