Charles’ expression softened. "You did not make Jane ill."
"I am so very frightened," she admitted.
The words emerged so quietly that she was not certain Charles had heard them. Then his face crumpled and he stepped forwards, gathering her into his arms. Caroline held herself stiffly for only a moment before giving way. She pressed herface against his shoulder and clung to him. "I am sorry," Charles murmured into her hair. "For all of it."
"So am I."
A rustle of skirts came from beside the fire, and Louisa wrapped her arms around them both without asking permission. "I refuse to sit here and watch the two of you reconcile without me."
Caroline let out an unsteady laugh.
Mr Hurst remained beside the mantel, watching them over the rim of his glass. "Am I expected to join in this peculiar sibling bonding?"
Louisa did not lift her head from Caroline’s shoulder. "No, darling."
"That is a relief," he said, and returned his attention to his drink.
Mr Hurst retired shortly after, but the three siblings remained together before the fire, Charles’ arm firm around Caroline’s shoulders and Louisa pressed close against her side. For the first time that evening, Caroline allowed herself to stop thinking. She closed her eyes and let the tiredness that had suddenly overcome her claim her. All they could do was wait.
She did not know how much time had passed before the sound of wheels upon the drive brought them all upright, but the skyhad begun to brighten with the early light of day. Charles was up and out of the room before Caroline and Louisa had fully regained consciousness. They followed more slowly, reaching the hall just as the front doors were opened and Mr Darcy stepped inside, pale with exhaustion and still dressed for riding.
A second man entered behind him. He carried a physician’s case in one hand and removed his hat with the other, revealing dark hair dampened by the night air. He looked older than the boy Caroline remembered, broader through the shoulders and more serious about the eyes, but she knew him before he lifted his head.
Thomas. Her Thomas.
She saw the recognition dawn in his eyes and his mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She could feel the blood pumping in her ears and for one horrible moment she thought her legs may simply give way beneath her. But she simply stared at him, her tired mind refusing to make sense of his presence in front of her.
Then Mr Darcy broke the spell. "Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, this is Dr Parodi."
Chapter Sixteen
Thomas, October 1811, Netherfield, Hertfordshire
Thomas had imagined seeing Caroline again so many times that he ought to have been prepared for it.
He had imagined returning to Scarborough and finding her upon the beach where they had first met, standing beside the broad flat rock with the wind pulling at her skirts as though only an afternoon or two had passed. He had imagined coming upon her by chance in London, surrounded by fashionable people who would know nothing of the girl she had once been. Of her catching his eye in a crowd and running to him—propriety be damned. At other times, when hope had been harder to sustain, he had imagined her looking directly at him and turning her face away, disgusted that she had ever considered a man so thoroughly beneath her.
He had never imagined her standing in the entrance hall of a strange house in Hertfordshire, staring at him as though he had risen from the dead.
Caroline. His own dear Caroline.
The name struck through him with such force that for a long heartbeat, he forgot why he was there. Caroline looked nothing like the polished young woman he had expected her to become. Her gown was badly crumpled, as though she had slept in it or not slept at all. Her dark hair had fallen almost entirely from its pins and hung loose about her shoulders, tangled in places and curling wildly around her face. There were deep smudges beneath her eyes, and her face was pale. Thomas had never seen anything so beautiful.
She was no longer the uncertain girl who had sat crying upon the beach, though he could still see her beneath the exhaustion. She was older, her face finer and more sharply formed, but her eyes were unchanged. Those dark, expressive eyes remained fixed upon him with such naked disbelief that the hall and everyone within it seemed to disappear.
His hand tightened around the handle of his case. He wanted to cross the hall and take her face between his hands. He wanted to ask whether she had thought of him or whether she had received the small parcels he had wrapped and sent with such care. More than anything, he wanted to touch her and discover that she was real.
Then Mr Darcy spoke. "Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, this is Dr Parodi."
The words returned Thomas sharply to himself. There was a young woman above stairs who was gravely ill and a family who had spent the night fearing for her life. Whatever questions had remained unanswered for almost five years must continue to wait.
Thomas inclined his head, forcing his attention towards the fair-haired gentleman who had stepped forwards. "Mr Bingley."
"Thank God you are here." Mr Bingley crossed the remaining distance and caught Thomas' hand between both of his. His cravat was missing and his coat badly creased, while the redness around his eyes suggested he had slept very little. "Miss Bennet collapsed during dinner. She has not regained consciousness, and Jones, the apothecary, believes the illness has spread to her lungs."
Thomas forced his gaze from Caroline and looked towards the staircase. "Take me to her."
Mr Bingley turned at once. Thomas followed, aware of Caroline moving behind him before he heard the soft rustle of her crumpled skirts. Every part of him strained to turn and look at her again. He kept his gaze fixed upon the stairs and tightened his hold upon the case until the familiar pressure of the handle steadied him. There would be time enough to discover what remained between them.
