Chapter 17
A few days later, Caroline joined her sister in the drawing room at the Hursts’ home on Grosvenor Street. They sat together on the couch, the upholstery a delicate floral print of aubergine and sage. The air was faintly scented with lemon oil and warmed by the glow of coal in the grate.
Eliza Bennet had gone back to Longbourn with her family, thank goodness. The woman clearly had designs on Darcy. And her comment regarding the midwife had puzzled Caroline. A coincidence?—unlikely. Yet it seemed just as dubious that Eliza had learnt of Caroline’s visit to Mrs. Sherman.
Perhaps Caroline could hire an investigator to seek information on Eliza, or plant some evidence of an indiscretion. But Caroline was tired of schemes. She wanted to focus all her attention on winning Darcy’s hand.
Eliza’s interference would be of no consequence once Caroline had compromised Darcy. Honour would compel him to wed Caroline. He was still in town—she could devise an encounter.
Yet the prospect of marrying Darcy inspired no joy in her. If only Wickham had been legitimate, and Pemberley were his…
It was pointless to wish such a thing. Besides, Wickham was a devil.
Somehow, that thought didn’t dismay her as it ought.
Caroline picked up her embroidery and complained to her sister, “London is so dull at this time of year. What think you of holding a dinner party?”
“Most families we know are in the country now.” Louisa tilted her head. “Who do you suggest we invite?”
“I believe the Hemingsworths are in town.”
“You mean Amelia Hemingsworth?” Louisa frowned. She didn’t seem open to the idea. “I didn’t realise the two of you were friends.”
“I was close to her sister Emma when we were girls.”
Louisa lifted her brows. “Was Miss Emma not involved in some scandal? I thought she went to live with an aunt in Cornwall.”
Caroline had heard back from Emma. Her old friend was open to marrying Wickham to restore her respectability. Caroline wanted to get a sense of how willing her family would be to take her back.
“She did,” Caroline said, “but that was years ago. I wonder how she fares. Perhaps a husband could be found for her, to rehabilitate her reputation.”
“Perhaps. But Caroline, you can have nothing to do with her. Not if you value your own reputation.”
“Of course. But it would be good to see Amelia. And we could invite Mr. Darcy and Georgiana—”
“Oh, Caroline!” Louisa said sharply. “I cannot countenance this any longer. You’ve been out for almost eight years now.
You’ve put off all your other suitors, hoping for an offer from Mr. Darcy.
Soon, you’ll be thoroughly on the shelf—unless you let that hope die, and set your sights on another man. ”
Caroline’s lips parted. Eyes wide, she gazed at her sister, aghast. “I shan’t give up on Mr. Darcy. Not when I’m so close to winning him.”
“How are you close to winning him?” Louisa screeched. “Did you not see him dance with Eliza Bennet at the wedding breakfast? The man is besotted. I half expected them to announce their engagement on the spot.”
“He shall not marry Eliza Bennet. As soon as we return to Netherfield, I will seduce him.”
Louisa let out a long sigh. “Have you not tried that already?”
“Yes, but we were interrupted before I could put my plan into action. I shall not fail again.”
A maid brought the tea tray. The melon-shaped silver pot was decorated with acanthus leaves and accompanied by a matching sugar bowl and cream pitcher. Louisa poured the orange pekoe into delicate porcelain cups painted with violets.
Once the maid departed, Louisa said. “I hope you don’t mean to engage in any sort of trickery with Mr. Darcy. If you do, you can’t count on Charles to negotiate a marriage contract in your favour. You may end up in a little cottage in Cornwall like your friend Emma.”
Caroline swallowed the lump in her throat. Would even her sister abandon her now? “I thought you would support me in this.”
“Caro, I’m always on your side. But I’m being practical.”
“You don’t understand. I must marry him—as soon as possible.” Tears blurred Caroline’s vision.
Louisa eyed her in concern. She’d remarked more than once on the symptoms plaguing Caroline. In all likelihood, Louisa hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy yet. But she was a sensible woman.
“Has he…” Louisa broke off, then began again. “Has Mr. Darcy dishonoured you?”
Caroline took out a handkerchief. She couldn’t keep her worries inside any longer. “No. It was a militia officer in Meryton.”
“Good heavens!” Louisa took her sister’s hands and squeezed them. “Then he must be made to marry you.”
