Chapter 7
It was a day of glittering frost and still more brilliant anticipation when the Bingleys gathered in their drawing room after breakfast. They would need to make haste, for the carriage was already waiting, and the horses could not stand long in such cold.
“Well, ladies, it is time!” Charles announced with a broad grin. “What do you think, Jane? Are you sure you are not too frightened?”
“No, not in the least,” Jane told him stoutly. “I am sure you will take good care of me, and not let me fall.”
“So I shall,” Charles vowed, and he caught up her hand and kissed it.
Caroline smiled to see them, and to see the bright sunshine pouring through from the window.
The day was freezing cold, the air quite calm, and the sun shining brightly down: all quite perfect for their skating party.
Charles had always loved the freedom and the fun of skating, and when the frosts had set in, he had become quite enthralled by the idea of introducing the sport to Jane.
She, gentle soul that she was, had never attempted so daring a pursuit, but as she could refuse Charles nothing, she had soon agreed to make the attempt.
In a visit to Elizabeth, they told her of the intended outing.
“How wonderful, Jane!” she had exclaimed. “I quite envy you. I should make the attempt myself if it were possible.” She gave a light-hearted, self-mocking gesture towards the expanse of her belly, and yet looked truly regretful that it could not be.
“Next year, Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy told her.
“Does that mean you know how to skate, Will?” she asked him eagerly.
He nodded. “I do, and so does Georgiana.”
“Really?” Elizabeth exclaimed, turning to her sister-in-law.
Georgiana had grown much less shy since gaining so charming a sister-in-law, but she was still easily abashed in larger groups.
Still, though she ducked her head, she answered readily enough.
“I do, at least a little,” she said. “It is such fun! You must try it next year, Lizzy. My brother taught me when I was a little girl, and he is ever so much better at it than I am.”
Elizabeth gave him a saucy smile. “Is that so, Will?”
“Georgiana gives me too much credit,” he hedged, “but I own I like the pastime very well.”
“We shall have to make a party of it one day, for there is nothing so much fun as skating in a merry party,” Bingley remarked. “Next year, perhaps, when Mrs Darcy can learn.”
“No, I shall not hear of you all waiting on my account!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “How can you think of it? You must all go now, this year. I demand that you have a lovely time, and then tell me all about it.”
“Should you not be rather sad not to take part?” Caroline asked her curiously.
“No, indeed, there is nothing I would like so much as to know that you are all having a lovely time. Nurse Rooke shall stay with me and amuse me with her wonderful stories, and then you must all come back and amuse me with still more wonderful stories of how far you all skated, and who fell and who didn’t, and what you all joked about. ”
Jane laughed fondly at her sister. “Well, then, I do not see that we can refuse.” She turned to Caroline. “What do you think, Caroline? Should you be daring enough to learn?”
“Learn?” Charles exclaimed. “Just wait and see, Jane. Caroline skates faster than I do.”
“Charles!” Caroline scolded him, laughing. “You will make me look quite foolish when we have our skating party, and everyone has such expectations of me. I have not skated since I was a mere girl.”
All the same, she could not help feeling a private glow of pride. She had been rather good at skating once, and she did not think she had forgotten everything yet.
Then there was the joy of movement so close to flying, of feeling so entirely free.
Oh, skating had inconveniences enough — the clumsy wooden frames and the rough leather straps to attach them to one’s shoes, the difficulty of ensuring that they were not tied too loosely or too tightly, and the risk of falling or of hurting an ankle.
But all that was worth it, surely, for a chance to be so entirely free.
Elizabeth was watching her closely. “If I am not mistaken, Caroline, I should say you like skating nearly as much as Charles.”
“I was very fond of it once,” Caroline admitted. “I shall be glad to try again.”
Her smile grew broader. “Excellent. I should not be surprised if you have the best story of all for me.”
From there, their plans had only grown. Mentioning that his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, was on leave from the army, Mr Darcy thought to invite him, an idea quickly seconded by the rest of the party, for all knew and liked the colonel.
