Caroline, at last free from her stint on the receiving line, walked with Jane and Louisa to the punch bowl. There she saw Eliza Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner with a young lady Caroline had not met that evening.
“Caroline, Louisa,” Elizabeth said, “allow me to introduce to you a very good friend of mine, Mrs. Brandon. Marianne, Miss Bingley, Sir John’s intended, and her sister, Mrs. Hurst.”
Caroline smiled. “I am pleased to be able to meet you finally, Mrs. Brandon. Sir John has told me so much of Colonel Brandon and his lovely Marianne that I feel I know you already.”
“You are too kind,” replied Marianne as Kitty, Georgiana, and Anne de Bourgh joined them. “His friends have despaired for years that Sir John would ever settle down, but I see we had no reason for fear, for he was waiting for the right lady.”
Caroline was unsure of the lady’s sincerity, but she chose to ignore it. Besides, she had been dealing with people doubting her improvements for two years. “Thank you, but I am sure I deserve no such praise.” She looked at the young lady, who appeared to be surely no more than one and twenty, and asked, “Tell me, to which regiment is your husband attached?”
Marianne looked askew at Caroline’s odd question. “My husband is not with a regiment at the present time. He is what the War Office calls ‘inactive,’ but he has not resigned his commission. He holds an honorary position with the Life Guards.”
“Oh…” Caroline, disappointed, looked away crossly. She had hoped that this young woman could give her some idea as to what was expected of a colonel’s wife.
The silence in the room brought Caroline abruptly to her senses. She blanched at Mrs. Brandon’s hurt expression. Knowing her only by reputation, the lady could only take Caroline’s sigh as a snub.
“Mrs. Brandon, I am afraid I have given offense; please forgive me. I meant no disregard towards your husband. I am only disappointed. I am soon to be an officer’s wife, but I do not know my duties. I had hoped you could give me guidance.”
Caroline’s eyes began to fill with mortification; she could not offend the wife of Sir John’s particular friend! “I spoke ill. I had hoped to call upon you as my mentor, now—”
Marianne, touched by her sincere remorse, put her hand on the older woman’s arm. “I am afraid you will have to look elsewhere for a mentor. We shall just be friends, shall we? Is that so bad?”
Caroline, surprised and relieved, eagerly accepted the olive branch. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Brandon,” Caroline smiled as she took Marianne’s hands in hers. The other ladies present had various reactions. Jane looked on with a proud expression at Caroline’s modesty, Elizabeth was pleased, and Anne seemed shocked that Caroline would apologize.
Caroline was thankful for the interruption when Mary joined the group and immediately engaged her friend in conversation. This gave Marianne a chance to speak to Kitty.
“I bear greetings from Delaford Parsonage, Kitty. Is Mr. Southerland here?”
“No, parish business kept him at Kympton. He is overseeing the enlargement of the parsonage.”
Marianne smiled. “No matter—now that I consider it, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars will prefer to wish him joy in person… say at Hertfordshire in February?”
At this, Kitty turned positively red.
Caroline had been honored with the request that she assist Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner in the debuts of Georgiana and Kitty, a commission she accepted with pleasure and only a tiny bit of self-satisfaction. Kitty’s debut was short-lived; she almost immediately attracted the attention of a Mr. Southerland, son of a wealthy family from Scotland and destined for the church. Kitty was much amazed that a clergyman could be so charming and sensible—and so handsome. He deserved closer study, and so her fate was sealed, especially as he had gained the living at Kympton.
Mention of Kitty’s nuptials reminded Caroline of the secret she meant to tell her and the other ladies. “Kitty, I am so happy for you and Mr. Southerland, but I am afraid that I have some news that, while delightful on the whole, may give you disappointment and regret for me.”
“Oh, Caroline, what is it? Do not say you cannot come to my wedding!”
“Kitty, I am sorry, but—”
“Caroline!”
All turned at the source of the interruption. Walking towards them was a tall woman in a gown of the latest fashion. Caroline’s expert eye took in Annabella Norris’s outfit at a glance. She was certain the gown was costly, but no amount of money could buy refinement. She then noticed the hard glint in Annabella’s eye, which immediately put Caroline on her guard.
“Annabella, you look lovely tonight,” she greeted the woman in all false affection.
“I simply had to take another look at your necklace. What an unusual color for a cameo! Did you have it especially made?”
“Specially made it certainly was, but not at my request. This is a gift from Sir John.”
“How thoughtful of him! Orange is certainly your color.” Caroline hardly blinked at the attack, while the other ladies stood in silence. Annabella turned to them. “Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Bingley, good evening. And of course, I am acquainted with Miss Bennet.” She nodded at Mary.
“Mrs. Tucker,” Mary retorted.
“Oh yes, you married that young man from Hertfordshire, did you not? A childhood sweetheart, I dare say. What does he do—a clerk of some sort, is he? Country romances are so charming!” Turning to Kitty, she continued, “So you are now Miss Bennet, unless you have run off lately?” She finished with a giggle.
