"It will not pass."
"Then for thy own sake, pray that it does."
Caroline's eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall before him. "I thought you wanted me to be happy."
"I want more for thee than happiness. I want security for thee and for any children tha' may have. I grew up never knowing where my next meal was coming from while my ma and pa worked themselves into early graves. And now tha' would throw everything I have achieved back in my face."
The answer was so earnest that it hurt more than cruelty or dismissal might have done. Her father reached for her, but Caroline stepped back before he could touch her. "I will go to London," she said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, thin and cold. "You need not fear that I shall embarrass you further."
"Caro, lass, please."
She turned and walked from the room before he could see her begin to cry.
Chapter Three
Caroline, June 1807, London
By the time Mr Penrose asked Caroline whether her father intended to purchase an estate, she had been acquainted with him for almost eleven minutes.
He had begun more delicately. First there had been praise of her gown, a deep-green silk which brought warmth to her complexion and highlighted the copper tones in her dark hair, followed by an observation upon the emeralds at her throat and a question about whether she preferred Scarborough to London. Caroline had answered politely, though she suspected even then that Scarborough interested him chiefly because he wished to know how grand a house her father kept there. When he discovered that it overlooked the bay and had been extensively rebuilt upon Mr Bingley's purchase, he began to regard her with even greater interest. From the house, he moved naturally to the mills, from the mills to her father's fortune and from the fortune to the possibility of an estate.
"My father has spoken of it," Caroline said, wishing she had not accepted his invitation to walk through the rooms and hoping her clipped manner would discourage his attention. They hadmoved into a quieter drawing room and already she longed for the protection of the crowd they had left behind. "But he has made no decision."
"A man in his position must surely wish to establish the family properly."
Caroline glanced at him. Mr Penrose was handsome in a mild sort of way, with fair hair arranged to appear artless and a coat cut to make his shoulders appear wider than they were. His eyes were a pale milky blue and it added to a general feeling of colourlessness that made her shudder internally. He had shown little interest in anything Caroline said until the conversation touched upon her father's money. Since then, he had become almost animated.
"My family is already established," she replied, trying to conceal a sigh.
"Of course. I meant only that an estate gives permanence to a name. Trade, however prosperous, may alter with the times."
"And land cannot?"
He looked momentarily uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to him. "Not in quite the same manner," he said slowly, as if explaining something to a small child.
Caroline allowed the silence to remain between them. She had discovered during her weeks in London that many gentlementook silence in a young woman as tacit encouragement and were perfectly willing to fill the space with whatever nonsense came most readily to mind. But she could not think of a single thing to say. She reached into her reticule, pretending to retrieve a handkerchief, but taking the opportunity to touch the small piece of sea glass that she always carried with her. After only the briefest pause, he began explaining the advantages of landed property at length, apparently requiring no reply.
Lady Lonsdale's rooms were crowded enough that the heat had become oppressive. Candlelight caught upon jewels and pale silks, while the sound of several hundred conversations rose beneath the music from the ballroom beyond. Caroline could see Louisa near the open doors, her fair head inclined towards Mr Hurst as he spoke. Whatever he was saying could not have been especially amusing, but Louisa was smiling at him with such unguarded pleasure that Caroline felt a brief, painful twist of envy.
Mr Hurst had attached himself to Louisa almost from the beginning of the Season. He was not brilliant and had no particular interests beyond hunting and consuming prodigious quantities of food as far as Caroline could ascertain, yet he was gentle with her and seemed sincerely delighted by everything she did. Louisa, who had never doubted that happiness would find her, had accepted his admiration as naturally as sunshine.
Caroline had received rather more admiration and hated every second of it. The exact amount of her dowry had somehow become common knowledge within a fortnight of her arrival. Twenty thousand pounds was spoken of nowhere in her hearing, but its presence followed her through every ballroom. It prompted introductions from sharp-eyed mothers and made gentlemen laugh warmly at remarks which were not intended to be amusing. Men with neglected estates praised her intelligence. Younger sons discovered a sudden fondness for the northern coast. One baronet had asked with complete seriousness over pudding whether her full twenty thousand pounds would be paid upon her marriage or whether some portion of it depended upon her father's death.
At the seminary, Caroline's father's fortune had marked her as the daughter of a tradesman. In London drawing rooms, it had become the most attractive thing about her.
Mr Penrose cleared his throat. "Your brother will take over the business in time, I suppose."
"Charles has not yet completed his studies."
"Cambridge, is it?"
"Yes," she said, looking around for their companion, Mrs James, who seemed to spend most of her time at these events gossiping in proximity to the punchbowl.
"And afterward?"
"I believe that is a question for my brother." A megrim was beginning to form behind her eyes and she would have given anything to be back in her bedroom at the rented townhouse.
He smiled as though she had said something arch. "That is a very proper response for a sister."
