Chapter Three #2
“The truth is that Mr. Darcy cannot propose to me, because I am married to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Elizabeth.
“But you must not tell anyone, do you understand me, for we have married in secret. We were overcome with the romance of it all, and we wished to be married before he left for France. When he returns from the fighting, we shall announce it, have a proper ceremony, all of that. But for now, we must conceal it.”
“Oh,” said Caroline, eyes very wide. “Truly?”
“Truly,” said Elizabeth. “And Mr. Darcy knows, for his cousin shared it with him.”
“The colonel was at Rosings as well,” said Caroline in a knowing voice. “You met him then.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“So, then, as you were saying, Mr. Darcy is free.” Caroline regarded her, a small smile playing on her lips. “Well, this is all very good to know, Eliza.”
“You must promise me to keep my secret!” said Elizabeth.
“Oh, of course,” said Caroline. “I shall not tell a soul. I promise.” She immediately linked arms with Elizabeth, who couldn’t help but smile.
Yes, this was a good thing, she thought.
And if it forced Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hand, meaning that he would have to have a real ceremony and to acknowledge her publicly when he returned, so much the better, she thought.
Last night, when talking to Mr. Darcy, she had realized that she wasn’t wrong to feel as if she wished more from a husband than what she had gotten from the colonel.
This way, she wouldn’t have to ask or beg.
Perhaps it was a bit manipulative, but she wasn’t entirely sure she cared.
He had actually used her ill, her husband had.
She loved him anyway, but the love she bore Richard Fitzwilliam was a strange and fraught love, full of insecurity and longing.
“So, tell me again what it is that you think Mr. Darcy finds attractive about a woman,” said Caroline, raising her eyebrows.
Elizabeth hesitated. Wait a moment, Mr. Darcy would never actually marry Caroline Bingley, would he? She did not like that idea. Of course, Mr. Darcy was going to have to marry somebody, eventually.
Yes, and of course he should marry someone, and he should be happy, and—
“Is that someone walking towards us on the path?” said Elizabeth, looking up and seizing on anything to change the subject. She waved at the distant figure.
“Oh, Eliza, I am certain that person is out here for solitude,” said Caroline.
The figure waved back.
“Well, just a friendly wave, I suppose,” said Elizabeth. “Now, what were we talking about, how it was that I met the colonel in the first place? I must say that he was ever so easy to talk to, always with a smile, and that he has a sort of, well, ruggedness to him that I find ever so appealing.”
“Yes, of course you wish to talk of your husband,” muttered Caroline.
But now it was clear that the figure was approaching them. As the figure got closer, it was obviously a man, dressed in a tidy suit, with a handful of berries.
Caroline’s breath caught and she squared her shoulders. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, Your Grace, it’s you, is it? Well, of course, it’s you. You live just there, so you must walk on these grounds often.” She waved off in the direction of Neith Abbey.
“Yes, it’s Miss Bingley, is it not?” said the approaching figure.
Caroline visibly reacted, as if she was overcome that this man remembered her name.
He offered them both berries. “Picked these, walking.”
Caroline shook her head.
Elizabeth took one.
He ate the remaining few berries. “I don’t think I know your friend.”
“This is Miss Bennet,” said Caroline. “Miss Bennet, this is His Grace, the Duke of Neithern.”
My half-brother, thought Elizabeth, looking him over. Did they look alike? Not at all, she didn’t think. However, there was something about his visage that struck her in a way she could not quite place. He looked familiar in some way. “So very nice to meet you, Your Grace.”
“Indeed,” said Neithern. “I actually was going to just appear on Houseman’s grounds, uninvited, and see if I could get in on a game of battledore and shuttlecock. I have good luck with this sort of thing. People don’t say no to you if you’re a duke, I find.”
Caroline laughed as if he’d just said something uproariously funny.
Elizabeth laughed, too, but only gently. “Well, they were at bowls when we left, actually. But why don’t we all walk back there together, then?”
“I should like that very much,” said Neithern.
Elizabeth gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You may say we invited you, even, and it won’t be a lie.”
He chuckled. “How clever you are, Miss Bennet.”
She smiled at him. I have never had a brother before, she thought. What must it be like, then?
But as they walked back, she found herself rather tongue-tied.
It was no matter, for Caroline kept the conversation going, asking the duke’s opinion on positively everything and then slavishly praising whatever it was he said, assuring him that she absolutely agreed, that absolutely everyone would think the exact same thing.
Elizabeth began to notice that the duke was trying to conceal the fact that her responses were making him smirk.
At one point, he said, “You are ever so exuberant, Miss Bingley. It is singular, I must say. I have never met anyone with such passion.”
“Your Grace is too kind,” said Caroline.
But Elizabeth got the impression that the duke was making fun of Caroline. Well, perhaps Caroline deserved that, too. Perhaps Caroline and the duke could go off together and say one thing and mean another to each other all day long.
Perhaps knowing this brother of hers was only going to make her see why it was that she was glad to have not been raised in the household of a duke, after all.