Page 32 of The Marriage Game

The next morning, Elizabeth watched Georgiana push the eggs from one side of her plate to the other, taking no more than one bite. It was time to say something. Elizabeth waited until Mr. Darcy had left the family breakfast room for his study; she dismissed the two footmen with a nod, and said, gently, “What is it, dearest?”

“Nothing whatever; I am simply not hungry,” Georgiana replied, eyes focused on her teacup.

“I have never before seen you so morose at breakfast, sister; please talk to me!”

Georgiana lifted her eyes to Elizabeth’s. “Lizzy, what is it like to be in love?”

Elizabeth took a minute to gather her thoughts. “Well, I can only speak for myself, you know. And, I suppose, for Jane as well, as I was her confidante when she fell in love with Mr. Bingley. But I guess…” Elizabeth trailed off. How to describe that most mysterious of states, when the greatest poets in the English language had tried their best? She took a deep breath and continued. “It is as if you are under some sort of magic spell, and that one person is everything to you! The earth, the moon, the stars! And you cannot stop thinking about him, and when he looks at you, your heart stops, and when he looks away, your heart stops again! Does this not sound entirely mad, Georgiana?” Elizabeth ended on a half-laugh.

Georgiana buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, my dear, is it Lord Fane?”

“I know we can never – but I – and he – and it is so very unfair!”

By now, Elizabeth had risen from her chair to run to Georgiana and hold her close. “It is very unfair indeed,” she whispered.

Georgiana raised her tear-stained face. “But Lizzy, this is what I do not understand. This is how I felt about George Wickham, and now I loathe the very thought of him! So might these feelings for Lord Fane not also vanish?”

“It is possible to love more than once in a lifetime, of course. Though I have to wonder if what you felt for George Wickham was not truly love, but simply a young woman’s very natural response to flattery. In any case, yes, people do survive love and move on to love others. But are you truly certain that there is no hope for you and Lord Fane?”

“I could not bear to be the cause of shaming his family,” Georgiana whispered.

***

Richard Fitzwilliam stared moodily at the eggs on his plate, but made no move to touch them with his fork. His mother watched him in some surprise. His appetite was normally quite healthy, so this lack of interest in perfectly scrambled eggs was cause for concern.

The Colonel felt his mother’s gaze and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“What is it, Richard?” she asked, gently. “Something is clearly disturbing you.”

He sighed. “You recall that I attended Almack’s last night?”

“To make amends to Miss Bingley, yes. You have not spoken of it, so I assume you were successful in doing so?”

He scowled. “Tis well that I was there, Mother, as a so-called gentleman attempted to compromise her.”

“What?! Who? Why?”

“As to ‘what,’ he forced her behind a drapery and disheveled her hair and clothing in order to give the appearance of shameful behaviour. ‘Who’ is Lord Russell, Baron de Clifford, and as to ‘why,’ it is simply that he is embarrassed for funds and must marry an heiress as soon as possible. Miss Bingley has twenty thousand pounds.”

The Countess’ brows rose high. “Good heavens, that poor girl! But you said it was well that you were there, so you were able to prevent him from achieving his aim?”

“I saw the drama unfolding and was able to extricate her in time.”

“He let her go so easily?”

The Colonel grinned. “Not so easily as all that. I threatened to call him out.”

“Really!” The Countess stared at her son. “Well done, Richard. How fortunate that you happened to be looking in her direction at the time.”

The Colonel reddened.

“Ah, like that, was it?” There was mischief in the Countess’ voice.

“It is not like anything, Mother. I beg you not to allow your imaginings to get the better of you. It is not as if I can marry a tradesman’s daughter, no matter her dowry!” With that, the Colonel rose abruptly, bowed to his mother, and left the room.

The Countess looked after him for a moment, and then murmured to herself, “I wonder when he will realise that it was he who brought up the subject of marriage.”

As it happened, the Colonel realised it quite soon after quitting the breakfast room. What was all that about, he wondered. I have no interest at all in Caroline Bingley! I would have come to the aid of any young lady who found herself in such a situation, let alone a young lady who I…who I…well, who I am acquainted with! Miss Bingley! Ha! Terribly bad-mannered. Though her manners have improved a good deal of late, he realised. And her clothing, so overdone! Though no, of late, she has been quite presentable. And that awful red hair! With its streaks of gold and bronze, and…well, damn it!

The Colonel was forced to face the incontrovertible fact that he was very likely falling in love with Miss Bingley.