Kitty showed a little hurt at the reminder of Lydia’s elopement. “I still own Miss Bennet for a few months more. I am lately betrothed to Mr. Southerland.”
“How wonderful! Everyone is getting married!” She ignored Mrs. Gardiner and cast her eyes upon Marianne. “But I have not been introduced to this lady.”
Caroline was forced to do the honors. “Mrs. Brandon, allow me to present Mrs. Norris, wife of Mr. Norris of Park Place. Annabella, this is Mrs. Brandon, wife of Colonel Brandon of Delaford in Dorsetshire.”
Annabella narrowed her eyes. “Were you not a Dashwood? Are you not related to John Dashwood of Norland?”
“John Dashwood is my brother,” Marianne admitted.
“Yes! I remember you now! You had your debut three years ago.” Marianne paled at this reminder of her disastrous Season. “You must know my particular friend, Sophia Willoughby!”
Marianne reeled as if struck by a blow.
“She will be so pleased that I made your acquaintance.” Annabella nearly purred.
Of all the other ladies present, only Elizabeth knew the particulars of that terrible spring. Almost white with anger, she began to respond when she felt a touch on her arm. Turning, Elizabeth saw Caroline, who gave her a knowing glance.
No, Elizabeth—she is my prey.
Caroline did not know why Mrs. Brandon was so distressed, but she meant for this lady to be her friend and would stand for Annabella’s antics no longer.
“Annabella!” she cried, interrupting her dissection of Marianne. “I cannot tell you how I admire your dress! What an unusual color! Very rare, I dare say. Very few women look becoming in it, do you not agree?” she finished with a small smirk.
Annabella’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed. No one could miss the insult carelessly hidden in her words—as Caroline intended.
The others stood back—a challenge had been accepted, swords had been drawn, and the battle had now been joined.
Annabella’s target that evening had been her former protégé. Attacking Caroline’s friends was a way of softening her opposition. She was no fool; it would not do to insult the wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy or the wife of his particular friend. The others, however, were fair game. Now that Caroline had forced the issue, it was time to begin.
It should have been no contest. Annabella Norris was one of the most celebrated artists of the false compliment, the cutting remark, and the polite insult among the fashionable set. Having achieved nothing save marrying a rich, dull man who enjoyed billiards and brandy more than his wife’s body, she lived to hurt others so that she could ignore the pain in her own empty soul. It was her one joy. Caroline had been the student, she the master, and Caroline should have been out of practice.
However, there was a grave misunderstanding regarding Caroline’s transformation. Caroline Bingley never had completely destroyed what she was. She had only submerged it by exercising what she had the potential to be. Kindness had been triumphant, but darkness was there still, held under tight regulation. All Caroline required to deal with Annabella was to set her inner witch free.
“Caroline,” Annabella began, “you were missed at my wedding. I am very sorry that you did not attend.”
With perfect composure Caroline replied, “I am sorry indeed that I could not attend, but as I stated in my note to you and Mr. Norris wishing you joy, my sister had need of my presence, as your nuptials coincided with her confinement.” The note had as much existence as the wedding invitation. “’Tis a joy to be engaged in employment in the service of one’s family, is it not?” Caroline continued, knowing that Annabella was estranged from her only brother.
“I had not known you so maternal or so attached to your sisters!” replied the other, accenting on the plural. “You had not expressed such desires before, but one’s views change as years go by, I dare say.”
Caroline did not rise to the bait, but said instead, “Yes, I had expressed foolish views in the past, but one often disparages what one does not have, yet craves.” Caroline glanced at Elizabeth, who did not fail to note the apology hidden in her words. “But with the years comes wisdom, I think, and my goddaughter, Susan, has been such a source of delight that I quite look forward to experiencing the same unspeakable joy my dear sister Jane enjoys with children of my own. And Sir John joins me in this desire.”
Annabella giggled. “Caroline Bingley a mother? Pardon me, my dear friend, but you must own it to be excessively diverting! However, I am sure you would make the most excellent of mothers. Think of the expense you shall save by not employing nurses or governesses, for you shall be so attentive that no one shall touch your children save yourself.”
“Indeed I deserve no praise for such talents,” Caroline said gravely, purposely misconstruing the intended insult, “but”—she turned to Jane—“with guidance from my sister”—then to Elizabeth—“and my friends”—finally back to Annabella—“I shall bear the burden tolerably well.”
Annabella was taken aback; the smiles on the faces of the Hertfordshire sisters gave the lie to stories of incivility between Miss Bingley and her relations, and the lady’s unexpected humility set Mrs. Norris off her stride.
Caroline knew this was the moment to attack. “But I must say I am concerned for you, dear Annabella.”
“Concerned? Whatever do you mean?”
“Why, surely you have heard the news from Vienna? It was in all the papers.”
