Whatever happened to Caroline Bingley after her brother and unrequited love interest married a Bennet sister? Join me in this story of redemptive love and the healing of broken dreams.
Caroline Bingley, beyond frustrated with her brother, Charles and Mr. Darcy both proposing to the Bennet sisters, dreads their upcoming nuptials. For three years her sole focus has been on attaining a marriage proposal from one Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, only to be foiled by a country miss with ‘fine eyes’. Adrift and not sure of her place in life, she meets the mysterious and devastatingly handsome Lord Nathan, who equally vexes and intrigues her.
Lord
Nathan Kerr, third in line to a Dukedom, had a well-earned reputation as a
Rake. He cast all that and his noble title aside to become Mr. Darcy’s vicar in
Kympton, finding contentment in leading his small flock and doing the Lord’s
work. His plan for a quiet, country life is thrown into upheaval when he meets
the fiery Miss Bingley. Can he reconcile his rising desire for the spoiled miss
with how a vicar’s wife ‘should’ behave?
Chapter One
Caroline Bingley
descended the grand staircase and proceeded toward the breakfast room, barely acknowledging
the footman who efficiently pulled a chair away from the table for her. With a
soft swish of silk, she settled on the seat. When the second footman poured
some tea, she deigned to give him a slight nod of approval, but that was
because she was in a fine mood.
She noted through
the window overlooking her sister’s favorite garden that it was a beautiful
Autumn morning, the leaves of the oak trees a riotous flame of red and orange.
October was just around the corner and her good mood, which had been in
evidence since late August, showed no sign of wavering. She’d even gone to
church the day prior for mass and enjoyed the hymns, although the bishop nearly
bored her to tears.
As she fussed with
her morning meal, she mentally ticked off plans she and her brother had for the
upcoming week. Charles had papers to sign with their lawyer to quit the lease
at Netherfield Park and she had a fitting with Madam Beaufort before the much
anticipated Annual Michaelmas Ball at Lady Addleworth’s mansion.
Mr. Fitzwilliam
Darcy was sure to attend the ball. He and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam,
who’d arrived in Town the other day, were spending an inordinate amount of time
with Charles. She hoped it was because Charles finally decided to pursue an
arrangement with Miss Georgiana Darcy. Darcy and the good Colonel, as her
guardians, would finalize the articles of marriage as well as details of the
dowry. With luck, Charles would announce their engagement before the ball and
with his shy little sister taken care of, Mr. Darcy could finally concentrate
on his own happiness.
At last, Charles was
safe from Miss Jane Bennet, although he’d been reminded of her when they had
the misfortune of running into her sister Elizabeth at Pemberley this past
August. For a few days she’d worried Darcy might continue to grow in affection
for the well-tanned miss with muddy hems and ‘fine eyes’, but fortunately she
exited Derbyshire rather abruptly the very next day. Caroline did not need the
ever-present Miss Bennet to ruin her plans for Charles and Georgiana as well as
those for herself. After three long years of careful planning, she would not be
denied her future by a girl of little consequence.
How she longed to be
Mistress of Pemberley. To have others look to her for guidance, to run the
household the way it should. The first order of business would be to dismiss Mrs.
Reynolds. The housekeeper was by far too smug and too familiar with Mr. Darcy.
In fact, she let anyone who knocked on the door run amok within the house and
on the grounds. Such behavior would cease the minute she and Mr. Darcy
exchanged vows. Pemberley needed a strong hand to run efficiently and she had
the fortitude to make it happen.
She bit into a
light-as-air croissant and sighed. This was her only indulgence, otherwise, the
dress Madame Beaufort designed would never fit and she needed to look
spectacular the night of the ball. Darcy would propose before night’s end or
her name wasn’t Caroline Anastasia Bingley.
Their butler,
Hobson, entered the room with a slight bow and signaled the footmen to remove
the food trays. A slight frown creased her forehead. Her sister Louisa took
breakfast in bed and Mr. Hurst rarely awakened before noon, but surely Charles
would be annoyed if he came down and there were no sausages and eggs readily
available.
“Has Mr. Bingley
been down to break his fast?”
“No, Miss. He left
at first light with Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?”
Astonished, she set down her tea cup. “Did he state where they were going?”
“I believe he said
they were going to Hertfordshire, ma’am.”
Laden with heavy
trays, the footmen exited the room and with another slight bow the butler
followed.
“Hertfordshire,” she
mused aloud. “Why on earth would they go to Hertfordshire?”
Her mind whirled
with possibilities. Charles may have decided to complete a final inspection of
Netherfield Park before signing over the lease. She gave her head a quick shake
at the thought. They had a perfectly good steward who took care of those
details. And why would Darcy attend with him? Puzzled, she finished her
croissant and tea before daintily dabbing her mouth with a linen napkin upon
completion.
First thing, before
attending her fitting, she’d write her brother a letter and remind him of his
duties and engagements in London. The last thing she needed was for Charles to
inadvertently come across the ever amiable and angelic Miss Jane Bennet.
Although convinced his desires no longer lay in that direction, she did not
want to take the chance he might second guess his decision to quit Netherfield
Park and Hertfordshire for good.
She took small
comfort in the fact Darcy was along for the journey. If anyone could keep
Charles from becoming entangled with a family of no social standing, and with
the silliest of women in all of England for a mother, it would be Darcy. After
all, it was he who helped convince her brother marrying Jane Bennet would have
been social suicide, and not a moment too soon. After the ball at Netherfield,
Charles was clearly besotted and it took the whole next day to convince him
Jane Bennet did not have the same regard for him. Based on the mother’s words
and actions, her eldest was nothing more than a beautiful fortune hunter.
Satisfied all would be
well, Caroline left the morning room and made her way to an ornate escritoire.
