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Author's Note: Well, here is Caroline's Journal back from hiatus. My thanks as always to Teg and Andrea (my editors) for their help and their many suggestions!
Thursday, May 30, 1816
I've always been a person that believed some things were just fated to happen. While the things I have believed were fated to occur did not always come about (my marriage to Mr. Darcy being an excellent example), on other occasions things did turn out right. Anybody who had ever seen Charlotte Collins and Sir James Passmore talking together knew that they were meant to be together! That day has finally come and they were joined in a small ceremony in London this afternoon.
It feels a little strange to see them married. After all, it was only last October when I sat in the Darcy's townhouse and spoke with Elizabeth about how Charlotte seemed to be fighting any sort of attachment that might be forming between herself and Sir James. That afternoon Elizabeth and I came to the conclusion that Charlotte's heart was locked in battle with her head. It was something that I had a good deal of trouble understanding at that time. After all, here was a man who obviously had feelings for her, someone who could give her all the security she and her child could ever possibly want. Economic, legal and social security, plus someone who loved her? What more could any woman want? Charlotte's behavior where Sir James was concerned left me extremely confused. If Sir James, who was by all accounts a truly good man, asked for my hand, and I had the same feelings for him that she occasionally appeared to have, I would not have hesitated to say yes. Especially if I had a child!
But I digress. Before I report on how Sir James won Charlotte's hand, I should summarize the events that have taken place since our December visit to Foxchase. As per our custom, I returned home to London with Louisa and her family to celebrate the holidays with them. Christmas was quiet and I enjoyed watching Sam play with his new toys.
In the two weeks following Christmas I received a stack of letters from friends and family describing their festivities. Georgiana wrote of Christmas at Pemberley and New Year's Day at Matlock Hall. Charles and Jane both wrote about the holidays at Foxchase. I grinned at the scrawl at the bottom of Charles' letter, which was supposedly from Fanny. I was a little surprised to receive a letter from Kitty, who reported that life at the Kympton parsonage was marvelous. It sounded as though there was a kernel of truth to Georgiana and Elizabeth's reports that she had settled in quite well as a rector's wife.
One comment that caught my eye in Georgiana's Boxing Day letter was that Mr. Darcy, hoping to cheer Elizabeth up had invited Charles and Jane, along with Kitty and Mr. Medcalf to Pemberley for the New Year's Day weekend. I eagerly anticipated my next letters from Charles and Jane. But it was Kitty who gave me the most insight into that weekend. I suppose that not having to keep one eye on your child allows you to observe someone else in the room more carefully. According to Kitty, Elizabeth had physically recovered, but her spirits were still quite low.
Once I became aware of this, I asked Jane, Kitty and Georgiana that I be kept informed of how Elizabeth progressed. All three of them happily complied with this, Georgiana and Kitty being the most diligent and they passed on the details of Elizabeth's slow but nonetheless steady recovery. Thanks in large part to the tenderness of Mr. Darcy's care at least some of the spirit of the old Elizabeth had returned by late February.
In mid-March the Darcys journeyed to London. Louisa and I called on them two days after their arrival and the reports of my various correspondents looked to be accurate. Elizabeth did look as though she had recovered physically, but there was nevertheless a noticeable difference in her. While there were hints of the old spirit about her, she was at times very quiet, almost eerily so. I resolved to speak with Louisa about it, but the opportunity to do so did not present itself for several days. Perhaps four days after the visit to the Darcys, when we had finally determined that the next morning would suit our purposes, a note arrived from Charlotte. It appeared that she urgently wanted me to call on her the next morning, so I asked Edward if I could borrow the carriage the next morning and told Louisa that our discussion about Elizabeth would have to wait.
You can imagine my surprise when I saw a second carriage arriving at Anne's house just as we pulled up. I alighted from my conveyance and was astonished to see Elizabeth exit the other vehicle. She looked just as amazed to see me and we stood on the sidewalk and spoke for a moment or two. I'm not sure who mentioned Charlotte, but each of us soon produced our note and we noticed that they were identical. We shrugged our shoulders and made our way up the steps to the door.
Mr. Dawson, the butler, showed us into the sitting room, where Anne and Charlotte were waiting for us. Charlotte asked us to sit down and then she rose and stood before the fireplace. Elizabeth and I glanced at each other. I'm sure that the same thought passed through our minds. She wants to tell us something. I hoped that it had something to do with Sir James Passmore. "Perhaps he finally proposed!" I said to myself.
I believe that all three of us were sitting on the edge of our seats as Charlotte cleared her throat and said, "Sir James Passmore has asked me to marry him." Anne was the first person to leap to her feet and offer her congratulations.
"That's wonderful Charlotte!" she exclaimed, as Elizabeth and I rose and offered our own congratulations.
"But I have asked him for time to think." Charlotte continued. "I asked for 48 hours. He will be here tomorrow to see what my answer will be." Charlotte's voice halted for a moment and I stole a glance at Anne and Elizabeth. They were clearly as confused as I was. After those few seconds' hesitation, Charlotte resumed speaking. She had sunk down into the armchair by the fireplace. She cradled her head in her hands for a moment before raising her head again and saying in little more than a whisper, "I do not know what to do!"
It was Elizabeth who voiced the bewilderment that I am sure we all felt. "Not know what to do?" was all that she said.
"No," Charlotte echoed.
I sank back in my chair utterly perplexed. "Why would she not know what to do?" I kept wondering. As I sat in my chair pondering this mystery, I could hear Anne and Elizabeth conversing with Charlotte.
I'm not sure how soon after Charlotte's announcement that my mind began to wander. But I was soon sitting in my own private little world, trying to determine why Charlotte would be so unsure about what she should do. It did not take long for my thoughts to take a different course. I was soon thinking about what I would do if I were in her place. It was easy to imagine a similar situation.
So I remained perfectly quiet in my seat, my chin cupped in one hand. I was staring at a spot on the wall opposite me, contemplating. I was soon imagining that I was in circumstances similar to Charlotte's. The man from my dream had proposed. The tall, gangling fair-haired man with the enormous smile and the unusual accent who I had dreamt about for three years. I stopped thinking and scowled for a moment. Why did it have to be HIM? I shrugged my shoulders and resumed my thinking. The question about what I would do if I were in Charlotte's shoes soon resolved itself into a series of queries.
Did I know the man as well as Charlotte knew Sir James? If the answer was yes, I believed that I would know my own mind well enough that I would not need to ask for advice.
