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Chapter Text

Sitting alone in the breakfast parlour, Caroline felt a sense of relief. Finally, the week prior, Parliament had gone into recess, bringing the London Season to an end. It had been a humiliating season, with no invitations to any events of social consequence. Truth be told, she had not even been invited to the lesser gatherings, which she had attended in previous seasons.  

She had, however, received some invitations, such as that to Mrs. Porter's dinner, from persons whom she was certain disliked her. Convinced that their intentions were to deride her misfortunes, she had declined their invitations without a moment's hesitation. 

To dispel any suspicion of seclusion, she had endeavoured to be seen in public on several occasions. To this end, she had obtained a subscription to the Argyle Rooms where she had attended a number of events, including a reading of Shakespeare's Macbeth, by Sarah Siddons, in February and the first concert of the newly formed Philharmonic Society, in March. 

She had also attended a few public balls there, and sought to appear as happy as she had ever professed to be, though a practiced air of languid indifference occasionally crossed her features. She glided across the ballroom floor, dressed in gowns of the finest silk, made to drape her figure to perfection. Her laughter rang out, light and effortless, like the tinkling of crystal glasses. 

Regardless of the occasion, she had exercised the utmost care in all her social interactions, mindful of the social graces instilled within the seminary she had attended. She moved gracefully, in slow and careful steps, her posture perfectly erect, as if held by an invisible force. She affected a dismissive air, fanning herself languidly with a lace-edged fan and occasionally raising a perfectly arched eyebrow in a manner that suggested a silent commentary on the shortcomings of those around her. She smiled frequently and with a dazzling brilliance, and when she deemed it necessary, she laughed, a light and airy sound, though often forced and lacking in genuine mirth. 

She carefully observed those around her, noticing their figures and deportment. Her gaze, cool and with an air of studied indifference, swept the room, paying close attention to the subtleties of each conversation, and any changing currents of social interaction.  

When she deigned to speak, she restricted her conversations to trivial matters such as fashion, gossip, and social events; her speech laced with a subtle irony, and delivered in a voice that was both affected and supercilious. Those she considered her superiors she made sure to praise, though with a degree of restraint befitting good breeding. 

However, despite her concerted efforts to present herself to the best advantage, and the constant struggle to suppress her baser impulses, her participation in society had proved fruitless in achieving her objectives. She neither formed new connections within the higher circles nor succeeded in rehabilitating her reputation with her former acquaintances. She remained isolated; her reputation still tarnished. 

Mercifully, after enduring several months of constant discomfiture, she could, at last, lay aside some of the pretence she had been compelled to uphold. What a blessed relief to be finally freed from the perpetual distress and the agony of missing important balls or routs! Or, worse still, to have her absence noticed and commented upon with disapproving glances and whispered remarks. 

Unfortunately, she knew, it was but a temporary respite; for the end of the Season was the beginning of a new dilemma. With the summer heat already becoming oppressive, the mass exodus from Town had already commenced. She, however, had nowhere to go, or rather, nowhere she wished to go. 

Once again, she would have to keep appearances, lest her acquaintances would surmise that she had no desirable engagements. Despite that, she must decide, and speedily, where to pass the summer season. And therein lay a considerable difficulty. 

The constant feelings of vexation and distress had been a heavy burden, and had taken a significant toll upon her. She could not endure another year such as the last. It was therefore imperative that she find some means to re-establish her social standing and repair her damaged reputation. 

Engulfed by a wave of melancholy, Caroline found herself unable to continue eating. She pushed her plate aside, its content barely touched. She retired to the drawing-room, where she sank into the sofa. 

She reached for The Morning Post and opened it to the 'Fashionable World' column. Bitterly, she contemplated the list of departures. Though she had somehow expected that perusing the paper would only serve to deepen her gloom, she was not prepared for the despondency she felt. 

After three or four lines, it seemed as if the words were fading. As she continued to gaze upon the paper, she could no longer discern the names listed thereon. 

FASHIONABLE DEPARTURES

The Duke of Grafton, yesterday, from Piccadilly, for Wakefield, in Northamptonshire; Duke of Leeds, for Bridlington, near Catterick, in Yorkshire; Sir Francis Burdett, Bart, for Oxford; Duke and Duchess of Athol, from a tour, to the Lake of Man; Vice Admiral Sawyer, for Great Malvern, in Worcestershire; Lady Rumbold, for Melbourne and Loughborough, in Lincolnshire; Sir Stephen Glynn, Bart, on a tour; Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Stanhope, on a tour; Lord Suffield, for Guston-house, in Norfolk; Lady Frances Harper, for Petsworth, in Sussex; Honourable Mrs. Palmer, for Ramsgate; Mrs. E. Wheeler, and the Misses Wheeler, for Greenford, near Harrow; Dr. Dowdeswell, for Epping; Mr. Ewenhaw, for Uckfield, in Sussex; Sir George Clarke, for Edinburgh; Mr. F. Dugdale, for Atherton; Sir John and Lady Shelley, for the Isle of Wight; Mr. R. Drake, for Amersham, in Wiltshire; Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart. for Wingham, near Canterbury;

It was the extent of the list for this very day that held her attention, for it undeniably signalled the commencement of the season's general exodus from Town. It seemed that all those fortunate enough to possess a country residence were now fleeing the metropolis, if they had not already done so. And yet, here she was, all by herself, languishing within the confines of Grosvenor Street. 

She sighed discontentedly and laid the paper aside. Needing to calm her agitated mind, she walked to the window and gazed out. She recalled several unexpected and undesirable occurrences, starting the preceding spring, when her life had begun to unravel. 

First, it had been Charles, who had suddenly ceased to comport himself as the brother she had always known, not only by exhibiting a most contrary disposition, but also by marrying Jane Bennet. She might even have forgiven him for that, had Jane not come with her family, especially the odious Miss Eliza, who had somehow captivated Mr. Darcy, usurping the place that rightly belonged to her. 

Next, unexpectedly, invitations to significant events and calls from acquaintances had considerably dwindled. Such was the case with Lady Brown, who had not sent an invitation to her anniversary dinner, as in previous years. Also Mrs. Parker, someone exceedingly mindful of social etiquette, had not returned their visit. Moreover, she had observed that whenever she made a call, even to those with whom she had enjoyed a long acquaintance, a certain coldness, hitherto entirely absent, now seemed to pervade the encounter. 

Although Louisa had been certain from the outset that something was amiss, Caroline, for a long time, had dismissed her sister's apprehensions. But eventually, she was obliged to concede, though reluctantly, that something untoward was indeed transpiring. The difficulty lay in the fact that, even at this late juncture, so many months after its commencement, she still could not comprehend what had transpired and continued to transpire. 

Nevertheless, despite everything conspiring against her expectations, until of late, she had been able to rely upon having Louisa by her side. But no longer! Last month, Louisa had, somewhat unexpectedly, decided to spend the summer months at Mr. Hurst's country seat, Apperley Court. And that, simply because she was in a delicate situation. 

Caroline had endeavoured to dissuade her sister from departing. She even disregarded Louisa's explanation that, after having long yearned for a child, she would employ every means within her ability to ensure its safe arrival. In the end, her entreaties had been to no avail. Now Louisa was gone, intending to remain away for some time. 

Surely, Caroline would always be welcome to join her sister, but she had no intention of sojourn at Apperley Court. For, as she remembered, the manor house was woefully neglected, with its antiquated furniture and threadbare upholstery. … No, nothing could induce her to stay there! It was true that London was already hot, and would get even hotter; and the stench was already offensive. But still …   

Compared to Apperley Court, Hurst's townhouse in Grosvenor Street, though not as grand as some of the houses in the vicinity, was sufficiently pleasant. She had never felt abashed to receive callers there. Admittedly, it could be improved with judicious renovations, particularly the public rooms. 

She looked around … Here too, new curtains would make the room more agreeable; perhaps replace the sofas … and the walls would be better in a different colour. And the flower vases … She had seen those beautiful vases last year at Fortnum & Mason. No, she would not think of last year and her dashed hopes. She had better concentrate on her most pressing problem: what to do for the rest of the summer? 

Perhaps, had she not so often expressed dissatisfaction during her stay at Netherfield, nor so severely censured the Meryton society, Charles might have invited her to his new estate in Derbyshire. Alas, she had not yet seen his new residence. Nor, indeed, had she met her new nephew. Could she presume to invite herself there? 

Once again, Caroline felt the vexation of receiving no invitations to spend the summer in the country. Unfortunately, there was no indication that such a distressing situation would soon come to an end. However, whatever the causes for its commencement, she was determined to terminate this social ostracism. Yes, she most certainly must devise a plan! 

Aware that Louisa had earlier and more acutely than herself perceived their banishment from the circles of polite society, Caroline deemed it necessary to consult with her sister ere proceeding further. Alas, this necessitated a visit to that most disagreeable of dwellings. 

For some days, she still resisted undertaking such an endeavour, finding the very thought of it a most unpleasant prospect. However, as the days grew oppressively hot and the city air, heavy with the stench of the river became increasingly difficult to bear, she reluctantly yielded to necessity. Finally, in the last week of August, she departed for Hurst’s seat. 

Chapter Text

It had been some years since Caroline had last visited Apperley Court, and she wondered what alterations Louisa might have made during her brief residence there. Her sister, she was sure, would find no pleasure living in such unsightly surroundings. Nevertheless, she doubted that much could have been accomplished in so short a time.

Upon entering the estate, she was surprised as the carriage passed through well-appointed gardens, with verdant lawns and a profusion of blossoms. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers, while the sunlight added vibrancy to their hues. Overall, it was such a pretty picture, that Caroline wondered if she had judged wrongly, and the manor itself had undergone some improvement. 

The answer, she soon realised, was a resounding no! As soon as she entered the sitting-room, Caroline was confronted by the disheartening realisation that everything remained precisely as before. The furnishings were still decidedly old-fashioned, even bordering on shabby, and the furniture itself seemed to belong to a bygone age. And despite the summer season, a distinct chill pervaded the room.

Regarding the impressive gardens, she learned that Mr. Hurst had, in years past, reached an agreement with the gardener. In return for a reduced stipend, the gardener was allowed to make use of the produce of a large plot assigned to him. This arrangement, it would seem, proved highly profitable, for the gardener and his two sons had cultivated a considerable quantity of flowers and vegetables. Alas, such an arrangement also proved advantageous to the inhabitants of the manor, for it provided a delightful spectacle visible from every window.

The views from the windows, however, were not sufficient to settle Caroline's troubled feelings. It took less than a week for her to feel ill at ease. Hurst, as ever, was more interested in eating, drinking, and indulging in repose than in any exertion. As for Louisa, she now spent a large part of each day in a state of languor.

Two weeks after her arrival, no opportunity to have a lengthy conversation with her sister had yet materialised, despite her several attempts. Every time she initiated such a conversation, it had to be deferred for one reason or another. 

Finally, having been frustrated in her earlier attempts, she decided that the ease of her previous interactions with Louisa, would not be achieved while at the disagreeable abode, and in Mr. Hurst’s presence. Instead, she prevailed upon Louisa to make a trip to Apperley, the neighbouring village. However, her hopes of a pleasant time and companionable afternoon were soon frustrated, as the village reminded her too much of Meryton.

She found little of interest in most shops, for the majority of their wares were of a practical nature. The few establishments dedicated to fashion offered nothing other than cheap and unfashionable wares; there was not a thing within she would ever be seen wearing.

But it was the people she encountered, be they the shopkeepers or those perusing or engrossed in their shopping, that aroused in her the most disagreeable feelings. They were too similar to the Meryton inhabitants, whom she had so much despised. And just like that, her previous wish to explore the village with Louisa vanished, and she pressed her sister to a speedy return to the manor. 

Having taken her seat in the Hurst's carriage, Caroline immediately began to criticise everything and everyone. But to her astonishment, Louisa, who usually joined in her criticisms, remained strangely silent.

She could not take such silence for long, and soon felt unsettled. "Louisa," she said, "you cannot possibly have enjoyed our outing. Those shops do not have anything worthy of purchase, and the people …"

Louisa interrupted, "They have most of the things I require, Caroline. That is what is of the utmost importance!"

"You cannot possibly believe that! ... Pray, what has come over you? First it was Charles, and now you too are altered beyond recognition."

In an exasperated tone, Louisa replied, "Or perhaps we have at length acknowledged our shortcomings. Might it not be time for you to do likewise?"

“Shortcomings? Surely you jest, Louisa? It was not our fault that …”

"Caroline, I beseech you, do not continue. We are the daughters of a tradesman, who aspired to a station beyond our reach. Our acceptance in high society might have been possible, had we exercised greater prudence in our public utterances."

Caroline frowned. “I fail to comprehend your meaning, Louisa. We …”

Again, Louisa interrupted, “Well, I have not yet told you, but I have since had occasion to converse freely with Lady Brown. … She was at first reserved, but finally disclosed that our remarks about Mrs. Darcy, during the time preceding her engagement, were considered unkind and malicious by those who made her acquaintance. I am told that shortly after her arrival in Town, she was much admired."

Caroline attempted to interrupt, but Louisa would not suffer it. “Pray, allow me to explain, Caroline! Lady Brown said that Mrs. Darcy's good humour, wit, and intelligence endeared her to all who met her, and …"

Caroline could not countenance such a comment, and haughtily exclaimed, “Whatever they may say, I shall continue to regard her as I always have!”

"I do confess to some concern for you, Caroline. Perhaps you should endeavour to moderate your remarks even within our family.”

“Why, pray tell? I doubt that you have changed your opinion of her.”

“Indeed, I have. I know Jane better now, and through her, I have come to understand Mrs. Darcy's character. But, above all, I wish to maintain a cordial relationship with Charles and Jane, and ensure that our children grow up as friends." She paused for a brief moment. "It would be most unfortunate if any lingering prejudice were to hinder our future relations."

So unexpected were her sister's words that Caroline felt immediately perturbed, a feeling she greatly disliked. Fortunately, they had just arrived at the manor, affording her the opportunity to escape the unpleasant situation. Hastily, she alighted from the carriage. Then, turning to Louisa, she remarked with a haughty air, “In that case, I wish you every success!”

Bewildered by Louisa's altered sentiments, and her inexplicable acquiescence to ‘Miss Eliza’, the woman she so disliked, Caroline mounted the stone steps with some alacrity. She entered the house and made haste through the entrance halls, up the stairs, and along the first-floor corridors, until she reached her chamber, her breath coming in short, quick gasps.

Now breathless, distressed, and slightly unsteady, Caroline felt the need to support herself against the bedpost. Her mind was in a whirl, assailed by emotions: confusion, astonishment, dismay, and a profound sense of betrayal. Yet most disturbing of all was the unsettling realisation that she and her dear sister no longer viewed the world in the same light.

Any thought of remaining at Apperley Court suddenly vanished. The whole purpose of her sojourn – having a meaningful discussion with Louisa and together working out ways on how to regain her position in society – came to an end, snuffed out by her sister's words. She must leave as soon as it could possibly be arranged. 

Despite being uncertain of her reception, she would visit Charles’s estate. Having no other choice than two discordant situations, she would rather sojourn where she was assured of greater comfort.

Caroline was well aware that, in the preceding year, Charles had distanced himself from both Louisa and herself. Yet, as she contemplated his likely response to her unexpected visit, she felt confident that, when she presented herself at his door, unannounced, he would not deny her his hospitality. Besides, she had the excellent pretext of a fervent desire to make the acquaintance of her new nephew.

Nevertheless, she had best devise the perfect address for her arrival, lest Charles or Jane perceive her natural disinterest in an infant so young. Finally, she concluded that appealing to her brother's natural affection for his son, and to his paternal pride, would surely soften his heart towards her. Convinced of the effectiveness of her approach, and certain of her welcome, all that now remained was to arrange her means of conveyance.

~ ~ ~

The moment Caroline hurried out of the carriage, upon their return from Apperley, Louisa became concerned. It was evident that Caroline was angry that her opinion of the two eldest Bennet sisters had so significantly altered, as for her to think positively of Mrs. Darcy. But it was the strength of Caroline’s reaction and her continuing anger at Mrs. Darcy that worried Louisa the most.

Louisa understood that Caroline felt betrayed. Perhaps she had been naive by hoping that they could have a normal conversation about her new perspectives. Now, however, she felt certain that Caroline would devise some form of retribution, be it in words or behaviour. Whatever way it came, it would not be pleasant.

Louisa had been correct. While at first Caroline had kept to her room, when she reappeared she seemed resolved to openly display her displeasure. When she joined Mr. Hurst and Louisa in the sitting-room, she ignored her sister's attempts at conversation. When directly addressed with a question, she replied in monosyllables, without even deigning to look in her interlocutor's direction. Furthermore, she resisted all attempts to placate her feelings, even making no remark on being presented with her favourite dishes at every meal. 

Whatever Caroline's motivation, other than creating an exceedingly unpleasant environment, her appalling behaviour had no effect on Louisa’s opinions; although her nerves were considerably agitated. Already emotional prior to Caroline’s arrival, Louisa was now often in tears. Even Mr. Hurst, who usually preferred not to involve himself in the sisters' arguments, seemed concerned enough about his wife to remove her from the room as soon as the tears started.

When Caroline had languished in ill humour for a full two days, even Mr. Hurst seemed affected. To Louisa’s surprise, when they retired to their chamber, he suggested – very subtly – that perhaps it was time for Caroline to depart. Louisa agreed with him and confessed that she had reached the end of her patience and was herself eager for her sister’s departure.

The difficulty, however, lay in the fact that Caroline was insistent upon borrowing Hurst's carriage. But with Louisa in a delicate condition, both Mr. Hurst and she thought it essential to have a conveyance readily at hand. Travelling to Rowsley Park, Charles's seat in Derbyshire, was a two-day journey, rendering the carriage unavailable to them for at least four days, which they believed a too risky undertaking at the present time.

Still, as Caroline persevered in her poor attitude, Louisa's nerves continued to fray to the point that she even considered relenting about the carriage. Then, unexpectedly, Mr. Perry, the master of a neighbouring estate, called on the Hursts and offered his smaller carriage to convey Miss Bingley to Derbyshire. He explained that one of his footmen had learned about their dilemma, when he encountered Hurst’s footman, at the Apperley's cobbler. His wife and children, Mr. Perry said, were visiting her sister and were not due back for another fortnight, and until then he had no need for his second equipage.

As much as she was grateful for the offer, Louisa felt embarrassed that Ashton, their footman, normally a discreet fellow, had felt inclined to solve their problem, by disclosing it to his counterpart. Nevertheless, the conveyance problem was now resolved; and Mr. Hurst set about making all the necessary arrangements so that Caroline might depart.

That evening, as they sat for their meal, Mr. Hurst told Caroline that everything was ready for her departure. He had arranged for a skilled shooter to join Mr. Perry’s coachman on their journey north. As the travel included an overnight stop, he had deemed it appropriate to increase security during her conveyance.

After barely thanking Mr. Hurst for all the arrangements, Caroline declared that she would like to depart on the morrow. When she retreated to her bedroom, immediately after she finished her meal, Louisa could not help but feel relief that her sister’s sojourn was nearly at an end.

As Caroline usually kept town hours, Louisa was surprised when she joined Mr. Hurst and her for breakfast. But even then, Caroline persisted in her show of displeasure, and willfully ignored her companions. Louisa shared a knowing look with Mr. Hurst, but they both ate in silence, resulting in a rather stilted interaction. Thankfully, the final one!

As soon as she left the table, Caroline joined her maid. With her help, she donned her travelling outwears and gathered her belongings. When she and her maid made their way down the front steps, their trunks had already been loaded, and both the coachman and the son of a tenant farmer were in attendance.

To Louisa, it was no longer surprising that, even at that last moment, their last together, Caroline’s demeanour did not improve. Nevertheless, she was overcome by sadness.

Caroline was about to enter the carriage when she finally looked at Louisa, who was, once again, close to tears. Somehow this seemed to soften her stance. She grasped Louisa’s hands and squeezed them. And finally, after such punishing hours, she shared a few kind words with her sister. Still, such a lukewarm farewell was too far from their usually warm interactions to bring Louisa any relief from her ensuing unhappiness.

When the carriage departed, Louisa felt relieved, yet she was overcome by emotions. After enduring nearly three days in such heightened tension, when the carriage disappeared around a bend, she yielded to her feelings. Her tears soon turned into loud sobs. Gathered in Mr. Hurst’s arms, it was a long while before she regained her composure.

Back in the sitting-room, Louisa grasped her embroidery and sank onto the sofa. But soon, unable to continue, she laid her work on the small table by her side. Her mind was in turmoil, her thoughts oscillating between worry for her sister and the anguish she felt at the breakdown of their relationship.

She felt great fear for Caroline's future, certain that, unless her sister moderated her behaviour and stopped viewing herself above others, she was likely to end up alone. She would probably remain isolated and ostracised, the very things she had complained about during her sojourn. Yet, Louisa felt unable to help her sister going forward, when Caroline resisted so vehemently and behaved so appallingly after only a few words expressing her concerns.

From infancy, Caroline and she had been close allies. They had done so much together: playing, laughing, attending events, gossiping. But now Louisa was unsure if their relationship would ever be so amiable again. Undeniably, in the last few months her perception of her own behaviours and attitudes had so much altered, as to make Caroline’s words and actions utterly distasteful to her.

Louisa’s new awareness had commenced so subtly, that she had not even realised she was changing. It was not until meeting her sister again, after a few short months of separation, that she realised they now viewed society and their place in it very differently. Yet, though she was proud of her recent changes, it grieved her that they had created such a distance between Caroline and herself.

Louisa mourned those past moments of kinship, unsure if her sister and she would ever experience such closeness again. And just like that, the tears were back! Would they ever stop? 

Chapter Text

As the carriage proceeded northwards, Caroline continued to brood over Louisa’s words. Moderate her behaviour? She wrinkled her nose in disdain. "Pshaw!" As if she would do such a thing. It was Louisa who would regret saying that, when she was, inevitably, proved wrong.

By midday she insisted on stopping at the next village, as she was tired and hungry. She wilfully ignored the coachman telling her that in another twenty minutes there was a better inn. That, however, did not stop her from complaining about the quality of the establishment, the uncouth men within and the unsavoury food they served. She then said to the coachman, that the innkeeper should be the one paying them to eat there.

A similar situation happened around sundown, when she insisted on stopping in the next village. This time, however, she conceded to Bayne — she had finally addressed the coachman by his name — superior knowledge of the road. What was there but to agree, when he said that she would not be pleased with that particular inn, and in another half hour they would reach one that catered for a more refined clientele?

The following morning, Caroline left her room shortly before ten on the clock. As she had already broken her fast, having requested that a tray be brought to her chamber, she expected to arrive at Charles's by mid-afternoon. To her dismay, Bayne said that they had barely travelled half of the total distance, and owing to the rain overnight, the road conditions ahead would be poor.

He then said that, most likely, they would have to stay in another inn, overnight. Caroline argued that it could not be so, for the journey was supposed to be only two days. Bayne, however, insisted that he could not compromise the horses or his master's carriage by travelling too fast, or after dark. Alas, he was not certain of the road conditions and they might still make to their destination before dark.

The journey was indeed slower than the day before. When they made a stop for lunch, three hours later, Caroline was told that, in good weather, they would have reached there after two hours. She grew impatient that, despite the delay, they would still stop for a full hour. She decided, however, not to argue with Bayne about it, only to be reminded that she was travelling on a borrowed carriage and he, rather than she, was the one in charge.