“News? What news? What does it signify what happens in foreign places?”
“Then you do not know. His Majesty’s delegation has convinced the other parties at the Congress of Vienna to join Britain’s ban on the trading of African slaves. Sir John has informed me that the Admiralty has sent squadrons off the African coast to suppress the slave trade. ’Tis a wonderful thing for those poor savages, to be sure—but, Annabella, how will Mr. Norris survive without sugar and slaves?” Caroline said, referring to Mr. Norris’s plantations in the West Indies, the source of the bulk of his income. “But I am being foolish. Mr. Norris is a very wise and clever man; he will think of something. You have nothing to concern yourself over, my dear. Forgive me.”
Annabella’s alarm showed on her face. Mr. Norris had inherited the properties upon his father’s untimely drowning during a hurricane. Had he not mentioned that very morning the possibility that he may have to travel to inspect his properties in the New World? She had not seen any danger; she only reflected with relief that with him gone, she would not have to submit to the wifely duties he expected every fortnight. Mr. Norris had seemed irritable and out of sorts lately, but she paid it no mind. She thought that one of his horses had lost again. She did not pay attention to her husband’s business, but she knew of his income and its source; why else would she have accepted him? Could her situation be imperiled? Would Caroline invent such a thing? Her thoughts in a turmoil, but unwilling to show weakness in front of her opponent, Annabella changed the subject.
“Caroline, you speak of current events and politics with your betrothed? La, but that is a strange manner of courting!” Annabella tried to smile but failed, not realizing she had set her foot onto the very path to which Caroline had led her.
Caroline smiled indulgently. “It would certainly appear thus, but Sir John trusts me to be informed, and for a very good reason. I am glad you brought up this subject, Annabella, for it allows me to explain my unfortunate inability to attend Miss Bennet’s wedding in February.”
Turning to the girl, Caroline continued. “Kitty, I hope you believe that Sir John and I would be most pleased to join you and Mr. Southerland in celebrating your wedding day, but duty calls from far away.” Turning back to Annabella, Caroline assumed her most haughty expression. “My wedding trip shall be on the Continent. Sir John is to join the king’s delegation at the Congress of Vienna as an aide to the Duke of Wellington. I shall be assisting Lady Beatrice in entertaining the dignitaries.”
This sent a shock throughout the entire party. “Lady Beatrice?” gasped Annabella. “Surely you do not mean Lady Beatrice Wellesley?”
“Yes,” said Caroline sweetly as she sprung her trap. “We have received the kindest letter from both the Duke and her ladyship, wishing us joy and a safe journey.”
The fact that Caroline had received an unsolicited letter from the Iron Duke and his cousin, who was acting as his hostess, nearly sent Mrs. Norris reeling. Jealousy and anger overcame what self-control Annabella still possessed. She could only lash out.
“Tell me, Caroline—how did you attach yourself to such a man?” she snarled.
The women gasped at the insinuation implied by such a question. She had gone too far—she should have retrenched—but Annabella cared not. In her pain, she wanted to hurt Caroline as much as she could, even at the risk of her own reputation.
But on Caroline’s part, there was no injury. Annabella had responded just as she knew she would, and she could only regard her former friend with pity and regret. Caroline wondered how she could have been so foolish, so blind. How could she have desired the good opinion of creatures like Annabella over people of character—when she could have cultivated friendships with people like the Bennet women? With an air of sadness rather than triumph, Caroline delivered her coup de grace.
“You may well ask, but I have no firm answer—in fact, I do not know. Sir John is certainly above me in accomplishments and improvements,” she stressed the word, “and I am honored that he would choose me to be his wife and helpmate. I hope I shall make a good one for him. I know I shall labor to make myself worthy of his regard. He has pledged his belief in my abilities, and I have pledged my belief in his honor. He trusts in my mind, and I trust in his heart. I have every expectation of happiness. Few couples, I think, enter into marriage with such a good understanding of each other’s character, but I am fortunate to have some examples among my acquaintance—such as you, Jane, and you, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth smiled at Caroline’s use of her Christian name. It was the ultimate peace offering. “Thank you, dear Caroline,” she offered in return.
Caroline smiled and nodded to her former rival. Returning to Annabella, she said, “But it is comforting to know that in his eyes I hold inducements to devotion other than intelligence, accomplishments, and dowry.” Her hand drifted to her cameo. “But come, ladies, we are taking Jane from her duties. Shall we not return to the gentlemen? It is surely time for the dancing to commence.” With that, Caroline took Jane’s arm and turned to walk towards the ballroom.
Standing in front of her was Sir John, regarding her with a slight smile. He approached them and said, “Allow me,” taking Caroline on one arm and Jane on the other.
As the party moved towards the ballroom, he leaned over and whispered in Caroline’s ear, “Well done.”
Walking behind them, Marianne whispered to Elizabeth, “I am glad I am not her enemy.”