Standing on the corner of New Bond and Grafton Street, Caroline tapped her foot with growing impatience. He was late.
A pair of young ladies in lace trimmed bonnets, heads bent together, giggled as they crossed her path. Both girls appeared entirely absorbed in the happy company of the other. A feeling of overwhelming disappointment washed over Caroline as she observed the lightness of their dispositions. She could not remember ever being in the company of another female and feeling so happily and intimately connected. There was a time when she and Louisa had found pleasure in the natural intimacy of sisters close in age; but those innocent moments of secret notes and garden tea parties with their favourite teddy bear guests were long forgotten.
Louisa had avoided her at every opportunity since their last meeting. Caroline knew this to be a product of her own doing yet it both vexed and niggled at her consciousness. The initial shock of such news alongside the weight of more pressing distractions had impeded her in doing what she ought the moment her sister told her she was with child. Where congratulations and praise were desired and to be expected, her sister only felt judgement and indifference.
Over the last sennight Caroline had called upon her sister on several occasions, not too proud to extend the olive branch in an attempt to soothe relations, but each attempt had been fruitless. From Louisa there had been no response, no letters exchanged, or invitation accepted. It was clear she did not wish her sister's company.
If only Louisa could understand that Caroline could not help her nature. She was not unhappy with regards to her sister's good fortune. A child would surely bring her bliss. If anything, it had simply made Caroline even more determined to safeguard their reputation and protect the child and her sister from any future discomfort or shame. And safeguard their future she had, by committing herself to a marriage which promised social protection but that she was certain would bring her no joy.
Pulling herself from such thoughts she looked upon the brightly ornate window displays to her left. The street was flanked by various upper-class milliners and drapers, a prospect Caroline would typically find most appealing; however today was a grime exception. Having barely slept the last three evenings she felt dreadful. She wore a dress of deep violet, which did nothing for the paleness and dull grey of her complexion. The high trim collar felt abnormally tight and constrictive. She tugged at it with frustration hoping no one would witness her unladylike fidgeting.
She had received another letter from Miss Brown this morning updating her as promised on Cedric's condition. For the third day in a row, she had read the note in the privacy of her bedchamber, this morning even succeeding to do so without tears. As with the previous notes she did not pen a response; she was resolved to close her heart as quickly as her will would allow. To give Cedric up was a pain she had no idea how to process but process she must. If anything were to happen to him, she could never forgive herself. Alfred had assured her he would see to that.
This morning's note currently lay crumpled in the bottom of her reticule, as though a mere scribble of unimportance. Despite her determination she had not been able to bring herself to part with it and knew later she would smooth the angry creases before placing it carefully within her keepsake box alongside its predecessors.
The housekeeper had informed her that Cedric's fever was now broken, and upon a second surgeons' opinion, it was concluded that his broken rib had not pierced his lung as first feared. Having fought the infection, and his heart appearing in good strength, the surgeon had proceeded to align the broken bone fragments as closely to their natural state as possible; wrapping the patient's torso tight in bandages while applying leather splints to stabilise the desired set. Miss Brown's letter closed with the same sentiment as the others expressed before it; she keenly requested Miss Bingley to call upon her master, believing her presence to be more soothing than any prescribed tonic.
At least, thought Caroline ruefully, Cedric was confined to his chambers. Leather splints would see him on bed rest for several weeks. She was not sure how she should fair if she were to see him in person before the deed was settled. She would be wed by the end of the week before he or anyone else knew any of the wiser. With Darcy removing her brother to Hertfordshire following her pleading request, she had quickly set her plan in motion. She was not yet of age and due to this required consent to marry. True to his word, Alfred had taken care of that. There would be no publication of the banns, an Anglican minister, under Alfred's influence, had already granted a marriage licence. The one signature Caroline required from her guardian she had forged. All those years dealing with the family's financial matters following their father's death had made her quite the dab hand at her brother's signature.
She closed her eyes momentarily and pictured Netherfield Park. Now knowing what it was to truly feel love, she regretted her interference between her brother and Miss Jane Bennett. Although she would never yield to the fact that her brother should have chosen someone with more social standing, she could no longer scorn him. Her own misplaced devotion to those of little merit only heightened this understanding. Recalling her exceedingly obvious, and at times foolish behaviour, towards Darcy was indeed a sombering thought.
All she could hope was that Darcy was able to help make amends for the harm they had both caused the pair. She for one was paying the ultimate sacrifice in order to grant Charles his happiness.
"There you are darling," Alfred spoke suddenly, startling Caroline from her reverie. He had exited the modest?
"You are late," she responded dryly.
"Never," he smiled, his mood alarmingly cheerful. "Why I have spent all morning with Madame Devy herself. Now all we need is the bride to take her measurements." He moved forward taking Caroline by the elbow, leading her back towards the modest.
"Really Alfred, is this necessary?" Caroline asked in growing discomfort as she entered the shop. Her family had wealth, but Madame Devy was not a modest who had previously welcomed the Bingley's cliental, preferring the daughters of a marques to that of trade.
"Ah so this charming young lady must be the bride," cooed the elegantly dressed French woman before them. "Mr Bingley you were not exaggerating when you said she would be a vision. I have had everything we discussed laid upon the table in the back. All we need now are the measurements. Less than a sennight for such an order shall be near on impossible if we do not start this very moment."
"For which you shall be rewarded more than handsomely," Alfred spoke sharply, placing his hand upon Caroline's back to push her further into the room. "No expense spared Madame Devy, if the lady desires anything else simply add it to our list." Here he turned to Caroline taking her hand in his. "I wish my future wife to want for nothing."