When they returned to the road, Caroline could not fail to notice that they were still travelling at a low speed. For the first time, since departing from Apperley, she considered that they may not arrive until the following day.

Soon her thoughts wandered about Charles and Jane's reactions to her unexpected visit. Would it be better to arrive late today, or earlier tomorrow?

Another thought taking shape in her mind was that even as she might be able to convince her brother and sister-in-law of her ‘ardent desire’ to meet her new nephew, she could not as easily maintain her composure if Jane spoke about her ‘dear Lizzy’. Most likely, even Charles now admired his new sister's wit and whatever else Louisa had mentioned. Could she then moderate her behaviour, as Louisa said, she must?

She had better be prepared, starting with, once again, rehearsing her speech. “My dear brother,” she exclaimed, arousing her maid from her nap. “Do not mind me, Melton! You can go back to sleep.”

In her mind she continued, "My dear brother, you cannot know how much I wanted to meet my beloved nephew." Here she imagined that he would look at her sceptically, and she would need to convince him of her sincerity. "Why would you look at me so? Of course, beloved! How could it be otherwise? Indeed, he was so, from the moment I heard of his birth." And so she went on, arranging and rearranging her speech, until they made it to the next stop.

~ ~ ~

As the carriage advanced in its slow, methodical progress, through the sodden road, Caroline, lulled by its motion, fell asleep. When she woke up, the sun was already low. She was not sure how close they were to Rowsley Park, but she decided to pay attention to the passing landscape.

She had been in Derbyshire before, but then she had paid little attention to the scenery, too excited to finally be travelling to Mr. Darcy's famous Pemberley. This time, however, she was resolved to notice every detail, so as to be able to extol the beauties of the countryside and lend credence to her professed desire to visit her brother.

As they journeyed along a winding road, the landscape unfolding before them was strikingly different from that around Apperley Court. Verdant meadows nestled amidst rugged hills, their slopes covered in ancient woodlands. Deep valleys carved their way through the terrain, revealing glimpses of a sparkling river. Here and there, dramatic rocky outcrops pierced the scene, adding a touch of wild grandeur to the countryside. Was it the wilderness and ruggedness of the county that Mr. Darcy liked so much?

The rocks may be too wild for her taste, but the meadows were rather pretty. She was mostly fascinated, however, by the rivers — or was it always the same one? — that appeared every so often in the deep valleys, to soon disappear again. Such events created a sense of nostalgia, as they reminded her of the hide-and-seek games she had played as a child.

~ ~ ~

It was nearly dark when they crossed Rowsley Park's imposing gates, flanked on both sides by tall stone walls. The light was now insufficient for a proper appraisal of the grounds, but as they drove, Caroline could not miss the sheep grazing. They would probably make for pleasant scenery during the day.

Although she had expected to see some deer, there appeared to be none. Then she remembered that, at Pemberley, the deer enclosures were a long way from the manor. Perhaps it was the same here.

It took a few more minutes before she finally could see the manor. It was nothing to compare to Pemberley, which was somewhat disappointing. Rather, it was of a similar size to Netherfield's manor. Fifteen bedrooms, Louisa had mentioned. The important thing, she had to remind herself, was that her brother was now a proper gentleman. And that made her feel proud of him.

When they stopped in front of the house, Charles was already there, together with a man she did not know — likely his steward or perhaps the butler. As he would not have recognised either the carriage nor the coachman, he would certainly be surprised when he saw her. She prepared for a dramatic entrance, and indeed he seemed quite taken aback when she stepped out of the carriage.

Caroline wasted no time, immediately delivering her prepared speech, emphasizing how much she had yearned to meet her first nephew. Did he have any of their family features? What sort of baby was he: quiet or talkative? Was he already able to recognize his parents?

As she had expected, at the end of her speech, Charles invited her inside. Despite this, she could tell that he made the invitation out of obligation, rather than pleasure in having her as a guest. Still, as she had anticipated such a reaction, she would not allow herself to be disconcerted by it.

Charles led her to the sitting-room, where Jane was industriously sewing. Caroline went straight to her sister-in-law, affecting a cheerfulness she did not feel. She also kept to her preconceived script: "Is little Charles sleeping? I had so much hoped to arrive in time to see him. … I can hardly wait until tomorrow!" And to each of Jane’s replies she would exclaim, "Oh, sister, how delightful!" or something similar.

~ ~ ~

Sitting beside Jane, Caroline perused everything around her. Each piece of furniture, art object, or soft furnishing was given extra consideration. She concluded that the room had been outfitted for comfort, rather than elegance. Alas, she thought that was to be expected, as Jane had not grown up in a wealthy household. However, recalling Louisa’s desire for reconciliation and her readiness to accept their brother’s new relations, she thought better to keep her remarks to herself for the present or to a later time.

When Charles joined them to partake of tea, she perceived that he was unusually reserved. Could it be that he and Jane were experiencing some marital discord? That thought was soon dismissed, as she observed that his reserve was clearly only directed towards herself. He seemed reluctant to engage in intimate conversation with her, answering her inquiries with the briefest of responses.

~ ~ ~

Little Charles was a happy and communicative baby, but Caroline soon grew tired of his incessant and incomprehensible babbling. Even if his utterances made a striking difference to her muted brother, he did not hold her interest.

Jane, she noticed, although still very kind, was now more self-assured than she had been before. And just like Charles, she too was not forthcoming with information.

Every moment Caroline spent with her brother and sister-in-law, could be defined by one word: quietness. She had no doubt that her vivacious brother could not possibly be happy in such an environment. Most certainly, he must be in desperate need of entertainment and a more lively circle.

It was not long before she began to suspect that Charles and Jane had indeed made plans to either receive guests or be guests themselves at some country estate. It was likely that they were only waiting for little Charles to be a bit older before departing. Alas, to her dismay, neither he, nor Jane, seemed to want to disclose to her any plans they might have.

Caroline resented that Charles was effectively censoring his talks when in her presence. Now his favourite strategy was to retreat to his office, then send a footman to the sitting-room to ask Jane to join him there. Did he really trust her so little that he would only speak freely with a closed door between them? Well, that would not do!

~ ~ ~

Two days after her arrival, Caroline decided that it was time to regain control. Charles had stopped by the sitting-room’s door, a letter in hand, and asked Jane to join him in his study. Utterly annoyed that he continued to treat her thus, a brief moment later, Caroline followed, making as little noise as possible.

Luckily, there were no servants around, so she, unnoticed, rested her left ear against the study's door. Now she could make out most of Charles's words.

The letter was from Mr. Darcy, informing him that a Lord Ogilvy, an ex-colleague from Cambridge, was to stay at Pemberley for a whole week, on his way to his estate in Scotland.

Lord Ogilvy? … Caroline repeated the name in her mind, but she could not recall having heard of him before. Curious to know more, she returned her attention to the conversation.

"He has been absent from society for the last five years, since the death of his wife.”

“Oh, the poor man!” Jane said. “What happened to her?”

“She died in childbirth. And the child, a boy, likewise did not survive.”

"How dreadful! ... Do you think he will be comfortable around little Anne? ... Five years ago, you said?”

For a brief moment, there was silence, making Caroline slightly impatient. What was happening?

“Five years seems long, but still… ” Jane said.

“I think he will be alright, my dear, for he has several nephews and nieces.”

“Even so, it must be difficult. … I do feel for him!”

Charles talked more about said nephews and nieces, but it was Jane’s next question that again raised Caroline’s interest. “Do you think he will marry again?”

“I confess I do not know. Theirs was a most singular relationship, as they had known each other all their lives. … He could scarcely wait to finish his university studies so that her parents would allow them to wed. … All I can say is that the last time I beheld him, he was still inconsolable for the loss of his beloved.”

That explained why Caroline had never heard of him. Her mind drifted away for a moment, but as she heard the word “Pemberley” her attention was fully back.

“Of course, Charles, if you desire to see him, we may go to Pemberley. But … How long shall we remain there? Hmm … I inquire because with Caroline here … unless you go by yourself.”

Caroline did not like, at all, the direction the conversation had taken. Not to go to Pemberley? Indeed, that would not do! She had better find a way to convince them that they, all, should go.

Very quietly, she retreated to her bedchamber, to think of a strategy. Soon she had an answer: if by feigning her interest in little Charlie had guaranteed her sojourn at Rowsley Park, she could equally feign interest in meeting baby Anne.

The next morning, as soon as she joined Charles and Jane in the breakfast parlour, she started her campaign. “Dear Jane, pray tell me about little Anne. Whom does she resemble most?”

As Caroline had expected, Jane launched happily into a long discourse about her new niece. The baby, not yet two months old, was already showing signs of being very active and engaging. As Jane continued relating little Anne's charms, at regular intervals, Caroline interrupted with expressions of feigned interest such as, "How delightful!" Despite having no genuine curiosity about the child, she paid close attention to all the tidbits of information, as they could prove useful later on.

The ground was laid, so all she had to do now was continue to play her part. “How very sweet! … She sounds so lovely, dear Jane. How I wish to meet her!” Then, pretending that they thought had just occurred to her, she added, “Pray, may we all go to Pemberley? It is such a beautiful place … And I would love to see all the alterations Mrs. Darcy has made to the manor.”

Caroline could not miss both the surprise and possible disbelief in her Charles and Jane’s faces, but she would not let that stop her. "I am sure that you, Jane, miss your sister dreadfully. You two are so close that I think anything above a week away from her would be too long." She noticed the softening of Jane's countenance, and decided to press on. "Charles, please! Say we will go to Pemberley!”

Charles gazed at Caroline with such an intensity, as if by doing so he would perceive her thoughts. "Caroline, I am not at all convinced that it is a good idea. You have never left any doubt of your intense dislike for Elizabeth, and neither have you missed any opportunity to criticise her. … I cannot possibly bring such discord into my friend's home.”

Well, he was not wrong about her feelings. However, something of greater importance was at stake. As for his glaring at her, she had endured years of training as to now remain unfazed by his display. As for Jane, who, at her most forceful, was still too gentle, there was nothing she could say or do that would dissuade Caroline from her purpose.

“Dear Charles, what do you think of me? It has been a whole year since she married Mr. Darcy, … and many months since I have come to accept that he chose her as his wife. And how could I not, when they now even have a daughter? ... Little Anne! And yes, I genuinely wish to see her!”

By continuing to express her interest in seeing the little baby and affirming that she no longer had any qualms about Mrs. Darcy, about fifteen minutes later, Caroline had accomplished her aim: she was going to Pemberley after all.

She was most eager to make Lord Ogilvy’s acquaintance, whom she already knew to be both young and affluent. Should he also be handsome and taller than herself, he might be the ideal partner for her. And in such a case, she would endeavour to secure his affections. A widow and in mourning… it ought not be too difficult!

~ ~ ~

Caroline retired to her bedchamber to prepare for the journey, declining the services of her maid. Though it meant she must pack her own belongings, her spirits were too elevated to allow anyone else in the room. She laughed, recalling how she had managed to persuade Charles to agree with her. It was a most gratifying sensation. ... She had not lost her skill in managing him, after all!

Perhaps, had she been more persistent last year, then … Nay, nay, the result would doubtless have been the same, for she had tried different approaches. Possibly the difference lay with Charles himself, for then he had been resolved to assert his independence and he forced his way, until he finally achieved it. Likely it was easier for him to accept her presence now, when he was more assured of himself. Yes, that must indeed be so!

As she packed her trunk, Caroline congratulated herself on her decision to eavesdrop. It was a habit she had developed during childhood, despite her parents never failing to admonish her whenever she was caught. In this particular instance, she assured herself that Charles had given her no other choice but to employ such a subterfuge, when he so pointedly excluded her from his conversations.

Almost unbidden, she recalled a similar situation, when she had eavesdropped behind a closed door. Barely a few months after Charles graduated from university, a young gentleman called on him. The man was briefly introduced as Mr. Egerton, an ex-fellow from Cambridge. But Caroline had noticed his fine clothes and decided to learn more about him. When Charles took him to his study, she quietly followed.

She had known exactly where to position herself to be able to hear their conversation despite the closed door. She overheard that Mr. Egerton was, in fact, Lord Egerton, a Viscount, and heir to a prosperous estate. Then the conversation turned even more interesting when he revealed that, the following week, he would be attending Lady Ashley's soiree, and he hoped someone would play Haydn's Gypsy Rondo, his favourite piece of music.

When she too was invited to the soirée, everything had started to feel as if it were predetermined. She had wasted no time, procuring, the very next day, the sheet music for Haydn's Piano Trio. Immediately she had started practicing, concentrating on the trio's third movement, the Gypsy Rondo.

Finally, the day of the soirée had arrived, and Caroline was one of the first ladies to perform. Of course, she played the Rondo. And just as she had hoped, Lord Egerton approached her as soon as she retook her seat, and praised her performance, declaring her play to be excellent.

In the month after that, Caroline had danced with Lord Egerton on three separate occasions. Then he introduced her to his sisters, giving rise to her expectations of an eminent proposal. But suddenly, everything came to an end, as his father summoned him to the family seat. To Caroline's utter dismay, a month later, he wedded the daughter of an Earl.

Not long after that, Caroline met Mr. Darcy, another of Charles’s Cambridge ex-colleagues. He was tall and handsome, owner of a large estate in Derbyshire and richer than Lord Egerton. As the friendship between him and Charles grew, she often found herself in his company. She went several times to Darcy House and had twice visited Pemberley. Then he stayed with them at Netherfield, making her confident that, on that occasion, things would be different, and he would soon propose to her.

Alas, once again, all her hopes and efforts had come to naught. And now Caroline loathed to think about all the years she had wasted, waiting for an impending proposal which never materialized.

She was well aware that, hitherto, all her eavesdropping had not aided in achieving her goals. But that was in the past. Now she understood the world more fully and knew how to pursue her ambitions. If she found Lord Ogilvy to be a suitable match, she would know how to secure his regard. And she would ensure that his attentions would not wander towards another. Not this time!

Caroline finished packing, and then went downstairs to join Charles and Jane in the sitting-room. Another round of kind words would do no harm!

Chapter Text

From the time the carriage departed Rowsley Park, Caroline’s emotions oscillated between excitement and frustration. She was excited that soon she would meet Lord Ogilvy. However, now, in the presence of her brother, who remained suspicious of her reasons for visiting Pemberley, she had to maintain her composure. It was utterly frustrating.

And there it was again, Charles looking at her … more like staring, as if trying to penetrate her thoughts. That would not do! How should she be able to approach Lord Ogilvy, and try to entice him, with her brother watching her so closely?

It seemed that the best strategy would be to continue distracting and confusing her brother by praising little Charles, as she had done in the last few days. Yes, that was indeed it!

“How can little Charles sleep so soundly with all the jolting? How lucky you both are, to have such a peaceful son?”

With her brother and sister-in-law's attention momentarily diverted towards their son, Caroline's thoughts returned to Lord Ogilvy. Knowing him to be titled, wealthy, and young, she had already determined to pursue him. It would be perfect if he were also handsome and tall, although she could dispense with those.

As the carriage passed through the gates enclosing the spacious yard before Pemberley’s manor house, Caroline noticed a few people gathered at the bottom of the grand stone steps. Some, she knew, would be servants, waiting to attend to their carriage and to her family. But who else would be there?

As they drew near, she watched the group with some anxiety. She dreaded the notion of looking less than her best, and yet, there was naught she might do to prevent it. Her dress, which she had especially selected for the journey, was now sadly creased from her sitting. The deep wrinkles in the silk and the hem, now soiled from their recent stop at an inn, were too prominent to be ignored.

To her relief, neither Lord Ogilvy nor Mr. Darcy was among those awaiting them. Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, offered apologies on his behalf, explaining that he had not expected their arrival until later. At the moment, he and his guest were away, occupied with matters concerning the estate. As for Mrs. Darcy, she was currently resting, still feeling the effects of her recent confinement.

Everything had worked out for the best, and now Caroline had the opportunity to refresh her toilette and change before meeting the gentleman. However, she still felt some anxiety and she had difficulty settling on a gown and a coiffure. When finally, after changing her mind several times, Caroline stood before the looking-glass to survey herself, still the apprehension would not leave her. What would he think of her?

If she had not already taken far too long in getting ready, she might have asked Sally, her maid, to arrange her hair once again. She knew, however, that any further delay could be perceived as ill-mannered. As that was the opposite of the impression she intended to create when making a new acquaintance, she left her room and made her way downstairs.

When Caroline entered the drawing-room, she immediately searched for Lord Ogilvy, eager to observe his countenance and deportment. When he rose, she found herself unable to divert her gaze from him, for a fleeting moment forgetting everyone else in the room.

He made a fine figure of a man. She had hoped he would be handsome, but this … this was something else entirely. He was possibly the most handsome man she had ever met.

When they were introduced, she was seized by a flutter, a near-unbearable lightness, which almost caused her to forget to curtsy. He was indeed everything she had hoped for. Suddenly, a new feeling overcame her: she felt they were destined for one another. And just then, she understood why, until that moment, none of the gentlemen to whom she had previously been attracted had offered for her hand.

As Caroline took a seat by Charles and Jane, she felt like laughing at the irony that, by sitting beside her brother, she was now across from Lord Ogilvy and in the best position to observe him without raising suspicion.

The conversation proceeded, with the three gentlemen telling tales of their time together at university. It did not take long before Caroline felt frustrated with their talk, because despite paying close attention to their stories, she had not learned anything of import about the lord. That would not do, for how could she ensure her success in pursuing him, without knowing his likes and dislikes? Aware that she only had a few days before he departed to Scotland, she grew impatient.

Her thoughts turned towards her previous conquest attempts. She assured herself that, this time, she would not repeat her previous mistakes. Case in point was Mr. Darcy. Having had the opportunity to observe the Darcys’ early interactions, as they got acquainted with each other, at Netherfield, and again now, she was almost sure that he did not respond well to flattering and fawning, which had been her strategies when trying to pursue him.

With Lord Ogilvy, she would act differently. Still, without knowing much about him, she was unsure how to start. Nevertheless, she felt confident that he would appreciate being told that she admired his steadfastness. That his loyalty to his wife, even so many years after her passing, was admirable and a proof of his worth. Indeed, that may be the best way to start their acquaintance.

A whole hour passed very much in the same vein. She had had no further insight into his personality or his interests. Despite that, after a while, Caroline concluded that his conversation was devoid of artifice. She ascribed that trait to a certain degree of naivety, possibly due to him having married very young and having had no other relationship since his wife passed away. His naivety, she decided, would be to her advantage.

Perceiving that someone was looking at her, she turned around. Charles was frowning, his countenance one of displeasure. He must have noticed her interest in Lord Ogilvy and undoubtedly disapproved of it. She also understood his wordless message: he would be watching her.

Well, she would have to handle any future interaction with Lord Ogilvy with utmost discretion and, if possible, away from curious eyes. For the moment, however, she was saved from her brother’s scrutiny, by Mr. Darcy addressing him.

Mr. Darcy and Lord Ogilvy had spent the earlier part of the day inspecting the restoration work on a bridge that had partially collapsed. They would be returning there on the morrow, and Mr. Darcy enquired if Charles would like to join them. For that brief moment, whilst Mr. Darcy explained what had happened, Caroline could again continue her observations of the lord.

Only when the three gentlemen went to Mr. Darcy’s study, ostensibly to view the bridge reconstruction plans, Caroline remembered her alleged reason for wanting to visit Pemberley: to meet little Anne. Before raising any doubts, she asked Mrs. Darcy — she had to remind herself not to call her Miss Eliza, as she often did in her mind — several questions about her daughter and expressed her desire to see her.

Truthfully, Caroline had no particular interest in small children, and she was not sure how to behave around them. Nevertheless, she felt confident that she would be able to imitate Jane and Mrs. Darcy's behaviour as she met the baby.

Caroline approached Anne’s cradle reluctantly, yet quite prepared to feign interest. As the babe was sleeping, she regarded her for a moment, uncertain as to what she ought to say or do. When Jane commented that Anne’s hair was looking more and more like Mr. Darcy’s hair, Caroline’s attention turned to the baby’s hair. Finally gaining some courage, she remarked how sweet Anne's wisps of dark hair were. Did Mrs. Darcy think her hair would remain dark? And how lovely her little nose was.

Then Anne opened her eyes and babbled something. Mrs. Darcy picked her up and spoke gently to the baby. She turned Anne towards Caroline. “This is Miss Bingley, my love, sister of your uncle Charles.”

At such close distance, it was impossible not to notice how the shape of Anne’s face, eyes, and even her nose – indeed, all her features bore a striking resemblance to those of Mr. Darcy. Unexpectedly, a sudden pang went through her. Caroline was quite unprepared for such intense feelings. Fortunately, it was time to dress for dinner, and soon they left the nursery.

~ ~ ~

Caroline retired to her room, desperate to dispel the strong emotions that had assailed her. She did not fully understand why she had felt so overcome. Nevertheless, she refused to spend time analysing the situation. More important was to concentrate on the present. She could not afford to lose sight of her ultimate goal.

Eager to return downstairs, she refreshed her toilette and changed for dinner. When she reached the drawing-room, she noticed three people she did not know. They were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Ingham, owners of a neighbouring estate, and their daughter.

Uncertain what to think of the unexpected guests, Caroline sat by Charles and Jane, as she had done earlier in the day. It did not please her to see Lord Ogilvy deep in conversation with Miss Ingham. They seemed never to run out of subjects to discuss, and she wondered if their acquaintance was of a longer duration. But what unsettled her most was watching them getting on so well together, especially as Miss Ingham was quite pretty, and younger than her.

For dinner, Miss Ingham was assigned a place beside Lord Ogilvy, greatly unsettling Caroline. Again she wondered if that meant they had a previous acquaintance, or even an attachment, or perhaps Mrs. Darcy wished to promote one.

After dinner, when everyone repaired to the music room, Caroline was determined to observe Lord Ogilvy and Miss Ingham's interactions with each other. She felt relieved that instead of sitting together, Lord Ogilvy now sat by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy and Miss Ingham sat by her parents. A short moment later, her spirits lifted further, when the Inghams excused themselves, for they wished to leave whilst there was still some daylight.

With the Inghams gone, the gentlemen resumed their conversation. Sitting beside her brother, once again Caroline could observe the lord without attracting attention. She hoped to finally learn something of his interests.

She was listening in to the gentlemen's talks, when she heard Mrs. Darcy ask Miss Darcy to play for them. Caroline turned towards her, wondering how Mrs. Darcy could be so insensitive. Did she not know that her sister-in-law was too shy to play in company? But then, Miss Darcy just smiled and made her way to the pianoforte, leaving her puzzled.

From the opening bars, Miss Darcy’s virtuosity was indisputable. Caroline did not know anyone else who played with such mastery. She turned towards Lord Ogilvy, curious about his reaction.

With his eyes closed, he was undoubtedly completely engrossed in Miss Darcy's playing. Also, very subtly, he was swinging his body to the rhythm of the music. It was Caroline’s first insight into something he liked. And despite feeling some jealousy that his reaction was due to Miss Darcy’s playing, she realised that she now had a clue on how to start her conquest. Music, then, was to be her avenue!

