She rose from the chair, fury and pain twisting in her stomach. Usually, when Caroline felt cornered, she reached instinctively for the woman she had spent years creating. This time she was too exhausted and sad to put on a show. "Youthful romance," she said again, but the words broke as they left her. "Is that what you believe it was? A foolish attachment Papa was obliged to end before I came to my senses?"
"Caro, I only know what he told me."
"And you never thought to ask me?"
The first sob escaped with such force that Caroline turned away, furious with herself for allowing it. She pressed one gloved hand against her mouth, but the tears had already begun and years of silence seemed to come apart with them.
"I loved him, Charles. Papa took every choice from me. Then he told you some softened little story in which I was foolish and he had acted for my good, and none of you ever asked how I feltabout any of it." She was sobbing in earnest now, ugly, painful, gulping tears that would not be held back.
Charles crossed the room at once. Caroline tried to step away when he reached for her, but he caught her gently by the shoulders and drew her against him. For a moment she resisted, striking once against his chest before her anger gave way. Then she clutched at his coat and wept with all the violence she had denied herself for years.
He held her for a long time without attempting to quiet her, one hand resting against the back of her head while the silk flowers crushed beneath his palm. He had comforted her in much the same way when they were younger, after bad dreams and punishments and the terrible months after their mother's death. The familiarity of it undid what little composure remained.
"I am sorry," he said at last, his voice low beside her hair. "I did not know how badly you had been hurt. Papa should have told me more, and I should have asked you before accepting his account of it."
Caroline pulled away and wiped angrily at her face. "Do not say that merely because I am crying."
"I am not." Charles kept hold of one of her hands, his thumb moving once across her knuckles. "I cannot change what happened, but I am sorry that you carried it alone."
His kindness made the pain worse, because she knew he meant every word. For a little while, they stood together in silence, Caroline struggling to steady her breathing while Charles watched her quietly.
When he spoke again, his voice remained gentle. "But you cannot continue as you have been, Caro. I do not mean that you ought to forget what happened, only that shutting everyone out will not undo it. You have spent years making certain that no gentleman comes close enough to know you, and I cannot believe it has made you anything but miserable."
Caroline's hand went still within his.
"I promised Papa that I would see you settled well, and I intend to keep that promise, but not because I regard you as some duty he left behind. You are my sister. I want you to have a good man who will value you properly and make you happy."
She looked at him blankly, but Charles had already begun to gather hope from his own words. He went on with more enthusiasm. "Mr Goulding may be exactly that sort of man. Everyone I have spoken to describes him as steady and considerate, and he has managed his estate very well since inheriting it. He is said to be reserved at first, though I am told he becomes much easier once he is comfortable. I think you might like him if you allowed yourself the chance."
The warmth left Caroline by degrees, as if cold were seeping through her boots on a winter's day.
Charles went on, encouraged now, telling her what he had heard of Mr Goulding and how well respected he was in the neighbourhood. Caroline drew her hand from his and smoothed the crushed flower at her temple. When she looked at him again, the anger had gone from her face, and the cool, unfeeling mask she normally wore returned.
"Very well," she said in a dry, steady voice. "I shall meet Mr Goulding. You know what is best for me, Charles. Papa always did."
He recoiled as though she had struck him. "No. Caro, that is not what I meant."
"Is it not? You have chosen a respectable gentleman and explained why I ought to give him a chance. I have agreed. What more would you like from me?"
"I do not want your obedience."
"Then you should not ask for it while I am standing here telling you that I love someone else."
Charles went pale. "I was trying to help you."
"I know." Her voice broke slightly, but she forced it steady. "That is what Papa said too."
She turned towards the door. Charles rose at once and came after her, but stopped when she reached the latch, as though he no longer trusted himself to touch her.
"Caro, please do not leave like this."
She opened the door and stepped into the corridor, closing it quietly behind her.
Mr Darcy stood a short distance away beside the tall window at the end of the passage, an unopened letter hanging loosely from one hand. His attention was fixed upon her, and although his face betrayed little, Caroline knew at once that he had heard more than she would have wished.
She became painfully aware of her swollen eyes and the crushed flowers in her hair. For once, no insult came readily to her.
Mr Darcy inclined his head. "Miss Bingley."