***

Caroline was quiet as she ate her eggs. Jane had not alluded to their conversation at all, other than to raise an enquiring brow, silently asking if Caroline was well. Caroline had simply nodded, and Jane was satisfied.

What a marvelously restful creature Jane was, Caroline thought. Beautiful, serene, kind – no wonder Charles had so readily fallen under her gentle spell. Caroline understood again how very wrong she had been to try to disrupt that relationship.

Caroline followed Jane out of the breakfast room and into the drawing room. She watched as Jane reached into her workbasket and began to embroider a…what was that? “Jane!”

“Yes, Caroline?”

“What is that?”

“What is what?” Jane was, uncharacteristically, looking away and blushing.

“Why, Jane! Is that –“ Caroline rose and walked to the sofa where Jane sat. “It is, it is a baby blanket!” Without thinking, Caroline hugged Jane hard. “Are you certain?”

“Quite certain.”

“When?”

“Early September, I believe.”

“Charles must be in heaven! I cannot believe he did not tell me that I was to be an aunt!”

Blue eyes twinkling, Jane raised a finger to her lips.

“He does not yet know?”

“No. I thought to wait and see how long it takes him to figure it out.”

“Very droll!” Caroline began to laugh, and Jane laughed with her, long and heartily, and in that shared laughter, years of animosity floated away.

Hamilton, the butler, appeared just then. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” he announced, and then stepped aside. The Colonel strode in with his customary long-legged stride, paused, and bowed.

Caroline and Jane rose and curtsied, and Jane hastily put her embroidery aside.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bingley.”

“Good afternoon, Colonel,” the two ladies chorused.

“I have come to assure myself that Miss Bingley has recovered from – well, from her exertions at Almack’s.”

Caroline said, “Mrs. Bingley knows all of it, Colonel.”

Jane said, “Please sit with us, Colonel. May I offer you refreshments?”

“No, I thank you.” The Colonel sat in a chair opposite the ladies. Miss Bingley looked remarkably well, considering her recent ordeal.

“I am quite well, I assure you,” she told him.

“You look it,” he replied, and then reddened, surprised at himself for having made such a personal comment.

Caroline was surprised as well, and she stared at the Colonel for a long, silent minute.

Jane, keenly aware of the undercurrents in the room, suggested that the two of them take advantage of the fine weather and go out for a walk. “I will send a maid with you, of course,” she added. Jane hurried upstairs and spoke to her own maid, Emma. “Give them space to speak alone,” she instructed. Emma nodded her understanding.

Outside in the pale March sunshine, Caroline took the Colonel’s proffered arm. “Colonel, I cannot find the words to thank you,” she began.

“Please do not try,” he said. “It was only what any gentleman would have done.”

“And yet no one else did,” she said. “Everyone else looked away.”

“Doubtless they assumed you had gone with him willingly,” the Colonel said, distastefully.

“But how was it that you knew I had not done so?” she queried.

“I know you would not behave in such a manner, nor attach yourself to someone who only wanted you for your fortune.”

They walked on for a minute in silence, Emma many paces behind them. Caroline broke the silence, saying sadly, “Perhaps my fortune is my only desirable quality.”

The Colonel stopped at once. Staring down at her upturned face, he said, harshly, “You cannot possibly believe that.”

In the same small, sad voice, she continued. “I thought that Lord Russell was truly courting me, until Charles informed me that he was a gambler and deeply in debt. I then treated him coolly, hoping to discourage him, and he retaliated by – well, you saw his retaliation.”

“I am certain you have other, more worthy, suitors.”

“There is Mr. Lindsay, I suppose. He is the second son of the Earl of Lindsay.”

“That sounds promising,” the Colonel replied. His voice was calm, but he wondered why he felt a sudden urge to find the man and warn him off.

“I suppose it is,” Caroline replied.

“You seem rather disinterested in the prospect.”

“That is it exactly. I am disinterested. But I will say ‘yes’ if he says ‘will you’ because I must be betrothed before the end of the Season.”

“Why such haste?”

Caroline shook her head. “Because I have been a fool for so long that I have missed my opportunities. I have been rude, vain, opportunistic – and in so doing, have chased away anyone who might have been interested in me. You were right, you know, that night at Darcy House. You were so very right that I could not bear to hear it, and so I turned to Mr. Gardiner. He is very kind, by the way.”

“Yes, my mother speaks highly of him as well.”

“But how is it that you understand me so well?” she asked, and she lifted her eyes to his.