Caroline waited patiently for Miss Darcy to finish playing, so that she too might perform. This, however, was not to be. Miss Darcy had just played the final bar when Caroline heard Mr. Darcy: “You look very tired, my dear. Perhaps you should retire early.” After a brief discussion, Mrs. Darcy agreed and rose. Soon Jane, too, retired, with Charles following her. Miss Darcy left next, and with that, the evening's entertainment was at an end.

Alone in her room, Caroline felt utterly disappointed that, so far, her only interaction with Lord Ogilvy had been the very brief moment when they were introduced to each other. Granted, she had only arrived at Pemberley in the afternoon. Hopefully, tomorrow, she would find some opportunities to converse with him.

As she got into bed, Caroline thought that, most likely, Lord Ogilvy kept to country hours. Suddenly, retiring at such an early hour felt quite right. Now she would be up early enough to join him for breakfast, and they might even do something together after that.

~ ~ ~

When Caroline entered the breakfast parlour, she was pleased to see the three gentlemen there. But they had nearly finished their meal and a few minutes later, they excused themselves and left the parlour, intending to ride to the bridge that had collapsed.

It annoyed her that Mr. Darcy, with so many people working under him, felt it necessary to join his men in such endeavours, and, even worse, for him to take Lord Ogilvy with him.

For the rest of the morning, Caroline had to content herself with the company of the ladies and to work on her embroidery. But hearing that the gentlemen would be returning for luncheon, gave her hopes to have an opportunity to speak to Lord Ogilvy during the afternoon.

~ ~ ~

Her opportunity finally came a few hours later, when she saw him leaving the house. She followed him, but kept her distance, to avoid that anyone watching from a window would realise what she was doing.

When he reached a grove of tall trees, she felt safe to approach. “What a coincidence to find you here, my lord. Could it be that these magnificent trees have the same effect on you as they have on me?”

He looked at her. “To what effect do you refer, Miss Bingley?”

“A sense of peace and serenity that compels one to walk on and on. … Each corner seems to harbour a secret, which can only be discerned at a short distance.”

“I see! … But I confess that it was not any romantic notion that brought me here, but rather a wish for fresh air and exercise.”

She smiled at him. “And yet, you cannot deny having a romantic soul.”

For a while, it appeared he would not reply, leaving her anxious. Had she offended him?

“I wonder why you would say that. … May I ask how you arrived at such a conclusion?”

Had she gone too far? Maybe she should change the subject. “You must forgive me, my lord, but I could not miss your enjoyment of Miss Darcy playing last evening?”

He smiled. “Indeed, it was so, Miss Bingley.”

Noticing his smile, she decided to keep her talk to music. “It does not surprise me, as Miss Darcy plays beautifully. Pray tell, do you have a favourite composer or a favourite piece of music?”

“I would say my preference lies with Mozart, in particular the Piano Sonata Number 14 in C minor. But I cannot be certain if I like it for myself or … I beg your pardon, I should not …”

“There is no need to apologise, my lord. I confess, however, that I understood you to say that Mozart was your late wife’s favourite composer. … Perhaps, allow me to say that should you wish to talk of it, I can be a good listener. Otherwise, I beg you to forget this conversation took place.”

“You are too kind, Miss Bingley. Mozart was indeed her favourite, and she played the Piano Sonata Number 14 with such an emotion that life felt wonderful. It was how I felt ..."

“I am sure that life will be wonderful again, my lord. In the meantime, if you wish to hear it, nothing would give me more pleasure than playing it for you.”

“It has been several years since I heard it, Miss Bingley. But I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it again.”

“I understand, my lord. Pray, allow me to tell you how much I admire your loyalty to your departed wife. It gives me hope of, one day, experiencing a relationship like that."

"I hope you may, Miss Bingley."

After that their conversation fizzled out, and Lord Ogilvy decided to return to the house.

~ ~ ~

Caroline did not see him again until dinner, when again he sat away from her. When the two sexes reunited after dinner, Caroline saw with some alarm, Lord Ogilvy choosing to sit by Miss Darcy. Looking at them left her unsettled. But then, the ladies were requested to play, and Caroline felt that she would certainly regain his attention.

She decided to ignore her previous conversation with Lord Ogilvy, and play Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 14. She was convinced that it would revive his memories of a happier time and he would, undoubtedly, be grateful to her.

Caroline found the sheet music and played the sonata with great gusto. Ere she had reached halfway through the piece, she noticed that, rather than paying attention to her, Lord Ogilvy seemed wholly engaged with Miss Darcy. She felt discomposed. That would not do!

Everyone applauded when she finished performing. Lord Ogilvy congratulated her on the excellence of her playing, but to Caroline it sounded insincere. It vexed her.

She would not allow an insipid young woman like Miss Darcy to usurp her position. To divert his interest towards herself, she may need to increase her efforts. If that was what was needed, she would have no qualms doing it.

~ ~ ~

The next day, after luncheon, the gentlemen followed Mr. Darcy to his study, whilst the ladies went to the drawing room. Hoping that, once again, Lord Ogilvy would undertake a walk, Caroline stood by a window. “What a lovely view, Mrs. Darcy. Pemberley never fails to enchant!”

A short conversation ensued, with Mrs. Darcy suggesting that Caroline might enjoy visiting the greenhouses at the back of the house, where the flowers were now magnificent. Before Caroline replied, she saw Lord Ogilvy making his way down the stone steps in front of the house. She waited until she ascertained what direction he was taking, before departing from the window. “You are right, Mrs. Darcy. I shall walk there now.”

By the time Caroline reached the steps, she could no longer see Lord Ogilvy. She proceeded in the direction she had seen him walking, until she finally reached him. He seemed surprised to see her, even if he did not say so.

He thanked her for playing Mozart, but other than that, he did not seem inclined to talk. Caroline began to despair. She had only two days to make her mark, then he would depart to Scotland, and she might never see him again.

Before Caroline had time to think what to say next, he was already turning towards the house, ostensibly to meet with Mr. Darcy. Although Caroline suspected that to be no more than an excuse, she could do naught but follow him back to the house. However, to avoid raising any suspicions, rather than entering the house, she went to the back of the house, to see the aforementioned greenhouses.

The flowers were indeed magnificent, and the sweet scent in the air did calm her wandering thoughts somewhat. She noticed a stone bench and walked towards it. How agreeable it was to find benches within the greenhouse! Were they already here the last time she had visited, or were they Mrs. Darcy's addition?

Caroline could not stop herself from feeling angry that Mrs. Darcy had achieved such a position as to have a say on what happened at Pemberley. In that lady's position, she would have done better. Take for example the drawing-room, which still looked very much like it did before. She would have replaced its furniture with pieces more ornate. She had seen just the thing at Gillow & Sons. Also, she would have changed the wallpapers to something in bolder colours and a larger pattern. What a delight it would have been to decorate such a house without having a budget constraint.

She had to force herself to stop thinking about the past, and concentrate instead on the present possibilities. She was certain that Lord Ogilvy, being a romantic man, and having been alone for many years, would surely be missing someone to share his life with. Although she had not yet made any progress in her endeavour, she had no doubt that she could still secure him. But she had to act fast, and she could leave no doubt of her interest in him.

As she pondered what to do, she considered that, perhaps, he had not yet realised all that she had to offer. Not only did she have a reasonable dowry, but she also had many useful connections, a fine figure, and … Had he noticed her figure? She could not tell. In that case, she would have to do something for him to notice it. But what could she do without being inappropriate?

~ ~ ~

After another uneventful evening, when again she had no opportunity to interact with Lord Ogilvy, Caroline woke up feeling vexed. It was, however, his last day at Pemberley, and she could not give up now. She took prodigious care of her toilette, then went to the breakfast parlour.

Within minutes of her entering the gentlemen took their leave. Although she had anticipated their departure, she could not help but feel disappointed. Her time with Lord Ogilvy was now reduced to just a few more hours, in the afternoon and evening. She would have no other option but to change her tactic.

Caroline settled for a morning in the company of the ladies. She spent some time in the nursery. She worked on her embroidery. She spoke of her stay with the Hursts. Still, all the while her mind was on the absent lord, and on her hopes to still secure him.

Such hopes almost came to an end when, during luncheon, Lord Ogilvy announced that he would be departing that very same afternoon. Caroline's heart sank. Her mind in turmoil, she could not follow the explanation for his early departure. She barely heard him thanking everyone for having made his visit so agreeable.

When, immediately after the meal, Lord Ogilvy went to his room for the final preparations before his departure, Caroline retired to her room. There she paced, wondered, considered, and despaired. Finally she made a decision, although knowing that what she was about to do was exceedingly inappropriate. Still, she must see Lord Ogilvy before he left, and she could not be indecisive now.

She removed her fichu and rearranged her dress to show more of her décolletage. Then she walked to Lord Ogilvy's room, hoping not to encounter anyone on the way. She paused in front of his door, gathering her courage. Then, she knocked.

Caroline waited, but no one came to the door. She knocked again, and this time she heard someone approaching. Then Lord Ogilvy opened the door. She saw his countenance shift, his brow furrowed in a mingling of surprise and displeasure.

“Miss Bingley? … What are you doing here?”

Before she had a chance to answer, she heard someone approaching from inside the room. Then Charles was before her, with Mr. Darcy following. Caroline froze.

“Caroline, what the devil? What are you doing here … this is completely unacceptable, and you very well know it.”

“Charles, I …”

“Pray, do not continue! … Go to your room and stay there!”

“Char …”

“Now, Caroline!”

She had never heard her brother speak so forcefully before. Still astonished, she hesitated for a brief moment, before turning towards her room. As she retreated, she heard Charles apologising to Lord Ogilvy. She strode to her room, suddenly afraid of what her brother might do.

Caroline had not yet reached her bedchamber, when Charles reached her. He grasped her arm and drew her the rest of the way into her room. He closed the door, before severely admonishing her, using words she had never expected him to utter. There was no doubt, he was furious.

Then he gave her his edict: He would give her twelve months to get married. And, if at the end of the year, she was still unmarried, he would release her dowry. From that moment on, all decisions about her future and her own affairs would be up to her.

Charles ordered her not to leave the room and then he was gone. Caroline trembled, genuinely afraid of her brother for the first time in her life. She was still processing his words, when Sally entered the room, having received instructions from Charles to pack all her things.

An hour later, Charles entered the room to collect her. He led her directly to the manor’s front entrance, where a carriage waited. Caroline was surprised to see Mr. Darcy standing by the carriage, but she could not look at him. He wasted no time informing her that she would no longer be welcome at Pemberley or at Darcy’s House.

Unable to say a single word, Caroline simply nodded, acknowledging his words. She stepped into the carriage, still unsure what was going to happen. Soon Sally entered, sitting across from her. A brief moment later, Charles too stepped inside and sat beside her.

Caroline wondered where they were going, but Charles did not speak until a few minutes after they set off. He said that they were going to Lambton, the nearest village. She was to spend the night at the local inn and depart to London the next day by post. He was leaving her at an inn? Caroline thought to complain, but a look at his face silenced her.

When they arrived at the inn, Charles walked ahead, entirely disregarding her. She followed him inside, still quite perplexed by all that had occurred. He made the arrangements with the innkeeper and settled the account for her lodgings, without so much as a glance in her direction or asking her opinion. She stood by his side, a mere spectator, as her life was being decided by him.

Charles followed her to the room allocated to her and handed her money for the rest of her journey. He said that he had arranged with Pemberley’s cook for provisions to sustain her and Sally during their journey, should she not wish to eat at the inns on the way.

As Caroline listened to him, her gaze kept returning to the basket that Sally had placed upon the table. Suddenly, she felt an impulse to get rid of the basket. She seized it and approached the window, but Charles must have realised her intention for he took it from her. He handed the basket to Sally, looked at Caroline and departed.

Only then Caroline unleashed her fury. Charles had no business making arrangements for her. It was her life, and where she should go was entirely her own decision. She would not go to London, as he had dictated.

No, indeed! Instead, she would return to the Hursts, in Gloucestershire. Not only was it closer to Lambton than London, but also, she needed to vent with Louisa. Her sister would sympathise with her predicament, and together they would plan what to do next.

Chapter Text

Overwhelmed by the indignation at being abandoned at an inn — particularly one she deemed so inferior — Caroline lost her appetite. She barely touched the evening meal.

Neither could she compose herself sufficiently to fall asleep. She passed the night in restless agitation, replaying in her mind Charles’s unacceptable behaviour. No, she would never forgive him!

As the hours passed, Caroline became increasingly hungry, but even as she knew that there was a generous supply of food in the basket Charles had left with them, she refused to partake of anything from it. She would rather wait until daybreak and have breakfast brought to her room.

Despite her resolve, she grew increasingly impatient for the first daylight to appear. When it did, she left her bed without delay and summoned Sally, needing her assistance to get dressed. Next, Caroline sent her maid downstairs to arrange their breakfast.

Caroline ate her breakfast quicker than she usually did, as all she desired now was to leave that God-forsaken place as soon as possible. She hastened downstairs in search of the innkeeper, eager to gather the necessary information and organize her departure.

Unfortunately, she discovered that it was not going to be as easy as she had thought. There were no direct coaches between Derbyshire and Gloucestershire. To visit her sister, she would have to first go to London and, upon her arrival in town, get another coach to Gloucestershire.

It would be possible to rent a coach to take her directly to Apperley Court; however, that was a very expensive option and it would cost much more money than what she had currently available. She had already spent her monthly allowance when she hired a coach to go to her sister a few weeks earlier. Anything more would be an advance on her next month's allowance, to which, in any case, she had no access at the moment.

Next, she learned that the mail coach, the faster of all coaches, followed the major trunk roads and did not pass through Lambton. And while the post coach made a daily stop at Lambton, the innkeeper warned her that it was not certain that she would find a place within, as the coach was often already full when it stopped at Lambton. He suggested that she take a stagecoach, which stopped in Lambton three times daily and was due in half an hour.

Whilst waiting for the stagecoach, Caroline reconsidered her options. Once arrived in London, she could attend to the bank and request an advance on her pin money. Then she could undertake the journey to Gloucestershire.

It seemed simple, but she was doubtful. Normally she spent her allowance without concern as to its depletion. But now she was not sure what would happen if she spent it entirely. Would Charles furnish her with further funds?

Caroline was still considering her options, when the stagecoach arrived. Within moments, she stepped inside, with Sally following.

She scrutinised her fellow passengers with a critical eye. She judged their attire quite out of mode, their accents provincial, their discourse vapid, and at times, quite improper, and their general comportment wanting in grace. Feeling disdain for her companions, she could not but resent being confined in such close proximity to them.

Despite considering herself superior to them, she could not stop herself from being concerned how she was perceived by them. She was mindful of her posture, her speech, and her interactions, wishing to ensure she upheld her social standing in the eyes of any potential observer.

Her unwavering focus on social hierarchy and her desire to maintain and elevate her own position were growing increasingly tiresome. Within a few hours, the journey had become an exercise in enduring discomfort and social awkwardness.

Unfortunately for her, the journey lasted two and a half days, with several of her fellow passengers remaining for the duration of the journey to London. Her hopes of more agreeable company were dashed every time someone alighted from the coach only to be replaced by another passenger of a similar station as the one who had departed.

~ ~ ~

It was only by the last day of her journey that Caroline’s anger began to shift into a sense of humiliation. She recalled those disastrous minutes, standing by the door of Lord Ogilvy’s room. Undoubtedly, she had made a fool of herself, but it was unlikely that she would ever see him again. As for her brother, she would rather he had not seen her waiting by the lord’s door. He might not have been so angry, if he had just heard about what she had done.

It was Mr. Darcy’s unexpected presence in Lord Ogilvy’s room that aroused in her a profound sense of mortification. Had he realised that she had rearranged her attire in an attempt to entice his friend? If he did, what opinion must he now hold of her morals? To fall so deeply in his estimation felt a far greater misfortune than being barred from his residences.

~ ~ ~

Caroline was relieved when the coach finally arrived in London, albeit she felt unsettled and abandoned. Though she believed that seeing her sister would dispel her present gloom, she had begun to question her original notion of travelling to Gloucestershire. Might she not pen a note to Louisa instead, and await her reply before she resolved upon a course of action? What would be her sister's sentiments regarding this entire affair?

The answer to her questions arrived before she had made a decision. She received a letter from Louisa that left her exceedingly discomposed. In the very first lines, Louisa declared that she had received an express from Charles and was privy to the happenings at Pemberley.

Any hope Caroline harboured of gaining Louisa’s support vanished upon reading the next few lines. Charles had communicated his intention to release Caroline's dowry should she remain unwed within twelve months. Louisa, having given due weight to his reasoning, concurred with his assessment. Furthermore, she noted that Caroline had previously declined two advantageous offers of matrimony, whilst pursuing decidedly unrealistic attachments. It was, therefore, high time that she approached her future with greater seriousness.

Louisa’s words were the deepest betrayal. But what she wrote next felt like pushing a dagger through Caroline’s heart and so profoundly disturbed her peace as to unsettle her very foundations: Louisa and her husband had decided, after long consideration, to let their townhouse in Grosvenor Street for the next year or two.

Their plan was to remain in Apperley Court, for the foreseeable future. As Caroline knew, their residence was not in the best condition and the rent’s money was required to undertake the necessary improvements.

Caroline was overwhelmed by emotions. Anger, betrayal, and a profound unease swirled within her mind, each vying for dominance among her thoughts. It took her several minutes before she felt sufficiently composed to resume her reading.

You are welcome to stay with us, but bearing in mind your fondness for town, it might better suit your convenience to have your dowry arranged sooner.

Stay with them? If Louisa genuinely desired to see her married, she would not propose that, for in what manner could she meet anyone whilst being away from society?

She felt as if she had become an inconvenience for both her sister and brother. They seem to be working on being free of all obligations towards her. Let them be! She would show them!

Seething, she repaired to her bedroom. It was another night spent with much tossing and turning, and precious little sleep.

In the morning, when Caroline sat down for breakfast, her mood had not improved. Wishing to soothe herself, she resolved to visit the modiste. A new gown would, she felt certain, settle her mood.

~ ~ ~

She was perusing the latest silks, when she overheard an interesting conversation. “I wonder, Susan dear, just how much my sister-in-law's gown will cost. Twice the price of mine, at least, I daresay! She can have her gowns embroidered in gold, if she so pleases. Is it not utterly insufferable that my brother inherited everything? Indeed, it is most unfair!”

Unfair! Caroline felt a kinship with the unknown woman, who like her, had been ill-used by her brother. Before he had met Jane, Charles had been an ideal brother, but that all changed after he got married. And although Caroline was well aware that Jane did not deserve her ire, she was unable to prevent its rise.

“It is indeed unfortunate, Amelia, but such is so often the plight of daughters."

Caroline heard something akin to a grunt. She knew the feeling all too well!

“Pray tell, Susan dear, is it truly impossible for you to accompany me to Gunter’s? Your company is ever a delight.”

“It is indeed so, Amelia, for Sir Thomas has guests this evening. In fact, I must leave very soon. But, if it suits you, I am not aware of any prior engagements tomorrow."

Caroline waited faithfully for the woman called Susan to leave. Then she asked the modiste to introduce her to the one called Amelia. When finally, she was face to face with her, Caroline could not help but be impressed by her gown. Had she not been lamenting the superior elegance of her sister-in-law's gowns? She could not imagine how it could be any more luxurious.

Amelia was, in fact, Lady Harper. Upon being introduced to her, Caroline wasted no time.

"Pray, my lady, you must pardon my forwardness. I could not help but overhear a portion of your conversation, and I confess to feeling a degree of sympathy for your evident distress. If you would allow me the honour of your acquaintance, I myself have experienced the vexation of ... fraternal unkindness."

Lady Harper appeared surprised at first, but soon she responded to Caroline's overtures. Scarcely half an hour had passed before they found themselves seated at Gunter's, where Caroline, with a sense of grievance, recounted the tale of her woes. She displayed no reserve in disclosing matters concerning herself and her family to a near stranger. But as she found an eager audience in Lady Harper, she recounted her opinions in the most elaborate detail.

“My brother,” Caroline said, “used to be most agreeable, … amiable like no other. All I ever wanted, he acquiesced to. But all changed when he let an estate in Hertfordshire. … Horrible place … horrible neighbours. One family in particular, the Bennets, an uncouth mother and five ill-mannered sisters, who were considered to be local beauties, but apart from the eldest I saw no beauty, no accomplishments, no manners …”

“Oh, my poor Miss Bingley, I do sympathize, truly. Such a predicament!”

Caroline went on and on, adding more details, each one intended to confirm the unfairness of her situation, “And now, my brother has given me one year to find a husband …”

“My dear Miss Bingley, if you would but allow me to guide you, I am quite certain you shall be the absolute darling of the ton by season's end. In fact, if you are unengaged this coming Wednesday, a dear friend is holding a soirée at her residence. Do you play an instrument, my dear? Nay, do not answer ... let me surmise ... you do, I am certain you do!"

With each passing minute Caroline was more enchanted with her new acquaintance. She was exactly the kind of person she most valued.

“Indeed, I do, Lady Harper! I play the pianoforte.”

“And you play divinely, I have no doubt. Prepare a Haydn piece or two, and I shall guarantee you a chance to perform."

Haydn! That would be easy!

Suddenly, Lady Harper clapped her fingers and spoke with great excitement. “My dear, I have just had the most brilliant notion! I must introduce you to my cousin by marriage, Sir Henry Moore. I can see it already!”

Caroline was not certain what Lady Harper meant.

“It will be quite perfect! You see, my dear, you both have so much in common. … Like you, he prefers town to the country, as he grew up a second son, never expecting to inherit. … And he dances exquisitely. I am quite convinced that you will find each other quite agreeable.”

After a short pause she continued, "It is settled! You shall attend my brother's dinner, at the end of the month, as my special friend. It will be a splendid evening, my dear, I am quite certain!"

“I thank you, Lady Harper. I look with pleasure to the opportunity to strengthen our connection. And, if you think we can suit, I will be happy to be introduced to your cousin.”

~ ~ ~

Caroline returned home feeling vastly proud of herself. She had at long last met someone who would restore her position in society. She would soon show those who had shunned her the mistake they had made.

The following morning, Caroline was full of anticipation, as Lady Harper had promised to wait upon her. But, as the visiting hours drew to a close, her confidence began to crumble. Her disquiet, however, proved fleeting. By the middle of the afternoon, however, she received a note from Lady Harper, full of apologies and citing a private matter that had rendered her visit impossible.

Feeling a touch of disappointment, Caroline read through the note. However, her spirits soon rose as Lady Harper confirmed the invitation to the Wednesday soirée. She also included some intelligence respecting the hostess, a Mrs. Lester, and the direction to her residence. She concluded by expressing her anticipation of their forthcoming meeting.

Her confidence restored, Caroline spent the rest of the afternoon practising upon her favourite Haydn pieces. She imagined herself playing for ladies of distinction, some of whom would be titled. Perhaps they would even request an encore.

~ ~ ~

At the assemblée, Lady Harper was as attentive as she had promised to be. She presented Caroline to all her acquaintances as a most dear friend and never wavered in her attention to her. She remarked to Mrs. Lester that her friend played splendidly. Such commendation ensured that it was not long before the hostess herself extended her an invitation to perform.

When later in the evening she was asked to play again, Caroline's contentment knew no bounds. She was definitely back; her place in society restored.