Within minutes she’d penned a quick missive, sanded and blotted the heavy
personalized vellum and skimmed the contents to make sure she hadn’t missed a
thing.
Grosvenor Street, London
September
14, 1812
Dearest Charles,
How wonderful you are attending Netherfield Park one last time before quitting it. Make sure you have not left a stray cravat lying about.
I am but teasing, sweet brother. However, I do want to remind you in the most loving way possible, of your appointment with our solicitor this Thursday. As well, Lady Addleworth’s Annual Michaelmas Ball, which is not until the following Tuesday, but there is much to do beforehand. Where would you be if I did not attend to your social calendar? I am so looking forward to this event as every one of our friends shall be in attendance. This will be a grand affair.
Hoping
this letter finds you in good health. Give my warmest regards to Darcy.
Your loving sister,
Caroline
She sealed and addressed the letter before handing it off to Hobson for mailing. Satisfied her subtle direction would nudge Charles home quickly, she called to have a carriage brought round. Nothing and no one would interfere with her carefully laid plans.
Later in the week…
“Has my sister risen from her bed?” Caroline asked Hobson before handing her pelisse and gloves to her maid, Lucy. She’d returned from visiting Miss Miranda Blake, a thin scrap of a woman she’d met a few weeks prior through their mutual acquaintance, Miss Grantley. Miss Miranda’s father was only a baron, but every step into higher circles of Society brought her closer to becoming Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. Her social resume would be impeccable when he finally proposed.
“She is in the front
parlor.”
“Lucy, layout the
dress we agreed upon for tonight. I shall be dining with Baron Blake’s family
and want no wrinkles in the skirt this time.”
“Yes, miss.” Lucy
gave a polite curtsy and proceeded upstairs with Caroline’s pelisse and gloves.
“Have Mrs. Bentley send
up some tea and cakes,” she told Hobson, who’d closed the front door and now
waited for her to leave the foyer.
“Yes, miss.”
Without a word of
thank you, or even a polite nod at their long-time servant she breezed into the
parlor. Louisa remained seated on a heavily tufted chair by the fireplace, her
feet propped up on a small stool.
“Ah, Caroline. You
have come home at last. I was dreadfully bored.”
“Good afternoon,
Louisa.” Caroline settled on the settee across from Louisa. “I hope you do not
mind, I asked Bentley to send up some tea.”
“That is fine, dear.
You always think of everything.” Louisa slouched back against the chair with a
huge sigh. “La, I am exhausted. I arose but an hour ago.”
“You have been
exhausted a lot, as of late,” Caroline observed, noting the slight pallor of
Louisa’s complexion. “You may want to stay home a few evenings this week. You
look like a washed-out rag.”
“What, and miss all
the fun? As you know, Mr. Hurst and I attended a dinner party hosted by the
Marquis of Dorchester.” Louisa sat erect and leaned toward Caroline. “He gave
us a tour of his home and I saw his coronet!”
“How droll, Louisa.
As if I care about a ceremonial hat.”
“Do not put on your
airs with me,” Louisa said, a mutinous look crossing her face. “I know for a
fact you have been vying for an invitation to one of his soirees for months.”
Caroline bit the
inside of her cheek to keep from retorting. Everything Louisa stated was true,
but pride demanded she maintain a semblance of ennui. If she wished to move
among the ton, she needed to emulate their disdain for anyone beneath them.
“Enough of the marquis,
have you heard from Charles? He did not attend his lawyer’s appointment this
morning.”
“No, I have not, but
then Charles is terrible at keeping Mr. Hurst and I in the know of his comings
and goings.” She picked out a sugared candy from the bowl on the table beside
her chair and bit into it. Around the candy, she mumbled, “Do you know where he
is?”
“Did I not tell you?
How remiss of me. He went to Hertfordshire with Darcy.”
“Hertfordshire!”
Pieces of candy flew out of Louisa’s mouth, which she quickly brushed off her
lap onto the carpet. “Why on earth would they go there?”
“I do not know. They
left this past Monday.” Caroline eyed the half-chewed sticky mass on the floor
and with great determination turned her focus back to Louisa. Not for the first
time she wished her sister would not speak with her mouth full. In front of the
wrong person, she could be mistaken for an uncouth gentlewoman, on par with
Mrs. Bennet. “Lord knows there is nothing there except cows, chickens, and those
who tend them. I almost burst into song the day we shook the dust of
Hertfordshire and Meryton off our shoes.”
“He probably wishes
to inspect Netherfield Park one last time. You know how he loved that house.”
Neither of them
needed to add he’d loved more than the house at Netherfield.
“Yes, he did, but
why has he not written back?” Caroline ignored an internal twinge at the
reminder of how despondent their malleable brother had become and the unspoken
reason why. “I sent a missive as soon as I learned of their departure. Surely
he has received it by now.”
“He and Darcy may
have gone on to Pemberley, intending to return the day of the ball,” Louisa
offered hopefully. “It is a two-day trip from Hertfordshire to Derbyshire. Not
much time to draft and post a letter and we all know how Charles abhors
writing.”
“What you say is
true.” Caroline stood and paced toward the window. She barely noticed the busy
street with grand carriages parading up and down. Her mind was troubled by
Charles’ lack of response. What if he hadn’t gone to Pemberley and instead
tarried in Hertfordshire? The longer he dallied, the more apt he was to stumble
across Miss Jane Bennet and that could be disastrous.
She turned at the
rattling of a tray and watched as a newly hired maid lowered the ornate silver
tea set onto the small table in front of the couch. With a slightly timid
curtsy, she took her leave, closing the door carefully behind her.
“Come, Caroline,”
Louisa said as she poured tea into their waiting cups. “We shall find out soon
enough what Charles has been up to. Until that time, let me fill you in on who
was at the marquis’ dinner.”