If I were unsure, whom would I consult? Louisa was an obvious choice, but would she be the only one? I had grown to admire Sarah Hurst greatly, so she was another possibility. There were also several people I didn't think that I would speak with about this kind of problem. Jane always saw the good in people no matter what. Georgiana had had some difficult times in her life, but she still had too much of the hopeless romantic about her.
I then began to ponder the third query on this list, which was . . .
"CAROLINE!" Anne's voice jerked me back to the present. I lifted my head and looked around. I was sure that I was red with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled "What was the question?"
Anne looked annoyed. Elizabeth was watching me, with an interesting look on her face. Charlotte just laughed. I asked Elizabeth and Anne to summarize what they had told Charlotte. I also requested that Charlotte explain why she was so unsure about Sir James.
Anne's arguments about why Charlotte should marry Sir James were surprisingly simple. In Anne's mind there were no reasons at all why Charlotte shouldn't marry him. As far as I knew, Anne had never been in love, so her comments were very much those of the idealist, who can see the beauty in something, but not the emotions and uncertainties that can affect how one views the issue.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was someone who was all too aware of those uncertainties. So instead of Anne's insistence that Charlotte go ahead with the marriage, no matter what her emotional state, she advised that Charlotte think the matter through carefully. I could sense that Elizabeth and I were in agreement on this point. Charlotte seemed to have not thought the matter through completely. Was her uncertainty about what to do a hasty decision, or had she examined everything?
But once I had heard Charlotte explain the reasons for her uncertainty, my belief that her decision was a hasty one vanished. She did have legitimate reasons for being unsure about what to do next. The main cause of her hesitation was quite simple really. Despite her previous marriage, she had never been in love before. She frankly admitted that the strength of these new emotions terrified her. It was this fear of the unknown that made her so unsure.
I listened to them and thought carefully about what everyone had said. While thinking of what I would say, I thought about Charlotte's fear of the unknown. But I also thought about the heart breaking pain of rejection. I knew that Sir James would not take rejection well. There was a moment or two of silence before I spoke.
"Charlotte, you've been given a second chance at happiness. If it is what you want, what you really want, grab it with both hands and never let go."
The room went quiet again. I could see Elizabeth nodding, perhaps in silent agreement. Anne looked at me with her left eyebrow slightly raised. Perhaps what I had said had surprised her. Charlotte just stared at me, but she pursed her lips as if my statement made sense.
Charlotte and I watched each other for a few seconds, then Elizabeth spoke. "Caroline?" I turned to look at her. "Wasn't there a new tea shop that we had decided to visit? Perhaps we can take Anne as well?" I gazed at her for a second or two before I understood what her intentions were. I smiled and replied. "Yes! Shall we take my carriage?" Anne did not seem to quite understand what was going on, but she came anyway.
The next afternoon, I was watching Sam construct a tower of blocks on the drawing room floor. A footman coughed quietly and I turned to accept the note that had evidently just arrived. I recognized Anne's writing and the haste in which she had written it seemed to indicate that the contents must be important. I tore it open and examined the paper. She had written just one word in large letters and underlined them with a broad stroke: "YES!"
The ceremony itself was a small one. Her family was there, as were the Passmores. There were not many other guests, just the Darcys, the Bennets and the Medcalfs. I sat beside Anne. As Charlotte turned to leave the church, she saw us, and she smiled.
Author's Note: My thanks as always to my editors for their encouragement and support
Wednesday, July 15, 1818
Today I saw my dearest friend married. I should be happy for her. I am happy for her. But nevertheless I have this idea this is one of the days that I will look back on when I'm old and feeble and say that it was one of those moments I knew that my life that had changed. I'm not quite certain as to why I should say that it was my life has changed, when I'm not the one who was joined in holy matrimony today.
After a few more minutes of staring at the page trying to understand the emotions that have possessed me all day, I think I understand them better now. This confused emotional state is due, I believe, to several things.
One must surely be the loss of a dear friend, who will soon be far removed from me. After all, Georgiana's letters, even when she had nothing of any real interest to say, have brightened many a day over the last five years. I used to get one letter a week from her. By Christmas I'll be lucky to get one every two or three months.
It is the other emotion that I have been feeling recently that frightens me though. There have been times when I have felt envy, like the tentacles of some sea creature, tighten its' hold on me. If there is anyone who deserves to be happy, it's Georgiana, and she's been so happy these last months that I doubt that her feet have touched the ground. Anne was the same last year. The idea that I could look at two of my closest friends and feel the fires of jealousy kindling in my soul is most disturbing.
Why is this happening? It is I suppose the rather bitter realization that I am now thoroughly confirmed in my "old maid" status. I'm 29 now. So I've been on the shelf for what, four years? Five years is more like it. But Anne was what, 27 when she married last November? There is, I imagine, some hope for me, but the chances of that happening are so slight that I shouldn't even consider them. To do so would only make me more miserable later.
I just glanced over what I've written so far and I see that once again, I've failed to start the story at the beginning. I've mentioned on two occasions that Anne's married now, and I have not said how that actually came about.
Anne's journey to happiness began on a cloudy day in February of last year. After Charlotte's marriage, we still called on each other regularly and occasionally went on outings. These outings were usually to go shopping, and occasionally Elizabeth or Georgiana accompanied us.
However, on this particular trip, Anne and I had gone to _______'s to look at new bonnets. After several hours of perusing and experimenting and occasional giggling (some of the bonnets were just not becoming on us), each of us had found two bonnets that we liked. Since I wanted to go to a second shop that was a short distance away, we decided to take advantage of the fact that after several days of rain, the weather was gradually clearing.
After depositing our purchases in Anne's carriage, we began the short walk to the second shop, where I hoped to purchase a new pair of boots. As was our custom, we conversed on the way, with Anne telling me about her recent visit to see Charlotte. Anne reported that she was very happy and that she and Sir James had begun to make some alterations to the house at Fair Lakes, which according to Anne desperately needed "a woman's touch". We were so engrossed in our conversation that we forgot to pause and see if the way was clear before we rounded a corner.
The first signs I had that anything was wrong were a grunt from Anne, the sound of bundles falling and a gentleman's voice cursing. I turned to see Anne sprawled on the ground, with several bundles of what appeared to be letters scattered around her. She gathered the bundles up and held out her arm to the gentleman who helped her to her feet. Anne held out the bundles to the gentleman who took them, a little too hastily in my opinion. He made his apologies and asked Anne if she had been injured. When she answered that she had not, he bid us "Good day." and hurried down the street.