In the ensuing days, she often met Lady Harper. They took tea at Gunther's. They enjoyed shopping together in Bond Street. They paid visits to the modiste.

Caroline was overjoyed when Lady Harper reiterated her invitation to dine at her brother’s, Lord Spencer. He and his family, she explained, had just returned to town for the season. The dinner was to be the first event they would hold upon their return.

No matter how much Caroline enjoyed her subsequent encounters with Lady Harper, her keenest anticipation was for the forthcoming dinner at Lord Spencer’s, when she would at last meet Sir Henry Moore. Though her interest was somewhat diminished upon learning of his widowed state, she hoped he would be as agreeable as Lady Harper had extolled him to be. God alone knew how much she had lately been deprived of the society of agreeable gentlemen.

~ ~ ~

Sir Henry was shorter and older than Caroline had imagined him to be. Although his hair — that was beginning to grey — gave him an air of distinction, she could not deny being disappointed. Despite knowing he was a widower, she had not expected him to look old. Perhaps that was because Lord Ogilvy had looked … No, she would not think about him.

He was, however, a great conversationalist and appeared most desirous of her company and conversation. Before long, Caroline, who possessed a great susceptibility to flattery, began to regard him with increasing favour. Gradually, her initial reservations began to recede.

When Lady Harper invited Caroline to a musical performance at Vauxhall Gardens, Sir Henry offered to accompany them. Caroline could not but feel a thrill of anticipation. His presence added considerably to her enjoyment, owing not only to his pleasant conversation but also to his agreeable compliments.

Sir Henry told Caroline that he had a special fondness for the theatre. He was even a member of a company of amateur players. Would she be inclined to attend a performance at the Theatre Royal in the coming week? Her presence would augment his delight in the play beyond measure!

Eager to ascertain that he indeed preferred living in town, as Lady Harper had previously told her, Caroline asked how often he visited his country estate. He said that he rarely went there, as the tranquillity of country living did not suit him. She told him that she felt the same. To her, this was further evidence of how suitable they were for each other.

A fortnight later, they met at a ball in the Argyle Rooms. Whilst they were engaged in the dance, Caroline admired the lightness of his step. Again, she found herself charmed by his pleasant conversation. When he once more paid her compliments, she felt certain that he would soon propose.

Caroline now considered her initial lack of enthusiasm when making Sir Henry's acquaintance as a positive thing. It had been easier to discern his character with her mind unclouded by strong sentiment. Knowing him better, she now believed him eminently suitable as her husband.

Caroline's only remaining doubt concerned Sir Henry finances. She had learned, quite by chance, that the estate he had inherited was considerably impoverished. And although should they marry, they would not reside there, her recent experience with Apperley Court's state of disrepair caused her some unease. She wondered as to the true extent of his financial straits. Might her twenty thousand pounds dowry be her main attraction?

She could not bring herself to countenance such a notion. He had invariably shown great interest in her opinions. He had laughed at her comments. And he had appeared to derive great pleasure from her piano playing. Were these not sufficient proof of his regard?

When they next met, and he once again flattered her, Caroline instantly banished all her doubts. All she now perceived were the manifold ways in which he was suitable. Moreover, marriage to him would bestow upon her the distinction of bearing the title of 'Lady'.

Her doubts now quite dispelled, the weeks that followed were dreamlike. Never before had Caroline met someone so congenial. He loved town, enjoyed dancing, and sought every opportunity to be seen in her company, whether at the theatre or taking a stroll in Hyde Park. It was perfect!

~ ~ ~

Two months after their first meeting, Sir Henry proposed. He suggested they marry within the month, which Caroline interpreted as a testament to his admiration and a desire for their immediate union. Without hesitation, she gave her assent.

Hitherto, she had not mentioned his name to Louisa, but now with the wedding date approaching, she penned a long letter to her sister, with tidings of their betrothal. Though she anticipated some surprise, and even a touch of disapprobation, Caroline felt a keen displeasure when Louisa voiced concern regarding the precipitation of the nuptials.

Louisa counselled her to cultivate a deeper acquaintance with him before fixing the wedding date. Moreover, she suggested Caroline pay a visit to his country estate ere the ceremony. Such a visit, she contended, would afford a clearer understanding of the state of his finances.

And although she had previously entertained the same doubts, now Caroline dismissed her sister's suggestions, replying that her apprehensions were utterly misguided. Sir Henry, she was certain, was an honest man and bore a deep affection for her.

Louisa's words instilled in her a profound sense of resentment. In Caroline's estimation, from the moment her sister had concurred with Charles's pronouncement that she ought to be wed within the year, her sister had forfeited any right to question her choices.

Despite these sentiments, she still harboured a wish for Louisa's presence at the wedding. Alas, it was not to be! Louisa could not come to London, as her confinement was imminent. In her absence, Lady Harper proclaimed herself the wedding organiser. However, a week later she was joined by Jane and Charles, who had travelled to London solely to assist her with the preparations.

It was initially difficult for Caroline to accept her brother’s presence. She could not help but feel dubious of his agreeable manner. He did even insist upon leading her to the altar. Could his intentions be truly sincere?

~ ~ ~

For Caroline, her wedding day was beautiful. Henry's family and acquaintances filled half the church. On her side, besides Charles and Jane, a small number of relatives had journeyed from the north to grace the occasion. And though Caroline felt slightly embarrassed to introduce them to the ladies and lords of her new family, she well understood that the absence of her own family members would have been far more regrettable.

As Caroline stepped into the carriage that was to convey them on their wedding tour, she was eager to learn their destination, which Henry had hitherto kept a surprise. She had offered hints as to her preferences, and now she could barely wait to hear which one he had selected.

“Bath, my dear, your first choice."

Bath! They were going to Bath. She could not be happier!

Chapter Text

A few days earlier …

As she made her way to the sitting room, Caroline heard the unpleasant giggling of her cousins. It had been an ordeal to be confined at home for so many days with such boisterous company.

She walked into the room, retrieved her embroidery from the small table by the window, and went to sit at the settee at the other end of the room, furthest away from the two girls. She looked briefly at her cousins, then took up the handkerchief she was embroidering with her soon-to-be initials. With a sigh she started the work.

Were it not for the dense, impenetrable fog that had enveloped the town two days after Christmas, she could at this moment be taking tea with Lady Harper. Or be shopping at Bond Street. Or be doing a hundred more desirable things than listening to her cousins talk about their plans for the season.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done other than waiting, for the unwelcome turn in the weather had already caused many mishaps and carriage accidents. Even the Prince Regent had been caught in the bad weather on his way to Hertfordshire, when one of his outriders fell into a ditch near Kentish Town.

But despite Caroline's resentment at being forced to stay at home and unable to partake in her favoured activities, this was not her biggest concern. In fact, if the weather did not improve soon, she might not even be able to make it to the church for her wedding in three days' time.

It seemed strange to recall that, just a few weeks earlier, her main worry had been that not a single member of her family would be in town for her wedding. It would be mortifying to arrive at the church by herself.

Then she received a letter from Louisa, with the most unexpected news. The townhouse had been rented, but not by a stranger, as she had feared. Rather, it was her Uncle James who had decided to bring his two daughters, now eighteen and sixteen, to London for the season.

Louisa explained that he had let the townhouse for the full two years she and Mr. Hurst had envisaged staying at Apperley Court. Her uncle believed such an arrangement to be ideal for both families and would she please tell Caroline that she had no reason for concern, as they would make their own arrangements around her.

At first Caroline was not sure what to think, although she realised that now it would be possible for her to remain in the house until her wedding. But she had little time to get used to the idea. Just a few days later, her uncle and his family invaded her home.

Her cousins burst into another fit of giggling, interrupting Caroline's reverie. Even if their exuberance often annoyed her, in truth she had little to complain about. Other than having to get used to living among members of her family whom she had previously not been close to, everything else had remained the same.

As Louisa had indicated, both Uncle James and Aunt Imogen had indeed been most accommodating. They organised themselves with little change to the household routines. Even in the case of her sister and brother-in-law’s private chambers, Aunt Imogen had decided that another set of adjoining rooms, previously not in use, would suit her and her husband just fine. The Hursts' chambers would remain available to them, should they decide to come to town while the house was rented.

Under such amenable circumstances, Caroline had begun to view the Hursts’ decision to rent their townhouse with some equanimity. Louisa, she knew, was particularly relieved about having no need to find adequate storage for the house contents. As for herself, if the house had to be rented at all, having their uncle as a tenant had made things much easier for her too.

For Caroline, with her uncle’s family arriving in town well before the weather turned for the worse, there had been time for several visits to the modiste with her aunt and cousins. And although she still felt some uneasiness about having to introduce her relatives, who still had connections with trade, to her refined new acquaintances, she knew that the elegance of her aunt and cousins’ gowns would be unmatched. Anyone who saw them would be in no doubt about her uncle’s wealth.

~ ~ ~

Unexpectedly, within a few days of her uncle's arrival in town, Charles and Jane, too, had come, just in time for Christmas. To Caroline's surprise, they had travelled all the way to town for no other reason than to help with the preparations for her wedding.

Although Caroline did not make great pronouncements upon their arrival, she was very grateful for their presence. Other than Louisa, Charles was the person who knew her best, and having him around at such an important moment in her life somehow soothed her. Unfortunately, there was little warmth in their current interactions. Only rarely did Charles seek her company, and when he did, it was to discuss some particular detail of her wedding arrangements.

Keen to restore their relationship, Caroline had insisted on hosting a Christmas dinner. Proudly, she finally introduced Sir Henry to her relatives. Lady Harper, too, had been invited, but she was unable to come, due to a previous engagement.

Again, on Boxing Day, Caroline met Charles and Jane. She made several attempts to begin a conversation with her brother, bringing up subjects of interest to him. To her dismay, she was unsuccessful.

How long had it been since they had spoken of nothing, or joked or laughed together? Could it really be that they had not done so since their sojourn in Netherfield?

Nevertheless, other than his current reticence, Caroline would not be able to find any fault with his actions. He had taken upon himself the responsibility of her wedding organisation. As for Lady Harper, despite her earlier promises of assistance, most of the time she had been occupied elsewhere.

~ ~ ~

Unexpectedly, the following day, a dense fog engulfed London. Travel between the Bingleys and the Hursts' townhouses became impossible.

For a whole week Caroline did not see her brother. Still, Charles managed to send her notes, assuring her that, despite the difficult conditions, she had no reason to be uneasy. Everything was proceeding according to plan, albeit somewhat slowly.

His assurance restored some of her confidence. It was also comforting to know that, if she were able to reach the church, she would have a few members of her family with her.

All that needed to happen now was for the weather to improve!

As the fog continued to linger, Caroline returned to carefully go through her things and decide what to take to her new home, a task she had abandoned when her relatives arrived in Town. But when she finished packing, she wondered if her trunks could be moved to Sir Henry’s townhouse in time for her moving there.

Unfortunately, as the perilous weather persisted, nothing felt certain at the moment. With each passing day, her fears increased of not being able to reach the church as planned. Still, she could do nothing but wait and hope.

~ ~ ~

Two days before the wedding the fog lifted. The mood in the house, which previously had been one of quiet resignation, turned into one of excitement. Everyone could, in theory, step out, but the bitter cold kept everyone close to home. Nevertheless, Caroline managed to convince her family to make a final visit to Gunther’s before her nuptials.

The morning of the wedding was exceedingly cold. For Caroline, however, that did not matter. What was important was to ascertain that the fog had not returned. When she woke up, she went straight to the window of her upstairs bedroom and beheld the most wonderful thing: plenty of carriages on the road. Now she would definitely arrive at the church on time.

Caroline had just taken her place at the breakfast table, when Charles and Jane entered the parlour. She was thankful that Charles had agreed to drive her to the church and give her away. But as he sat down and joined them at breakfast, she realised the great importance of the moment. It was a form of farewell, because with her wedding, the responsibility for her would be passed from Charles to Sir Henry. She felt uncommonly moved.

She would have liked to prolong those final minutes among her family, but Aunt Imogen reminded her of the time. Her aunt was right; she could not stay there any longer. It was time for her to get dressed.

Finding Sally already waiting for her had an immediate calming effect. In a moment such as this, when she felt somewhat unsettled, it was a great comfort, to know that Sally knew her so well that Caroline hardly needed to say a thing. She smiled at her maid and let her go about her duties. Before long she was dressed and her hair coiffed in a very becoming style.

It was time to leave!

~ ~ ~

The short drive to the church, usually accomplished in a few minutes, was, on this day, fraught with danger. A layer of ice covered large portions of the road, threatening to overturn the carriage at any moment. Arriving at the church without an accident felt like a great accomplishment.

Although in his notes Charles had assured Caroline that everything was proceeding well, he had given her little information about his plans. But as they entered the church, and he led her towards Sir Henry, she was both surprised and delighted.

She was not sure how, despite not being able to leave his home, Charles had managed to organise such magnificent floral arrangements by the altar. The subtle combination of white and rose-coloured camellias — one of her favourite flowers — white winter roses, winter heath, ivy and ferns was indeed exquisite.

Caroline found herself entranced by the magic of the moment. Surrounded by so much beauty, she refused to allow the bitter cold, which permeated the church, to take anything away from her day.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony …”

She had attended several weddings, but until that moment, she had never paid much attention to the vicar’s words. Her curiosity was usually diverted to those attending and their fashions. Today, however, she was soon totally absorbed in the solemn and sacred tone of the ceremony.

Every minute was especially significant, but particularly when the vicar led Sir Henry in the exchange of vows. Her betrothed turned to her and her heart skipped a beat.

“I, Henry, take thee Caroline to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

It was truly happening. Just a few more minutes and she would be wedded. Sir Henry … Henry took her hand, readying to place a ring on her finger. She thought she might cry.

“With this ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The vicar declared them wedded, and Caroline felt her eyes misting. She had waited so long for such a moment, that it was difficult to contain all her feelings inside.

She was finally married. And to Sir Henry … her dear Henry. How wonderful that sounded!

~ ~ ~

The bounty of that day continued en route to the wedding breakfast, at Charles’s townhouse. As they drove, Sir Henry finally revealed Bath to be the surprise destination for their wedding tour. Bath! She could not be happier!

Despite her excitement, a moment later she recalled a conversation with her aunt two days prior. Her aunt had asked why Sir Henry was set upon departing for the wedding tour immediately after the wedding breakfast. It was most unusual, as it was the custom for newlyweds to stay at their new home for the first few weeks after their wedding and receive calls from family and acquaintances. Also, with the weather as inclement as it was at the moment, should they risk travelling now?

Caroline had not been able to give her aunt a satisfactory answer. But after that conversation, she had begun to wonder as to his reasons. Now, finally married, she felt herself at liberty to ask.

“Sir Henry, I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you chose Bath for our wedding tour. But I wonder, is it prudent to leave with such weather? Should we not delay our departure for a few weeks, pray?”

He looked at her for a short moment, before replying, “I understand your concerns, Caroline. I am fully aware that you have not yet seen your new home and must be very curious about the place you are going to live. And I know you are eager to receive calls and be introduced as Lady Moore. But unfortunately, that cannot be.”

Before Caroline could reply, he sighed, then continued, “My housekeeper, Mrs. Allen, who has worked for me for many years, gave her notice shortly before Christmas. She and her daughter, who was an upper maid, have now gone. And until they are replaced it would be impossible to receive anyone. It made more sense to depart on our wedding trip first.”

“How inconsiderate of them to leave at such a time, when you were about to be wed. I …”

“Not at all! Their departure was not wholly unexpected, for Mrs. Allen’s sister-in-law had been in very poor health after giving birth to a son, and died shortly thereafter.”

Caroline did not have much to say after that. Nevertheless, they would need to find a new housekeeper as soon as they returned to town, for she had every intention of receiving often at her new home. Perhaps Lady Harper would be able to recommend someone.

~ ~ ~

Entering the dining-room, Caroline was taken by the beautiful decorations. On the table, which had been extended to its full length, there were three silver vases, each overflowing with the same blossoms as those at the church. She wondered, yet again, how Charles had managed to procure flowers at a time when it was seemingly impossible to leave the house.

The meal was another highlight in her wonderful day, not only for the variety of the dishes on offer but also for their skilled preparation. Jane had done very well, indeed!

Unbidden, she recalled how often she had heard praise for the excellence of Mrs. Bennet's table. Although it was difficult for her to ascribe any good quality to Mrs. Bennet, at this particular moment, she could be magnanimous enough to agree with those who had praised her table. Undoubtedly, Jane had inherited her mother's abilities in that regard.

Until now, Caroline had still harboured a certain resentment towards her brother, though it had diminished since his arrival in town. She had nurtured that negative feeling ever since he had decided to get married, and she had steadfastly refused to let it go. But now, she looked at him and could feel nothing but utter gratitude for everything he and Jane had done for her.

~ ~ ~

For nearly two hours the newlyweds and their guests celebrated, partaking of the sumptuous meal, drinking and making merry. They remained blissfully unaware of the dramatic transformation happening outside.

Finally, it was time for them to depart for the wedding tour. But as a footman opened the front door, a magically frosted world stood before them. The ground was no longer visible, replaced by a pristine, untouched expanse of white. The only sound was the hushed, relentless descent of snow.

Taken unawares, no one moved beyond the front door. But as they stood there, the snow began to fall more heavily, and a sudden gust of wind made everyone shiver. Caroline doubted that it would be possible to travel under such conditions.

Sir Henry conferred with the coachman for a brief moment and together they decided to proceed to the Hyde Park Corner Turnpike. Once there, they would inquire as to the state of the Bath Road.

~ ~ ~

As the carriage slowly proceeded, Caroline hoped that there would be no impediment to their travelling. She had so much anticipated their wedding tour. And Bath! She so wanted to go there!

When the carriage stopped, she was lost in her reverie. It seemed they had arrived at the gate. Henry suggested that they had better stay inside, in the warmth, and wait for the coachman to return with information.

A few minutes later, the coachman unlatched the carriage door. A sudden, merciless blast of wind, sharp and biting cold, assailed them. The snow, thick and unyielding, was falling like a vast white curtain, obscuring the landmarks of the road.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Sir, but I'm told the Bath Road's shut tight. Looks like the only way out o' London just now is to Kent or to Essex."

Caroline was dismayed. "That is a disaster! Pray, husband, what can we do?"

To her surprise, Henry appeared composed, despite the abrupt end of their plans. "Well, we can go to Kent and visit Aunt Penelope." He paused for a brief moment. "Have I not told you that she invited us, as she was unable to come to the wedding."

Caroline could not recall such a conversation. Moreover, she felt hesitant to make an unplanned visit to a relative of his whom she had not yet met. However, their present options were limited, and she did not wish to commence their marriage with a disagreement.

“But, pray, what will she think if we arrive unexpectedly?”

“She would not mind a jot. But we will send her an express to give her some time before we arrive. This … yes, I shall do this straight away!”

And with that he opened the door and was gone, giving Caroline no chance to reply and leaving her confused. She could not understand why the sudden change of plans did not seem to matter to him. Had he not wanted to go to Bath?

She found it difficult to accept that they would have to forsake going to Bath. But that was not what worried her the most. She knew that she would have many opportunities in the future to go there.

What truly worried her was not knowing what to expect of the proposed visit. What if his aunt and she did not find common ground?

Sir Henry returned before long. Having discussed with the men guarding the gate, he and the coachman had decided to proceed immediately towards Kent. It was better to take advantage of the road being open, and keep going for as long as possible, stopping only at sundown. With the weather so changeable, it was impossible to predict the state of the roads on the morrow.

The carriage proceeded extremely slowly, and it was impossible not to fear that they might have to stop in the open country. But thankfully, about two hours later, the conditions were decidedly better and the snow had lightened.

As dusk approached, Caroline felt her apprehension increase. She needed to have an important conversation with her husband before they reached the inn. But it was such a difficult subject that she had found it impossible to broach during their engagement.

Even now that they were married, it did not feel any easier. However, regardless of her misgivings, talking could not be avoided. The matter was too important to be left unsaid. But how she handled it could play a role in their future happiness as a couple.

Caroline took a deep breath, preparing herself to speak. But before she started, Sir Henry turned to her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Caroline, I had meant to have an important discussion with you before our wedding, but the whirlwind after our engagement, then the many days we were unable to meet due to the inclement weather, rather overtook us."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Oh? … Pray, what might that be?"

"It concerns our future … our family," he began, slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "I gathered from some of your remarks that you … perhaps you do not envision a nursery full of little Moores about the place?"

Caroline relaxed slightly. It was an immense relief to have him broach the very subject she had herself wanted to discuss.

"You are indeed correct, Sir Henry! While I do not dislike Charlie, my nephew, the reality of motherhood … I confess, it does not particularly appeal to me. The endless demands, the potential impact on our freedom … The thought fills me with more apprehension than joy. In a few years, perhaps …"

A warm smile spread across Sir Henry’s face. "My sentiments exactly, Caroline. I have always cherished my independence, and the idea of the responsibilities that come with raising children is … well, it simply is not a path I desire."

Caroline looked at him, surprised and immensely relieved. "Truly? I have been so worried that … you know, with societal expectations being what they are."

“Truly!" Sir Henry nodded eagerly. "Our happiness, our contentment together, surely outweighs the expectations of others. And on that note," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I have taken certain … precautions. That is, I have in my trunk certain things that … I mean, I have taken measures to ensure our little haven remains just that. Ours only!"

Caroline's eyes widened slightly. "Precautions? What sort of precautions?"

"Let us just say," Sir Henry said with a wink, "I am well-versed in the methods of preventing such an eventuality. You need not trouble your pretty head about it. Our life of shared adventures and uninterrupted companionship shall be secure."

A wave of affection washed over Caroline. To find a husband who not only shared her feelings on a matter of such import, but had also taken steps to ensure their future felicity, was more than she had hoped for.

She reached out and took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

"I am truly glad, Henry," she said softly, using his given name for the first time, "You have made me happier than I could ever express. To think we both felt this way …" She smiled at him. "You do not know how mortified I felt as I contemplated having to broach the subject with you. This is … Indeed, ours is truly a partnership!”

Sir Henry returned her smile. "Indeed, it is, my dear Caroline. A partnership built on shared desires and a deep affection."

He pressed her hand. “My dear, as soon as we arrive at the inn, we shall order a bottle of the best wine and toast to our delightful child-free future.”

Caroline laughed, a light and joyful sound. "I can think of nothing I would like more, husband.”

Chapter Text

All the way to Kent Road, the snow fell without cease, covering all in a deep mantle of white. Visibility was poor, and beneath the accumulating snow, the road was slick with ice. The carriage progressed painfully slowly, lurching and swaying. Every mile travelled in such treacherous conditions held the very prospect of misadventure and unforeseen peril.

A damp, deep, insidious cold pressed in through the carriage windows and floor, permeating Caroline’s very bones. Each breath felt like a shard of ice entering her lungs and a dull, persistent chill settled in her chest. Her teeth chattered despite her efforts to hold her jaw firm. Her nose was numb, her cheeks stung, and her ears — despite the bonnet, tied snugly beneath her chin — felt painfully cold, as if they might snap off.

Her hands, though tucked into the muff, were stiff, her fingertips aching with a dull throb. A vague, almost distant warmth pervaded her feet; her toes were like unresponsive lumps, and a persistent ache spread from her ankles upwards.