Green. He had known her eyes were green, but he had never before noticed the golden flecks in them…golden flecks that were a perfect match to those gold streaks in her hair…

“Colonel?” Her voice broke his reverie.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“Why are you staring at me?” she whispered back.

“I do not know,” he replied, helplessly.

Emma had watched them from a distance. She could not hear their conversation, of course, but she now felt uncomfortable, seeing how they were staring at one another. They were attracting curious looks from other pedestrians. This could not be permitted to continue. Walking quickly, she caught up with the pair. “Miss Bingley, let us continue our stroll,” she said.

Caroline awoke from what had felt like some sort of trance; she blushed furiously and said, “Perhaps we should return to Bingley House.”

The Colonel bowed and offered his arm. He did not speak again, nor did she, but both were very aware of her arm on his. At Bingley House, the Colonel very courteously took his leave of both ladies and left the house as quickly as manners would allow.

“Heavens, Caroline, what did you do to the poor Colonel?” Jane sputtered as soon as the door had closed behind their guest.

“I do not know,” Caroline said, slowly. “But – oh, this is all wrong!”

“What?”

“I think – I think I like him. It is too dreadful!”

“I think you like him as well,” Jane said at once. “But there is nothing dreadful about it!”

“How can you say that? He insulted me at our first dance, and then at dinner at Darcy House, he said such terrible things about me! They were all true, but nonetheless!”

“Do you recall Mr. Darcy’s first words to Elizabeth?”

“Oh, that she was not handsome enough to tempt him? He did not say that to her directly, as I recall.”

“No, but he said it within her hearing, and she left that assembly thinking him the least gentlemanly creature alive, and the very last man on earth she would ever marry!”

“Yes, but –“

“But nothing. I simply want to point out that the things he said at that first dance should be forgotten.”

“And his insults at Darcy House?”

“If they were all true, then that shows that he knows you, Caroline. He has, whether he knows it or not, spent considerable time thinking about you.”

“I still think he does not like me,” Caroline said.

“He sends flowers. He danced with you at Almack’s. He rescued you from a terrible situation just in time, which tells me that he was watching you a good deal at Almack’s. These are not the actions of a man who does not like you.”

“Do you really think so?” Caroline’s voice held a whisper of hope. “But his parents! The Earl and Countess would never approve of me!”

“You may be right about that,” Jane admitted. “But I have heard from Lizzy that the Countess very much hopes he will leave the Army, which can only happen if he finds a wife with a substantial dowry.”

“Another fortune hunter!”

“Hardly. A fortune hunter does not begin his campaign by telling the lady that he does not like her,” Jane replied, drily.

***

The Colonel returned to Matlock House in a state of deep confusion. He hoped to escape to his room without encountering his mother, but it was not to be.

The moment she heard the front door open, she intercepted him in the entryway. “How is Miss Bingley today?” she enquired.

Her son frowned at her. “How did you know where I was?”

“Do you think me a fool, Richard?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I ask again: how is Miss Bingley today?”

“She is well, but I think still a little shaken by the event.”

“I should imagine so. Did she know him to be a fortune hunter?”

“Yes, and she tried to discourage his attentions.”

“Thereby prompting this reaction. Dreadful man! But doubtless she has other suitors, despite her unfortunate hair colour.”

“Unfortunate?” Richard could not stop himself. “Why, there are five different shades in it; it is like a flame!”

Got you, his mother thought gleefully. “Indeed? I had not noticed. But what of those green eyes? Rather like having a cat glaring at you, is it not?”

“Cat? Not at all,” her son protested. “They look like jade, and they have the most intriguing gold flecks…” He stopped, realising how he had betrayed himself.

The Countess laughed at him. “Are you now ready to admit that you are interested in her?”

“She is a tradesman’s daughter, and I am the son of an Earl.”

“Oh, heavens, Richard,” the Countess said, impatiently. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like Fitzwilliam Darcy, trying to talk himself out of courting Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Elizabeth is a gentleman’s daughter,” the Colonel protested. “And you refused to allow an introduction to Miss Bingley, or have you forgotten that?”

“I refused an introduction based on her behaviour, not her birth. And her behaviour is now perfectly satisfactory.”

“You would accept her as a daughter?” the Colonel asked, his disbelief plain in his voice.

“If she got you out of the Army, I would welcome her with open arms.”

“And what would I do with my time, were I to leave the Army?” the Colonel expostulated. “Become a Town gentleman, join a club, and squire my wife about to social events? Bah!” The Colonel folded his arms, glared at his mother for a moment, and then marched from the room.