Time never stilled when an event which filled one with dread was on the horizon. Although Caroline avoided Alfred, as much as one could avoid a cousin under the same roof, his growing attentiveness and overall affability did nothing to ease her growing discomfort. Throughout their limited interactions he had been most pleasant, happy and far too complimentary. He appeared genuinely as a man in love ready to marry his bride. All thoughts of blackmail and that this union was by no means a mutual love match seemed far from his consciousness. Caroline was left feeling simply astonished.
With each passing day she slept less, her anxiety increasing as the reality of her situation became ever more pressing. There was no turning back. She had rather foolishly, and with great bravado, assumed she was of strong enough will and control of her own senses to uphold her resolve. This was proving impossible. She was determined she would not show any weakness of character to her future husband, for fear he would read this as precedent for their marriage. With a heavy heart she acknowledged she was not the determined, carefully crafted extrovert she believed herself to be but simply a young woman likely to crumble under the life choices she alone had committed to.
She sat before her looking glass in the dim light before dawn breaking. The fire was low adding to the increasing chill that ran up her spine. She gazed upon her lack lustre complexion; the dark circles under her eyes, the dry, dull grey appearance of her skin. Should not a bride appear radiant on her wedding day? Should her eyes not be alive and bright? Her own dark eyes gazed back at her, hollow and black.
She began to undo her hair from its evening plait, slowly running her fingers through its thick mass. Would Alfred touch her hair? She recalled the evening of the ball when Cedric had comforted her, pushing a loose strand from her face. Such a happy thought made the pain in her stomach intensify. She doubted she would feel the same comfort she felt when in Cedric's company. That feeling of desire and willingness to be close to his person was a sensation like no other. The thought of being so intimate with her cousin only brought forth feelings of repulsion. She was not so naïve that she had no notion of what was expected from a woman once married. The gravity of her approaching wedding night made any thoughts of breaking her fast this morning utterly impossible.
The only comfort Caroline could take from the day ahead was knowing that Louisa would be there alongside her. They had talked openly and at great length following their initial confrontation. Her sister had then stayed the night, shared her room, something they had not done since children. Her sister was not happy, but she had not argued long. For all her initial protests of such a match the need for self preservation won out in the end. Louisa had cried long and hard over poor Charles and his parentage; wailed uncontrollably at the unfairness of it all, wept for a mother whom she had never truly understood and a sister who took too much upon herself. Caroline could not scold her, this was Louisa. All hysterics and unjust feelings, yet never any solid solutions. Caroline allowed her theatrics, stroking the soft spot upon her forearm as she had done when they were children and her sister could not sleep. Though her circumstances seemed bleak, perhaps she and Louisa would prosper from this. Perhaps they would become closer, like in their past innocent days. Moving forward they would behave as sisters should. Like Eliza Bennett and her fierce protection felt for her precious Jane. After all, Caroline would need rest bite from her husband, and who better to go stay with for extended periods of time than her own sister and her future offspring.
"Excuse me Miss Bingley," spoke her maid from the doorway, "we must begin or we shall never make the church in time."
Caroline looked away from her gaunt reflection in the looking glass, her eyes resting upon her ladies maid and the ivory silk wedding gown draped so delicately within her arms.
Alfred stood by the window in his dressing room. He glanced at the street below. He saw no trace of her. Anger raged through him. The audacity of that woman. To turn up uninvited and on such a day. On his day. He had sent his valet to shoo her away, refusing to see her. He had watched the exchange from the window repulsed by her desperate display.
He turned with disgust, moving from the window back into the room, turning the angle of the cheval mirror to better look upon his appearance. The dark royal blue jacket paired perfectly with the golden hues of his hair. He smiled at his reflection, he cut quite the figure. And why should he not? He was about to be wed; to become a respectable man, hold his own place within London society if that was what he desired. He would return to Scarborough with a wife so elegant in appearance no one would doubt his superiority. Caroline would be his. And this time, unlike with Alice, he would allow no one to stop him from getting exactly what he wanted.
Reginald Hurst roused due to the ever increasing pain in his left shoulder. He opened his eyes and gazed with great affection at his clever wife; who lay currently sound asleep, latched about his arm with all the strength of a Kraken. He tried to roll his shoulder free without waking Louisa but was utterly trapped. Swallowing his growing discomfort, he moved his free hand gently over the slight swelling of her stomach. Yes he possessed a very clever wife indeed.
Sleep had not been easy for Louisa the last few days and Reginald had no intention of waking her when in such a delicate state. They had been here before, only to suffer heartache. He did not wish to repeat such an event again. Louisa being so upset and agitated could not be good for the child.
He looked to the ceiling, running the previous days over in his mind again. The news Louisa shared with him on returning from seeing her sister. Caroline's plan, the scandal of their mothers past and the fear of their future ruin. It all sounded so absurd. Such a total farce. He had wanted to scoff at such a notion, to rebuke and scold Caroline for allowing such a man to bully her into a corner, for upsetting his wife for no good reason. But he knew he could not. Society would win, it always did. Those in precarious positions would always lose. He brought no title to their marriage, it was Louisa's dowry that had raised his own social rankings most considerably alongside his new disposable income. Even now without someone like Darcy present he was not readily welcomed into all the delights and privileges that London offered. They had money, but that wealth had come from trade. A fact London found hard to forgive.
But could he accept it? Knowing what he knew could he really allow his sister-in-law to enter into such an agreement? The details were sketchy, he doubted Caroline had shared all with her sister. He did not appreciate Caroline's moods and sharp tongue, but he did not want to see her hurt. For that is what her marriage would be. Her predisposition to think the worst and behave with spite would only increase when trapped in such a union. He also feared a woman with such a quick tongue and readiness to anger would not come out well when matched with a man of a similar nature.
He had agreed to witness the marriage alongside his wife but now that the day dawned he could not honestly say he could witness such a union without objection. Louisa would always love her sister, unconditionally and often in spite of her flaws. Could he really just allow Caroline to sign her life away to such a man?
Slowly he worked his arm free from the tangle of his wife. His conscious would not allow it. Although he had promised his wife he would not tell another of the union until the deed was done, he could not. There was only one whom he could see sorting out such a mess and in all honesty he could not fathom why Caroline had not sought his council sooner. Dressing quickly and before his wife could object, he left Grosvenor Street in search of Cedric Montague.