Nothing had been enough to ward off the pervasive iciness. Not her warmest clothes — a heavy wool dress under a pelisse of Russian sable with a matching muff, and a bonnet trimmed with luxurious fur. Not the woollen travelling rug laid across her lap. Not the brass foot-warmer, filled with hot coals, under her feet.

Suddenly, an uncontrollable tremor began in her shoulders, escalating quickly into full-body shivers that rippled through her. She found herself huddling, hunching her shoulders, trying to make herself as small as possible, instinctively seeking to preserve what little warmth remained within her core. She pulled the pelisse tighter, still unable to shake off the omnipresent chill.

"Are you quite comfortable, my dear?" Sir Henry enquired, his voice solicitous, though his gaze seemed fixed more on the swirling flakes outside the window than on her pale face. He shifted slightly, adjusting a rug, a gesture attentive enough, yet devoid of true warmth. 

Perhaps a perceptive eye might have noted the faint flicker of impatience, or simply boredom, in his otherwise composed features. But Caroline only saw a devoted groom.

For a brief moment Caroline wondered if she could tell him the truth; she was utterly miserable, and with the road conditions so atrocious and their progress so slow, she thought they should rather return to London. But then they had already had a similar conversation and Sir Henry seemed determined to continue. Perhaps it was unwise to suggest something against his wishes so early in their marriage. Yes, she would restrain herself for the moment.

"This is quite a journey, is it not?" she ventured, her voice a little thin. 

Sir Henry merely hummed in agreement, pulling a pocket watch from his waistcoat. A small sigh escaped him, quickly stifled. "It appears, my dear, that our progress is somewhat hindered. The roads are truly execrable."

It was becoming increasingly clear that their original plan to reach Bromley, a customary first stop for changing horses and taking refreshment, was utterly unfeasible. That was confirmed a short while later, when the coachman, after another particularly jarring lurch that sent a shiver through the carriage's frame, called back to them, his voice muffled by the storm.

"Sir! Beggin' yer pardon, but we'll be lucky to reach Eltham afore nightfall! Bromley's a good hour beyond what these beasts can manage in this."

Under such extremely poor and dangerous conditions, their first reluctant stop, many miles short of their planned respite, turned out to be the less salubrious village of Eltham. Still, according to the coachman, they ought to consider themselves lucky to have reached it before nightfall.

Caroline dreaded the thought of what sort of rooms they would have to spend the night in. The day, which had begun with such hopeful, albeit chilling, promises, had quickly devolved into an exercise in endurance.

~ ~ ~

The following morning, the weather had not improved. The snow fell as heavily as the previous day; the visibility remained poor and the condition of the roads exceedingly precarious. More than once, it seemed as if the carriage was about to overturn; indeed, on several occasions, it nearly plunged into a ditch.

Although they had quitted the inn early in the morning, by the time the sun began to set, they found themselves still a considerable distance from their intended destination, obliging them to lodge a second night at an inn.

The next morning, as soon as she awoke, Caroline walked to the window and opened the shutters. After having travelled two days, feeling unsafe and utterly cold, she hoped for an improvement in the weather, for the final leg of their journey. Her hopes, however, were immediately dashed, as the snow was falling relentlessly.

She was watching the falling snow, quite absentmindedly, when her maid, Sally, knocked to help her get dressed. Half an hour later, she stood by the carriage, entirely ready to depart. According to the coachman, they ought to reach their destination by early afternoon.

After their midday luncheon stop, when Caroline re-entered the carriage, one might imagine her eager to reach the journey's end; that, however, was not the case, for she was fretting and worrying whether she would be welcomed by her new aunt. And as they drew closer to Tunbridge Wells, but a few miles from Aunt Penelope's estate, her anxiety increased.

~ ~ ~

Finally, after nearly three days on the road, rather than the customary five to seven hours, they began the descent towards Tunbridge Wells, the familiar rooftops of the village gradually appearing below. To their left, on the higher ground, lay Mount Ephraim, its elegant villas dotting the ridge, overlooking the valley where the Springs lay.

They became mired just as they crossed Tunbridge Wells, but luckily they found help in the village and were able to proceed, although three-quarters of an hour was lost in extricating the carriage. 

When they finally crossed the gates of Aylward Court — named after Sir Henry's maternal family — Caroline felt a profound exhaustion. The journey had proved far more arduous than she had anticipated, and trying to restrain herself from complaining had only added to her exceeding fatigue.

Despite the poor visibility, she tried to take in as much as possible of the grounds. Her husband had told her little of what she was to encounter, and she feared that the condition of the manor would be as poor as Mr. Hurst’s estate.

Every shape in the topiary garden, though covered by a blanket of snow, was well-defined, hinting at its careful maintenance.

Then, finally, she could see the manor house. It was an impressive three-storied symmetrical red brick building with contrasting stone dressings. The prominent central entrance was enhanced by a portico with classical columns supporting its entablature. Along the parapet's top edge, a balustrade with stone railings added a decorative element. Each feature spoke of elegance and prosperity.

By the time the carriage stopped, Aunt Penelope was already waiting at the entrance. The way she spoke, her manners — in fact, everything about her — announced refinement.

She seemed very happy to see her nephew and pleased by his planned several-weeks-long visit. Moreover, she displayed the same warmth towards Caroline, dispelling her previous concerns.

As they entered the manor, the same air of elegance and wealth persisted. Buoyed by the warm reception and the consequence of the manor, Caroline could already anticipate a most pleasant sojourn.

~ ~ ~

The next two days were indeed rather pleasant. Caroline’s acquaintance with Aunt Penelope grew steadily to something akin to friendship. For Caroline, such unreserved acceptance was an unusual, novel, and most gratifying feeling.

After dinner, they retired to the music room, where Aunt Penelope and Caroline took turns at the pianoforte. Even here, Caroline found a further source of contentment, for both ladies favoured the same composers and oft-times even the very same pieces of music. 

Upon the third day, however, this idyllic situation was disrupted by the unexpected arrival of Sir Henry’s cousin, Sir Edward Harper. It seemed Henry had sent an express, urging his cousin to visit at his convenience.

With Sir Edward's arrival, Caroline and Aunt Penelope now spent the evenings by themselves, as immediately after the evening meal, both men disappeared, ostensibly to play billiards. When Sir Henry returned to his room — if he ever did, a suspicion that was growing within her — Caroline was already sleeping. 

If he returned, she invariably awoke to the noise of his stumbling, bumping into furniture, or breaking something. It sounded as if he could scarcely keep on his feet, leaving her to wonder at the quantity he had imbibed. She had neither known nor expected him to consume spirits to such a degree.

But that change in behaviour was not the only thing that lately had been rendering her discomfited. Since his cousin's arrival, not once had he come to her bedchamber. Was it because he was too deep in his cups?

He seemed so very different from the gentleman she had met in London, and she was not certain she approved of this new aspect of his character. She blamed the cousin for exerting a most detrimental influence on her husband, and she fervently hoped that his visit would be of brief duration. After all, he had a family; ought he not be with them?

~ ~ ~

On the morning of the second of February, Caroline was perusing The London Mercury, wherein she chanced upon a column titled 'Thames Frost Fair'. Presently, she found herself quite enthralled by the events therein recounted.

Over the last few weeks, the mighty River Thames, that bustling artery of our great city, was transformed into a veritable highway of ice! This most singular event is one that shall long be etched in the memories of us Londoners.

The bitter chill has been holding our fair metropolis in its icy grip. The very air seemed to crackle with frost, and the usual ebb and flow of the tide was arrested by a thick, unyielding blanket of frozen water. 'Tis a sight most curious and, for many a tradesman and waterman, a source of considerable hardship, I daresay.

But necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention, and soon enough, enterprising souls saw opportunity amidst the frozen expanse. Upon this crystalline stage, a veritable town has sprang forth!

Now stalls and booths offer all manner of diversions and victuals. One can purchase a dram of hot gin to ward off the biting air, or perhaps a roasted apple to tempt the palate. There are even printing presses set up, where one can have their name inscribed upon a keepsake card, a memento of this extraordinary occasion.

Ladies in their muffs and gentlemen in their greatcoats promenade upon the frozen river, the sounds of laughter and music carrying upon the crisp air. Skittles are played upon the ice, and daring individuals even venture to skate, their blades carving elegant figures upon the frosty surface. Even an elephant was led across this temporary thoroughfare, a spectacle most wondrous to behold!

It sounded so delightful! She had never seen such a thing. How she wished they were back in town.

She was lost in her imaginings of the fair, when Sir Edward entered the sitting room and collapsed upon the couch.

“My dear cousin, pray, where is your husband?”

What an infuriating man! As if he were not the very one commanding her husband's every action? If only they could return to London, she might be spared his unpleasant presence. Unfortunately, the weather remained too precarious for such a journey.

“I am sorry, but I confess I do not know where Sir Henry is."

Sir Edward got up to leave, but Caroline, realising that this was the first time they met with no one else around them, found it a unique opportunity to ask something that had long piqued her curiosity.

“Sir Edward, pray, would you forgive my impertinence in asking a personal question?”

“Ask what you will, and I shall decide if I deem it proper to answer.”

“I am curious to know if you would tell me about your elder brother?”

“What about him?”

“I only wonder if his personality was similar to yours? You see, I became quite close to Lady Harper.”

“Francis? No, he and I were nothing alike. He would rather read a book than attend a ball. Poor Amelia! They did not suit — he was quite a bore!”

Caroline was somewhat shocked by his directness. His reply only confirmed the poor opinion she held of him.

~ ~ ~

Just a few days later, on the sixth of February, The London Mercury reported the disastrous end of the frost fair.

The revelry upon our frozen Thames, which has delighted so many, has come to a most abrupt and perilous end! The joyous scenes described in these very pages three days ago have been replaced by a spectacle of quite another nature – one of surging waters and splintering ice, a stark reminder of the raw power held even by a seemingly subdued River God.

The change, though perhaps anticipated by some seasoned river folk, arrived with a suddenness that caught many a merrymaker unawares. Yesterday, the fifth of February, dawned with a deceptive calm, the frosty air still biting, though perhaps with a hint less ferocity than in weeks past. The stalls still bustled, the skaters still glided, and the printing presses continued to churn out their souvenirs.

But as the day wore on, a subtle shift became apparent. A dampness in the air, a loosening of the icy grip beneath foot. Then, with a series of ominous groans and cracks that echoed across the frozen expanse like cannon fire, the great ice began to yield.

Panic, swift and sharp, rippled through the temporary town. Booths, but moments before centres of commerce and amusement, became precarious islands upon a fracturing sea. The laughter and music were replaced by shouts of alarm and the frantic scramble of those seeking to regain the solid ground of the riverbanks.

One hears tell of daring rescues, of nimble watermen, their livelihoods restored with sudden and urgent purpose, guiding small boats through the treacherous floes to pluck stranded souls from the breaking ice. Fortunes, both large and small, were left scattered upon the thawing surface – trinkets, provisions, even the very printing presses themselves, now threatened by a watery grave.

The mighty elephant, which so recently traversed the frozen river to the astonishment of onlookers, was thankfully led back to terra firma before the dramatic break. One shudders to think of the chaos had that magnificent beast been caught amidst the splintering ice.

By late afternoon, the transformation was complete. The crystalline stage had dissolved, replaced by a torrent of icy water carrying with it the remnants of the Frost Fair – broken timbers, discarded wares, and the lingering chill of a memory.

Caroline found herself in a state of considerable agitation. How could such a thing have come to pass?

~ ~ ~

The last week of February, whilst at dinner, Henry announced that in two days' time they would return to London. Although Caroline had long awaited that moment, now that their departure was imminent, she found herself quite at odds with herself. She would miss Aunt Penelope most dreadfully.

As she stood by the carriage, ready to depart, Caroline’s feelings were so intense that she found she could not restrain herself from embracing Aunt Penelope. Although such a display might have been unexpected, her new aunt did not appear to mind, for she returned the embrace with equal warmth.

The return journey to London was both much easier and considerably quicker than their trip to Kent at the beginning of January. This suited Caroline well, as she was impatient to see her new home.

When they finally stopped at a finely appointed townhouse, she felt a profound sense of pride. Buoyed by such feelings, she began to imagine herself receiving callers in an expensively decorated drawing-room.

The visitors would compliment her taste, admire the beauty of some object of vertu she might have displayed, as if casually overlooked, or inquire where she had acquired this or that decorative piece. Such possibilities gave her a great sense of contentment.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, having taken a bath and changed clothes, Caroline began to peruse the principal rooms. Nothing in the breakfast and sitting room suited her taste, but it was unlikely that any caller would have reason to enter those rooms.

Things looked decidedly better in the drawing-room, where there were a few good pieces of furniture. Here it would be easier to achieve the results she envisaged.

She requested tea and sat down to await it. Looking around the room with a discerning eye, she formed a mental list of the necessary improvements: repainting the walls and replacing the curtains would assuredly be the first order of business. Then she would have the armchairs reupholstered and add a small occasional table by each chair. Two or three Sèvres or Meissen vases would lend a most particular touch of elegance. It was exhilarating indeed to be the mistress of a home and to be at liberty to arrange all the rooms to her own impeccable taste.

She was lost in reverie when the footman entered the room with her post: two letters and a note. Only two! She would have to go to Hurst townhouse to collect the remainder of her post.

She turned the letters in her hand, recognising the Hurst seal upon both. Eagerly she opened the oldest letter.

Dear sister,

I am delighted to hear of the continued growth of your relationship with your Aunt Penelope, and how she has so warmly embraced your presence. I confess that it caused me no small measure of concern that the entirety of your acquaintance with Sir Henry transpired away from our family. You cannot know how truly relieved I am that all my worries proved unfounded.

How did your return journey to town fare? I am glad that Sir Henry decided to delay it until the worst of the weather had passed.

As for myself, I am doing well, and when I write to you next, you will, in all likelihood, have a new nephew or niece.

Even before she finished reading that first letter, Caroline broke the seal of the next, eager to ascertain if Louisa had indeed been brought to bed.

My dear sister,

You have a beautiful niece. Sophia Caroline was born two two days ago. Mr. Hurst, and I are delighted with our daughter. She is a most placid baby, who sleeps much of the day and cries but little.

You wrote that neither you nor Sir Henry desire to have children. I would not tell you that the birth was easy, for it was not. What I will tell you is that, when I first beheld Sophia, all the pain was immediately forgotten. I was filled with a love so profound that I had never before known. Having experienced such an overwhelming sentiment, I now hope that, in time, you might reconsider your views.

Caroline wondered if it were indeed possible that one day she would feel so differently as to desire offspring. She recalled her peculiar sensations when first encountering Anne Darcy. Even now she could not quite name those emotions or comprehend why she had felt them so keenly.

Having no ready answers, she returned to the letter.

Another interesting piece of news — although you probably already read it in the gazettes — is that Miss Darcy is engaged. Her betrothed, a Lord Ogilvy, is an earl and a particular friend of Charles and Mr. Darcy. He is a young widower, and, according to Charles, a gentleman of considerable fortune, possessing several estates to his name.

Do you recall how both of us had hoped that Miss Darcy would wed our Charles? Considering the consequence of her betrothed, I now think that our brother could never have been a serious prospect.

Caroline felt something she could not name, and she lowered the letter. But soon that strange feeling was gone. She felt neither jealousy, nor any sense of loss. Nay, she could even feel happy for Georgiana. Perhaps she would write to offer her congratulations.

She finished reading the letter, and picked up the note and the attached card from Miss Turner. Her sister, Miss Henrietta, and she had observed Caroline stepping out of the carriage a few hours earlier and discerned that she had just returned from her wedding tour. Might she be available to take tea with them on the following day?

Although Caroline was eager to extend her connections and be known as Lady Moore — her new title — that particular invitation was not necessarily welcome. She hardly knew the sisters. Furthermore, she had ostensibly avoided them after Miss Turner made an unflattering remark about Lady Harper. Had they not realised her continued efforts to keep her distance?

Nevertheless, refusing the invitation would be too rude, especially as, from the address listed upon the card, the sisters resided but a short distance from her. Avoiding them would be impossible. She penned a hasty note accepting the invitation and requested the footman deliver it.

~ ~ ~

The Turners' residence was but a few minutes' walk from Caroline’s new home. She hastened through the streets, endeavouring to evade the chill of the day. A few minutes later, she stood by their door. Their townhouse was of a style similar to her own, albeit larger. That was not surprising, as she knew the Turner family to be exceedingly well-off.

The parlour was sumptuously decorated, and Caroline would have liked to inspect from a closer vantage, some of the exquisite vases and elegant decorative pieces. That, however, would have been deemed quite ill-mannered. Accordingly, she followed the footman into the drawing-room.

“My dear Lady Moore, how well you look!” exclaimed Miss Henrietta.

The sisters had much to relate and much to ask. To Caroline, the short pause between their sentences and the quick change of topics felt like a whirlwind. There was not sufficient time to fully comprehend their comments or to render proper answers to their questions. Did they always converse thus?

Half-listening to the conversation around her, Caroline perused the room decorations surreptitiously. Three bronze statuettes, depicting Greek or Roman mythological figures, most likely made in France, were particularly impressive and undoubtedly expensive. She was particularly taken by the one of a strong male figure in the act of releasing an arrow. Perhaps she would procure something similar for her own home.

To her considerable relief, the visit was drawing to a close. Although she would have preferred no repetition of the afternoon's events, Caroline found herself obliged to invite them to her own home. Unsurprisingly, the sisters gladly accepted her invitation.

Caroline now stood in the parlour, dressed in her outerwear. She was about to reach for her gloves, when Miss Turner drew near and handed them to her.

Miss Turner looked directly into Caroline’s eyes and said, “Lady Moore, it must be such a comfort for you to reside next door to Lady Harper.” She then paused briefly, perhaps for emphasis. “Indeed, it must be so, for she is ever so eager to attend to your needs.”

Caroline was rendered speechless. Could that be true? She looked at Miss Turner and noticed her smile. But that was not a friendly smile; nay, that was the triumphant smile of one who knew her arrow had reached its mark. Indeed, her comment had been intended to wound, and it had done so. And Miss Turner made no attempt to disguise her malice.

As Caroline walked back home, it was not Miss Turner's motivations that discomfited her, but rather the knowledge she had now gained. If it was true that Lady Harper lived next door to them, why had neither she nor Sir Henry mentioned it before?

Chapter Text

On her way to the Turners’ sisters, Caroline had briefly stopped by the house next door to her own, to admire its ornate first-floor wrought-iron balconies and the intricate iron railings enclosing the front yard and the steps leading to the front door. Such elegant and expensive features spoke to the good taste and wealth of its owner.

Now, on her return from the sisters, as she slowly approached the same house, she barely took notice of those features. All she could think about was that Lady Harper lived there. She would not have known it, had Miss Turner not mentioned it.

If the information in itself had surprised her, what baffled her even more was the undisguised malice in Miss Turner’s countenance as she had spoken. Under the pretext of handing Caroline her gloves, she glided imperceptibly closer, shrinking the polite distance between them, until Caroline felt a faint warmth radiating from her body. Such a gesture had been intended as an invasion, subtle yet unmistakable.

Then, Miss Turner had dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, so low and intimate that Caroline had to lean in slightly, creating a false sense of shared secrecy.

“Lady Moore, it must be such a comfort for you to reside next door to Lady Harper.” After a brief pause, she continued, “Indeed, it must be so, for she is ever so eager to attend to your needs.”

The information, dropped so casually, did not ignite a fiery shock but rather extinguished the air around Caroline, leaving a chilling void. Her mind immediately went blank, a vacuum of thought where only the words "next-door neighbour" echoed. She did not lurch or falter, but seemed to withdraw into herself.

Her gaze, fixed on Miss Turner, was no longer merely polite but intense, unblinking, and utterly vacant, as if she were staring through her to a distant, incomprehensible point. Still, she was able to perceive the satisfaction Miss Turner found in the situation. It was there in the faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she made the revelation. It was there in the way she paid close attention to Caroline's reaction, her eyes narrowed to sharp slits and raked over Caroline's face with a predatory intensity.

Miss Turner had not been merely observing, but seemingly revelling in anticipation of the blow her revelation was about to land. And indeed, the revelation had been a blow, not only for its content but also due to Miss Turner’s malicious delivery.

Although unable to fathom Miss Turner’s motivations, Caroline was certain that her response — or rather, the lack of it — would have provided a new source of gossip. But as much as Caroline hated this new development, she had been the focus of gossip before and she had survived it. She would do so again.

Now, as she finally passed house number eight, what really disturbed Caroline was the fact that neither Lady Harper nor her husband had ever mentioned living next door to each other. It had not been for a lack of opportunity, as there had been ample times during the many months since they had become acquainted when such a subject could have been discussed.

On the surface, it seemed easy to understand the arrangement: Sir Henry and Sir Francis, Lady Harper’s late husband, being cousins, lived next door to each other. Perhaps their grandfather had bought both townhouses at the same time. Indeed, there was nothing untoward there. But then, why the secrecy?

Her conscious thoughts were a jumbled cascade of repeated and unanswered questions: Why would they keep that a secret? How could I not have known?

~ ~ ~

Amidst her swirling confusion, Caroline recalled her husband’s untoward behaviour in Kent. She had hoped that once back in town, he would revert to the charming man she had first known.

However, in light of what she now viewed as a guarded secret, such hopes began to feel like nothing more than a fool’s comfort. She wondered if she truly knew him, a thought that left her utterly unsettled.

Furthermore, it made little sense to keep a secret of something so easily discovered. It would not be long before she saw Lady Harper entering or leaving her own dwelling, or they met in front of their homes.

Despite her curiosity, Caroline felt unable to talk to her husband directly. If, as she now believed to be the case, he was deliberately keeping a secret, he might resent being confronted about it.

Thankfully, in two days' time, she would meet Lady Harper at Mrs. Middleton’s soirée. In preparation, she rehearsed how to introduce the subject, so as to guarantee an answer.

Unfortunately, things did not happen as Caroline had hoped. For all her careful planning, she was unable to have her conversation. Every time she had approached Lady Harper, scarcely a moment passed before the lady found a reason to leave her presence. Twice, no sooner had she turned the conversation in the desired direction than Lady Harper saw someone she simply must speak to and left her mid-sentence.

Caroline, however, was resolute. She made several more attempts to approach her, but with no success. In one instance, they were interrupted by Mrs. Middleton, who requested that Lady Harper play a duet with her niece. At her next attempt, they were approached by an acquaintance who wished to introduce Lady Harper to her cousin, who had recently arrived from the country.

Finally, Caroline had to accept the futility of her efforts: trying to keep Lady Harper near her was like trying to catch a fish with bare hands.

By the time Caroline left the gathering, she was certain that Lady Harper was avoiding her, though she could not fully understand why. That conviction, however, was enough to give rise within her to something close to an obsession. She would redouble her efforts and soon would have all her answers.

~ ~ ~

Fuelled by her new resolution, the morning after the soirée Caroline climbed the stairs to the second storey and entered a room at the back of the house. She walked to the window, hoping to see something of the neighbours’ house. Indeed, she was able to see a part of their garden.

There was a small conservatory, attached to a wall of the house. Caroline kept looking at it, recalling a similar structure at the Hurst’s townhouse. She wondered if her neighbour also grew herbs, as Louisa had done.

Then an idea began to form in her mind. Perhaps Cook would be the one to provide the information she so sought. Caroline planned the conversation carefully and went down in search of Cook.