Anne watched him as he turned the next corner. She looked at me and asked, "So what do you think?"
"About what?"
"About him", Anne inquired as she gestured in the direction the mysterious gentleman had taken. "I thought he was rather handsome."
I also thought that he was a handsome man and said as much, but I did not mention that I had thought him to be rather rude. After all, he had knocked her down and made no more apologies than the minimum dictated by politeness.
I reminded Anne of our errand and we continued on our way.
The next week we went shopping again, choosing to visit a new establishment which had earned an excellent reputation. I was wandering through the store, appraising the merchandise when I felt something tug at my sleeve. It was Anne, who inclined her head towards the far corner. I looked in the direction indicated and saw that it was the man who had run into Anne the previous week. Both of us watched him for several minutes as I tried to determine why he was there. He did not appear to be a customer and he was too well dressed to be an employee. Could he be the owner? I smiled to myself at what Lady Catherine's reaction would be to her daughter taking a sudden interest in a tradesman.
We continued to stand there, watching the conversation taking place in the far corner. Anne was content merely to gaze at the gentleman, while I tried to think of a plan to at least get an introduction. I had nearly decided that I could think of no practical scheme to get Anne an introduction when the door opened and Mr. Gardiner walked in. I observed Mr. Gardiner and Anne's mysterious gentleman speak for a moment or two before I had an idea. Mr. Gardiner knew me only slightly and he and Anne had only been introduced to each other once, at Pemberley. But he could at least introduce us to the slightly built fair-haired man in the corner. I smiled to myself and touched Anne's arm to get her attention.
Anne and I made our way over to where the gentlemen were standing. Mr. Gardiner appeared to see us coming since he stopped speaking and waited for us to draw near. Mr. Gardiner's companion, noticing that Mr. Gardiner has stopped speaking, turned in our direction and watched us approach. I stopped a few feet from Mr. Gardiner, with Anne at my side.
Mr. Gardiner made the proper introductions, and we soon learned that the mysterious gentleman was Mr. Anthony Somers. We curtseyed and the gentleman bowed as the introduction was made. The four of us stood talking together for a few minutes while I thought of some way to allow Anne and Mr. Somers a few minutes to themselves. Glancing about at the goods that were near us, I saw a table stacked with books a short distance away. Excusing myself from the group, I made my way over to the books, hoping that Mr. Gardiner would do something similar.
I took my time perusing the books, finding nothing that would interest me, but several that might be to Charles or Edward's liking. I looked around the shop a few times, and saw Anne and Mr. Somers quietly conversing while Mr. Gardiner stood at a nearby table, examining something. I was unsure what was on the table until he picked one up and I recognized it. Turning back to the books I smiled to myself, wondering if Mrs. Gardiner would be receiving some sort of gift from her husband this evening.
Eventually it was time for Anne and I to leave. We walked out to the carriage in silence. I had purchased two books, one for Charles and one for Edward. Anne had a dreamy sort of smile on her face. When we were in the carriage I tried to get her attention. "Anne?" I asked, repeating myself twice before she seemed to notice. Even then she only looked at me, with that same expression on her face. I shook my head, realizing that she was a lost cause. We rode the rest of the way home in utter stillness.
Weeks passed by and Anne and Mr. Somers spent more and more time together. It was all proper of course, as I or one of her relatives chaperoned them. But I could not shake a strange feeling that something about Mr. Somers was not quite right. So I began to quietly make inquiries amongst my friends and acquaintances for information about him. I knew that I would not intervene unless I found something truly terrible about the man. I was merely looking for anything to ease my troubled mind.
You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that Mr. Somers was one of the "Wiltshire Somers"! The Somers family, as most people know, were once one of the wealthiest families in that county. But several generations of excessive spending had reduced the family's finances to such an extent that they were on the brink of financial ruin. This knowledge did nothing to calm my fears, nor the further intelligence that Anthony was a younger son, who would have looked to "marry money" anyway. What truly startled me was the reason that Anthony appeared to be a tradesman, because in a way he was.
Realizing that his family would be unable to support him and that many eligible young ladies might not want to marry into such a family, he had decided to make his own fortune. So he had gone to London, with little to recommend him but his name and his Cambridge education. He had struggled at first, but a moderately successful company had taken him on as a sort of junior partner and he had done well. According to George Hurst, all that kept Mr. Somers from going into business for himself was insufficient funds.
For a time I wondered if Anne was being courted for her money, but these fears were soon proved false. These two were truly in love and when he proposed in early September she accepted. The wedding itself was a small one, with few people there from the groom's family and only family and a few friends from the bride's.
With Anne joining the ranks of married women, I was saved from boredom by two things. The most important of these was the birth of my twin nieces Sarah and Caroline in early December. Louisa seemed to have an easier time than she did with Sam and I was truly honored that she would name one of her daughters after me. It was a great joy to have babies in the house again, even if little Caroline did seem to be extremely fussy at times.
The second thing that kept my life from becoming dull was the arrival of the Darcys in early January. They had decided to spend some time in London with Charles and Jane so I saw Georgiana fairly often.
In early February, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth honored their promise to take Georgiana to the opera and purchased a box for the show that was supposed to be the finest of the season. Since there was an extra seat in their box, Georgiana invited me to come along. Eager for an evening that did not involve crying babies, I accepted.
The show was indeed a fine one, with superb music, singing and costumes. During one of the intermissions, we all left the box for a few minutes. That was when it happened. Elizabeth saw someone she knew emerging from their box a short distance away and we made our way over to speak with them. I knew the couple in question slightly, but the key member of the other party was the man in uniform, a captain in the Royal Navy if I remember my lesson in uniforms. The proper introductions were made and after speaking with me for a moment or two, his attention was occupied largely with Georgiana, who seemed to be quite pleased by it.
My emotions were in a strange turmoil as I watched them. I was glad to see that Georgiana had an admirer (even though Mr. Darcy's frequent glares were amusing), but what rankled was how quickly I had been passed over in Georgiana's favor. I could feel the envy beginning to build inside me and I turned away for a moment to collect myself.
I examined my thoughts on the matter and got them into some kind of order.
Was I jealous because she had the attention of this particular man?
No, I'm jealous because she is young and beautiful and I am not.
