GREEN
Taking the corkscrew, Baker opened the wine and poured two glasses, then both parties sat down on the bed with their legs out, leaned against the wall a foot apart, clinked the glasses together. "To success."
Somewhat nervously, both drank their glasses, probably slightly faster than was strictly wise, and Baker refilled them.
Thinking talk of the mission seemed the safest topic. "You cannot read too much into it, but I have a feeling in my gut that we are approaching the successful conclusion to our mission. I have never understood the feeling, but it has never been wrong before, so I pay attention to it."
"Do you get other feelings?"
"Oh yes," he continued, and leaned back more fully against the wall to continue. "the expression 'gut feeling' is something real. Some of the scientists think all our thinking is done in our heads, but I am skeptical. I will sometimes get a feeling about where I think my quarry would go, or some danger I should be cautious of. For example, when I caught Mrs. Darcy the first time, it was partly luck, but mostly having the information Miss Lucas gave me."
Mrs. Darcy, the real Mrs. Darcy, had insisted Caroline learn all about her misadventures the day after she volunteered for the job, under the premise that she needed to know what she was getting into, who she was getting into it for, and what possible ramifications it could have on her reputation. She gave Caroline every chance to back out of the arrangement, but every suggestion she rethink her plan had done nothing but increase the lady's resolve.
"The second time, it was a pure gut feeling. There was not a logical reason in the world I should anticipate Miss Bennet would approach the Earl leaving his own home. It was a bold move, that I would have considered well outside the realm of possibility, but something in my gut told me to go there and wait."
Caroline nodded. "If you are correct this time, then our adventure will soon be over."
He sighed. "It will soon be over regardless. Every day we spend in France increases our risk, and I am not willing to risk your safety any more than another month, at the most."
Caroline nodded in defeat. She was not overly concerned about the risks, but Mr. Baker had been in this business a decade, while she had been in it a couple of months. His judgement was not to be questioned. She had been gratified that he seemed to lean on her abilities and was even willing to teach her some tricks of the trade, but in the end, he was responsible for the mission and his word was law.
They both sat in pensive silence, wondering what form the end of their acquaintance might take.
After some time, Baker noticed their glasses were empty again, so he poured the rest of the bottle out between them, and clinked them together, toasting, "To the bittersweet end of a successful mission," somewhat more sadly than his anticipated success should indicate. He thought about his feelings for a moment, trying to work out how much was sadness at the loss of his companion, and how much was too much French wine. He unfortunately concluded that the wine would not affect him that much.
At length, he asked, "Will you be glad to quit looking over your shoulder all day, every day? Will you be relieved to surrender the name of Mrs. Darcy? Will you be happy to move on to the next part of your life?"
With a start, he realized he was asking far too many questions, which were far too personal, so he quickly added, "Forgive me, I should not pry."
"You do not pry too much. We have done, seen, said and manipulated far too much to be squeamish now. May we, here in the privacy of this room, make an agreement to total honesty – no propriety, prevarication or politeness."
Baker turned farther so he as fully facing her instead of sitting side by side in the bed, saw she was doing similar and found their knees a mere six inches apart.
He looked at them. "That sounds like a challenge, Caroline, and I never back down from a challenge. I accept your terms."
She blushed a bit, and replied, "I suppose I should answer your question then? Do you wish a particular order?"
"You choose."
She thought a moment. "I actually think I can answer all three of those by answering a single one in sufficient detail, but you may well find the answer uncomfortable."
Puzzled, the man nodded. "Proceed at your leisure, my lady."
She slightly blushed at the term. He had called her all the usual terms for a wife of some status in public many times, but the words this time sounded more – more – She was not certain the right term, but intimate sounded the closest, and she felt just a bit flushed, although she could not say whether to attribute that to the words or the wine. She was nowhere near to being intoxicated, as she routinely drank far more of far stronger spirits, but there was little doubt that she was affected enough to loosen her tongue. Whether said loosening was for good or ill remained to be seen.
She said, "Let us start with the question of the name, Mrs. Darcy, shall we?"