The pleasant aroma of freshly baked biscuits enveloped her upon entering the kitchen.

“Lady Moore… how might I help ye?” Cook asked, looking surprised.

“Cook, I must apologise for having been neglectful of my duties. It has been nearly a week since my arrival, and we have yet to discuss what provisions we have in our larder and what extra supplies may be required.”

"Aye, my lady. I've been waitin' on yer convenience."

“I should start receiving calls next week, and there may also be a few unexpected guests for dinner.”

"Indeed, my lady, what have ye got in mind?"

A conversation ensued, resulting in a list of items to be procured. By then Caroline felt she could finally introduce the subject uppermost in her mind.

“Cook, I should be much obliged if you would prepare the mutton chops you spoke of for this evening's dinner.” After a brief pause, she continued, “I am exceedingly partial to mint sauce, yet I wonder if any fresh mint might be procured at this time? … Our former cook, I confess, often found it a challenge to obtain certain rarer herbs during the winter months.”

“No trouble at all gettin' the mint, my lady. And, if I might be so bold, when a certain herb is short, Lady Harper's gardener don't mind a bit givin' us a bit of a cutting or two... with her ladyship's say-so, o' course.”

Caroline felt a sense of victory. She now had an irrefutable answer to her question.

“That is very generous of her. I noticed a conservatory in her garden. Is that where he grows herbs?”

"Aye, my lady. Small as the patch is, Master Wood, he does manage to raise a goodly few sorts of herbs.”

Caroline left the room quite satisfied. Setting aside the secret was the first act; next she would regain control of her household. Now she felt better prepared to undertake her important new task: to conduct interviews for the housekeeper position.

Later in the afternoon, Mrs. Jones, an amiable, recently widowed woman in her mid-forties, accepted the position of housekeeper.

Only then did it become clear to Caroline the great advantage of appointing the key servants. Most likely they would be more loyal to her than to Sir Henry. They would not compare her to his first wife, as she believed Cook might. Nevertheless, she would maintain a relationship as cordial as possible with Cook, as she still had much to learn from her.

~ ~ ~

A few days later, Caroline gained a further understanding about the connection between the two houses.

“Cook, next week, I am of a mind to invite a few people for dinner. I understand that Mrs. Allen and you have often organized such events for my husband?”

"Aye, my lady. We have, for d'ye see, Sir Henry, he do take to company."

"Indeed, he does. As Mrs. Jones is new, I find myself quite dependent on your assistance. I know little of my husband’s particular tastes and nothing, alas, of those of his acquaintances, to decide on the menu myself.”

"Aye, my lady, I am happy to assist ye."

"Let us start with the menu, then. What would you suggest?"

They had just decided on the first two items for the first remove when the conversation turned exactly in the direction Caroline had hoped.

“If I might be so bold, my lady, Sir Henry, he’s mighty fond of turbot with lobster sauce. If you’d fancy having it included, I can ask Mrs. Davies to see about ordering the fish and the lobster from their purveyor.”

“Mrs. Davies?”

“Begging your pardon, my lady. Mrs. Davies, she be Lady Harper’s cook.”

“Lady Harper has lived there for some time, then? I confess, the neighbourhood is all quite new to me."

“Aye, a good many years now, my lady. She moved here when she married Sir Francis, she did. Her and the late Lady Moore, they were right good friends, they were.”

“Then, I gather she is quite well-acquainted with the family’s habits."

“Aye, I reckon that’s about right, my lady. When Sir Francis passed, his brother, Sir Edward, inherited the house. But as he seldom comes to town, preferring his family estate in Kent, he has allowed Lady Harper to continue living there.”

Caroline did not know what to think or what to feel. She released a controlled breath, a slight tightening forming around her mouth. She forced herself to regain control and pay attention to Cook.

“As for the puddin', I can ask Mrs. Davies if she can spare her large mould, seeing as ours won't be big enough.”

Even after every aspect of the menu had been discussed in detail, Cook provided further insights into Lady Harper, each one adding another layer of unsettling familiarity to the name.

~ ~ ~

For the rest of the season, Caroline and her husband socialized often, but their interactions were a far cry from the previous season's. Sir Henry now seldom stayed by her side. Within minutes of their arrival at an event, he would either join the men for a drink or a smoke, or retreat to the card tables.

On the days they did not socialize, he either dined at his club or went there directly after their evening meal. She rarely heard him return, if he returned at all.

Alone in her bedroom, Caroline compared Sir Henry’s conduct with that of other gentlemen of her acquaintance. Her experience with couples was limited, but the ones she had seen from a close distance behaved very differently. Her brother and Mr. Darcy, for instance, seemed to spend all their free time with their wives and usually retired to bed at the same time as them.

Try as she might, she could not account for Henry’s altered disposition. When she inquired, his invariable reply was that she imagined difficulties where none existed.

She had tried to discuss the situation with Lady Harper, a lady who seemed to know him so well. But here, too, she learned nothing. If Lady Harper had initially been reluctant to have such a conversation, when Caroline pressed the matter, she would not hear of it, saying that it would feel like betraying Sir Henry.

Uncertain how to proceed, Caroline resolved to let matters lie for the time being. Perhaps Henry merely required time to accustom himself to matrimony.

On the surface, Caroline’s life was perfect. She was a new bride who lived at one of the best addresses in town, received several visits a week, and frequently attended social events of note.

Within her own heart, it was a different story. She felt much diminished when compared with the time before her wedding. It was difficult to feel any joy when she could not even understand her husband’s manner or what she meant to him.

~ ~ ~

Things settled into their now familiar pattern until the beginning of spring. Then, unexpectedly, Henry announced they would depart for his Berkshire estate at the end of the week, to stay for the summer.

A flicker of reassurance came to Caroline; this was, after all, precisely what most landowners did during the season. Yet, a faint doubt lingered. She recalled hearing that, since inheriting the estate, Henry had only visited once. In subsequent summers, he had either repaired to Aunt Penelope’s in Kent or stayed at an acquaintance’s estate. However, such visits were usually brief, and he had spent the greater part of the summer in town.

Caroline could not fathom the reason for his sudden interest. Was it perhaps owing to his newfound access to her dowry? Was he perhaps planning improvements to the estate?

As the day of their departure approached, Caroline began to wonder about the condition of the estate, and indeed, what form of entertainment would be available, for neither he nor she was accustomed to solitude.

Suddenly, she recalled the previous summer, when she had had nowhere to go. That memory heightened her resolve. She would not allow anything to take away from the position she had attained. She was a lady, married to a landowner; the summer in his country estate came with her new role.

As they drove to Berkshire, Caroline forced herself to limit her expectations. There would be ample time to undertake any necessary renovations.

The reality, however, was worse than anything she had imagined. Everything lay in disrepair. Even the grounds had been left untended, possibly for years. There were no flowers to provide some beauty or a momentary respite from the faded wallpapers, the frayed furnishings, and scratched furniture.

A week after their arrival, her expectations fell even further. Henry departed for London, asserting that he had urgent business that could not wait. To her dismay, he refused to take her with him, notwithstanding his uncertainty as to his return.

~ ~ ~

Despite her deep sense of isolation, Caroline wasted no time in self-pity. Instead, she took up the task of renovating the manor with unbounded energy.

She started with the drawing-room, playing close attention to every detail. The room was in need of a total overhaul, but much of the work would have to wait until she returned to London. Only in town could she find wallpapers, curtains, and upholstery fabrics to her taste. She also planned a visit to Fortnum & Mason, one of her favourite shops, to source a few vases and other decorative objects.

Somewhat disheartened by the months-long wait before such essential work could begin, she looked around the room. Although most of the furniture was not in a style she particularly liked, she believed the pieces would be acceptable once properly restored. She hoped to find a local artisan able to start the job straight away.

Motivated by the idea of starting her decoration project without delay, Caroline decided to visit the nearest village early the following day. The more materials she could source locally, the sooner the room’s appearance would improve. And indeed, the drawing-room was in desperate need of it.

In preparation, Caroline started a list of tasks, separating them into jobs that could be started immediately and those that would have to wait for materials sourced in town.

She repeated the process in the sitting and breakfast rooms. With the restoration of the main rooms planned, she next considered Sir Henry’s and her private rooms. On a final thought, she chose another room to be redecorated as a guest room. "Just in case," she thought. The other rooms would be done in time.

With so many ideas crossing her mind, she realized that a sketchbook would be helpful to record them, otherwise she might forget some important details. She added ‘Buy a sketchbook’ to her list.

Back in the drawing-room, Caroline briefly reviewed her notes. She closed her eyes, already imagining the final result, and with that, her mood improved considerably.

~ ~ ~

Caroline had arrived in the village feeling half hopeful and half apprehensive, but the journey had begun well. The drapery shop was small, its offerings limited, yet she was still able to find a handful of damasks and brocades that would be suitable for the cushions she had in mind. She was particularly pleased with a deep red damask, its rich hue promising to bring warmth to the manor's often-chilly drawing room, and she purchased a few yards with a smile.

She continued her errands with purpose, moving to the haberdasher's where she selected embroidery threads that would complement the damask's colour perfectly. Though the shop did not sell pattern books, she had prudently brought her latest one with her from town, so this was no obstacle.

Next, she went to the upholsterer, who promised to have her cushions ready to be embroidered in two days. They also arranged to have her new curtains made and the coach and chairs reupholster once she had the necessary fabrics.

Her list of tasks continued at the general store. The shopkeeper said that his establishment employed tradesmen skilled in hanging wallpaper. Once she agreed on the price, all that was needed was for her to let them know when her chosen wallpaper was delivered.

She asked if he could recommend a gardener, lamenting that the manor's flower beds were a veritable eyesore. Her question seemed to delight the shopkeeper, who smilingly told her his eighteen-year-old son, who was currently helping in the store, was a keen gardener and would much prefer such employment. Though the boy was away at the moment, delivering materials to a customer, his father was certain that he would be glad to call upon the manor on the morrow to discuss the terms.

Pleased with her accomplishments, Caroline perused a few more shops, purchasing two sketchbooks and some drawing pencils.

She then set off for the market town, where she had been told she would find a skilled cabinet maker, the last item in her list. The shop surprised her, as everything she saw would not be out of place at the more fashionable shops in town. She had certainly come to the right place.

She was attended by the owner himself, who was keen to show her several pieces of restored furniture. Caroline asked twice if they were indeed used furniture, as she could not distinguish them from newer ones. He confirmed that was the case, and explained that, when such a perfect result was not possible, they would inform the customer from the outset.

Caroline was leaving the shop, when her eyes fell upon a folding screen by the entrance. She recalled how much she had enjoyed painting screens, when she was a student at the seminary. How much more pleasant it would be to paint one not as a student's exercise, but for her own use.

She moved towards it, as if guided by an invisible force. The light reflecting off its surface and the wood smell reinforced her cherished memories. But it was the perfect smoothness of its surface, as she ran her hand over it, that connected past and present. The feeling of happiness it brought about was undefinable; she simply must have the screen

She went back inside and placed an order for a three-leaf screen, exactly like that one. She left the shop already anticipating the joy of having such a beautiful screen, painted by her own hands, displayed at a prominent place in the manor.

~ ~ ~

Within the next few days, Caroline found herself busy on several fronts. At times she would be walking the grounds with the new gardener, discussing what to plant now and where and what to leave for later. At other times, she and the apprentice cabinet maker would be discussing which piece of furniture to do next and what to expect from the restoration. Yet, at other times she might be sitting at the drawing-room concentrating on embroidering her new cushions.

To be so encumbered with tasks was a blessing, forcing her thoughts away from her growing isolation and the question of her husband’s return. His response to her letter inquiring when he would return — just a short note, saying that he had not yet completed his business — had left her disheartened and confused.

Caroline had finished two cushions and was halfway through the third, but her initial enthusiasm had begun to fade. Her confidence was a thin and brittle thing. Deep down, a persistent disquiet remained, a gnawing certainty that her elaborate choreography of tasks was no more than an attempt to outrun a feeling she could not escape.

She longed to tell someone about Sir Henry’s behaviour and ask their opinion, but to do so would mean admitting that things were not going well. In the past, she had always confided her problems to Louisa, but now she felt unable to do so, especially as Louisa had questioned if she knew Sir Henry well enough to wed him.

Nevertheless, Caroline missed her sister, and though she could not be candid with her, she still wrote often, filling her letters with invented scenarios. Doing so, however, made her feel guilt for lying and only increased her isolation further.

~ ~ ~

After months without news — Caroline’s courage faltering each time she considered writing — Sir Henry finally wrote. His missive was short and straight to the point: she was to return to town for the beginning of the season.

The message’s directness left no room for argument, nor for the possibility of an alternative plan.

Having wished for so long to return to town, the prospect now left her suspended in a cloud of fear and anxiety. How was she to face Cook, Mrs. Jones, and the other servants who knew of her abandonment? Or worse, how could she socialise with Lady Harper and her set, when that lady must be fully aware of her circumstances?

Amidst the swirling uncertainties, one thought alone held fast: her entire relationship with Sir Henry had been a farce.

Chapter Text

Despite having eagerly awaited for several weeks to return to town, within minutes of departing from the country, Caroline was assailed by doubts. Surely many people, starting with the servants at their London townhouse, knew now that she had spent the whole of the summer in the country, while her husband stayed in London.

It was unavoidable that the servants would have gossiped among themselves, questioned such behaviour so soon after their wedding, and created their own narrative for such a development. She could not stop herself from worrying that their servants would have talked to their counterparts in neighbouring houses, making her predicament a well-known affair.

What made everything even worse than people being aware of the estrangement betwixt her and her husband was what they must know about his activities during her absence. It was profoundly humiliating that they might know more about his doings during the season than she did. How could she face interacting with them with such a disadvantage in her knowledge?

If that was not enough, a more significant worry was how differently Sir Henry might have treated his first wife, and how such differences were discussed among the servants and in many elegant drawing-rooms, just out of her hearing.

Within days of her return, even her relationship with Sally, who had been at her side for many years, felt tainted. It became impossible to maintain a close relationship with Sally, while wondering what she would have heard from the other servants.

~ ~ ~

Within minutes of her return to society, Caroline felt out of place. Each further event she attended only increased her sense of mortification. She would rather stay home and not meet anyone, but Sir Henry insisted on accepting every invitation they received, allowing her no escape.

In the presence of Lady Harper, Caroline’s mortification rose to a near suffocating level. Unfortunately, she seemed to be everywhere they went, knowing far too much about her life. As their next-door neighbour and Sir Henry’s cousin by marriage, she would be aware that Caroline and her husband had spent the entire summer apart. 

Moreover, she had known and been a friend of her predecessor, the first Lady Moore. And more than anyone else, she would be aware of the difference in Sir Henry's behaviour with his two wives.

Caroline assumed that Lady Harper gossiped widely about her circumstances, giving her a great advantage over Caroline’s societal acceptance. But perhaps worse still was not knowing to whom Lady Harper may have spoken. This fact alone made Caroline suspicious of anyone who looked in her direction.

She also dreaded meeting the Turner sisters, remembering Miss Turner’s malicious smile when she first revealed that Lady Harper was her next-door neighbour. Still, she could not comprehend the import of such a smile.

Sir Henry’s behaviour made things even more difficult, for upon their arrival at any assembly he would waste no time in absenting himself from her company. He would swiftly join the gentlemen, whether to smoke, to drink, or to try his hand at cards. Undoubtedly, many people noticed his behaviour, rendering it impossible for her to enjoy their social engagements and leaving her increasingly mortified and distressed.

~ ~ ~

Privately too, Sir Henry spent little time with her. On the days they did not socialise, he either dined at his club or repaired thither directly after their evening meal. Usually, he returned home long after Caroline had gone to sleep.

The distance between them left Caroline puzzled. Though she could not understand his behaviour, she was determined to find ways to restore their original camaraderie.

Her first attempt was to engage him with her improvement plans for both the townhouse and the country estate. She showed him her sketches and mentioned all she had ordered and the workers she had engaged.

Unfortunately, his response was nothing like what she had expected. Rather than being excited, he vehemently disagreed with such an extensive undertaking, arguing that it would be too expensive. He then declared she had better limit her aspirations, before leaving the room. 

Limit her aspirations? These words felt heavy like a hammer blow. Still, she was resolute in continuing with her projects.

She wondered how he had behaved with his first wife. Did he spend most of his time apart from her? Was he equally dismissive of her?

She wished she could ask Cook, but she could not overcome her feeling of humiliation to do so.

~ ~ ~

November turned into December; then came the new year of 1815, and before long it was summer again.

When Sir Henry announced their imminent departure to the country, Caroline felt it was time to return to the matter of her improvement plans. Gathering her courage, she asked for money to pay the workers she had already commissioned. After much negotiation, he agreed to a sum much smaller than what she wanted. It would be impossible to accomplish much with such meagre resources, but she did not think he would agree to give her more.

As they departed, Caroline feared a repeat from the previous year. Perhaps, this time, she could find a way to entice him to stay in the country. But that was not to be. Already on the third day after their arrival, Caroline noticed his irritation and impatience. 

It came as no surprise to her when, exactly a week after their arrival, he announced his departure. This time he did not even find it necessary to give her an explanation before departing.

~ ~ ~

During that second summer by herself, Caroline felt more alone than in the previous one. She had little enthusiasm to embroider cushions, or to decorate rooms, knowing no one would come to visit and she alone would see the fruit of her endeavours.

Slowly, her renovation plans, which only a few months earlier had so excited her, felt more and more like an unnecessary extravagance, a mere dream, better suited to a life that was not hers.

Refusing to dwell on her shattered expectations, Caroline now preferred to spend time outside. Every day, shortly after breakfast, she left the house and walked among the flowers that now grew in abundance in several flower beds.

Arranging flowers had been one of her favourite activities during her years at the seminary. Now, however, gathering and arranging them into vases felt like too much effort, when she was the only person who would see them.

Nevertheless, surrounded by the vivid colours and the sweet aroma in the air, she could ignore her real situation — the abandonment by her husband and the absence of visitors — and still feel some contentment.

~ ~ ~

As Caroline became acquainted with the grounds, each morning she walked a bit further. One day, as she passed the stables, she heard a horse whinnying. She stopped at the entrance and looked inside.

A boy, no older than sixteen, was feeding a young chestnut horse, whose ears were pricked forward in anticipation. The lad held out a scoop of oats, and the horse nudged his hand with his muzzle. As he dipped his head to eat, the lad ran a hand along his neck. 

To Caroline, the scene was one of quiet companionship, a simple exchange between two young creatures — one a boy learning the language of kindness and service, the other a young horse learning to trust the world. She quietly entered the stable. 

“That is a beautiful horse!” The boy, who had turned slightly as she approached, smiled and turned tenderly back to the horse. 

“Aye, my lady. That's Amber … gentle she is, much like her mother, Portia.” 

A filly, Caroline said to herself, recalling the word. For a few minutes, they stayed like that; the boy feeding the filly and Caroline watching. 

“Do you like to ride, my lady? I can get Portia saddled for you.” 

At first surprised by his question, it took Caroline some time before answering. But as she looked at the beautiful filly, she felt a new kind of excitement.

“I have not ridden for a long time, but I think I would like to try again.” After a brief pause, she continued, “I fear I would get lost on the estate. Would you be able to ride with me and show me the way?” 

Once again, the boy’s face transformed with an undeniable contentment. “Aye, my lady. I'll ride with you for sure. When would you like to go?”

“Mid-morning, tomorrow, if you are free.” 

And so began a routine. Each morning, after breakfast, Caroline would find young Thomas waiting for her by the stables, holding the reins of the gentle Portia. He would help her onto the saddle, his movements patient and sure, and then mount a sturdy brown horse … a gelding, he told her. 

They would ride through the sprawling estate, the air filled with the scent of damp earth and pine. Thomas, with a knack for storytelling, pointed out things Caroline would never have noticed on her own. The flash of a kingfisher's wing as it skimmed the stream, the hidden badger sett in a thicket of ferns, the ancient oak with a trunk so wide it took two people to circle it with their arms. 

He told her about the land and its history, the generations of his family who had worked it. He spoke of the crops and the seasons, the unpredictable nature of the weather, and the quirks of the horses under his care. He talked about his dreams, too — of one day saving enough to buy his own small patch of land. 

One morning, they made a stop to look at the ducks at the pond. Thomas pointed out the mallards, the common teals, the tufted ducks, and the common pochards, giving a brief explanation of their different features. As Caroline watched the ducks, a long-forgotten memory resurfaced. 

To her own surprise, she found herself sharing her recollection of her mother taking her siblings and her to a nearby lake to feed the ducks. That first opening led to further recounts, her lonely days dissolving in the boy's easy company. Caroline spoke of her childhood, of the days before her mother's passing, of her father, always too busy. She told him about her sister and brother, and how much she missed them. 

In those moments, she was not Lady Moore, the new mistress of the estate, but simply Caroline. With Thomas, she was just a young woman on a horse, with wind in her hair and a newfound sense of freedom. She learned to hold the reins with more confidence, to feel the rhythm of Portia’s trot, and to trust the instincts of both the horse and the lad beside her. 

It was in these quiet moments of shared rides and easy conversation that a kind of friendship bloomed, not between a lady and a servant, but between two people who found in each other a fellow feeling. It was the first time she had ever spoken to a servant as an equal. And many years later, Caroline would look back on this time as the first time she ever spoke freely and without pretension. The first time she felt truly seen.

~ ~ ~

During a visit to the nearest market town, Caroline found herself a few doors away from the shop where, the previous summer, she had ordered a folding screen — which still remained to be painted. Unwilling to be reminded of her dashed expectations, she changed direction.

Before long Caroline found herself by a circulating library. Although not a great reader, but having large chunks of time every afternoon with little to do, Caroline entered the library. Unsure where to start, she asked Mrs. Barnes, the amiable, middle-aged woman in charge of the establishment, for assistance.

Mrs. Barnes suggested they sit down and take tea, as they discussed which books would best suit Caroline. Three-quarters of an hour later, when she left the library, Caroline had half a dozen novels with her.

The very next afternoon, Caroline sat in the drawing-room and opened a book. However, within minutes her attention was diverted. It was impossible for her to ignore the room's state of disrepair. While the new curtains had been hung, the wallpaper was still the same old, faded one. Much of the furniture still had to be renovated and only two of the armchairs had been upholstered.

Concluding that reading there was impossible, Caroline entered several rooms in search of a better alternative. A much smaller room, currently unused, had a nice view of the garden. It seemed like a good choice for a sitting-room.

She arranged for the room to be cleared. Next she selected a smaller round table and one of the upholstered chairs to be brought from the drawing-room and placed by the window.

She walked to the door, for from there it would be easier to properly judge the rearranged space. This room, too, could use some work, but its reduced size made it more intimate. Also, by turning the chair she could eliminate most distractions, by making sure that every time she looked up she would see the garden and nothing else.

She returned to the drawing-room and selected a pretty vase, not too big for the round table. Tomorrow she would gather some flowers to make her new sitting-room more pleasant.

In the days that followed, Caroline immersed herself in the world of the Dashwood sisters. She suffered with Marianne, felt Elinor’s disappointment and developed a great dislike towards Lucy Steele.

~ ~ ~

Caroline's days now followed a kind of routine. Every morning she walked through the grounds, before making her way to the stables. In the afternoon she sat by the window in her sitting-room, a book in her hands, as her mind travelled to imaginary worlds.