Come now! Do you really believe that? You're envying your best friend!
I suppose not. My pride is bruised that is all. Put it down to further proof that I'm "on the shelf". One glance and he identified me for what I am. A spinster here because there was room!
Besides, you never liked officers! Although there was that one when you were seventeen. . .
I turned back to the group with a small smile on my face. I could see Charles standing beside Elizabeth, looking concerned. His eyebrow was raised as he examined my face. I mouthed "Later" at him, and he nodded as if he understood before resuming his conversation with Jane and Elizabeth.
The courtship between Georgiana and Captain Paul Stewart went smoothly, although Mr. Darcy's attempts to play big brother were a constant source of amusement to just about everyone, especially Charles and Elizabeth. When the time came for Captain Stewart to ask for Georgiana's hand, he had accepted that Georgiana was no longer the little sister that needed constant protection. (An idea fostered by Elizabeth no doubt.) Thus the engagement of Miss Georgiana Darcy and Captain Paul Stewart was announced in mid-May.
The wedding itself was a splendid one. All of Georgiana's relatives were there, as were many friends. I spent much of my time at the reception speaking with Mary Fitzwilliam (just back from Gibraltar) and Lady Andrea. Both of them were quite pleased to tell me of their sons, Henry and Albert, both of whom had been born in the last year. I in turn talked of my growing brood of nieces and nephews which had increased to five with Sarah and Caroline joining Sam, Fanny and the year old Master William Bingley.
The entire day seemed to pass in a whirl and it was only after I retired for the night that things began to sink in. I'm the only one left now. They're all married . That hurt even more than the knowledge that Georgiana would soon be departing for Halifax.
Author's Note: My thanks as always to Teg and Andrea for their encouragement and support. A special thank you to Andrea for her help with little Caroline!
Wednesday, January 30, 1822
Yesterday was my birthday. I'm thirty-three now. I can remember when I was younger birthdays always made me excited. Not any more. Now they are, if anything, a source of misery. A reminder that all my dreams are gone. The dreams that any young girl has of a handsome husband, healthy children and a happy home. I have none of these, and I doubt I ever will.
Being a maiden aunt is, to put it bluntly, no longer enough. My nieces and nephews are my pride and joy, but how can I look at them and not feel a stab of pain at the knowledge that they call another woman "mama"? It's rather strange to look at my own flesh and blood and feel this way. I don't think I have been jealous of Louisa in fifteen years, but whenever her children run to her shouting "mama" and throwing their arms about her, I feel just that. It's just as bad at Foxchase.
My apologies, if my handwriting suddenly seems poorer. I glanced about my desk at the framed miniatures and my piles of correspondence and I had to get away from all the signs of other people's happiness. So I am now curled up in the armchair by the fire, with the inkwell on the small table beside me.
The miniatures of Louisa and Charles and their families seemed to be taunting me. It is strange what jealousy and hopelessness can do. I glanced at two objects that I look at ten times a day when I am in this room, and I heard my siblings speaking to me, gloating over their successful marriages and happy children.
I knew there was something on the table already. I had to push it out of the way to put the inkwell down. I set my journal aside for a moment to see what it was. It is another miniature, this time of Georgiana and her baby. I studied it closely, surprised that it had come all the way from Halifax without any damage. The portrait itself is quite remarkable for the work of an amateur. It must have been the admiral's wife who did it. What was her name? Randall? No, it was Randolph. She was the one who offered to trade Georgiana art lessons for piano instruction for her daughter. If this is an example of Mrs. Randolph's work, I think that the agreement will benefit everyone.
Has Georgiana really been gone for over two years? These two years which seem to have been the saddest in my life? Hmm. Can I blame my profound sense of misery over the last two years on Georgiana's absence? No, that would be unfair on her. While her absence has been a cause of my distress, it was not been the sole reason.
No, the primary source of my distress has been this painful sense of longing. Longing for something that I will never have and what's more, something that I will always be reminded of at every turn. Every where I go, I see happy children, doting mothers, and proud fathers. There is no escaping it! Such is the curse of the spinster aunt. It gives one a rather strange sense of both belonging and not belonging. I feel as though I belong to my family, yet at the same time, I do not belong to some greater guild. It's quite distressing to be in a room full of family and friends and hear them talk about their children.
Perhaps I can return to my desk to write. Hopefully my miniatures won't start mocking me again, because this chair is not very comfortable.
Yes, much better now. I watch the miniatures for a moment, as if challenging them to say something. They don't and I pick them up one by one to study them in the flickering light of the candles.
I pick up the one on my left, of Charles' children. There's Fanny, with her long blonde hair. A "big girl now" of seven as she proudly proclaims herself. To her right is William, a perfect replica of his father. On Fanny's left is little Maria, barely two when the painting was done. I can't help but wonder how they got her to sit still for so long!
Replacing the picture, I lifted one of the others, this one of Louisa's children. Painted by the same artist, it has a familiar look to it, almost like they were painted to mirror each other. But the similarities end there. In the middle is the eldest child, Samuel. But where Fanny looks so happy, her cousin Sam looks so . . . serious. With a stern visage like that, I tried to imagine a profession for Sam. A bishop? Or perhaps a judge, pronouncing sentence?
To each side of Sam is one of his twin sisters. Both of them are laughing, looking so cute in their white dresses and bonnets adorned with pink sashes and ribbons. I gazed at the miniature and tried to remember where each one of the girls sat. It's a bit harder to tell them apart when both are laughing, but as I studied them, I determined that Sarah was to Samuel's left and Caroline to his right. The painter really did do a fine job of capturing my nieces' eyes. That is what gives them away in the end. Sarah's happy innocence and Caroline's mischievous look.
I paused for a moment and reached out with my free hand to take up the painting of Charles' children. Holding a miniature in each hand, I studied them intently. I endeavored to find some similarity between the children and myself. Samuel had a few "Bingley" features, especially his nose, but there was also a lot of "Hurst" in him. There was a bit more of a resemblance between myself and Caroline and Sarah. Placed side-by-side, it was obvious that we were related, but it was also obvious that I was not their mother. While Louisa and I have always resembled each other, there are differences and the twins looked just like their mother.
It was much the same way with William, whose appearance and expressions were exactly like his father's. There was the obvious family resemblance between William and I, but nothing else. Nothing that would identify him as being my child. With Fanny there was no similarity at all, since she looked so much like her mother. Maria, on the other hand, was like Louisa's Sam, a combination of both parents.
