The Three Colonels (3 page)

Mary smiled. “No, Jane, Caroline is right. My dress is modest by her standards, but as I am married, I think it suits me better.” In a manner reminiscent of Elizabeth Darcy, one of Mary's eyebrows rose as the woman took in Caroline's décolletage. “It is certainly not as shocking as yours.”

“Shocking? Mary, you must remember I am
not
yet married.”

“And you wish for your intended to remain your intended?”

“Precisely!” The two laughed lightly.

Jane shook her head. “That is unnecessary, Caroline. Sir John is violently in love with you.”

Some of Caroline's smile slipped from her face. She did not doubt Sir John's admiration, but love? No, it was too much for which to hope. Jane had the very good fortune to marry for love, but that was as rare as hen's teeth. Caroline only hoped for a marriage better than Louisa's. Mutual respect was enough.

“I must go down to see to the preparations,” said Jane as she kissed Caroline's cheek before leaving the room. Caroline returned to her dressing table to allow the long-suffering maid to repair her hair while Mary and Louisa conversed.

***

Caroline's friendship with Mary Bennet was as much of a surprise to the participants as it had been to their relations. Two more different people could scarcely be found. While neither were classic beauties like Jane, only Caroline took pains in her appearance. If left to her own devices, Mary would wear the same dark, dreary dress every day. Mary had time only for her books, particularly Fordyce's
Sermons
to
Young
Women
, while Caroline lived for gossip.

However, the two were more alike than they knew. Both felt unequal to the world about them—Caroline for her lack of connections and Mary for her lack of attractiveness. They both took on superior airs, knowing all the time the only ones deceived were themselves. They were actors trapped in their roles, and Jane's and Elizabeth's marriages were the unanticipated agents of the two ladies' liberation.

Caroline had no occupation but to help Jane receive her daily invasion by the female contingent from Longbourn—occasionally Mary, often Kitty, but always Mrs. Bennet. Caroline's first impulse was to flee these meetings, but she thought better of it. If Jane was to be her sister, then Caroline must treat her as such, and Jane needed her support, even though Caroline felt that she did not quite trust her. For Mrs. Bennet was full of advice—rarely helpful, sometimes contradictory, often ignorant and outrageous, and always expressed in a loud, rude voice. There was nothing for it, for Mrs. Bennet would brook no request to temper her voice or opinions, and sweet Jane would not throw the baggage out. Caroline therefore attempted to find as much diversion from these performances as she might.

As the Mistress of Longbourn continued to hold court, Caroline's attention invariably would be drawn to her new sisters. At first, she found them trite and stupid, but in studying them day after day, Caroline realized there was more to Mary than met the eye. She would say little, save for some inappropriate moralistic comment or a rather obvious quotation of scripture. However, Caroline would soon see that, while uninformed, Mary meant well, but she suffered from the total neglect of her mother. She sought attention; that was why the girl would leap to perform on the pianoforte given any encouragement.

As for Kitty, the insipid girl needed better examples than her mother or her outlawed sister, Mrs. Wickham.

Caroline developed a plan: If she could be of no use to her brother and his wife, then her occupation would be to help improve her new sisters, for her own sake as well as theirs. Apparently, Elizabeth Darcy came to the same realization and quickly invited Kitty to act as companion to Miss Darcy.

With Kitty's removal to Pemberley, Caroline spent even more time with Mary. Caroline found the task more pleasant than she expected. Desperate for a companion, Mary was still leery of Lizzy's nemesis. They found their common ground in music. Before, Mary played for attention, and Caroline played because it was expected. As they discussed music and technique, they both discovered that they truly loved the sound of the pianoforte. A friendship grew as the two spent many hours in pleasant occupation.

At first, Mary resisted any attempt to broaden her choice of reading material beyond the Bible or Fordyce's
Sermons
. Finally, Caroline suggested poetry, starting with the Psalms. Mary had not considered that Holy Scripture also could be regarded as literature, and her curiosity was inflamed. A few discussions with Caroline showed that, while King David was writing of his love of God, it could also be shown that the Psalms spoke of the universality of love—including that between a man and a woman. It was as if a light had been lit inside of Mary. She began devouring any book of poetry in her father's or brothers' libraries. Caroline enjoyed poetry as well and introduced Mary to some of Shakespeare's more risqué sonnets, to the girl's embarrassed delight. This had an odd impact on Mary; she began to spend more time on her appearance and seemed to be more attentive during the other ladies' discussions of fashion.