Miss Darcy surprised everyone by wishing to invite Miss Henry, a friend from school, as well as her older brother.
In all, the similar skating trip soon seemed to have become a proper holiday party.
In their sitting two days later, she had told Mr Northville of the party, and his interest had been so obvious that she had invited him to join them without even waiting to inquire with Jane, who must properly be the hostess of the event.
True, Jane never minded questions of precedence, but in truth, Caroline had not thought of whether she would mind.
She had only seen a chance to give him pleasure, and had taken it.
Now the day had come at last, and Caroline had thrown caution aside in her excitement to be moving over the ice. The day was bitterly cold, but what need that matter? They had piled the carriage with furs, and the exercise would warm their blood.
They had arranged to meet by the Serpentine, in a corner of Hyde Park which afforded a pleasant view and ample room for skating. All were in good time, and they had not been there a quarter of an hour before Caroline was tying on her skates.
“Should you like some help, Miss Bingley?” Colonel Fitzwilliam offered gallantly.
“Thank you kindly, but I have it well in hand,” she told him. “Perhaps you might help Miss Darcy with her friends — I believe they have not skated before.”
“Why, yes, of course,” the colonel agreed, looking rather surprised, and went to do so.
Caroline was confused by his surprise until she remembered how persistently she had flirted with him at Pemberley the previous Christmas.
She blushed to think of it. How foolish she had been then!
The colonel was a good catch, to be sure.
Not only was he charming, but he was the second son of an earl, with connections enough for anybody.
Yet that could not excuse how blatantly she had pursued him, in the absence of real interest and even to the detriment of her self-respect.
Perhaps it was a little mean of her, to derive a private satisfaction in seeing him as discomfited by her lack of attentions as he had once seemed to be by their persistence, but Caroline had to admit that it was so.
Only now that he no longer had them did the colonel seem to feel the compliment that her attentions had been.
But she had resolved to put all her old pettiness aside, and to dwell on such things was hardly living up to her resolution. Without waiting for anyone to aid her, Caroline stood and began the precarious walk to the ice.
“Caroline, wait!” Jane exclaimed. “Oh, do not mind me, Charles! Perhaps you ought to go and help Caroline start out.”
“No, indeed not,” Charles reassured her. “She does not need me.”
She reached the ice without incident, and began to glide.
At once, all the clumsiness of skates on ground was transformed into something little short of magic.
Though it had been years since she had skated last, she had not forgotten.
There were two tricks — to remember that you were either moving or falling, and not to be afraid. Caroline had learned them both.
It was not long before the others joined her.
Charles moved out confidently, all but holding up a terrified but gamely striving Jane, while Miss Darcy and the colonel formed a line with the Henry siblings, and kept them from falling between them.
Mr Darcy skated back and forth, looking forlornly back in the direction of Darcy House, as though wishing himself there, and offering help to anyone who needed it.
Caroline skated over as he was assisting Mr Northville to begin. “Push off gently at first,” Mr Darcy told him. “Give it too much force, and you will surprise yourself. If you wish to stop, you must let your momentum run out, and then position the blades in a triangle, like this.”
She watched with amusement as Mr Northville attempted to follow these instructions.
He moved strongly and with obvious athleticism, but the ice had its own rules, and it was all too clear that Mr Northville did not yet know them.
One too-enthusiastic swipe of the skates, and he would have fallen, had Mr Darcy not caught his elbow and steadied him.
Caroline stifled a chuckle. There was a strange enjoyment in seeing so beautiful and elegant a man for once less than graceful. It was, perhaps, in the evidence that he was not quite perfect, but a flawed creature not so different from herself.
At that moment, a loud crash came from some yards away, to be followed by exclamations of alarm and dismay.
Mr Darcy whipped around. Miss Darcy and Miss Henry were sprawled over the ice, evidently having fallen.
“Do not worry about me,” Mr Northville told him at once. “I shall be quite well, Mr Darcy. Go and see to your sister.”
“Yes,” Caroline added quickly. “Go. I will assist Mr Northville.”