Setting the miniatures down, I took my candle and moved over to the bed, determined to try and get some sleep. As I lay there, I attempted to remember all the children that were in my extended circle of family and friends. In addition to my 6 nieces and nephews, Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam had one; Kitty and Benjamin Medcalf two; Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam also had two; Charlotte had borne Sir James a son; Anne had one with another on the way. Even the Darcys, after their past tragedy, had been blessed with two fine children. The Christmas post had brought the sketch of Georgiana and her daughter, which I had placed on the small table in front of the fire.
In hindsight, all that thinking about children was a mistake. It took me a long time to fall asleep and it was not a particularly restful sleep. Judging by the state of the bedclothes in the morning, I must have tossed and turned a great deal. My restlessness was not helped any by the reappearance of my "mystery man at the ball" dream. Just when I thought I had rid myself of it (it had been two months since the last time), the dream occurred again. What was once a beautiful fantasy was becoming a nightmare.
Needless to say, I was more than a little cross this morning.
Proof of just how irritable I had become thanks to my restive night was shown in mid morning. I had stayed in bed far past my usual hour for beginning the day, trying to get at least a little sleep. It had not worked and I had eventually risen and had breakfast in front of the fire. I was just finishing my tea when there was a slight knock on the door and before I could say "Enter", the door opened and my niece Caroline scurried in. Frankly I was not in the mood for company and Caroline's persistent questions soon drove me into a state of exasperation.
Little Caroline was nothing if observant. Noticing that I did not look particularly happy, her interrogation began.
"Why do you look so sad Aunt Caroline? Don't you like birthdays?"
I groaned inwardly. Trust Caroline to immediately go to the heart of the problem. But I knew that I had to give her some sort of answer, or she would continue to pester me. "Not anymore Caroline. I used to, but I don't like them much now."
"Why not? I like birthdays! Sam likes birthdays. Even Mama likes birthdays."
She did have a point. Louisa did like birthdays. Her favorite gifts were not the new dresses from me or new furniture that Edward bought her, but the simple things that her children had made for her. I was powerless to give her a reply that was not too revealing; yet she would insist on having one.
"I just do not like them any more Caroline. Not everyone likes birthdays when they get older. Look at Grandpa Hurst. He does not like birthdays." That should do it I thought to myself.
But Caroline had a response even for that. "Papa says that Grandpa does not like birthdays because Aunt Sarah makes him come out of the library and be nice to people."
"BLAST!" I mumbled.
In hindsight, I don't know why I did what I did next. Instead of trying to evade her relentless inquiries, I suddenly decided to tell her the truth, or at least something close to it.
Caroline had been standing in front of me since she had entered the room. I leaned forward and whispered to her, gesturing towards the empty chair as I did so. "Sit down and have a piece of toast and Aunt Caroline will tell you a secret!"
Her eyes grew big and she immediately scrambled into the chair. "But you mustn't tell Sarah and you certainly mustn't tell Mama or Uncle Charles!" Caroline eagerly nodded that she understood and I began.
"Ever since I was a little girl, a little girl about Fanny's age, I dreamed that a tall, handsome prince would marry me and make me the happiest woman in the world." (This certainly seemed to interest Caroline.)
"Sometimes I still have that dream. I had it again last night, but instead of making me happy, it made me very sad, since I am not married and I have no children. I'm much too old to get married now."
Caroline was quiet for a moment, although I think it was the mouthful of toast as much as the story I had just told her that kept her quiet. Then she jumped out of her chair and hugged me around the knees and whispered. "Don't worry. Some day your prince will come!"
I smiled at her, to assure Caroline that I believed her. She turned to go out of the room but paused as she reached the doorway. Turning to me, she said, "Why don't you have a nap this afternoon Aunt Caroline? I always feel better after a nap!"
I grinned at her. "Yes, I think I will. Why don't you go ask Mama if you can sleep in here if you want to?" She agreed to do just that.
When naptime came, Caroline crept into the room in her nightdress. I was already in bed, but had folded down the covers on the other side so she could climb in. We were soon settled, and after some wrestling for the bedclothes we were both asleep.
Ever since I had proposed a nap, I had been afraid that the dream would come back. It did of course and I remember sitting up in bed gasping for air. I looked down at Caroline, afraid that my thrashing had awoken her. It had not, and I realized that she must be a sound sleeper, like her mother. Adjusting the bedclothes, I eased myself back down into bed. While unable to fall asleep again, I did feel rested when my maid came to tell us it was time for tea.
Author's Note: My thanks as always to Andrea and Teg for their advice and suggestions!Friday, December 13, 1822
This week began, as the second week in December has for the last nine years, with the family preparing to journey to a party. Since the previous year's party was at Foxchase, this year's was to be at Pemberley. Louisa, the governess and I, after a good deal of difficulty managed to get the children into the carriage and on our way.
The ride to Pemberley is always a long one and the three children combined to make it seem lengthier than usual. In the house, Sam is usually a model of good behavior, but sit him in a carriage for more than an hour and he feels that it is his duty to harass someone. His favorite victim is Caroline, who then feels required to defend herself. Soon the two of them were bickering and after half an hour Louisa reprimanded both of them, which resulted in each of them sulking in their respective corners, Caroline looking like she was on the verge of tears.
Everyone's mood improved a little after luncheon. Sam wanted to sit with the driver and after begging Edward for permission, he did so until the next stop. Needless to say, those of us that remained inside the carriage enjoyed the quiet, which was extended when Caroline, who at five is quite the tomboy, was allowed to sit next to Mr. Hull for a time.
Our first two or three days at Pemberley were quiet enough, filled with the usual preparations for the party, and the swapping of news about our families, especially the ones that were not there. I was overjoyed to hear that Georgiana and Captain Stewart would be back early in the spring.
Yesterday morning began much as the previous ones had. After breakfast, everyone went his or her separate way. The children were soon running about the house, with several of them getting into mischief. Nine year old Sam and Fanny (who's eight) have been playmates almost since birth and they soon found ways to annoy their mothers. If kept apart, they are well behaved, but there is something about the two of them together that makes them little devils. If there are mud puddles or snow banks to jump in, or something easily broken, the two of them will discover it!
By mid-morning, Sam and Fanny had succeeded in coating themselves in mud, which was kept out of the house only through Jane's watchful eyes. As I watched the mud-covered children being marched upstairs I shook my head in amazement. The two of them really were quite a handful, more so than Sarah, Caroline, William, Henry Fitzwilliam and Albert Fitzwilliam combined!
