Chapter Fourteen
Dear Self,
I am never certain precisely where the line between kindness and honesty lies. Is there one? For instance, if I were talking
to a young lady at a dance, and I noticed she had a seed stuck in her teeth, Georgiana says I ought to tell her before her
beau approaches. But what if I do not like the young lady—does that turn my lack of action into unkindness? And if I think
her beau a fool she would be better without, does that turn my lack of action into kindness of a sort?
Georgiana says my philosophies arguments expostulations give her quite a headache.
Yours, and mine,
Caroline Bingley
To Caroline’s delight, the day of the lake party dawned with the kind of radiance one did not often see until late summer.
Birds fluttered past her window, chasing each other with the kind of ostentatious courtship displays she intended to attract for herself.
It was a most excellent herald of what was surely to come, which further brightened her already good mood.
Georgiana had agreed to assist her in locating the perfect dress for the occasion and Caroline felt relieved in an entirely different way—though her strangely lustful urges had remained, simmering quietly under her skin, today she would be able to channel that energy into the real task at hand: enticing a suitable gentleman.
“Oh, not that one.” Miss Darcy shook her head as Caroline held up a dark green gown for inspection. “If you are to attract
attention, you must stand out, not blend into the foliage.”
“But it is such a lovely colour and suits my hair so well.”
“I agree, and you look absolutely ravishing in it. However . . . Let me see.” Georgiana nudged Caroline aside and began to
rake through the closet. “Hmm. Have you nothing in pastels? Oh, this one would do nicely.” She pulled out a pale pink dress.
“I do not believe I have ever seen you wear this. Is it new?”
“I am yet to wear it because I remain unsure that it suits my complexion,” Caroline admitted. Ravishing? Really? she wondered. “There is something rather too soft about it for my liking.”
“And soft you must be today.” Georgiana passed her the dress. “Try it on. Allow me to be the judge.”
Caroline wriggled into the dress, aware of Georgiana’s eyes following her every movement. “There,” she said, smoothing it
down. “Will you do my buttons?”
Georgiana obliged, buttoning up the back of the dress, her warm fingers brushing the sensitive skin of Caroline’s nape. Don’t think about water, for God’s sake, she told herself firmly.
“You look the very picture of loveliness!” Miss Darcy cried, when Caroline finally turned. “Why on earth did you resist?”
Caroline shrugged. “Mother used to force me into pale colours when I was a child, and even then, I was aware that they did not suit. By the time I chose my own dresses, I preferred to resemble jewels. Dark, shimmering, polished. Elegant, rather than gentle.” She patted her hair, though not a single strand had dared to move out of position in the last few minutes.
The recollection of those childhood dresses made her stomach turn.
It was all too easy to remember that she had never matched up to what her mother had expected.
Louisa, with her soft brown curls and hazel eyes, had looked simply darling in mint green and buttercup yellow, and Charles’ pale blue eyes had ensured that he looked dashing in any shade of blue known to man.
“You do not think it makes me look as if I am wasting away?”
“Not in the slightest,” Georgiana promised, clasping her hands together. “You look like a young goddess, freshly created from
a flower in some glorious myth.”
Preening, Caroline turned to the looking glass. Of course, she looked like nothing of the sort, but the slight blush in her
cheeks accentuated her delicate face, while the muted pink of the dress made her dark hair seem even darker, and her blue
eyes almost violet by comparison. Even so, there was something a little unnatural about pale colours. So soft, so wan, so . . .
Romantic.
Caroline wasn’t sure she had a romantic bone in her body, but perhaps she’d have time to grow one during the two-hour carriage
ride which lay ahead.
By the time they arrived at their destination, the hills rising so high around them that Caroline could not see the sky even after pressing her cheek to the cool glass of the carriage window, she was extremely glad to get out and stretch her legs.
The afternoon sunshine was pleasant rather than blinding, though there was no breeze to speak of, and her stomach was already grumbling.
The trees were tall and stately, providing homes for many an unseen songbird as they made their way towards the party, which
had taken up position only a few feet from where water lapped the shore of a sparkling lake. It was evidently a favoured spot,
Caroline noted with interest, as the grass here was noticeably trampled underfoot and someone had built several campfires
over which chickens were roasting on skewers, the smell drifting on the air and causing her mouth to water. A neatly-dressed
servant manned each spit, turning the handle constantly, to ensure that the birds were cooked evenly on all sides.