Caroline had never before had a friend like Mary. Most of her acquaintances were people of fashion, cultivated not because of common interest and pleasant conversation but for the value of their connections. In Mary, a girl who could bring her nothing, Caroline had a protégée in whose company she found contentment. There was no need of performance. Mary was care and ease.

In the aftermath of the debacle at Almack's, Louisa offered what consolation she could, but it was Mary who saved Caroline, and in a most considerate manner. She simply left Caroline's Bible open by her bedside, a particular passage of the gospels indicated by an orange feather.

When Caroline found what Mary had done, she gasped; it was the story of Christ and the adulteress.
Is
this
how
Mary
sees
me?
she had thought. Caroline held her temper, recalling how
she
taught Mary to see all of the possibilities of scripture. It was time for the teacher to learn.

Forcing herself to read and reread the familiar lines, she finally saw to what Mary had been alluding. Caroline had sinned, and her pride had made her cruel. However, the
ton
's actions were just as extreme and hateful as the village elders' in the scripture passage. “
Let
he
who
is
without
sin
cast
the
first
stone
,” said Christ, but He also said, “
Your
sins
are
forgiven—go and sin no more
.” For the first time, Caroline had hope. She could be forgiven by those she hurt—as long as she stopped hurting them.

It was the beginning of the new Caroline Bingley, and she owed it all to Mary Bennet.

***

Abigail had seen to a messenger at the door and returned with a small package. “Miss Bingley, a box has been delivered from Sir John.”

Caroline opened it and found inside a beautiful string of pearls with a cameo of carnelian shell, but no note. The profile was definitely her own.

“Oh, Caroline!” cried Louisa. “How lovely! It is a shame it does not complement the comb in your hair.”

Never removing her eyes from the cameo, Caroline said to Abigail, “Remove the comb.”

“But, Miss Bingley, your hair is done! If I remove the comb, you will be late.”

“Am I speaking Italian, you foolish girl?” Caroline snapped. “Remove it! Redo my hair! Do you think I shall attend this ball without wearing my intended's gift?”

“Caroline…” said Mary in a quiet, reproachful tone.

Caroline colored. Mary was the only person in the world who could speak to her so without fear of a quarrel.

“Abigail, it is my wish to honor Sir John. Exchange my comb for another—please.”

Abigail, muttering apologies, got to work, but Caroline did not attend. She had put on the pearls, and she saw how the cameo rested just above her bosom. It was lovely, slightly risqué, and definitely became her.

“Beautiful,” breathed Louisa.

Not for the first time, Caroline began feeling odd flutterings in her stomach. She had no idea what it signified.

***

It was a hard thing indeed to admit that one's life was built around a lie, but there was nothing for it. Caroline had no choice but to realize that, while she had developed many admirers and acquaintances among the
ton
, she had few true friends. She was mortified to see how she had cut people of character—people whose friendship she should have cultivated—simply to impress people of fashion. She had sacrificed any hope of intimacy with her brother's wife because of her snobbery. She had joined in with jests and cruelties and thought little of it—until it was directed at her. For almost ten years, she had lived thus, and all she had to show at the end was a life as an old maid without friends and without a lover.

The latter was her choice. There were those who would have been willing to enter into an arrangement, offer
carte
blanche
, but Caroline would not hear of it. She would be honorably married or die alone, and she knew without a doubt that she would die alone.

Caroline now had a new occupation: the rebuilding of Caroline Bingley. Mary and Louisa were her confidantes during this endeavor. They all agreed that the first person Caroline needed to approach was Mrs. Bingley. It was accomplished after all returned to Netherfield, and it achieved as much success as could be expected.

She dreaded the interview with the Darcys. Her sin there was more grievous, and to be honest, a little jealousy was still in her heart. Gathering up her courage, Caroline made her full apologies when the Darcys and Kitty stopped at Netherfield on their journey back to Pemberley with Mary in attendance. After all, surely the Darcys could not cut her completely in front of witnesses, could they?

