Chapter 34: Caroline
Bingley rode north, first along the Longstone road, then turning onto the Sheffield road, which would in time lead him to the Doncaster turnpike. At half past ten, he drew up at an inn to bespeak a light meal.
“Daniel, take Spartan and see that he is fed and watered. Meet us inside. We shall eat and then move on.”
As the men left the yard and made their way toward the front entrance, Bingley caught sight of a familiar coach on the road ahead. He stopped and watched until it came clearly into view. It was his coach, the smaller one Caroline had taken to travel north.
“Christopher, go on inside and eat,” he said quietly. “I believe that is my coach coming up the road.”
The young man squinted toward it. “Yes, sir. That’s old Briggs driving.”
“Very well, go in and eat. I shall send Briggs and Frank to join you presently. I will speak with my sister first.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the man had gone inside, Bingley strode back into the yard and half concealed himself behind a shed, lest his sister see him too soon and take fright and flee from him. When the carriage halted, and Frank let down his mistress, Bingley stepped forward.
“Caroline,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind, “I have been searching for you. Come, let us walk so that we may speak privately.”
She raised her eyes and, upon seeing him, fell upon his neck. “Charles! I was coming to Pemberley in search of you.”
“In search of me?” he asked in astonishment. “Why are you not with your husband and his family on the farm?”
Her expression crumpled. “Augustus is not a gentleman. He would not listen to me, nor would my uncle or aunt. I had no other recourse but to flee from them and find you.”
Charles took her into his arms, his voice faltering. “Not a gentleman? Did he… did he force himself upon you?”
“No, I ran from him.”
“But how did you know where to find me?”
“When I arrived at my uncle’s house, I wrote to you at Netherfield, asking why you had instructed Briggs to bring me there when I had requested to be driven to Leeds, to my Aunt Martha’s. My uncle posted the letter himself, for he also wished to know why I had been deposited at his door without notice. Briggs wished to return with the carriage, but I would not permit him to leave until I received your reply.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes narrowing and her brow drawing together. “I heard nothing from you, and then Augustus arrived with an express. You had offered me in marriage without so much as a word to me, and in that moment, he revealed his true character. I attempted to escape him three times, yet in the end he carried me off to Scotland to be married over the anvil. By then, we had been two days upon the road,without a chaperone, and I could not refuse him. Our family knows of it now, and thus I find myself married.”
Her expression was now resolute, though the memory plainly cost her effort. “When Augustus proposed to take rooms at an inn and bring me to his bed, I refused him outright. I told him I would scream if he so much as attempted it, and he soon perceived that I spoke in earnest. He had imagined I was teasing him, employing what he called the customary artifices of elegant females, but I disabused him of that notion at once.”
She buried her face in her hands and began to weep. After a few minutes, she had composed herself and continued her story.
“From your express, I learned that you and my sister were already at Pemberley. I put Augustus off until we returned to my uncle’s estate, but he would not desist. He insisted that, as his wife, I was bound to admit him to my bed. One evening, I stole away and ordered Briggs to prepare your carriage. I had my pin money still, so I possessed enough to travel south and pay for lodging and fodder for the horses.”
Bingley regarded her with concern. “But, sister, why are you alone? Why did you not bring your maid?”
“Martina refused to come with me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Uncle threatened to turn her off if she were caught aiding my escape. So she remained behind.”
“And why should Uncle suppose you would flee?”
“Because he would not listen to me,” she cried. “I wrote you a letter, but he refused to post it. He said your express had warned him that I was attempting to spread damaging gossip about your friend. After that, he forbade me from sending any letters. When I begged him to write to you himself, asking that you visit andhelp me reconcile matters with my cousin, he refused again, saying that no one ought to come between a man and his wife. I appealed to Augustus next, asking him to take me down to Pemberley so that I might speak with you. He would not. He said he would not permit me to airhis dirty laundryto my family. My only recourse was to flee.”
She looked up at him imploringly. “Charles, please confer with Augustus. Explain to him why a woman must needs come to know her husband before she can endure his attentions. His notions are barbaric.”
At this, she broke down once more. Bingley led her away from the road into a small stand of trees and handed her his handkerchief.
At last, he said quietly, “Caroline, Augustus has always been handsome, wealthy, and his figure is the pattern card of masculinity. In my experience, women have been ready to fall at his feet if he but smiled at them. Had I known you would take such a dislike to him, I would have been more circumspect in seeing to your future. He seemed the cousin with the greatest resolve, the one best able to manage your tricks, and that is why I sent you to him. He needed a wife, and I confess I thought your beauty and coloring would particularly attract him. He is nine-and-twenty and an only child. Uncle Ambrose has long wished him to marry and begin his nursery, fearing his fortune might otherwise descend to another line.”
Caroline spoke then.
“Charles, I know we parted under strained circumstances. I have ever been headstrong and willful, and I wish now that I had learned to comport myself as a lady. Had I behaved well, I might even now have been one of the guests at Pemberley, instead ofbeing wedded to a man who will not hear me. It has been a harsh lesson, one I would not wish upon my worst enemy.”