When the household met again for lunch, Sam and Fanny had bathed and dressed in clean clothes. But their expressions puzzled me. While Sam was sulking, Fanny was positively beaming.
It has always been my practice not to interfere in the disciplining of the children, but the fact that Sam and Fanny seemed to have such different opinions on the matter left me wondering quite what had happened. I was still trying to think of a way to ask one of them about it when Fanny approached me with Sam in tow.
Now Fanny has always been a happy child, but something obviously had her excited, almost to the bursting point. I waited to hear what it was, and sure enough, Fanny revealed it to me, her words coming out in a torrent.
"Aunt Caroline, may I ask you a favor?"
"Certainly Fanny."
"Will you be our chaperone at the ball tonight?" (She gestured towards a none too happy Sam as she made this request.)
"What do your mothers have to say about this?"
"That we may go and stand to the side if you will watch us." Sam replied.
I looked at the two of them. Sam appeared to be a man who was stoically accepting his fate. Fanny watched me anxiously, trying to guess what my answer might be.
"Very well. But the first sign of misbehavior or tiredness and off you go!"
"Thank you Aunt Caroline!" Fanny exclaimed as she threw her arms about me and hugged me tight. Sam gave a very good impression of a man who was preparing to meet the hangman.
Fanny soon skipped out of the room, giggling that she had to pick out a dress for the evening. I took the opportunity to ask Sam why he looked so unhappy about the whole thing. "She'll want to dance!" he moaned.
I could not help smiling at his discomfort. The past summer, Fanny had decided that she wanted to learn to dance and Sam had been cajoled into being her partner, since they were about the same size, plus Louisa thought it was time for him to learn a few refinements. The lessons had not gone well. Despite Sam's best efforts and the patient teaching of his Uncle Charles, the only thing my poor nephew was particularly good at was stepping on Fanny's toes. I patted him on the shoulder and pointed out that even if Fanny did want to dance, it would not be on the dance floor itself and that I would probably be the only person to see them dancing.
This seemed to improve his disposition slightly. He left the room and I soon followed. I spent much of the afternoon in my chambers taking care of my own preparations for the ball. I debated whether or not I should wear my dancing slippers, since I would spend much of the evening watching Sam and Fanny. I decided to wear them in the end, in the belief that someone would take over minding the children if I was asked to dance.
Just as my own arrangements had been completed, there was a knock on the door and Fanny's head soon peeked around the door frame. "Come help me pick a dress!" she begged. When I got to the room that she was sharing with Beth Collins I saw that there were three dresses laid out on the bed. Jane was standing next to the bed looking none too pleased. Fanny quickly sketched out the situation. She had wanted to wear one dress while her mother had preferred another. Beth, who happened to be in the room, had indicated her preference for a third.
"Which one?" Fanny pleaded. I looked at the three choices. It was easy to guess who had selected each dress. Beth's selection was rather severe; but then again her views on dresses tended to be along those lines. That left Fanny's choice and Jane's. Examining the two of them closely, I gradually formed the opinion that Jane's choice would be more appropriate for the evening, since it was, in fact an evening dress, whereas Fanny had picked a favorite morning dress. "This one." I said as I held up the dress her mother had selected. Fanny began to pout, exclaiming "But Mama!" however Jane said gently "Now Fanny, you said that you would wear which ever dress Aunt Caroline picked." Fanny nodded and thanked me for my help.
The remainder of the day passed uneventfully and then it was time for the ball. I met Sam and Fanny at the foot of the main staircase. I complimented Sam, saying that he looked like quite a little gentleman. He colored a little at my remark, but thanked me for it. He offered his arm to Fanny, which she accepted with a giggle. I followed the young couple into the ballroom.
It was not until the first dance had begun that I began to notice the strange feeling that came over me. It is hard to describe accurately. But it consisted mainly of a cold shiver running down my spine and a shortness of breath. The sensation passed in a couple of minutes, but for that time, I was feeling sufficiently lightheaded to lean against a nearby piece of furniture for support.
The children had their dance and for the first time, Sam performed it without stepping on Fanny's toes. They were far from flawless, but Sam looked very pleased with himself. Fanny looked a bit tired after the dance, so she and Sam sat down and watched the adults whirl about the dance floor. I alternated between standing over them, and walking about the dance floor, never straying far from where the children were seated, but far enough away to improve my view of some parts of the dance floor.
I had just returned from one of these little walks when the feeling that I had briefly experienced earlier returned. If it had been a minor annoyance before, it came back much more powerfully this time. So powerful in fact, that I thought it best to sit down. I must have had an unusual expression on my face, because Fanny was soon asking me, her concern apparent "Are you feeling well?" I managed to get out that I was feeling a little tired and just wanted to rest for a bit. Nevertheless, she sat close to me for the next several minutes.
Just as the music ended, Fanny asked in a quiet voice "Who is that man staring at you Aunt Caroline?"
"Where?"
"Over there, near the window." Fanny gestured at a window set into the far wall.
I could not see the window she was pointing at very well from my chair, so I stood in order to get a better view. It was then that I saw him, the man who had been a constant visitor in my dreams for nearly ten years. I stared at him in what must have been open-mouthed incredulity as he was making his way through the dancers towards us.
"Go and get your father." I said to Fanny. I had meant for it to come out as a softly spoken sentence, but it came out as a strangled whisper. She must have heard me, because she went running towards her parents calling "Papa, Papa, Aunt Caroline wants you!" If I had not been standing rooted to the floor in a state of complete shock, I would have died of embarrassment, since everyone in the room turned to look at us when they heard Fanny's announcement.
At this point, I felt that my legs would give way any second, so I clutched at the first thing I could in order to support myself. It happened to be Sam, who had stood in front of me when we all rose from our chairs. He must have believed that I was frightened, because I could feel him bringing himself to his full height, as though he meant to protect me. He was saved from having to make any such move by the arrival of his father and uncle.
Charles, Edward and the mysterious stranger all arrived more or less simultaneously. It was Charles who made the introductions, announcing that the man was an old friend of his, Sir Robert Macmillan. Charles must have seen the puzzled look that passed over my face, since he elaborated, telling me that Sir Robert was the Member of Parliament for Edinburgh and had been a member of his club for years. (I must make clear that at this point, I very nearly throttled my dear brother.) Known him for years? But I also realized why his accent had confused me so much in my dream. There had always been Scots around the warehouse when I was a child. It was an accent I should have recognized.