Mr. Darcy looked to his wife. It was clear that for
her
he would do anything. Elizabeth colored and looked at her toes, considering. Then, with a smile, firmly secure in her practice of thinking only of the past as it gave her pleasure, she forgave Caroline everything and embraced her as a sister.

Restored to a level somewhere between civility and intimacy, Caroline began observing the Darcys closely. To be sure, Mrs. Darcy was unorthodox with her impertinent teasing of her husband, but Mr. Darcy seemed to relish her behavior, and Caroline was startled to hear him openly laugh. She could not recall ever hearing that sound come from him before in all the years she had known him. What jealousy remained in her died as she saw the open affection and respect each held for the other.

***

“There, miss. Is your hair satisfactory?” Abigail asked.

Caroline looked at her reflection. “Yes, that will do.” After a pause, she remembered to add, “Thank you, Abigail.”

Flustered, the girl exclaimed, “Oh, miss! Thank you, but it was just my duty.”

Caroline sighed. She never realized that being good was such hard work.

“I am ready, Abigail.” She stood to exit the room and go downstairs, her mind once again preoccupied by one of the most notorious rakes in society.

Caroline descended the stairs of Bingley House with Louisa and Mary. The Bingleys and Hursts were assembled and visibly relieved at her appearance. Also in attendance was a rather intense young man dressed in much less fine attire than the others.

“Ah, Mr. Tucker!” said Caroline. “Here is your wayward wife, sir. I hope you are well.”

“Perfectly well, Miss Bingley. On behalf of my wife, I thank you for the invitation.”

“That is quite unnecessary. How could I have such a ball without my friends? It is I who must thank you for attending.”

Tucker offered his arm to Mary, who took it readily. At that moment, the Darcys, together with Georgiana and Kitty, made their appearance, and the various families spent some time in welcome.

Caroline had greeted all her guests when she noticed a figure in black with a sash of red standing in a shadowy doorway. She could almost make out his intense blue eyes staring at her. As Colonel Sir John Buford strode towards her, Caroline felt weak. She could not move if she wanted to—and she did not want to move. Within a breath, her intended was before her, ignoring all others around them.

“Good evening, Caroline,” Buford said as his eyes strayed from her face to her bodice.

“Good evening, Sir John.” Her voice was reasonably steady.

His hand slowly reached for and held the cameo, the back of his fingers gently caressing her skin. “I see you have worn your gift. I am pleased that it looks so well on you.”

Caroline did not blush—she
flushed
from her cheeks down, due to his attentions. “I… I must thank you for such a wonderful gift. But how was it made? I sat for no commission. How did you come by my likeness?”

He placed it upon her bosom. “From memory,” he stated, blue eyes boring into her. Violating all propriety, his lips descended upon hers with the lightest of kisses. Straightening up, he looked at his astonished audience with arrogant confidence as though he were challenging anyone to rebuke him for claiming what was his.

A new feeling joined the flutterings, but this time Caroline knew the name of it, for she had felt this before.
Desire
. At that moment, she cared not what other people thought; she only wanted their wedding to be the next day rather than a fortnight away.

As soon as the sentiment washed over her, she reached for her vaunted self-control. This would not do. They had guests coming, and she would not embarrass herself before their guests. She gave her intended an arch look.

“Control, sir!” she whispered. “Why, you act like a schoolboy instead of a colonel in His Majesty's army! Take your position beside me, Sir John.” With that she entwined her arm in his, drawing him to stand at her side. Turning to the others, she said, “You really must forgive him. He is only a soldier, after all.”

“I think I need a drink,” said Hurst.

Rather than chastised, Sir John was pleased. Once again, Caroline had passed a test.

***

Caroline had heard of Sir John Buford, Colonel of Cavalry in His Majesty's ——nd Light Dragoons, awarded the Bath for his actions in Spain with Wellesley, now Duke of Wellington. He was celebrated as dashing, brave, well off, charming, intelligent, and exceptionally handsome. It was also whispered that he was a rake and cuckolder—a seducer of bored ladies of the
ton
. If Caroline believed half of the stories Annabella Adams, now Mrs. Norris, told about him, it would seem he bedded a quarter of the well-bred wives in London.

