Caroline nibbled the sandwich cautiously and then, finding it tolerable, continued. The cheddar was creamy and tart, and the bread was soft with a delicious, seeded crust—a far cry from the stale loaf and tasteless cheese she had envisioned. Perhaps the poor ate better than she’d previously thought. Mrs Grimley reached for a slice of apple cake, though she made no attempt to eat it. Instead, she brought it to her husband’s lips. “You simply must try this cake, Mr Grimley.”
“Why thank you, Mrs Grimley.” He accepted the cake with far more gusto than Caroline thought appropriate outside of the bedchamber, his lips coming dangerously close to his wife’s fingers and lingering suggestively.
“What do you think of the flavour, Mr Grimley?” his wife inquired anxiously, as if awaiting the most important news of her life.
“Why, Mrs Grimley,” said he, staring into her eyes with the kind of rapturous adoration Caroline had only ever seen on the faces of cherubim on church frescoes, “I think it the mostmarvellous cake I ever tasted. You simply must try it.” As if executing the moves of some hitherto agreed-upon dance, he picked up a piece of cake in turn and fed it to his wife.
“Why, Mr Grimley, I am quite in agreement,” she said breathlessly, as soon as the morsel touched her lips. “It is marvellous cake indeed.”
Caroline felt hysteria bubbling inside her. She wanted very much to look elsewhere—in fact, would have paid quite a lot to remove this entire scene from her mind forever—but seemed unable to actually turn her head away. The exchange held all the grim interest of a carriage accident; one did not necessarily wish to see any actual carnage, but simply could not help gawking at it just the same. She would have given half her entire fortune to have Lady Catherine de Bourgh present in this moment; the ensuing verbal slaughter would have surely satiated Caroline for the rest of her life.
“My excellent wife, you have the most perfect taste of anybody I have ever met,” declared he.
“My excellent husband,” said Mrs Grimley, blushing, “I think the very same of you.”
“So, Mr Acton,” Georgiana said, more loudly than she ordinarily spoke, and Caroline at last managed to tear her eyes from the awful scene unfolding in front of her. “How goes your painting? The last time I saw you, I believe you were painting something for the tenant of the estate near the valley, were you not?”
“It goes well enough, Miss Darcy.” Mr Acton smiled at Georgiana, and Caroline thought she could sense a touch of relief in it. “You are kind to ask, and your memory is as excellent as ever.” He cradled a cup of tea in his hands, his expressiontender. “It took a little longer than I had expected, but I finished my latest commission a fortnight ago.”
“You surely cannot yet know, Miss Bingley, that Mr Acton paints wonderful landscapes,” Miss Merryhill said, her voice warm and affectionate. “I never saw such beautiful paintings in all my life.”
“And yet you will not let me give you one,” said he, smiling, and the tips of Miss Merryhill’s ears pinked.
“You mean I will not let you give me another one,” she corrected, “for I keepChrome Hill During a Rainstormupstairs.” Her ears turned a darker shade of pink. “The morning light suits it best,” she added, as if justifying her decision.
Upstairs?Caroline wondered, suddenly far more interested in the conversation.In her bedchamber, perhaps?
“I seem to recall,” Mr Grimley said, still gazing at his wife with tender affection, “that you once admired a painting of Mr Acton’s, did you not, Mrs Grimley?”
“Oh, Mr Grimley, how sweet you are to remember such a trifling detail!” she cried. “Indeed I did.”
Caroline reached for another sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth.If my mouth is constantly full, she told herself,then I am at no risk of saying something which will displease Georgiana and cause me to fail my test.She chewed, doing her best to focus on the sharp taste of the chutney, but the temptation was so strong, and these people were so unbelievably ridiculous.This is how victims of torture must feel,she decided miserably. Minus the cheese, of course.
Mr Grimley turned to Mr Acton. “Do you still possess that painting, sir?”
“Do you recall which one it was?” the artist inquired.
Mrs Grimley frowned. Evidently, thinking of something other than Mr Grimley required significant effort. “It was a lovely rendering of the village,” she eventually managed, “and I believe that the stream ran in a bright slash down the right-hand side.”
“Ah, yes,A Sunday Morning Before Church Bells Toll. I still have it.” Mr Acton’s smile was rueful. “I still have most of my paintings, unfortunately.”
“Would you consider selling that painting to us?” Mr Grimley asked.
“I would be delighted to,” said he, smiling. “Though the lord who commissioned my latest piece has been kind to me, as have several people in the surrounding area, I am afraid it is not what you might call a steady income. I am very grateful indeed to make any sale.”
“There, Mrs Grimley,” her husband said with some satisfaction. “You shall have your heart’s desire, and Mr Acton shall have his, too.”
“Oh, but you are my heart’s desire, Mr Grimley,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him in a manner no doubt designed to be coy, but which merely made her look as if she were about to faint.
That was the last straw. “If I have to hear one more address from either Grimley to the other,” Caroline murmured, as the conversation continued around them, “then I am going to throw myself out of the window.”
“We are on the ground floor, Miss Bingley,” Georgiana pointed out, barely moving her lips.
“Thank you for the reminder, Miss Darcy. In that case, I shall run upstairs first.”
Georgiana shot her a sidelong glance which spoke as loudlyas any shout. Sullenly, Caroline subsided and helped herself to a third sandwich. Did Georgiana really expect her to spend an entire afternoon with these people? She wasn’t even sure if she could get through the next hour. She’d expected a test, certainly, but this was less of a gentle examination and more of a trial by fire.
There weren’t enough cheese sandwiches in the world to ameliorate this descent into hell.