Baker just arched an eyebrow and nodded for her to continue.
With a great sigh, Caroline continued, "I will feel not the slightest twinge of remorse at retiring the 'Darcy' part of that name to the rightful owner. There was a time I strove with all my might to own it in full, but I am very happy I failed. I would not have prospered under that name."
Curiously, Baker asked, "Why not?"
"It is difficult to explain, but the primary issue is that to become Mrs. Darcy, I would have to marry Mr. Darcy. I do not think we would suit."
Baker did not feel the need to dig into that anthill unless the lady wanted to expand, so watching her, he decided she was happy enough with what she had.
With a start, she looked at him carefully. In fact, he thought she might pin him to the wall like an insect in a naturalist's collection with her stare. "Having said that, I will have a very difficult time resigning 'Mrs.' I find that it suits me very well."
Nonplussed, he said, "That name is available. I can assure you that a woman as beautiful and well situated as you can easily acquire that name in the usual way, at your leisure. I suspect the only reason you can still lay claim to 'Miss' is that you spent too much time and effort on Mr. Darcy. I have little doubt of your rapid success."
He said all that, still wondering why she was staring at him so hard, which was in turn making him very nervous himself.
She finally sighed, glanced down at her fisted hands. "There is only one problem with that, Mr. Baker. You see …" and then she paused significantly, then continued, "… you see, I desperately want the name of 'Mrs.' but it turns out that I am very particular about the surname that comes with it, and the qualifications of the husband who bears it. I fear there is only one name that I am prepared to accept."
Confused, Baker asked, "What name is that? Perhaps, if I know someone possessing the name you seek, I can help you. I am not entirely without resources."
She stared at him even harder, licked her lips, looked back at her lap for a moment, and seemed to be struggling with herself. For the first time in his entire experience, Caroline Bingley/Darcy seemed to be at a loss for words.
At long last, she looked at him and drew a deep breath. "Baker!"
Baker startled and took his turn to stare at her in confusion and – and – and – and – wonderment.
With shaking breath, he finally realized that she was serious when she suggested they leave propriety behind. It was left far behind.
It took some time for him to come to terms with what she said. At first, she returned his stare eyeball to eyeball, but she seemed to falter finally, looking down at her lap in an emotion he could not name. It certainly contained some fear and trepidation, of that he was certain.
He said very gently, in practically a whisper. "Are you suggesting what it sounds like you are suggesting?"
She just nodded. "I am."
"But you could marry so much better than me?"
She snapped her head up as if slapped, and then growled. "Do not ever repeat such vile words in my hearing."
"But – but – but – all the advantages would come to me!"
Much to his surprise, he felt her knee, which had been six inches away press against his leg, and a moment later, he saw the lady a foot in front of his face, starring at him.
She continued to do so unnervingly, and she whispered, "Tell me that you do not love me, nor are you likely to in future, and I will desist, but you will have to be convincing. Mrs. Darcy is quite well on the way to loving the most egregiously unpleasant man in England, so I will be skeptical."
Breathing hard, he asked, "Are you asserting that you love me?"
"Yes!"
Still looking at her in shock, he said, "Please do not take this in the wrong way, but are you certain?"
She did not smile, but just stared and said, "Yes, I am! Absolutely, implacably certain!"
Stuttering, he said, "But – but – how –"
He was thrown out of kilter enough to not even be able to formulate a response.
She took advantage of the lull. "Even if I did not love you, there are other reasons we would suit. Would you like to hear them?"
"Please," he said, almost desperate for it to be true. He did not want to go too far down the road, although with the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance straddling his legs on a bed, he wondered exactly how far 'too far' was.
"You are about to become a gentleman. You should marry a gentlewoman, but you will have difficulty a good one if you do not have more money than you are likely to have. Most gentlewomen I know are like I was. You need a true helpmeet – something like Mrs. Darcy. You need someone who was either born to it or has studied it extensively. To be honest, you would be better off socially marrying someone gently bred, and should you choose that route, I will, along with Mrs. Darcy forward an alliance. I will not bring you the social standing of being gently bred, but I do believe I can help you with more practical concerns, and in the end, I am confident I will be better than any gentlewoman you are likely to meet."