“No.” Caroline shook her head, curls bouncing against her cheeks.
“That’s not what I want. He deceived me.
He said he was the eldest son of a wealthy man.
Which is true, except…he’s illegitimate.
He has no source of income other than his military pay.
He’s trying to force me to marry him for the sake of my dowry.
How can I attach myself to a liar and fortune hunter? ”
Louisa’s face reddened. “What were you thinking? I told you, there are ways a man and woman can take their pleasure of each other without risking a baby. Oh, Caro, what shall we do?”
“I’ll seduce Darcy.”
But Louisa didn’t heed her. “Time is of the essence. If we’re clever about it, we can marry you to a widower in need of an heir.
Mr. Walter Boardman had his eye on you when you first came out.
He lost his second wife six months ago. Both marriages were childless.
Plus, the most recent Mrs. Boardman was rumoured to be a spendthrift.
He would likely appreciate an infusion of cash. ”
Caroline stared at her sister. “Louisa, the man is nearly forty!”
“He’s respectable, attractive, and kind. You could do far worse.”
Caroline considered a minute, the air broken by the rhythmic tick of the longcase clock in the corner. She didn’t wish to be married off to some widower.
“There’s another option,” she tentatively suggested to Louisa. “You could raise the child as your own. We could go away for a few months, and say we’re nursing a sick aunt.”
Louisa stared at her in shock, but her expression gradually softened. “It’s an option. Hurst and I do wish for a child. But I can’t say whether he’ll agree to it.”
Caroline didn’t meet her sister’s eyes. “We wouldn’t have to tell him.”
Louisa gasped. “You want me to lie to my husband about the parentage of his child?”
Caroline spoke matter-of-factly. “He wants an heir. If he can’t produce one… He might appreciate having one given to him without knowing the details.”
Louisa seemed to consider it. Her union with Hurst hadn’t been a love match, after all.
Finally, she said, “It’s too complicated a deceit to keep up.
What is to prevent him from visiting and exposing the lie?
I can’t deny my husband his marital rights for the eight or nine months until the babe is born. ”
Caroline turned silent, mulling over her options. “I’ll make a list of eligible suitors,” she said to appease her sister. But in truth, she was resolved. She would have Darcy.
∞∞∞
A week after the wedding, Darcy’s efforts were finally rewarded.
He received a tip on where Mrs. Younge might be living.
He’d lost count of how much coin he’d spent in dark taverns, bribing some of the most disreputable creatures in London.
But it would be worth it if the information proved correct.
The location of Mrs. Younge’s boarding house was closer to Seven Dials than he liked.
To look inconspicuous, he dressed in a worn suit of serviceable clothes.
The brown wool was faded from washing, and the white linen had aged to yellow.
He took an armed footman along with him, and a walking stick that concealed a sword.
The hack they hired took them as far as the outskirts of St. Giles.
The driver would go no farther. Darcy and his manservant walked through the crowds and filth.
They dodged young pickpockets on the way.
Darcy had no valuables on him other than the purse inside the pocket of his waistcoat.
The coins should be more than enough to get them access to Minnie, and convince her to talk.
Stopping twice to ask directions—the buildings were not numbered—the pair finally found Mrs. Younge’s premises. Darcy pulled his hat brim low to hide his face before rapping his cane on the door.
After a minute, the door opened a crack. A voice let out a cry, but Darcy’s walking stick stopped the housemaid from closing the door on him. As he pushed inside, Minnie ran farther into the bowels of the home, screaming, “Murder! Murder!”
Darcy couldn’t suppress a snort at her histrionics. Undeterred, he walked after her in measured steps through dank, sunless hallways. The floors were smeared with dirt, and cobwebs dusted the ceiling.
He expected someone—Mrs. Younge or a boarder or another servant—to come running. No one did. Apart from Minnie’s feigned cries of fear, the house was silent.
They were alone, then. That would make the process easier.
It wasn’t long before Darcy and the footman had her cornered. The little room might have been a fine drawing room when the house had seen better days. It overlooked the remains of a garden that was now a tangle of weeds.
“I mean you no harm,” Darcy said.
“I did’na filch nothin’,” Minnie said. No fear showed on her face—just defiance. “If Miss Bingley says I did, it’s to silence me. That one would be glad to see me swing, she would.”
