It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife. Caroline knew this fact to be true and had expended considerable effort to convince those around her of its veracity.
Turning her head from side to side she examined herself as she sat before the mirror in the bright room. Her complexion was pale and brilliant, her teeth white and straight. Her hair was smooth and perfectly styled, with small white roses interwoven with the braids, except for a single stray lock which refused to cooperate. She smiled at her reflection and stood up. Smoothing down her ivory gown she twirled and twisted her head to check for creases.
"You look perfect Caroline," said her sister, advancing from the window. Caroline's smile widened.
"Yes, don't I?" she replied. The gold trimming set off her hair to its best advantage. She was stunning. And today would be the day of her triumph. Turning to her sister she accepted the bouquet Louisa offered, and picked up her bonnet from the dresser. As she descended the stairs she saw her brother pacing the hallway, looking impatiently at his watch. Hearing her light step he turned on his heel to face her. Whatever words he had intended to offer died on his lips as he looked at her and a single word escaped him. Beautiful. Her triumph was begun.
The carriage ride was shorter than Caroline would have liked, but the sun allowed for an open carriage and she revelled in the approving glances of the men they encountered almost as much as the envious stares of the women. The town houses gave way to greenery as they skirted the park popular with the Ton. The trees were strikingly green and the pond sparkled in the sunlight like a thousand diamonds suspended in the air but she saw little of this beauty and cared for it even less. Her eyes were focussed on the imposing building at the end of the avenue. The details revealed themselves as the carriage drew nearer; the regularly spaced stone blocks, the intricately carved doorway, even the gargoyles, which she normally found to be grotesque, seemed to be smiling today.
A small crowd was gathered outside the church to welcome the sisters, and much admiration and many compliments were heard by Caroline's sharp ears. She bowed her head modestly and affixed a demure smile to her rosy lips. A smiling matron Caroline vaguely recognised as a future relative started clucking and ushered the guests towards the door, leaving only the siblings outside. Her brother turned to her and offered his arm. They slowly ascended the steps and came to a halt before a closed oak door. Caroline paused and drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. The moment was here. This door would open presently and all eyes would turn to her, all would approve of her. But for once in her life Caroline did not care about the all, only for one.
For him. The single man she was convinced could make her happy. The only man she would sacrifice anything for if he asked it of her, and she would do it happily. A man beyond all others in manners and countenance if not in consequence. The man who could make her deliriously happy or terribly sad with a single word or look. The only man she would ever love. At one time she had suspected he would never love her in return. But when the doors opened she would walk forward in all her splendour, meet his eyes and see the emotion therein; her triumph would be complete.
The opening strains of the wedding march could be heard through the heavy oak, and her hand trembled in anticipation as it lay on her brother's arm. He smiled encouragingly at her and led her forwards as the verger threw the doors open. Caroline smiled as she stepped into the cool church and all heads turned in her direction. A murmur of approval rippled around the pews, indulgent smiles adorned the faces of friends and family but she was oblivious of it.
Even as she walked she looked down the aisle at his fine figure and sought his eyes. But in vain. She felt a sudden stab in her heart and almost faltered in her measured pace. For his were the one pair directed not at her, the only pair ignorant of her magnificence, insensible of her approach. Instead he watched a woman of inferior beauty. Even from this distance Caroline could see how he drank in the curve of her face, the bounce of her unruly dark curls, the smooth tanned skin to the exclusion of all else. In a way he had never looked at her. Never would, never could look at her. The emotion in his eyes was indeed evident. But it was not for her.
She would never give that woman the satisfaction of knowing Caroline's marriage was loveless because of her. Blinking back her tears she smiled weakly, hoping the guests would mistake them for tears of happiness. Drawing another deep breath Caroline continued past him to where her fiancé stood smiling and waiting for her arrival. For while Fitzwilliam Darcy was certainly the only man she would ever love, he was not the single man who could make her happy. He was married. And soon she would be too. And even though she was marrying a man five times his consequence, her victory seemed somehow hollow.
Her triumph had been denied.