Sir Robert bowed, and I curtsied, and I asked him how he came to be at Pemberley. He smiled that lazy smile of his, which I found more attractive with each passing second and replied, "Your brother was kind enough to invite me. Said I needed some cheering up!" Charles reentered the conversation at this moment, happily stating "Yes, you'd been looking rather sad all year!"
All this information had my thoughts in a jumble. Old friend . . . Sad for a year . . . .Why . . ..
But I did not have time to resolve any of this. Sir Robert was smiling at me again. "May I have the next dance, Miss Bingley?"
The remainder of the ball passed in a whirl. The only things I can remember clearly are dancing, talking, laughing and feeling more ALIVE than I had in years.
My euphoria had not begun to wear off by the time I retired. My maid asked me my opinion of the ball and all I could do was babble.
"He's here. I've seen him, touched him, and talked with him. Even danced with him. The man from my dream exists and he is staying not five miles from here!"
My maid looked at me curiously, as if she was trying to determine whether or not I had gone mad in the last few hours. Eventually she just shrugged her shoulders and asked me if there was anything else I needed. Upon hearing that I did not require further attention, she excused herself and left my chamber, still shaking her head.
This morning I bounded out of bed like a young girl on Christmas morning, determined to try and record everything that had happened at the ball. But I was so excited I could not concentrate, so I put it off until now. I shall have to sign off momentarily, since I have just been reminded that it is tea time and Sir Robert shall be here!
Author's Note: Here it is at long last. I'd like to take a moment to thank Teg and Andrea for truly going above and beyond the call of duty with this chapter. Their advice and suggestions were even more helpful than usual!
Monday, March 31, 1823
The long wait is over. The sleepless nights wondering at the identity of the man who was a constant visitor to my dreams have ceased. For I am soon to cast aside the role of "spinster aunt" and join the ranks of married women. Lady Caroline Macmillan. That has a nice ring to it, does it not? Hmmm. Would I be any less euphoric if it was plain Mrs.? No! Most certainly not!
Since the day Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were married, my stays at Pemberley had always seemed to be brief. They were even briefer this past December. Every waking moment after that fateful Thursday was spent thinking of one man. How long had it been since I had thought each day about a man? Years. Since the days I had struggled to get any notice from Mr. Darcy. But Mr. Darcy had been replaced by another. A tall Scotsman with fair hair and a ready smile had supplanted him. A man whose mere presence made me feel young again.
The afternoon after the ball, Sir Robert had been invited to tea. I can remember nothing that occurred during the early parts of the tea party except the surreptitious glances that I constantly sent in his direction as I followed him around the room with my eyes. Nervousness prevented me from approaching him outright, so I stood in one place and covertly watched Sir Robert as he conversed with Mr. Darcy and Charles. At one point he turned and before I could turn my head away he had caught me. I flushed and lowered my head in embarrassment.
I was still studying the design of Elizabeth's china when I heard someone take the seat next to me. My senses told me that it was him, but I was too mortified to even speak with him. But his quiet tones soon roused me and we spent an enjoyable few minutes talking about the weather, the roads and most of the other subjects that make up polite party conversation.
One topic that did reveal something of the man was our conversation about Scotland. Since I had never visited that part of the kingdom, I asked him about it. His enthusiasm for his home was obvious, but he nevertheless surprised me. I had assumed that his favorite part of the land would be his estate, and his revelation that it was not stunned me. Instead, he spoke eloquently about a stretch of seaside that he traveled along whenever he came to England and the Highlands where he hunted and fished with his cousins. One could not help but be drawn in by his word picture of the lochs, bleak yet beautiful.
I can not recall that anyone ever made me determined to visit a place, merely by describing it. (Not even Pemberley can claim this honor, but I blame Charles, who viewed it first, and his inability to express himself like Sir Robert for this!) Sir Robert's vivid portrayal of Loch Ness and the area around Inverness, with his use of phrases like "the sacred field of Culloden" (which made me think for a minute he was a Jacobite) and "the majestic ruins of Urquhart Castle", which overlooked the Loch. For much of my adult life I have not had the adventuresome spirit that I had in my younger tomboy days, but as I sat captivated, listening to Sir Robert, I was filled with a desire to see these places.
The following day was Sunday and the inhabitants of Pemberley made their way to Kympton to attend the services there. I have always enjoyed Mr. Medcalf's sermons, but he outdid himself that day. I was sitting mesmerized when I noticed that the coat of the gentleman in front of me had a thread hanging from it. Intending to gently pluck it away, I reached up to remove it. I must have pulled with more force than I intended, because the man turned around and I found myself face to face with a puzzled Sir Robert. I flushed again, since I had not noticed him when he came in. But I summoned up what was left of my courage and held out the dainty thread. He looked at it and nodded his thanks. I sank back into my pew, my emotions in a whirl.
Our departure from Pemberley the next morning must surely have been one of the most comical things seen there in many years. Usually, I am busy chasing the children about, making sure that they are all in the carriage. The usual procedure was reversed that forenoon as the girls fairly dragged me back to the waiting vehicle. Sir Robert had stopped by to pay his respects before he departed for Edinburgh and my nieces only pulled me back to the carriage with a great deal of effort. I was greeted with an amused glance from Louisa when I was finally seated and with several knowing looks from the children.
Christmas was a bit difficult. I tried time and time again to tell myself that it was nonsense to be upset over being separated from a man I had only been introduced to days before. The customary Christmas correspondence did little to brighten my mood. The only letter which was delivered before New Year's Day that I could remember reading intently was Charles' and Sir Robert was only mentioned in a single paragraph, where my brother announced his safe arrival in Edinburgh.
Jane's epistle, which arrived on Twelfth Night, surprised me however. I would never have believed her to be the kind of person who read someone else's mail, but she did pass along some vital intelligence. Sir Robert, it seemed had mentioned me in his letter to Charles. Jane even went so far as to say that it sounded like he was badgering my brother for further information about me. If Jane wanted to lift my spirits, this information did accomplish that, but it also had some adverse effects.
I was somewhat annoyed at Charles for not mentioning Sir Robert's interest in me, but then logic took over and pointed out that Charles may have been trying to keep his friend's confidence. Another possibility was that he was trying to keep me from raising my hopes too much. As much as I wanted to be angry with my brother, I could not find it in myself to do so.