At least once a week she went to the circulating library, even if she had not yet finished reading her latest book. Caroline would sit on a corner table and order tea and cake and wait for Mrs. Barnes to join her in between dealing with customers. Since that first meeting, their relationship had progressed into a kind of friendship, even though Caroline spoke little about herself.

Although her world was now significantly smaller, somehow her interactions with Thomas and Mrs. Barnes felt more honest and genuine than most of her previous ones, with the result of dispelling much of her loneliness.

~ ~ ~

October arrived, bringing a sense of nature winding down. The cold became Caroline’s constant companion, an unwelcome guest that could be felt even in the stones of the manor itself.

The chill followed Caroline from room to room. The great hall, with its high, vaulted ceiling and dark oak panelling, was no longer the grand, airy space of summer, but now seemed like a cavern, bereft of light and warmth. In the library, the leather-bound books were frigid to the touch. In the drawing-room, the piano, tuned only a few months earlier, now sounded dull, and made lifeless thuds where a harmonious chord should have rung.

The hearths, despite being fed with logs by the hour, their flames casting dancing shadows, did little to banish the deep cold. 

Caroline found herself seeking refuge in the intimate space of her small sitting-room, the only room where a single fire was enough to make a difference. But even there, the cold was present, a low hum beneath the surface of everything. 

She wrapped a shawl tighter around her shoulders, then another, and another, until she was a cocoon of wool and cashmere ... Yet, the cold found a way in. It was not a biting, harsh cold, but a subtle, insidious one that numbed her toes, stiffened her fingers, and settled in her bones. 

Outside her window, she could see the changes taking place — the golden leaves of the oaks turning russet and brown, the hedgerows shedding their green for a skeletal gray. Some distance away, the gardener was again raking the fallen foliage into great mounds of decay, and she could almost smell the scent of damp earth. 

Each change was a witness to the passing of time; a reminder that summer was long finished. Here, in the vast, empty countryside, she was a solitary figure, a tiny island in an ocean of encroaching cold. The manor now felt like a magnificent prison, its vastness a testament to her isolation. 

By this time last year, she had already returned to town. And although she had experienced deep humiliation and found it very difficult to readjust to life in society, now she wondered if her isolation among these cold walls was worse still. 

Perhaps, worst of all, was the uncertainty about her return to town. She had yet to hear about her husband’s plans. With the London season due to start only in February, she feared he would leave her here, facing the encroaching winter.

~ ~ ~

At last Caroline received a letter from her husband, but she was uncertain what to make of his news. She was to return to town, and they would proceed together to the country estate of a close friend of his for the Christmas festivities. 

He explained that they would be part of a large group and stay until the end of January. Unfortunately, he had not mentioned any names, leaving Caroline to wonder if she would feel even more out of place within such an intimate circle than she had during the previous season's events.

~ ~ ~

Caroline drove first to London, then to her surprise they were back on the same road she had just travelled. When she asked where they were going, Sir Henry named a town not far from their own country estate. Her puzzlement lasted but a few seconds, before she understood: it was all for show — they had to arrive together. 

The need for such a performance must mean that her husband believed not everyone in the group was aware of their estrangement. That was enough to give her some hope that the next few weeks might not be too bad. And if pretence was called for, she would give her best. 

The elegant country estate belonged to Sir Thomas and his wife Susan, the same lady who had been with Lady Harper at the modiste when Caroline had first met her. 

Having them as their host gave Caroline a sense of relief. Although she had no doubt that, as a close friend of Lady Harper, Lady Sutton must be aware of Caroline's marital situation, she had always behaved with perfect courtesy. 

Sir Thomas was very amiable and, in another life, one where her husband did not banish her to the country for months at a time; one where Lady Harper was not her next-door neighbour; she might have thoroughly enjoyed his company. She could even imagine herself becoming close to Lady Sutton. That possibility, however, was now gone. 

Among the many guests, Lady Harper was the only one who seemed to view Caroline with a cold politeness, a veneer so thin it barely concealed her aversion. It still puzzled Caroline what she could have done for someone who had been her closest confidante two years ago to now so pointedly avoid her. Whenever Caroline attempted to meet her eyes, Lady Harper moved with a studied grace, her eyes flitting away. 

Once, when the ladies had gathered for needlework, Mrs. Davison, an elderly guest, smiled warmly at Caroline. "I do believe Sir Henry dotes on you, my dear. He looks at you as if you are the only person in the room." 

Dotes on me? An accomplished performer, indeed! She would have laughed, if she did not feel the weight of her reality so profoundly. 

The silence was filled by none other than Lady Harper. Her head bent over her embroidery, she did not look up. "Indeed," she said, her voice a little too sweet. "I have always found him to be a man of … deep and passionate loyalties. He gives his heart completely to those he deems worthy of it, does he not, Lady Moore?" 

The comment, seemingly innocent, held a chilling undertone. It was obviously not a compliment, but rather a kind of confirmation that Lady Harper was aware of some secret that Caroline was not. Too perplexed, Caroline simply offered a small, awkward smile. 

Later, during a lively card game, Sir Henry had placed a winning hand with a confident flourish. "I am a man of luck," he announced with a wink toward Caroline. 

"Or perhaps," Lady Harper interjected smoothly, her eyes fixed on Sir Henry, "a man who knows exactly when to play his hand to his greatest advantage." 

The words hung in the air, another coded message that Caroline could not decipher. He gave Lady Harper a look — a quick, silent, and knowing glance. Caroline, a silent observer of this strange tableau, felt a knot of unease tighten in her stomach. The mystery of Lady Harper’s hostility hung over her like a heavy mist, a stark and painful contrast to the friendship she had so much cherished. 

From that moment on, Caroline decided she would no longer pursue a return to her earlier friendship with Lady Harper. She was sure now that Lady Harper had no intention of reconciliation and any further attempt on her part could only make the situation worse. 

~ ~ ~

When, in the last week of January, Caroline and her husband departed for town, she was certain of a few things: Mrs. Davison was a sweetheart and a most useful person to know in a hostile environment; Lady Sutton, although perhaps aware of her marital problems, was too polite to display anything other than the best of manners; as for herself, she could give a most impressive performance when the situation required it. 

Maybe that was the way forward. She would paint a picture of domestic bliss with her every glance and word. She would wear her husband's frequent absence as a badge of his trust, not his neglect. She would present herself as the mistress of a great estate and the wife of a baronet, and she would prove to society, and to herself, that her life was full of glitter, even if her heart knew it was made of cold, tarnished gilt — nothing more than a gilded cage.

Chapter Text

When Caroline and Sir Henry left Sir Thomas's estate, to join the London season, she was imbued with her latest resolution. She kept repeating to herself her new mantra, “I will exude a picture of domestic bliss with my every glance and word! Wear my husband's frequent absences as a badge of his trust, not his neglect! Present myself as the mistress of a great estate and the wife of a baronet! Convince society that my life is a triumph!”

But no matter how many times she repeated those words, the reality of her circumstances continued to intrude into her thoughts, “My life is made of cold, tarnished gilt; it is nothing more than a gilded cage.”

The two forces battled against each other, leaving her weary. Believing she could maintain her pretence when facing society lifted her spirits, whilst the recognition of her true reality diminished them.

~ ~ ~

When Caroline and her husband arrived in London, invitations to several events awaited them. Without delay, Sir Henry accepted Lady Susan’s dinner invitation for the very next day. Lady Susan — the very name made Caroline cringe — was a renowned gossiper, who seemed to have great pleasure in discomfiting Caroline, with intrusive questions and malicious insinuations.

In need of some solitude, Caroline retreated to her sitting-room. Fearing that her negative thoughts would make her weak and be exploited by Lady Susan and her equally malicious friends, she forced herself to regain her composure.

She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. Trying to quiet her mind, she recalled her mother's words, following an unpleasant encounter with a local landowner’s daughter, “Do not mind her words, dear child. One day you will be her equal or her superior, living your life among society's highest circles.” She had achieved that; and Lady Susan, an impoverished, middle-aged widow was probably just jealous of her.

Feeling somewhat restored, she sat at her writing desk. For a while now, letter writing occupied a large portion of her free time. Her chosen correspondents belonged to the circles of society she had left behind. As they were not acquainted with her life nor knew her husband, she could fill her letters with imaginary scenarios that painted a picture vastly different from her reality.

In her letters to Louisa or Charles she was particularly inventive, for she felt too ashamed to let them know that her husband and she were, in truth, living separate lives.

As the clock chimed four times, Caroline realised that it was time to change for dinner. She re-read her words, made a few corrections, and added a few words here and there. Then she ran her hand over the high-quality writing paper and looked, with pride, at her initials LM embossed in gold, below her husband’s crest.

For Caroline, those were more than just symbols of her new status. They represented several years working towards achieving her current position. Years of gulping down veiled insults and comments from people who judged themselves superior to her. But that was now in the past.

Before folding the letter, she again looked at the paper. She felt a sense of accomplishment and waited a few seconds, awaiting the feeling to take hold in her heart and her spirit to lift.

~ ~ ~

In the days following, Sir Henry continued to accept a large number of invitations, be they to balls, recitals, or dinners. After the unpleasantness of the last season, now Caroline carefully chose whom to talk to or whom to spend time with. She looked for the more amiable ladies, and avoided those known to be gossipers or those with malicious tongues.

Following such a strategy, it was easier for her to tolerate the events she could not avoid. Still, she went to them feeling little more than a sense of obligation.

Often, when she returned home, she would recall how, until two years ago, she would have given anything to receive invitations to the kind of events she now frequently attended. But now, her interest in attending such events never reached past a lukewarm level of anticipation.

Last season, the day after attending events among those who looked down on her, or gossiped about her, she restored her composure by spending a few hours strolling in Hyde Park. She found great contentment in discovering a plant or a flower that she had never seen before. She would examine its colour and shape and wonder how they may look in her own gardens, either in town or in the country.

In those moments she had been able to forget the negative aspects of her life. But this year, the unusually chilly and wet weather made such an endeavour impossible. Also, it was unlikely that any blossom would have survived the continuous rainfall.

~ ~ ~

Each day the newspapers reported the increasing devastation across the country brought on by the unseasonal weather. The constant rain and low temperatures had destroyed crops, leading to widespread harvest failures. Many farmers had gone bankrupt; the soaring food prices were causing severe hardship for the poor.

Reading such news left Caroline worrying about the people she had met in the country. She felt a need to know how they were coping with the situation. She had considered writing letters asking for information, but decided to wait and see it for herself, for once again her husband had insisted that she depart for the country at the end of the season.

With each passing day, Caroline felt more anxious to depart. For someone who had so disliked the country and country people in the past, she could not fully explain her curiosity about how they were faring and why it was so important to see the situation with her own eyes. A little voice in her mind kept saying that she cared for her ‘new friends’ and even the workers more than she dared to admit.

She was particularly worried that Thomas’s father might choose to leave the estate, as the unseasonal weather probably had increased his work as a gardener several fold. Last summer, riding through the estate with Thomas had been one of her few moments of true contentment. She would hate to lose his company.

Then, there was Mrs. Barnes, and the circulating library, where she had spent many pleasant hours. Was the library still open? And would Mrs. Barnes be around when she return next year?

Having waited for days to be able to depart, once the season was over, Caroline did not delay in town. As expected, the journey was unpleasant and arduous, the roads slick with mud.

For most of the way, the view from the carriage’s windows was mostly obscured by rain and mist. Despite the fuzziness, it was clear that the picturesque scenery she had driven through the previous two summers was replaced by waterlogged fields and overflowing streams.

As the carriage progressed, its springs creaked under the strain, tossing Caroline about. Frequently, the wheels became bogged down. Then the coachman and the groom took on the arduous work of freeing the wheels using spades. The footman assisted them by laying down planks beneath the wheels or pushing the carriage.

After a long and atrocious journey, Caroline was relieved to finally arrive at the estate. Although she had known what to expect — after hours of driving through desolate landscapes — she was still shocked by the widespread ruin: waterlogged pathways, fallen trees … a veritable sodden mess.

As they drove past what should be flower beds, all she could see were bent and broken stems. The few remaining blooms were a soggy spectacle of brown and wilted petals. Weeds thrived in the damp soil, choking out any remaining plant life.

Because of the mist, Caroline could not see further than a few metres beyond the window; all she could see was havoc, ending her slight hope that things may not be entirely bad.

~ ~ ~

On the morrow, from her sitting-room window, Caroline saw young Thomas and his father, busy assembling fallen branches into a huge pile. For a brief moment, the coordination between their movements created a peaceful picture, despite the sodden mess surrounding them. A pleasant feeling rose within her.

Ignoring social conventions, she hurriedly got up, eager to reach them. As soon as she left the house, her boots kept getting stuck in the mud making her walk slow and difficult. With some effort she finally reached them.

“Mr. Turner, Thomas, I am happy to see you here.”

Once they acknowledged her presence, she continued, “I must confess that I was worried … not sure if you would still be here. … Mr. Turner, I cannot imagine how difficult it is to be a gardener under such miserable conditions.”

She looked around, taking stock of the destruction surrounding them. When her gaze returned to Mr. Turner, his face was a picture of sadness and defeat.

“Everything you did, Mr. Turner. All your work is now ruined. And so much to be done to clear this mess … I am so sorry!”

“Aye, my lady. Indeed, I can’t say how much longer we can hold. It is not because of the work … Everything is so expensive now. I talked to the wife about …”

Caroline interrupted him, “Pray, do not leave us, Mr. Turner! You are needed here!” After a brief moment, she added, “I promise to find a way to keep you here.”

“Oh, if only we could stay, my lady, that would be good. Mrs. Turner has been crying, afraid of what is to come.”

“I will find a way, Mr. Turner. It is my promise!”

Noticing his uncertainty and perhaps doubt about her words, she changed the topic, asking him to explain the situation around the estate.

He told her that every stream was swollen and overflowing and their banks had disappeared into the surrounding fields. Thomas interrupted saying, that even the narrow stream near the folly, which they had crossed so many times during the previous summer, had been transformed into a rapid and constant rush of muddy runoff, too dangerous to cross.

“Nowhere in the whole estate you can now hear a peaceful trickle of water of a stream, or a pond,” he added. “The noise now is thunderous, scaring the horses even from a distance away.”

Before she even asked, Mr. Turner explained that, thankfully, all the farmers' houses were located in higher grounds, rebuilt several years ago, after the previous flood. But still — he was quick to explain — there was no end to the havoc the current weather was causing to everyone’s lives. With the crops ruined, food was scarce, and for many farmers, buying food had become too expensive.

When Caroline asked if there were any fruits in the orchards, he painted a picture of veritable chaos. The few fruits that had managed to set were now shrunken and mouldy, either rotting on the branches or had fallen to the ground to be consumed by slugs. The soil beneath the trees was now a treacherous bog, a paradise for said slugs.

As Mr. Turner continued to describe the conditions around the estate Caroline again looked around. Never before had she given much attention to the manor situation. But now she realised that she was standing at grounds much higher than the parklands covered by vast, stagnant pools of water she could see at a distance.

She turned around, searching for the gentle stream she had crossed so many times during her rides. But there was no stream. In its place she could see an angry river carrying everything on its path.

Every direction she looked it was the same situation: waterlogged, ruined, desolated. Recalling the beautiful lands she had ridden through last year, Caroline felt a sick feeling.

She was still lost in her feelings, when Mr. Turner explained what had been done to save the livestock. At the end of April, the stockman had moved the cattle and sheep to high ground. But with the continuous rain, and the ground persistently wet, it was likely that many animals would develop foot rot, which thrived in muddy conditions.

When the rains persisted during April, several farmers had joined the gamekeeper searching for partridge and pheasant nests, before the eggs would be destroyed and the chicks died in the cold, damp conditions. Unfortunately, many nests were already flooded by the time they were found and they had lost a large number of birds, eggs and chicks.

To save the remaining ones, the only alternative had been to shelter the birds, but finding space had been difficult, for the sheds and every building in the estate was needed to keep feed, hay and firewood protected from the rain.

Most farmers were now rearing the birds inside their own homes. But with the cold, dampness and crowded conditions their risk of them developing disease was high.

For Caroline that was a new realisation. She had been focussing solely on the visual destruction, but now she realised how much the life of all workers had been affected. It was far beyond flooded fields and a general sense of gloom due to the unrelenting wetness.

~ ~ ~

But it was not until a few days later, during a conversation with the housekeeper, Mrs. Smith, that Caroline gained a thorough comprehension of the situation.

She learned that partridges and pheasants foraged naturally on insects and seeds, with their diet supplemented by grains grown locally. But now, unable to forage and with the crop failures, feed had to be bought for high prices. Feed had also to be purchased for the livestock to supplement the hay the farmers had managed to salvage.

But — and here Mrs. Smith had hesitated telling her — Sir Henry was not happy to pay for all the extra feed. He had limited the budget allocated for feeding to such an extent that the only solution had been to slaughter many heads of cattle and sheep.

Caroline was momentarily shocked. There should be no reason for such a step, as her husband had control of her twenty thousand pounds dowry. All the feed would not have cost more than a tiny portion of such an amount.

Unbidden, a doubt grew in her mind. What had happened to the money? Had he lost it playing cards? Or was he keeping it for something else?

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she neither understood her husband nor knew anything about his affairs. Once again, she felt a sick feeling in her stomach; a strange malaise that she could not name.

~ ~ ~

With the grounds a muddy mess, outdoor activities had become impossible. The few times Caroline ventured out during a brief respite from the rain, she walked no more than a few metres before her boots were dipped in mud. Worried about destroying another pair of expensive boots, she now ventured no further than the stone steps in front of the manor.

Compelled to remain indoors, Caroline’s days were dreary. But even indoors, her activities were severely limited. She had tried to play the pianoforte, but it had sounded flat, muffled, and heavily out of tune. Since then, it had remained untouched.

As the cold and dampness had permeated every room, only in her small sitting-room, could she find some measure of comfort. With little else to do, she spent her time either reading, writing letters or doing needlework.

Caroline had been feeling a sense of desperation, when Mrs. Smith brought her a packet. She explained that the groom had been in the market town to run some errands, when Mrs. Barnes approached him and asked if he could wait as she had something for you.

The packet contained a book and a letter. Caroline eagerly opened the letter.

Dear Lady Moore,

I heard that you returned to the country. It must have been a shock to find everything so different from last year, with such a widespread desolation.

I decided to keep the library open, as reading seems to be one of the few forms of entertainment available at the moment. With so many roads impassable, very few people are able to get to us and I am often the only person here. If not for those few people and their comments about being happy to find the library open, I would probably have closed it.

I had been keeping this book for you, even if I knew you would be unable to drive here, since the bridge has collapsed. It was by mere coincidence that I saw your groom at the main store and he was kind enough to take the book for you.

This is the first volume of Emma, published last December. I believe that you will like it, as it is by the same author as Sense and Sensibility, which I know you enjoyed. I found Emma a vastly amusing character, full of opinions. I dare say Miss Austen means her to be a cautionary tale for our younger patrons, for no gentleman would wish for a wife who believes she knows better than everyone else.

Please let me know your thoughts on the book.

I hope that you will be well and safe.

Your faithful friend,

Mrs. Barnes

For Caroline, reading Emma felt like a salvation from her previous ennui. For several days, she immersed herself in the world of Emma Woodhouse. During such moments, she stopped noticing the dampness, the persistent cold, the rain, and all the misery surrounding her.

~ ~ ~

Towards the end of August, Caroline developed a severe cold. Despite Mrs. Smith taking charge of her care, within days the cold progressed into a persistent chest ailment.

Mrs. Smith dispatched the groom to the nearest village in search of Mr. Vickers, the doctor; but, apparently, he was attending to many sick people and could not come until the next day.

While waiting for the doctor, Mrs. Smith took prodigious care of her mistress. She made willow bark tea to reduce Caroline’s fever and relieve her aches. She organised gargles with salt water and herbal mixtures to ease her sore throat. She directed the cook to make chicken broth, gruel and toast. She instructed Sally on how to apply mustard plasters to her mistress’s chest to help with congestion.

When Mr. Vickers finally arrived, he said that Caroline must return to town without delay, as the damp air and the lack of sunshine would continue to exacerbate her condition.

Maybe it was because she was feeling so weak, that Caroline confessed to him that her husband would not be happy if she returned to town before the beginning of the season. Mr. Vickers frowned. Then he said that was unacceptable and that he would write to her husband and explain the situation in full.

Caroline recognised that a medical opinion, coming from the local doctor, would provide a legitimate reason for her to defy her husband's wishes and return to town earlier. Sir Henry, needing to save face and fearing the social repercussions of a sick wife occasioned by his neglect, would grudgingly allow her to return.

She thanked Mr. Vickers and asked him to write to her husband directly. She then instructed Mrs. Smith to take Mr. Vickers to Sir Henry’s office and provide him with writing materials.

When Mr. Vickers finished the letter, he emphasised that it must reach Sir Henry without delay. Mrs. Smith dispatched the groom to London, who carried the letter himself.

~ ~ ~

The following day, the groom returned, bringing the news of Sir Henry's acquiescence to Caroline’s return. Mrs. Smith wasted no time in organising for a speedy departure. She searched for pillows and quilts to keep Caroline warm and comfortable during the journey. She found a mattress that would fit over the carriage seat. As an afterthought, she also gathered a chamber pot that could be discreetly placed in a carriage’s corner. Assisted by the footman, Mrs. Smith placed each item carefully inside the carriage.

As Caroline contemplated her return to town, she felt an increasing sense of unfinished work. Although she was aware that to improve her health she had to return to town, she was concerned about the people she was leaving behind.

She recalled Mr. Turner working endlessly, as if in a war with falling debris, simply to maintain the main paths clean. She recalled Mrs. Smith telling her that because of the failed crops, the tenant farmers had to buy their food, at prices they could barely afford. And she recalled that moment when she learned that her husband had refused to provide sufficient money to even feed his own livestock.

She felt uncertain if the farmers would be able to cope. Or if they would even want to stay on, toiling under such hardships and her husband’s inexcusable behaviour?

What would she encounter, when she returned next summer? Who would still be there?

Slowly, a solution — albeit decidedly imperfect — came to her. She was unable to assist everyone, as her pin money was not much, but she could at least help the Turners’ family.

She endorsed a ten-pound banknote from the Bank of England, signing it over to Mr. Turner. As a measure of caution, she penned a note to the bank teller confirming her intention and the reasons why she had been unable to go to the bank herself.

Then she penned a letter to Mr. Turner, thanking him and Thomas for their service. She wrote that she hoped the attached ten-pound banknote would help his family with any extra expense during the next few months. She provided the directions of the local branch where the estate held an account and explained how he should proceed to receive the funds. After wishing him and his family well, she enclosed both the letter and the banknote within an envelope, sealed it and wrote the addressee simply as Mr. Turner.

~ ~ ~

Shortly before departing Caroline gave two guineas in gold coins to Mrs. Smith, saying that it was to help her get through the rest of the season. Then she handed her the envelope requesting to have it delivered to Mr. Turner.

Soon, their last travel companion, Mr. Vickers’s apprentice arrived, carrying his leather satchel. He was to accompany them in the journey to town, to keep watch over Caroline’s symptoms.

Mrs. Smith then appeared, carrying a basket filled with light foods and flasks filled with warm drinks.

