Chapter 5 #2
“I am grieved. There cannot be any worse heartbreak than seeing your own child suffer.”
“And yet life goes on. When you see Caroline, you would likely think she is the same lively self. Yet underneath that gay veneer, she has changed in ways that even I could not quite fathom.”
“I see. I will not pry when I see her. I wish you and Lady Caroline felicity after all the setbacks. You both deserve it.”
Mr. Lamb nodded and smiled wanly. “Darcy, you are a good man. Think twice before you marry.”
Mr. Darcy was dumbstruck to hear this.
What could have caused Lamb to make such a pronouncement? Could it be a warning? The situation with his son must have worn him out. Perhaps he and Lady Caroline should heed the mode of society and send the boy to a respectable institution?
Mr. Darcy’s heart squeezed when he thought of the agony the parents of children with ill health experienced. If he had a son like that, it would break his heart to send him away and pretend that his world no longer contained this boy: his own flesh and blood.
When he saw Lady Caroline after dinner in the drawing room, she was indeed the same vivacious woman—still the model for his ideal wife.
He marveled at her poise and high spirits among the crème of society.
She moved about the guests gathered in the enormous drawing room with enviable grace, ease, and energy.
Why did I think I could offer for a country girl? She would be intimidated into becoming a mousy, clumsy laughingstock in a gathering like this!
Mr. Darcy was startled by this thought. Offer for Elizabeth Bennet? What sort of nonsense was that? He had never imagined asking her to be his wife!
She is so far beneath Lady Caroline in every aspect: beauty, elegance, breeding, education, and accomplishments!
Even while these thoughts were going through his mind, a pair of fine eyes floated into his consciousness, mocking him, as if saying that he was the one full of nonsense.
Over the last few days, he heard—or rather, overheard—others talking about what a talented portraitist Lady Caroline Lamb had become. She was not idle during her many confinements but spent her time wisely on becoming even more accomplished.
Mr. Darcy had not yet spoken with Lady Caroline without others in attendance. The weather had been fine, and the gentlemen were engaged in many outdoor sports. Once indoors, he chose to spend time with his sister, who attended ladies-only activities.
This day, the weather took a turn for the worse—blustery and cold. While everyone was confined inside in various parlors and engaged in one game or another, or took an afternoon rest, Lady Caroline was sketching in the famed marble hall of Wentworth-Woodhouse.
Mr. Darcy was on his way to the billiards room when he walked through the hall. He spied Lady Caroline with her drawing pad and approached her for a final chance to see the lady’s artistry before the Lambs would leave the next day for their home, Brockett Hall, in the south.
Mr. Darcy bowed and greeted the lady. “Lady Caroline, how do you do? I hope I have not disrupted your creative process.”
Lady Caroline looked up, saw that it was Mr. Darcy, and said rather coyly, “Mr. Darcy! Have you been avoiding me? I thought I would have to cry over my erstwhile admirer not giving me a backward glance. Could it be the strapping young master of Pemberley no longer thinks of this old lady?”
Mr. Darcy was startled to hear the lady of renowned literary repute sound like Miss Bingley. He had to concede that Lady Caroline was more skilled—self-deprecation was something Miss Bingley would never have the confidence to attempt.
“M’Lady, you are mistaken. I admire you even more than before. I heard lavish praises of your portraiture. How fortunate it is that I happened by while you are practicing your art! Will you grant me a glimpse of your work?”
“If you wish…” Lady Caroline turned her drawing pad toward Mr. Darcy, who was noticeably shocked at seeing a nude portrait of the lady herself.
The figure’s pose left nothing to the imagination—the full bosoms and even the most private parts of the lady were all in full view.
The expression on the lady’s face was sultry and inviting.
It was very well done, but also very provocative for any gentleman viewing it.
Mr. Darcy was speechless and staring.
“Would you like to touch it?
“Touch it…?” Mr. Darcy was awakened from his trance by this suggestive question.
Lady Caroline looked around before returning her gaze to the gentleman standing before her. “Your uncle’s house is rumored to have three hundred and sixty rooms. There must be a few so out of the way that servants… or guests, do not go near.”
Mr. Darcy was not stupid, and he was mortified at her falsely innocuous inquiry. This woman—a wife and mother—whom he had put on a pedestal for her virtue and beauty was hinting with scarcely a disguise at an assignation of the sexual kind.
Almost by instinct, his face took on the austere and haughty expression that he had been using for years to fend off unwanted advances of this sort and said coldly, “Madam, I do not know the answer to this. Perhaps I could inquire with my aunt. Wentworth-Woodhouse is so well-staffed that there are always servants cleaning and dusting in the most obscure corners.”
Lady Caroline put on a sardonic expression and almost sneered. She said lightheartedly, “As staunch a moralist as ever! Good day, Mr. Darcy.”
As Mr. Darcy bowed and turned to leave, he abhorred that Lady Caroline’s gaze followed the line of his body down to the fall of his trousers. He hurried away because the lady knew her power—he was indeed aroused by nothing more than a sketch of the lady’s naked body.
Imagine touching the smooth silky skin… No! She was right, I am moral, unlike her…
Instead of joining the other gentlemen for billiards, he went out to the garden to cool off. He stood in a niche shielded by walls on three sides and protected from the winds.
He was shaken, even though he was well-aware of the rampant infidelity in society. Lady Caroline’s mother and mother-in-law were both notorious for their various liaisons. Then why was he so shocked by the behavior of Lady Caroline?
After a prolonged contemplation, he concluded that he had romanticized his youthful adoration for a woman he could not have and willfully ignored any possible infraction of the moral code.
He panicked when he thought that lax morals might also have reigned in his own household.
Could Wickham be his father’s illegitimate son?
Could his uncle have had affairs as well?
His cousin, the Colonel, did not look at all like his uncle!
After another half an hour of thinking, he was relieved there had not been salacious rumors about his family. The worst he had heard concerned his bachelor cousin, the Colonel, having occasional liaisons with widows while not deployed abroad.
Well, he makes great sacrifices for King and Country. Who could blame him for needing outlets to ease the stress of battles?
He also knew that the rumor about Wickham being his half-brother had been started by Wickham himself, and the wicked young reprobate had been reprimanded for spreading such a heinous lie by his own parents and by all at Pemberley.
There was no way that Lady Caroline had been lying in wait for him at the great hall as he himself had not known whether he would join the billiards crowd.
Was she simply trying to hook the first gentleman who got within her grasp?
She had not looked disappointed when he rebuffed her invitation for a rendezvous.
So, she would just wait for the next willing accomplice?
Society ladies! Lamb was right: think twice before I marry. How does he cope with the humiliation?
This was all too disheartening. Perhaps he would not marry and let Georgiana’s son inherit.
Georgiana could be trusted. Her son would for certain have Darcy blood.
If he was to marry, he must be convinced of deep mutual love between him and his chosen lady, who must also hold sacred the marriage vow—till death doth us part!
And then the pair of fine eyes on a beautiful country girl appeared again before him as if he were looking for them and found her.