Mr Darcy said nothing — only looked at them a moment, ascertaining their seriousness, and then nodded and went.
Caroline took Mr Northville’s arm. It was an odd reversal of roles, for she was accustomed to taking a man’s arm for support on a long walk — or, rather, to recommend herself to him, with the excuse of needing support.
She was not accustomed to offering the same, but she found she liked it.
Thankfully, it was immediately apparent that the girls had suffered no serious harm. Miss Darcy was up and skating again almost at once, and when her friend had recovered from her embarrassment, she was so bold as to try again herself — though now with the more robust support of Mr Darcy.
“Well, we shall have a great deal to tell Mrs Darcy, after all,” Caroline murmured to herself.
But Mr Northville heard her. “Indeed, you shall. If I might make an impertinent inquiry…”
Caroline was surprised into a laugh. “Knowing you as I have begun to, Mr Northville, I do not think it will be anything really impertinent.”
“I hope not,” he admitted. “I was only curious about Mr Darcy’s presence today. He seems to keep looking over to the north.”
“Perhaps you have guessed it,” Caroline told him teasingly. “He is only half here at all, or perhaps less than half. His heart is at home with Mrs Darcy.”
“I thought it might be so,” Mr Northville remarked. “And he has come out today, then, upon her urging?”
“Just so,” she replied. “Mrs Darcy wishes us to tell her everything that is going on this winter, since she cannot see it for herself. But I must own that I think it only partially a genuine motive of curiosity, and partially an excuse to keep her husband and sister-in-law from going into confinement along with her.”
He laughed. “A wise woman.”
“Indeed, she is,” Caroline replied. “When Mrs Darcy is back in society again, you must meet her. If you think my expressions well-suited for a portrait, you will certainly wish to paint her. She is certainly as pretty as I am, and far more interesting.”
“I shall look forward to the meeting,” he replied, “but I do not think I could find Mrs Darcy more interesting than I do you. Interesting, to be sure, if you think it, but not more so.”
Caroline’s breath caught in her throat. It ought to have been a mere commonplace compliment, the kind she would have angled for, once upon a time, but it was not. He had meant it. Her heart told her he had meant even more than the mere words might convey.
But nothing could come of imagining too much. Hoping too much. With deliberate cheerfulness, Caroline resumed their lesson, recalling all his attention to the demanding task of overcoming the slickness of the ice and the clumsy construction of the skates to remain upright.
In such bitter cold, the skating party could not last long. When some were growing fatigued and all starting to shiver, they set out for the Bingley townhouse and the welcome refreshments awaiting them there.
As she stood by the coffee and tea with Jane, Caroline looked out over the room.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Henry were glancing at her with an attention that could not be otherwise than flattering, but she quickly dismissed it from her mind.
Miss Henry and Miss Darcy were gazing at Mr Northville and whispering together.
Caroline smiled to see them. How could any woman, and particularly any romantic young girl, fail to be touched by his beauty?
Even on a first meeting, likely they would have noticed the pleasantness of his manners and the quickness of his mind as well.
Having such a brother and such a sister-in-law, Miss Darcy ought to have a proper respect for intelligence.
Of course, they could not know him well enough to esteem him truly, as she did. They could not know how well he listened, or how much he could see in the lift of an eyebrow or an averted glance. They could not know of his artwork, of the soul that was required to make pieces that spoke so deeply.
They are not in love with Mr Northville, but I know who is.
Caroline looked at him herself, admitting the truth. Yes — impossible as it was, she did love him. She, who of all women ought to know better, had fallen for a man despite knowing almost from the first moment of meeting him that he was entirely ineligible.
I thought I was safe, Caroline admitted to herself. I thought that, knowing what I knew, I would not fall in love with him. But I was wrong.
It was a strange kind of feeling, knowing herself to be in love, and knowing she must do everything she could to discourage it, not only for her sake, but for his as well. Had he not said that he did not wish to fall into the same trap his mother had?
Surely if she loved him, she must not ask it of him.