Madame Devy beamed at such a bold expression of affection, paying little attention to the bride hastily removing her hand with a look of disgust. It was of no concern to her as long as her purse was filled. And this Mr Bingley appeared to have wonderfully deep pockets. Initially she had intended to refuse his business, as she had on many occasions when no title was present, but something about him made her think such a decision would have been very unwise. She looked upon the future bride with a fleeting flicker of sympathy; a lady's harsh reality for being in possession of a beautiful face.
"Shall we begin? For there is so much to do!"
"I am sorry," replied Caroline, "begin what?" She turned to Alfred and in hushed tones began, "I agreed to a simple gown. You promised upon my agreement no fuss. I am here to pick out lace and a veil only. This is not some society wedding," she hissed her cheeks growing red. "I will have my own girl make the necessary amendments."
"Darling but this is my wedding gift to you. I have spent all morning convincing Madame Devy to facilitate the near impossible task of creating a wedding trousseau like no other. You shall be the envy of every bride."
"That is all and well," replied Caroline, only too aware of the modests keen interest in their exchange. "It is however not what we previously agreed."
"Nonsense darling," Alfred laughed pushing his body flush with Caroline's back to obscure from view the firm grip he took of her forearm. He pulled her arm sharply between their bodies, twisting it upwards under his tightening grip. He beamed towards Madame Devy. "Is she not a delight? Beauty and modesty, she will have everything we discussed and that is the end of the matter." Carolines skin burned through her satin sleeves, it took all her resolve to hold her chin high, her expression void of all feeling. His eyes locked on hers until he suddenly let go and bowed to the ladies, his face still the picture of perfect happiness. "I shall take my leave, I await with bated breath until the vision that will be our wedding day."
He left, leaving Caroline discreetly nursing her pained arm as the modest watched her with such a look of all knowing, she was sure her shame was evident across her features.
"Let us begin," Madame Devy said softly gesturing to the private dressing room through the curtain at the back of the shop. Caroline followed the modest, too angry and disappointed to observe the blonde-haired woman who hastily left following Alfred's departure.
-
Placing her teacup upon the saucer Lady Julianna Mycroft gave a small huff of disapproval. She disliked tardiness above all things. Most acutely when those offenders were decidedly beneath her rank, and Anabelle Carmichael, for all intents and purposes, was this very second indeed decidedly far beneath her. Ill punctuality was entirely inexcusable. She pushed the china dish aside, watching the untouched sorbet melt and slide about the plate. She would be damned before she allowed anyone in Gunter's Tea Shop to witness her indulging in her own company only.
A noise to her left piqued her interest. A small kafuffle ensued followed by the petite figure of Annabelle finally making her entrance. As clumsy and inept as usual, she bounced and knocked into every chair as she made her way to their usual table.
Julianna tutted loudly as her pretty companion finally took her seat. Sometimes she truly did wonder why she allowed such an oaf to be on such intimate terms with a lady like herself, the epitome of female elegance and grace. Her family was rich indeed, her father a Baron, yet Annabelle lacked the skills to be of any real use within society circles. She also lacked a backbone which was probably the real reason Julianna overlooked her shortfalls and allowed the girl to be considered one of her most intimate friends. She really had no interest in befriending someone whom harboured too much of their own opinions
Slowly lifting her teacup, Lady Julianna scowled, her displeasure at being kept waiting entirely evident. Wilting under such censure, Annabelle quickly apologised, begging for forgiveness; practically tripping over her tongue as the words shot forth describing in great detail the interaction she had witnessed between Miss Caroline Bingley and her burley cousin, Mr Alfred Bingley.
"Oh la, thank heavens for that." Julianna smiled brightly, gesturing to the wait staff to bring two fresh clementine sorbets. "Between you and I, I had feared Miss Bingley had cast her spell upon my dear cousin. At least I can put such a silly notion from my mind. I feel a fool for having such an active imagination. As if my dear cousin Cedric, the brilliant barrister, future high court judge, would have his head turned by someone so common. Someone so desperate to be noticed."
She leaned across the table, patting her gloved hand over that of her companion. "One must never forget, there is not enough silk in this world to gift wrap the daughter of a tradesman. Face of a siren, stench of a street urchin. Do you remember her face upon our coming out when I told the others her father had once owned a shop in Mayfair? She did not look so pretty then."
"But Julianna, surely Mr Montague knows his duties to you and his uncle? You cannot truly fear his affection being swayed by another?"
"His duties! Oh Annabelle you are too simple, really such fun. I have no concern there. Cousin Cedric adores me. Of his affection for myself I am most confident. Father has been nothing if not candid that only Cedric can be the Marquees. But desperate, overly ambitious ladies of the ton are artful in their deceit. No man is safe, not even the righteous. Remember that now you have secured your Captain. We can make an Admiral of him yet, Then I should be glad to have you amongst my table at Michaelmas.
No, my only fear is that my dear Cedric is far too generous with his time and attention. Miss Bingley had him quite caught up in her theatrics at the Mayweather Ball. I was quite put out. But that is of no matter, for it would seem my fears were short lived and all for nothing." She paused taking a large spoonful of the fruity ice. "Marrying her cousin is exactly the sort of match suitable for a lady such as Caroline Bingley. An unknown nobody wed to another of the same ilk. We can only hope once they are wed they disappear back under whatever rock from whence he came."
At that moment the chair behind Lady Julianna flew back in haste, knocking most violently into her own, causing her whole body to lunge forward.
With spilled tea now covering the once pristine tablecloth, Julianna turned to meet the hard furious stare of Mrs Louisa Hurst.