Caroline gave the man no notice. If she wanted a thirty-year-old soldier, there was always Mr. Darcy's cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Consequently, she was completely mystified when Sir John began to seek out her company at Almack's. He asked for the supper dance and was very gallant towards her.

At first, she was amused. If Sir John thought he was going to get under her petticoat, he had another thought coming. But as the weeks went on, she continually met him at dances, at dinner parties, and in the park. It seemed the man went out of his way to put himself in her path. He was always the perfect gentleman. Never once did he attempt to take advantage of her, and their conversations were not the flirtatious ones of would-be lovers. Instead, they talked of music, family, and even current events. Their conversations seemed to be more interview than courtship.

As spring turned to summer, Caroline found that Sir John visited her several times a week. She had to admit she enjoyed his company and looked forward to their talks, but she was disturbed as well. It was true she was five-and-twenty, but her reputation was all she had. Was she endangering her future by encouraging such a man?

She could tell that Charles, Jane, and even Louisa were uneasy as well. Strangely enough, the Darcys did not seem concerned in the least that she was so often in Sir John's company. At first, Caroline thought the former animosity between the two ladies had reasserted itself, but it turned out that Eliza and Darcy had received such good reports of Sir John from both Colonel Fitzwilliam and another acquaintance of theirs, a Colonel Brandon, they seemed to promote the gentleman. Caroline thought it odd that people as upright as the Darcys would claim close acquaintance with a man of Sir John's reputation, but she was relieved, too. Yet she remained undecided.

In August, Caroline attended a ball given by an acquaintance of her friend, Annabella. She had begun to distance herself from Sir John, uncertain of her feelings or his intentions. Unfortunately, the attentions paid to Caroline by the colonel had affected her reputation in at least one person's mind. In a darkened hallway, an inebriated Sir Horace Washburn began taking liberties with Caroline's person, declaring his desire to take her as his mistress. Outraged beyond words, she had only begun to fight back when the baronet was snatched bodily from her person. Sir John, in a cool rage, looked the villain full in the face before casting the drunken man to the floor. In a clipped, emotionless voice, he informed Washburn that should he touch Miss Bingley again, he would not call him out but simply run him through. With only a word of concern for her physical state, he seized Caroline's arm and escorted her home to Bingley House in silence.

A few days later, Sir John called upon her, acting as if the incident had never happened.

Finally, as September began to fade and Caroline's time in London was coming to an end, she felt the need to settle her thoughts. When Sir John called, she suggested a walk to a nearby park, Abigail trailing behind as chaperone.

“Sir John, I apologize for not doing so before, but I must thank you for the uncommon gallantry you showed on my behalf last month with Sir Horace,” she began.

“Think nothing of it. Any gentleman would do the same for a lady in distress,” he replied.

Any
gentleman?
she thought.
Does
he
have
no
feelings
for
me?
“That may be, sir, but it is you who have earned my thanks.” They walked on in silence for the next few minutes, Caroline's feelings in turmoil. They came to a rather private spot along the walk, and Sir John suggested a rest. Caroline was puzzled by his choice, especially when he did not join her on the bench. Instead, he held up his hand, indicating that Abigail should keep her distance, and looked up at the sky.

“I understand you are to leave London for Hertfordshire soon,” he began.

“Yes, my brother is removing to a new estate recently purchased in Nottinghamshire. My family needs me to help prepare for the move.”

“It is a fine thing to own one's own place,” he replied rather offhandedly. “I am sure your sister will miss her relations.”

“That is true, to be sure. Mrs. Bingley would be very affected were not her sister, Mrs. Darcy, residing in the next county.”

“Of course, of course. Pemberley is in Derbyshire. How would you like living that far north?”

How
would
I
like
living
there? How can he ask that, knowing my pursuit of Mr. Darcy?
she thought. “Very well, I think, but one place is like another.”

“I see.” He was silent for a while. “Miss Bingley, I have a request. May I be permitted, or do I ask too much, to call upon you in Nottinghamshire?”

Surprised by the request, she blurted out, “Why?”

“Why?”

In
for
a
penny
, she thought. “Yes, why? What are your intentions, Colonel?”

“My intentions?” he cried. “They should be clear enough!”

Caroline was horrified
. It is as I feared. He wants me for his mistress.