“No one is accusing you of anything,” he reassured her. “I only want to ask you some questions. I bear you no ill will. You’ve been a pawn in all this. Mr. Bingley has married Jane Bennet, so no lasting harm has been done.”
Minnie let out a snort. “Jane Bennet is the least of Miss Bingley’s worries.”
He startled at her words. “Why do you say that?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why should I tell you?”
He produced five guineas, which she looked at greedily. It was likely the equivalent of three or four months’ pay for her. But the woman wasn’t stupid. She schooled her features and turned up her nose at him.
“Mr. High-and-Mighty Darcy can do better than that. Five is a paltry sum for the information I gots. Make it fifteen, and I’ll consider telling ye what I know.”
After a brief negotiation, Darcy and Minnie came to terms. Then, he motioned for the footman to wait outside. Despite what Caroline had done, Darcy didn’t want her secrets spilled to anyone but himself.
“I knows it was wrong of me to go along with Wickham’s scheme,” she said, not a hint of remorse in her posture. She sat in a chair in the corner of the room, assessing Darcy like a queen on her throne.
“I wouldn’a done it for myself,” she added. “But I’ll soon have a babe to think about. Wickham done me wrong, and when Lady Powell found out, she dismissed me without a reference. I was desperate. Wickham said he’d get me a new place if I helped him. It was that or the workhouse.”
Her sob story held little weight with Darcy. He was concerned, though, about the fate of the child she carried—if that part of her story was even true.
“What did he ask you to do?”
She smirked—actually smirked. Clearly, she was proud to have hoodwinked members of the gentry. The idea of her as someone’s mother made him shiver.
Minnie explained Wickham’s plan to secure an heiress. Darcy wasn’t surprised to learn that Jane had been his initial target. But that he’d then gone after Caroline—that was news. It explained how she’d first become involved.
With each detail Minnie shared, his horror grew: How Wickham had learnt to forge Darcy’s handwriting when they were at Cambridge.
How Minnie had feigned twisting her ankle that day in the woods—to keep Caroline from putting Darcy in a compromising position.
How Minnie had collected details to make Wickham’s letter to Caroline sound plausible.
“When he made to fool Miss Bingley,” Minnie said, “he mimicked you real good. Talked just like you, and even knew what kind of soap you used. In the dark, with him dressed up like a gentleman, nobody could’ve told the difference. But then, he is your half-brother.”
At first, Darcy could make no sense of the words. Then he stared, speechless. What was she on about? “That’s nonsense. Whatever Wickham told you—”
She laughed. “Just from his looks, I would’ve thought you could tell. And your voice is much like his, though you talks more like a nob.”
Before he could wrap his mind around her claim, she continued her tale. She spoke with alacrity and even a bit of pride in the success of her spying.
She revealed that Wickham, disguised as Darcy, had seduced Caroline. Darcy thought he would be ill. No wonder Caroline had schemed to marry Wickham to Jane.
Then, the story got worse. Minnie shared her suspicions that Caroline was with child.
And that she planned to pass the child off as Darcy’s by luring him to her bed.
Caroline had made contingencies in case her feminine wiles didn’t tempt him.
She’d asked for a bottle of brandy and a tincture of laudanum to be delivered to her boudoir.
Darcy paced. Elizabeth’s warning about Caroline’s condition had been fortuitous indeed. He remembered the night Caroline had asked him to come to the house on Grosvenor Street. The night he’d taken Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley along as a precaution.
The butler had shown them up to her private sitting room. She’d meant to trap him.
If she’d succeeded, he would have awoken in her bed in an opium-induced stupor. And he would have had no choice but to marry her.
He suddenly wished he’d listened to Bingley. After the wedding, his friend had asked him to pursue the matter no further. It was a moot point, Bingley had said.
But Darcy had been determined to find the maid. He’d agreed with Elizabeth that Jane’s good name should be restored beyond all doubt.
Even so, he hadn’t been prepared for this level of deceit and treachery. He almost felt sorry for Caroline. He had a better understanding of her motives. Her actions, however, were inexcusable.
The thought of passing on this information to Bingley nauseated him.
Yet Caroline must be stopped. She was a menace. The wrong dose of laudanum could be fatal.
Darcy stopped his pacing and looked at Minnie. He spoke in a resolute tone. “I’ll give you another ten guineas to come back to Netherfield and share this story with Bingley.”
Within a quarter hour, her bag was packed, and they were on their way.