He grunted. "Of course, you would be a good partner in live – nay, the very best. I will be a gentleman in name only for some time. My grandchildren will be elevated, but I will be 'new money' all my life, regardless of who I marry. I do not mind, but I can be assured that you would help me more than some unknown gentlewoman who is as likely to snub me as look at me."
Caroline thought that was an overly harsh assessment of the man's charms, but since his pessimistic assessment was to her advantage, she decided not to disagree.
"I hate to sound crass, but I have a £20,000 dowry, and between the Darcys and my weak‑willed brother, I can increase that another five or maybe even ten. That is enough to turn a small and marginally profitable estate into a large and prosperous estate, especially if we work as a team as we have been doing these past weeks. It is enough to have reasonable dowries for even five daughters should we end up in that state like the Bennets. You are unlikely to get that kind of dowry with anyone who marries you, but I am very happy to surrender it to the future we will build together."
Caroline found that her legs were getting tired from the exertion of her awkward position, so she simply sat down on Baker's legs. She had decided that she trusted him implicitly, and while this seemed more than slightly untoward, and probably way more temptation than Baker would be able to stand; she was reminded of the adage, 'all's fair in love and war'. She was uncertain which of those she was engaged in, but she certainly wanted to win.
Baker felt her weight on his legs, but it was uncomfortable, so he decided two could play at that game. He reached down, grasped her waist on both sides, and slid her forward a few inches to get to a more comfortable position, as she moved her hands to his shoulders for support.
He said, "You fight dirty, my lady."
She laughed. "I will fight any way I can, but you must know –"
She seemed to pause, seemingly afraid to say what she had been intending.
Baker said, "Be brave, Caroline. You started this, so speak your heart, and then I will speak mine."
She smiled weakly. "I have given a great deal of thought to what I need. All my life, I have been essentially useless, just another burden, just another daughter to educate and dower. If I entered a typical marriage, my husband would leave me home with babies and perhaps management of the house, but after our adventure here, that is not enough. I need a partner. I need –"
She seemed to run out of courage, so Baker very forwardly ran his hands across the small of her back and massaged a tight muscle he found there, saying, "You need to finish, my lady."
She sighed. "I need to be needed. Perhaps, it is just insecurity or silliness, but I believe you need me. I do not even care if you just need me because you need a well-educated wife who can help you in society; or if you need a wife who you do not have to explain the less savory parts of your old business; or perhaps you need a wife who can allow you to continue your business if and when necessary. Even if all you need is a woman with the right accomplishments who is not squeamish, I will accept it. I believe, in the end, you will find you need me for my love."
Baker gave his answer some considerable thought, while he continued kneading her back until he felt the muscles relax just a bit. She was still tight as a bowstring, but she seemed less likely to break.
At long last, he said, "You have been very brave, so I must answer similarly."
Drawing a deep breath, he resumed his hold on her waist, and pulled her a few inches closer, until their chests nearly touched. "I love you! I told you about gut feelings, and in my gut, I feel as if I have always known I would love you. I have been guarding my heart against the day when you would leave me, and day by day, as I felt our mission coming closer and closer to success, I have felt my despair creeping up along with my chances of success. I have not allowed myself to love you these weeks, and this morning I would have denied it. However, your declaration has opened the floodgates. I feel that I love you with all my heart, and I will never be able to stuff Pandora back in her box."
With a huge sigh of relief, Caroline melted into him, which by that time only involved the movement of a few inches. The moment their chests contacted felt as if she had been lit on fire, even through the four layers of clothing that separated them.
She timidly said, "Are you certain?"
He gave her a crooked grin. "My knees are bent, so I suppose we can claim we have observed the usual forms, as I ask you, will you, Miss Caroline Bingley, love of my life, do me the great honor of becoming my wife."
Unable to speak, Caroline just nodded, then since his lips were conveniently a handspan from hers, she leaned forward slowly until their lips met.