When the carriage began to move, Caroline glanced at the kind, middle-aged woman who had poured so much care and kindness into her well-being. She felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Mrs. Smith, who even now, stood dutifully, watching over their departure, her warm presence a final, comforting image to carry through the difficult travel hours back to town.

Chapter Text

Leaving the cold and dampness of the country had been essential when Caroline’s health was so poor, but the arduous journey back to town consumed her remaining energy. When the carriage finally arrived at her townhouse, Caroline was barely conscious and had to be helped by Roberts, the footman, to her bedroom.

Mr. Vickers' assistant, who had accompanied them back to town, did not waste any time. He immediately sent a note to Dr. MacLaren, the physician his boss had previously contacted to apprise him of Lady Moore's illness and her impending return to town.

Dr. MacLaren, a graduate of the University of Edinburgh Medical School, arrived early the next morning. He brought with him a clinical, empirical approach to healing. He ordered the sick-room to be kept meticulously dry — with a moderate, steady fire kept up — and the bedding changed frequently. The window was to be kept slightly ajar only to air the room briefly.

When asked about bloodletting, he stated he was not inclined to employ it immediately, as he was not convinced it was the best course for Lady Moore's current state of extreme debility. Instead, he prescribed a strengthening tonic and a laudanum-laced linctus to suppress her persistent cough and ensure her rest.

He assigned a nurse to Caroline’s care, but Mrs. Jones insisted on doing her part. She delegated some of her housekeeper’s duties to other servants and took charge as an assistant nurse and manager of the sick-room. She oversaw the preparation of possets and often administered the tonics Dr. MacLaren prescribed. She ensured the bedroom fire was constantly kept up to maintain dry heat, and managed the rotation of fresh linens.

Roberts, who seemed to have gained an increased regard for his mistress after the previous few months in the country, provided quiet support to her recovery. He brought coal and wood into Caroline’s bedroom and kept the fire stocked, ensuring the room remained dry and warm. He acted as the messenger to the apothecary and the physician, ensuring speed and reliability when delivering instructions and collecting expensive, vital medicines. He stationed himself near the sick-room waiting for the nurse or Mrs. Jones’s directives. He enforced quietness around the sick-room, intercepting visitors and other household noises, thereby ensuring Caroline's necessary rest.

~ ~ ~

For several days, Caroline’s state remained in a precarious balance. She slept heavily due to the opiate linctus, while her fever fluctuated dangerously. The servants, especially those assigned to her care, remained in a state of great anxiety.

Then, slowly her fever broke and her coughing eased slightly. While still confined to her bedroom, she began the difficult process of recovery.

She was still too weak to fully notice that her husband had only visited her room once. Not until several months later did she learn about his heated discussions with Dr. MacLaren concerning the expenses for her care and the doctor's steadfast refusal to acquiesce to her husband’s demands to curtail the expenses.

As she began recovering, Dr. MacLaren recommended that she should, daily for a few hours, leave her bed for an armchair. He introduced a new treatment regime, intended to rebuild her constitution. It included strengthening tonics and a nutritious diet, with foods such as eggs, milk, and fowl. Slowly Caroline's colour returned and her coughing continued to ease, becoming less frequent and productive.

By the end of the third week, Caroline was able to sit up for a full afternoon without fatigue. From then on, with each passing day she regained a bit more of her previous disposition.

In the fifth week, Dr. MacLaren recommended that she begin her reintroduction into society. At his suggestion, she took short, brisk carriage rides in Hyde Park, to breathe some fresh air.

She could now endure a few hours of conversation or light activity without tiring. Still, she chose to avoid large, crowded, or cold events, preferring to receive a small number of visitors in her own home. The excuse of precarious health allowed her to restrict her callers to those who had always behaved amicably to her, without appearing or being called unsociable.

~ ~ ~

By Christmas, Caroline’s only symptom was an occasional slight cough. But Dr. MacLaren still considered her state as delicate. He advised vigilance against cold and dampness, stressing in particular that her lungs were still weak and more vulnerable than they had been hitherto.

At the end of January, with the reopening of the Season, Dr. MacLaren declared Caroline fully recovered. He stated that there was no reason for her to avoid participating in any social gatherings.

Her husband, as in previous years, had already accepted invitations for several events. Although Caroline was not always interested in the same engagements as he, she dutifully accompanied him on every occasion.

A marked difference from previous seasons was the absence of many people who would normally attend such events. Their absences were a stark reminder of the grief, hardship, illness, and death that had swept through their circle in the preceding months.

During a soirée, Caroline learned that Lady Harper had gone to Bath some weeks earlier to look after a sick relative, and was likely to remain there for some time. She welcomed the news, as she had long felt nothing but a pronounced unease in Lady Harper’s presence.

Quite unexpectedly, Sir Henry began to visit Caroline’s room with some regularity, resuming the intimacy of the first weeks of their marriage. Most of the time he was evidently too much in his cups, yet she felt a measure of satisfaction after being neglected for so long.

As the months passed, Lady Harper’s continued absence made it easier for Caroline to navigate the events her husband chose to attend. The key, she had discovered, was to stay closer to the more amiable ladies and avoid, whenever possible, the more malicious and gossipy ones, and those who still could not accept her ascension into their circles.

~ ~ ~

It was the first week of May. In a few hours, Caroline and her husband were due to attend the play The Slave, followed by Robinson Crusoe at Covent Garden. She was about to dress for the evening, when she felt a sudden, intense hunger.

Hoping to find freshly baked bread, Caroline went down the quiet corridors of the London townhouse. Her stomach, a new and persistent presence, rumbled with a hunger that defied the fact that it had been less than two hours since she had partaken of the midday meal.

She was about to slip into the kitchen for a quiet morsel, her hand on the door handle, when she heard voices, hushed but distinct. Through the gap in the door, she could see Mrs. Jones and Cook, their heads bent together over the hearth.

“... and I’ve seen him myself, creeping down the hall to the ladyship’s chamber on more than one occasion,” Mrs. Jones whispered, her voice a low, knowing murmur. “Always after a night out at his club, mind you. Stumbling like a fool!”

“That’s to be expected, then,” Cook retorted, her tone matter-of-fact as she stirred a pot. “She’s been picking at her food for weeks now, and then suddenly, she’s devouring enough for two. A woman knows these things, Mrs. Jones. It’s the way of it!”

Caroline froze, her hand still on the door handle. The words washed over her, a cold wave of shock. It was mortifying to realise that her husband's nocturnal visits to her chamber had been noticed by the staff. The humiliation of it, the gossip, the casual dissection of her private life, was a fresh torment.

But it was Mrs. Jones's next comment that hit her with the force of a physical blow. “She’s been sick this morning, too,” she added, confirming the unspoken. “And that pale look about her. The master may think he’s all clever, but nature has its own way, eh?”

Her husband’s ‘cleverness’? Could it be that his ‘proven methods’ had failed?

Caroline had believed him when he had told her about his methods of preventing pregnancy. His promise had kept her from the very fear now taking root in her. Had he lied? Or perhaps, as Mrs. Jones remarked, his drunken state had rendered him careless, forgetting his supposed precautions in a haze of port and brandy.

The realization was sickening. She was not just being gossiped about by the servants, but she was potentially carrying the consequence of her husband's indulgence and carelessness.

Her hunger vanished, replaced by a cold dread. She quietly retreated up the stairs, the sound of their whispers echoing in her ears. Her life was no longer her own, and the gilded cage she lived in now held a new, and terrifying, secret.

~ ~ ~

Unlike Louisa, Caroline had never wished for a child of her own. After three years of marriage, she still held such a conviction. But as the days passed, a new feeling, initially tiny, began to develop in her consciousness. It started with the reasoning that a child would provide her company, a solace she was utterly bereft of.

Slowly, Caroline began to think that once the child was born, her husband would welcome it. Fortified in that belief, Caroline arranged for a visit to a doctor, where she received confirmation of the pregnancy.

She chose the evening meal to tell her husband the exciting news. As soon as Harris, the first footman, left the room after serving the dessert — an apple tart — Caroline began, her voice a careful blend of nonchalance and purpose, "Sir Henry, did you hear Lady Thornton's remarks at dinner last week, about the joys of her ever-increasing nursery?”

Without looking away from his plate, Sir Henry commented, "Indeed? Whether I heard or not, it would be inconsequential, as this is a topic on which I skilfully avoid contributing."

Caroline offered a small, knowing smile. "I noticed you moving away as soon as she started.” She gave a short laugh before continuing, “I used to think like you … Now, I wonder if we are entirely in agreement on this matter.” After a brief moment, she then prompted, “Should we not reconsider our original position?”

Sir Henry lowered his spoon sharply and turned to face her fully, an annoyed expression on his face. "Caroline, when we married, if you recall, we agreed that we both valued our independence, our freedom to travel, and to entertain as we saw fit, without the constant demands of little ones."

“I remember perfectly,” she affirmed, forcing her tone to remain soft, despite her increasing irritation, “but for me, those sentiments have changed. The thought of having a child or two no longer feels troublesome. Rather, I would welcome such a change.”

The shift in his countenance was immediate. He stiffened his posture, sitting rigidly upright. In a dry, clipped, and overly casual manner, delivered with a mocking air, he said, "Oh, have you changed your mind, have you? I should have known better than to ascribe rational purpose to a woman's fleeting sentiments. … My position, however, has not changed and never will!"

Returning to a more composed tone, he stated, possibly desiring to bring the conversation to an end, "Caroline, our life together, as it is now, is what I envisage. Let it be clear that I have no desire whatsoever to introduce children into our arrangement."

Finally, tired of subterfuge, Caroline decided to disclose her condition. “It is too late for that, dear husband! A physician confirmed my condition this morning. … I am pregnant, Sir Henry."

His face went utterly white, and then a terrible, dark flush crept up his neck, reaching his temples. His eyes fixed on Caroline with a look full of anxiety.

“You cannot be serious, Caroline! Do not dare to joke about such matters!"

Her voice trembling but defiant, Caroline said, "I am not joking, Sir Henry … I am indeed pregnant. And I wish you to know that I have changed my mind on the matter. … I now welcome it."

He rose slowly, deliberately, his entire body rigid with suppressed violence. He placed his linen napkin precisely next to his abandoned plate. Leaning across the width of the table, his voice was not loud, but strained and dangerously low.

"Welcome it? You have demonstrated a shocking lack of honour! You have not merely violated an agreement, Caroline, you have committed perfidy against your husband. Do you deny your prior oath to me?”

“I deny nothing concerning the agreement, Sir Henry. But I will not be held accountable for your own reckless lack of vigilance."

His eyes blazed. "What precisely are you suggesting?"

“Only that when you favour my room after hours drinking in your club, your condition precludes sound judgment. … I am not to be held accountable for conduct you yourself can scarcely recall."

His cold control finally fractured. Sir Henry gripped the edge of the table, not slamming it, but holding it until his knuckles were white. He brought his face inches from hers. He did not shout; instead, he spoke through teeth clenched tightly, his voice a low, terrifying hiss, "Silence, you untrustful, treacherous woman! You have ruined me!”

He straightened, stepped back, and left the room without a backward glance.

The silence that followed was absolute, leaving only the sound of Caroline's shallow, ragged breath. She remained frozen in her seat, her mind a dizzying whirl of terror and triumph. She was terrified of the ruin she had wrought and her husband's possible retribution, but a new feeling — a nascent attachment to her child and fearful hope — spread through her.

Through the child, she would finally cement her place in the world, no longer merely a decorative wife, but the indispensable vessel for her husband’s lineage. Yet, his belief that she had deliberately broken a solemn agreement promised a future of cold, unrelenting antagonism, making their shared life an emotional warzone.

~ ~ ~

On the morrow, when Caroline went down for breakfast, Harris told her that Sir Henry had already broken his fast and left home soon after.

For a brief moment she thought that it was better that way. The few hours until his return might be enough for him to calm down. Then, perhaps, they would be able to have a proper conversation and find a way forward.

Caroline had barely started eating, when Mrs. Jones — very apologetic — said that Sir Henry had ordered a carriage to take her back to the country. She was expected to leave immediately, and be gone before he returned.

Her first reaction was shock, quickly followed by anger. It was unfair! He had no right to send her away for something for which he was an equal participant. Yes, she would go — because at that moment, the last thing she wanted was to see him.

~ ~ ~

For the first few hours of the drive, Caroline’s mind was consumed by different emotions, warring for dominance. She was furious over her husband’s accusation, as if she bore the sole responsibility for her condition. After all, he had declared himself an expert in avoiding the very situation now facing them.

But it was the intensity of his response that aroused a chilling fear within her. What would he do next? What would the consequences be for her and their child?

Alongside the anger and the fear, she could not stop herself from feeling a sense of triumph. Since their wedding, her husband had made all decisions, be it where to go or what to spend the money upon. He had never asked or wanted to hear her opinion. Yet, the greatest irony was that his need to control everything had failed to prevent something he so obviously did not wish for.

~ ~ ~

Eventually, Caroline's thoughts drifted towards the landscape they were passing. Unlike the devastation of the previous year, the fields were now back to a vibrant green, typical of May. Still, last year’s rains had left deep scars in the once serene landscape, in the form of large patches of wild or neglected land.

It was exactly what the newspapers had been reporting: everywhere in the country, lands had been abandoned or left uncultivated because bankrupt farmers had been forced to leave them, or had not the money for the present season's planting.

Suddenly, Caroline felt anxious about what she would encounter at her husband’s estate. How would the people have survived when her husband had refused to provide money to pay for the additional expenses caused by the devastating rains? How had they managed with food prices so high? How many had become sick or even died, when even she, despite having the advantage of wealth and no shortage of food, became so ill?

~ ~ ~

As the carriage entered the estate, Caroline noticed a hive of activity. Everyone seemed engaged in planting seeds or harvesting crops. But what caught Caroline’s attention was not their labour, but rather their changed appearance. Everyone looked emaciated, like a visual testimonial of the difficulties and challenges they had faced — namely, food prices too high for people on a limited income.

As soon as she settled in, Caroline asked for Mrs. Smith, eager to find out how the people living in the estate had fared. Mr. Turner’s family had remained healthy and was doing well. Next, Mrs. Smith named several people who had left to join their families elsewhere, but Caroline could not recall having heard nor meeting them before. Nor did she remember any of the people who had become ill — some adults, others children, and even babies. Several did recover, but others did not.

It was the plight of the babies that finally pierced her. Caroline found herself unprepared to hear news so dark. Yes, the London newspapers had consistently reported about the hardship people had been facing, but only here, facing the truth head on, did those reports become unequivocally real.

Even if Caroline did not know personally any of the people Mrs. Smith had mentioned, still her heart squeezed in unexpected sorrow. She felt a deep regret at not persisting with her requests, until her husband released funds to assist those living in the estate. She felt as if she had utterly failed them.

~ ~ ~

Upon hearing about the hardship faced by several families in the estate, Caroline’s anger at her husband reached new heights. He seemed completely devoid of empathy. He neither cared for her nor for the people earning him a living.

Her first instinct was to ignore him for the whole duration of her sojourn in the country. She knew, however, that she was wholly dependent on him. She still feared that he might retaliate for her unexpected pregnancy, a development he viewed as entirely of her making. It was illogical, of course, but that had not seemed to matter to him.

It was imperative that she ignore her feelings and instead find a way to break their impasse. If she allowed their animosity to linger, it could become an insurmountable barrier, making any further communication impossible.

After much thought, she decided to bridge the gap by writing frequently to him. Deciding to act before she changed her mind, she walked to her writing desk and sat down.

That first letter provided a template for all subsequent ones. She opened with news of the affairs in the estate. She listed the fields that were still too wet for planting and the ones that had recovered. She wrote about the spring harvest, noting how the farmers were happy to see the land slowly returning to normal. She mentioned that much of the woodlands had dried enough for the partridges and the pheasants to once again lay their nests in the ground.

But she ostensibly avoided writing about the farmers’ financial hardship, lest he take it as a criticism of his refusal to provide extra money to assist them.

She finished the letter with information about her health, their child’s development, and concluded with an invitation for him to visit.

Although he never replied, she continued to faithfully write to him every Sunday, after church.

~ ~ ~

Caroline was healthy and strong. Her pregnancy was proceeding well. Still, Mr. Vickers recommended that she rest for several hours, every afternoon. Had anyone else made such a suggestion, she may not have taken it too seriously. But after Mr. Vickers' care for her during her illness the previous year, she now trusted him implicitly. So, even if the lack of activity left her low-spirited, she followed his instructions to the letter.

Confined to the house for most of the day, Mrs. Smith became her saviour. Not only was she hardworking, reliable and honest, but she also had a close connection with the manor’s servants and the tenant farmers' families. She provided Caroline with news about the goings-on in the estate, reducing her sense of isolation.

Mrs. Smith, Sally and Caroline developed a kind of ritual. Every afternoon they assembled in Caroline’s sitting-room, each one busy making something for the baby’s layette. Mrs. Smith concentrated on sewing simple items. Sally, rather skilled at sewing, made gowns for the baby’s everyday use while Caroline embroidered them.

While she sewed, Mrs. Smith spoke about the happenings in the estate. She related that Mr. Turner had shared the money Caroline left him with other families in need. He had paid for the medication his wife’s neighbour required, without which she may not have survived.

Caroline pondered that revelation. She was touched by Mr. Turner’s generosity, and his willingness to share the little money she had left him with other families. It spoke of a rare goodness.

Without knowing anything about the Turners, from their first encounter, Caroline had felt an uncommon ease in her interaction with them. She had not felt superior to Thomas or to his father, as she often did when speaking to servants. Their conversations were devoid of artifice or empty words. Perhaps, she had instinctively recognised their innate virtue, and as a result she had unknowingly lowered her protective walls.

~ ~ ~

After much insistence, Mr. Vickers had agreed to Caroline's visiting the lending library once a week. However, he stipulated several conditions: the groom was to choose the best roads and drive slowly, to avoid jarring movements. Caroline was to be accompanied by a footman to provide assistance if necessary. And the carriage was to stop right in front of the library, so that Caroline would not have to walk in the heat. Also, she was not supposed to walk through the streets and visit shops when she was out.

After securing Caroline’s agreement, Mr. Vickers informed Mrs. Smith about this new arrangement. She wholeheartedly agreed with him and was sure that Roberts would be happy to accompany his mistress wherever she needed to go.

Visiting the library was like an antidote to Caroline's ennui. Mrs. Barnes was always good-humoured; she was also very knowledgeable and eager to answer Caroline’s questions about her pregnancy, having had six children herself.

Hearing about Caroline’s displeasure with prolonged rest, Mrs. Barnes suggested that she knit clothes for her child. Knitting had been her saviour during her third pregnancy, when she had been confined to her room for several months.

Caroline thought it a good idea, but confessed that she could not knit. Mrs. Barnes wasted no time. She produced some spare wool from the staff room, then showed Caroline how to cast on the stitches to begin a knitting project. They started with a tiny shawl, easy and quick to make, according to Mrs. Barnes.

It was indeed quick and easy. By the end of their meeting, the shawl was completed; and Mrs. Barnes complimented Caroline on the evenness of her stitches.

She then suggested that Caroline try knitting a blanket next. Caroline was eager to try, but she would need to go to the haberdashery to buy wool. Then she noticed the footman already waiting for her. His presence meant that, according to Mr. Vickers, it was time for her to return home.

In her typical fashion, Mrs. Barnes suggested that the solution was very simple. She sent her assistant to the haberdashery and ten minutes later she returned with balls of wool in the colours Muted Sage Green and Ivory — for, according to Mrs. Barnes, such a colour combination would make an elegant, comforting, and visually rich blanket.

Within days, knitting became an enjoyable new hobby for Caroline. The first blanket was completed. For the next one, she decided, she would use a different combination of colours and attempt a more complicated pattern.

Each time she went to the library, Caroline learned a new knitting technique, and soon she had assembled a small collection of socks, booties, shawls and blankets for the baby. She was keen to try bonnets and spencers next, but she needed to improve her technique further before attempting them.

~ ~ ~

At the end of July, Caroline received the six special occasion baby gowns she had ordered from a seamstress Mrs. Barnes had recommended. The gowns were beautifully — a truly professional work — made with fine Indian muslins and Honiton lace and embroidered with the finest cotton threads.

By the end of August, the baby’s layette was essentially completed. All that it needed now was the very important christening gown. Caroline had written to her husband, enquiring if his family possessed such a gown and if their child might be baptised in it.

As with many of her previous enquiries, that one too had remained unanswered. Tired of waiting for his reply, Caroline had written to Charles asking if she could use their family gown for her child’s christening. It was the gown Louisa, Charles, and she had worn when they were baptised. The reply came within days, including the gown itself together with a letter from Jane.

It had been years since Caroline had seen the gown. Unwrapping it felt too important a moment not to share. She asked Mrs. Smith and Sally to join her in the sitting-room. They looked expectantly as Caroline carefully opened each of the many layers of undyed muslin.

Then, the most magnificent gown appeared before them. It was made of the finest Indian muslin and French Alençon lace. The embroidery, an intricate pattern of trailing vines and sprigs of roses, was the most exquisite work Caroline had ever seen.

The gown brought memories of her mother, who had commissioned such a gown at enormous expense, and had always wished the best for her children. Caroline’s eyes filled with tears. What would her mother think of the situation she found herself in now?

~ ~ ~

Caroline remained hopeful that her husband would eventually change his mind and visit her in the country. Yet, time passed without her seeing or hearing from him.

In October, when Caroline was entering the eighth month of her pregnancy, Sir Henry finally travelled to the estate. He made it clear at once that his presence was solely due to a land dispute with a neighbour and he would leave as soon as the matter was resolved.

Throughout his stay, he evinced no interest in Caroline or the changes in her figure. Neither did he appear to care that he was on the precipice of fatherhood.

Less than a week after his return, he announced that the matter with the neighbour had been settled and he would depart the following morning.

Caroline pleaded with him to take her with him, but he refused. Neither did he agree to remain for the birth, offering vague excuses as to why he had to be in London.

During breakfast, Caroline again pleaded to be allowed to travel with him. When he again refused, she could no longer conceal her anger and frustration.

She complained bitterly about his attitude. He responded that he had little interest in her opinion. Soon they were embroiled in an intense and vengeful confrontation, where insults and spiteful words were exchanged, with little regard to their effect.

An hour later, her husband was gone, having told her not to expect to see him for the next few months. For a while Caroline remained seated, merely weeping. It was only slowly that she decided that, for the child's sake, she must endeavour to conquer her distressing emotions.

Hoping that physical exertion would calm her mind, she set out for a walk. She intended to go no further than the kitchen gardens, but as the minutes passed and her anger had still not abated, she kept walking. She did not stop even when she reached the woods.

For someone unaccustomed to walking upon uneven paths, the muddy and slippery ground, after two days of rain, had to be negotiated with extra care, especially as her balance was poor, due to her advanced pregnancy. Unfortunately, in her heightened emotional state, she was less careful than she ought to be, and when she tried to step over a fallen branch, she stumbled.

In that second, while trying to right herself and avoid the fall, Caroline was overcome by fear of harming her child. She managed to twist her body in such a way that she fell on her side rather than on her front. But in her attempt to protect her womb, her left foot caught in the branch and twisted. The pain was immediate and excruciating. Caroline cried aloud, before she passed out.