A woman of around forty, even taller than Georgiana, came forward to meet them. “Miss Darcy,” she cried in a surprisingly
high-pitched voice considering her size. “I am so glad you came.”
“Lady Lennox, I am delighted to introduce my dear friend Miss Bingley,” Georgiana said, smiling back. Before Lady Lennox had
even turned to Caroline, an equally tall man appeared on her right, followed by three gigantic young women—evidently her husband
and daughters. In a moment, they were joined by three average-sized young men, who each took positions at the sides of their
ladies, and thus the pleasantries began in earnest.
Caroline bobbed and smiled and tried to commit all their names to memory as best she could, though she had rarely been introduced
to so many people in the span of a few seconds.
“Do not worry,” Georgiana murmured, after cordialities about the weather and the state of Derbyshire had been exchanged. “I shall keep you right. Though I do not know everyone assembled here, I know a fair few.”
She steered Caroline past a group of men and towards a long table, prettily adorned with a snow-white tablecloth and fresh
flowers, among which sat large jugs of lemonade and trays of delicacies. Lady Lennox followed them, still expounding on the
wonders of the weather in this part of the world, but Caroline was no longer listening; a man with broad shoulders had glanced
curiously in their direction as they passed, his gaze lingering longer than was polite. He was of average height, perhaps
even a little short when compared to the men who stood by him, but his face was handsome and his body much more muscular than
his fellows. His hair was dark and ruffled, hanging over one eye with a rakish air, and his eyelashes—though she could hardly
tell for certain from such a distance—appeared to be long indeed. Point one in his favour. Caroline squinted at the small pier which held several small boats, all lashed safely to wooden posts. The man’s build suggested
he might be one of the keen rowers Georgiana had mentioned, which in turn meant that he had probably been educated at one
of the larger universities. Point two in his favour. Fitzwilliam and Charles had both studied at Cambridge, though at different times due to their age difference, and they’d
talked fondly about attending many competitive events to cheer on their friends against rival schools.
The man caught Caroline’s eye and smiled.
And he has excellent taste in women—point three in his favour.
She returned the gesture demurely before focusing her attention back on Georgiana.
She would have to confer with her friend on how to receive an introduction, though a lady could not make such gestures immediately for fear of looking over-eager.
Upon her next glance, she was surprised to see the man already approaching with a glass of something dark in one hand.
Lady Lennox smiled at him, though Caroline did not detect the same fondness in it that she’d displayed for Georgiana. “Miss
Darcy and Miss Bingley, this is Mr Radcliffe, a dear friend of our family.”
Mr Radcliffe bowed. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintances.” He turned to Georgiana. “I know your brother only a little,
but what I know is enough for me to declare him one of the finest gentlemen I ever met.”
“I quite agree, sir,” Georgiana said, beaming at the compliment. “I would feel the same way even if he were not my brother,
though I am glad he is.”
“I believe he is recently married, is he not?” he continued. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting his wife, though
I am sure any lady he chose must surely be the very best of women.”
Caroline forced herself to keep smiling. Must the notion of Elizabeth Bennet’s greatness be foisted on her at every available
opportunity? Would she never be allowed to forget that the young lady had already achieved what she herself was still a long
way from accomplishing? Is there any place left in England where I might be safe from the mention of that name, or have all the local crofters heard
of her, too?
“Indeed,” Georgiana said, casting a sidelong glance at Caroline. “My new sister is a darling woman.”
In short order, Mr Radcliffe introduced a few of his friends. They were pleasant enough, albeit a little keen to show off
by talking of the large bets they’d placed on who might win the upcoming boat race.
“Perhaps I shall place a bet, too,” Caroline declared, and Mr Radcliffe turned to her, interest lighting up his blue eyes.
“Do you like to gamble, Miss Bingley?”
“Not at all, sir,” she replied. “But I do like to win.”
“Difficult to achieve one without the other,” he said, amused. “And whom shall you place your bet upon?”