Sir John paced about in an agitated manner, muttering, “Too soon, too soon,” then he paused and took a breath. “Please forgive my outburst. It was not my intention to speak now; you do not know me well enough. But, madam, you force my hand! I shall speak, and then my fate shall be in your hands. But before I make my request known to you, I must ask you to indulge me this small thing. I must speak about my past. Will you allow me to speak my part in full before you respond? Afterwards I shall answer any questions you have. Please grant me this favor. I know I ask much.”

Caroline silently nodded.

“My reputation has preceded me, I fear, and I must, in all good conscience, make this confession. I have not lived as I should. I know this, and I am ashamed. Some men make light of this; they are ‘men of the world,' but I know better. For some time, I have failed as a gentleman.” He smiled slightly. “I am sure you have heard tales.”

Caroline blanched.

“Be not alarmed, madam,” he quickly added, “I may have lived selfishly, but as God is my witness, I have never compromised the innocence of any maiden, low or high born. And I have never forced my attentions upon any woman. All of my… associations have been with aggressive, experienced partners from among the
ton
—”

“Other men's wives, you mean!” Caroline could not help blurting out.

“If you speak of women—I do not use the term
ladies
—who hold their marriage vows so lightly that they flirt with their lovers at Westminster Cathedral itself, then yes, that is who I mean. But know this—I was not their first, and I was certainly not their last! Do not pity their husbands. They are too busy with their own dalliances to mind their duties, as you so unfortunately discovered.” At this, Caroline blushed and turned away. “Forgive me—I have distressed you.”

“No, I am well, I assure you,” Caroline replied.

“You are too kind,” Sir John said softly. He looked out into the greenery about them. “I tell you these things not to excuse my behavior—for it cannot be excused—but that you know the whole truth of it. I sought no one out. I was always approached. But I was weak. I sought a few moments pleasure and found emptiness.” He sighed and turned to her. “You, so pure, cannot know how pathetic a life I lived.”

Can
I
not, Colonel?

“Three years ago, I suddenly saw the waste my life had become. I saw men die for friends, for their king, for a flag! I vowed to be worthy of them, of my late father—to be a gentleman again. Since my return to Britain, I have lived as I should, no matter what the gossips of society say. I have reformed. I give you my word before God as an officer in the king's army.”

Caroline was silent for a while. The colonel's confession had the ring of truth. What mortification he must have suffered to make such a declaration! How was she to judge him, given
her
sins? There was one issue not resolved—for how
many
sins must he be forgiven? Did she really want to know? Yet, she could not be a woman and not ask.

In a small voice, Caroline asked, “How many women?”

Sir John struggled. “Though they do not deserve it, as a man wishing to be a gentleman, I will not name them. But I am sure it is far less than the number you have been told.”

“That will not do, Colonel. Is it more than ten?”

Sir John looked away and finally said, “You can count my relationships upon one hand and not use all the fingers.”

“Am I acquainted with any of them?” she had to ask, knowing his answer.

“I cannot say. Only know this—I would never insult my friends by having them or any of that set enter my house.”

Caroline was silent again. She had only one question left, and she feared to voice it. Finally, she found courage. “What do you want of me, Colonel?”

“I see fear in your eyes. I do not blame you. What tales you have undoubtedly been told! I am still afraid to state my desires—yes, I am afraid! But I must. Please do not give me your answer yet. Take time to consider it carefully. I place my trust in your justice.” Sir John drew breath. “I wish you to become my mistress—”

Caroline gasped.

“—the mistress of my house, the mother of my heirs, the wife of my body. I formally ask to court you with the object of matrimony.”

To say that Caroline was stunned would be incorrect. She would have to be sensible to be stunned. It was the very last thing she expected Sir John to say. Frozen on the bench, questions flooded her mind.

Matrimony? He wants to marry me? Sir John Buford wishes to court me? Do I want him to? How can I marry a rake—a
former
rake? Was I so much better? What I did to poor Jane, who would never hurt anyone… Sir John… I would be Lady Buford—stop it! I am closer to six and twenty than not. Would a better offer ever be made? He is handsome, and he has been kind. My God, he threatened to kill for me! He wants me—has protected me. What would I give to him?
On and on her thoughts flew, but in the end, she had no choice.

“Colonel Buford, you ask to court me?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Bingley. Please take all the time you need to—”