The first feeling was somewhere between petting a kitten and being struck by lightning. She had known girls at seminary who 'practiced' just so they might have some idea what to do, but she had never indulged herself. She had also known far more girls than society would like to admit who had practiced with men, but she had never partaken of that. She thought her snooty, supercilious attitude probably saved her as much as her natural modesty. She had never practiced because she had never been alone in the company of a man of sufficient status to tempt her.
As she started experimentally moving her lips, she wondered what kind of experience her newly betrothed had. Judging from the fact that he seemed just about as inept as she was, and he bumped and fumbled the same amount, she thought (or maybe just hoped) that it was not extensive.
For some time, she could only measure by the guttering of the candle, the newly betrothed couple kissed and explored all that could be done with their limited experience with lips and tongues. The both laughed from time to time when they bumped noses, or bashed foreheads like a couple of rams, which caused them to burst out in peals of laughter.
As their exchange became more and more passionate, Caroline noticed a lump forming in the front of Baker's trousers. For a maiden, she was what she considered to be somewhat well educated, although her education was all information passed around the seminary from what young girls gleaned from their married sisters and a few boastings of illicit liaisons. All them knew the risks of such activity were very high, and the chance of success were slim, so Caroline had never indulged, but she did manage to extract some of the details from other girls.
In short, she knew exactly what was happening. She had given some considerable thought to the possibility, and as the candle sputtered out, she came to a decision.
"Noah, we have been living and traveling together as man and wife for months. We both accepted the potential consequences of discovery all this time."
Baker managed to pull just enough of his attention back to her words to give them their due – just barely. "Yes, that is true."
"Would you be willing to consider this our wedding day. While we normally have church and family to celebrate, in the end, a marriage is between two people and God. In fact, in France, under the Napoleonic code, a marriage is a civil marriage first, and a church wedding can only happen after the civil marriage. We will have to have it recorded properly when we return to England, but as far as I am concerned, as of this moment, we are bound together 'till death us do part.' Are we agreed?"
Noah wisely squeezed her chest even tighter to him. "I am not even certain death will part us, but nothing short of that will."
Caroline breathed a huge sigh of relief and kissed him again – hard – and then leaned back with her hands on his shoulders.
She smiled. "Well then, husband, this is not exactly how I planned to spend my wedding night, but I find I have no need to repine. You are here. I am here. Let us sanctify this marriage, and truly become man and wife. 'To have and to hold' is exactly what we shall be doing – as soon as we get you out of those ridiculous clothes."
With a great shouting laugh that caused the neighbor to shout and bang his fist against the wall, they jumped up, divested Mr. Baker of his clothing, while Mrs. Baker quickly bound her hair in a couple of simple ribbons, then quickly removed her dressing gown. With only a moment's hesitation, she removed her night rail as well, and jumped in the bed, just in time for the candle to gutter and go entirely out.
Quite some time later, she saw dawn gently creeping into the tiny window in the wall. She felt slightly sore, but free as a bird. She turned to her husband, and then felt the first bit of trepidation, which very quickly blossomed into true fear. What if he had made an agreement while his mental facilities were scrambled by an attractive woman on his lap? Men had made worse decisions with less provocation. Had he decided that she was a loose woman, good for a romp but not for marriage? He he he –
Just as her fears were reaching a crescendo, she saw his eyes open. He looked at her with a look that she prayed meant what she though it meant. "Good morning, Mrs. Baker. How is it possible that I love you even more this morning than last night?"
They both breathed a sigh of relief, and then they had the wonderful opportunity to learn together that a kiss was quite a useful thing. It was obviously quite useful in a question for passion, but it also turned out to be quite handy for giving comfort and reassurance.
They both found, much to their mutual chagrin, that both had woken up worried that the other, the one whom they could no longer live without, may have entertained regrets.
There were no regrets, not that day, not the day they had a French civil ceremony a week later, not the day they had the church wedding in London upon their return, not the day any of their six children were born, and not on any day of the next sixty years they spent together.
They were truly one in love and spirit, till death do us part.