The holidays were soon over and mid January brought news from Charles that Sir Robert would be returning to London. My emotions were increasingly confused at this time. I desperately wanted him to call, but I was also afraid that I was becoming too dependent on Sir Robert. What if he did not return my feelings?
I resolved to think things through as soon as possible. Fortunately, an opportunity presented itself that very night. Louisa and Edward had been invited to dine at the home of Edward's brother. I remained behind, stating that I had a headache. With the house to myself, I could consider matters without interruption.
After a quiet supper, I sat silently in the armchair in my chamber, trying to determine just how I felt about Sir Robert. But another man silently entered my thoughts. Lieutenant James Percy. The mere whispering of his name made me sit upright in my chair. Why, at a time like this, was I contemplating a man I had not spoken or thought about in over a decade? It took a couple of minutes of frantic searching about my memory before I recalled just who James Percy had been and why he was important.
Lieutenant Percy had entered my life in the summer of 1806, when I was a rather silly seventeen year-old, fresh from school. I shuddered momentarily as I remembered just how silly I had been all those years ago, and then memories of that summer took over again. We met at a party, one of my first. I cared not who I stood up with, as long as I had a partner for every dance. One of my favorites that night proved to be a slightly built officer who waltzed divinely. How I enjoyed whirling about the ballroom with him! It was not until I was so exhausted that I could not dance another step that I took a seat. My aunt, who had taken me under her wing when my mother had died three years before soon, took me aside.
What followed was a brief lecture on gentlemen and not giving them misleading ideas about your intentions. Aunt Cassandra had asked me a little too bluntly what I thought about my dance partner and I was surprised to hear that she was worried that I might be forming an attachment with him. She also advised me to make it clear that if I had not formed an attachment I should let him know immediately. But she had not told me how to do it.
I handled it pretty badly. Instead of being gentle, I had been harsh, perhaps even rude. When he left the ball it was obvious that he was angry.
Three years later I heard that a Captain James Percy had been killed during the terrible retreat to Corunna, in Spain. I had not given it a second thought then. But now it gnawed at me. Had he forgiven me? Were his last words a call for his mother? His wife? Or were they a curse against a blundering young lady who had treated him so badly?
After that, I could not concentrate about Sir Robert at all. No matter how hard I tried to cast James Percy from my thoughts, I could not. The question of whether he had forgiven me tormented me for the rest of the day and I went to bed feeling a good deal more miserable than I had claimed to earlier.
Two days after my memories of James Percy had surfaced; Sir Robert came to visit. Thus began a pattern that lasted for several weeks. He would call twice a week and everyone in the house soon looked forward to his visits. He was a wonderful conversationalist, able to speak with the always curious Sam about Scotland and his early life in the Army or Louisa and I about art, music and books with similar enthusiasm. In hindsight, those visits should have told me a great deal about the man, but I now believe I was so busy trying to determine how I felt that I may have missed any indication as to how he felt about me.
Whenever he called, I would be happy all the time that he was there and the rest of the day. By the next morning, I would be worrying, trying to analyze everything that had been said; every movement, every glance.
That examination of each call, which I had hoped would help me determine what Sir Robert felt for me (and for that matter what I felt for him) served to do exactly the opposite. I could not help but compare it with my earlier pursuit of Mr. Darcy. For two years I had chased after a man I thought I knew well, only to discover in the end that I did not know him at all. As I tried to think about Sir Robert, the comparison came easily. I had known Sir Robert for less than two months and yet the attraction was so much stronger, so strong that it frightened me.
In mid February he surprised Louisa and I by inviting us to the opera. He had procured a box for what was supposed to be the performance of the season and he invited us to accompany him and his sister to the opera house. Louisa and I gladly accepted and her eagerness to meet Sir Robert's sister rivaled my own.
I need not have worried about meeting Helena Campbell. She was a friendly woman, who reminded me in many ways of Jane or Georgiana. Louisa found her to be an excellent partner for conversation, and the party in our box soon broke into three groups: Louisa and Helena, Edward and Allan Campbell and Sir Robert and myself. This was a little disconcerting, since I still found speaking with Sir Robert alone made me extremely nervous. Whenever he had called, Louisa had always been there and had taken part in the conversation, at least at first.
My nerves were not improved by my suspicion that the Campbells' presence was not strictly social. Although they sat behind me during the performance, I could not shake the idea that I was being watched and perhaps even spoken about, because I heard several comments whispered between them, not loud enough to be understood, but certainly loud enough to be noticed. Thus, when Sarah asked me what I thought of the opera the next morning, I could not give her much of a review. My senses and emotions were too involved elsewhere.
Shakespeare once said "Beware the Ides of March". I will always remember them as the day I made the most important decision in my life. Something inside me told me that Sir Robert would be proposing soon. I don't know how I knew this, but I did. I was also aware of the fact that if he asked me, I wasn't completely sure how to answer him. Would I say yes to Sir Robert the man, or the Sir Robert of my dreams? I desperately needed to talk to someone!
Sitting in my favorite armchair I tried to think of who I could speak with. Louisa and Sarah Hurst had accompanied their husbands who had gone to see a sick uncle. Jane would not give me the candid appraisal that I needed. Elizabeth was still in Derbyshire and not expected for several more days. Kitty and Mary? I was not close enough to either to speak of something this personal (and besides Mary was in Ireland). Anne was in Dublin helping her husband select goods for the new shop. Who did that leave? I fairly leaped up when the name came to me.
"Charlotte!"
Within moments, a note was on its way to the Passmore's London house asking if I could call that afternoon. If Charlotte was surprised by the fact that I wanted to call barely 48 hours after last seeing her, the reply that I received from her did not indicate it.
When the butler showed me into the sitting room, Charlotte was playing with her son. I'm not sure just how she guessed that I wanted to talk without him present, but the little boy was soon sent off to keep his father company. Charlotte invited me to sit down and offered me a cup of tea.
The conversation began slowly, since I was not sure just how to broach such a personal subject and Charlotte was a little slow to answer the first few questions. But both of us soon warmed to the task and I laid my problem out before her. She proved to have been an excellent choice for someone to discuss the issue with, for not only did she answer all my questions, she raised a few that I had not considered in all my thinking on the matter. Before we knew it almost two hours had passed and Charlotte needed to prepare for a previous engagement. She answered my final plea of "What should I do?" with an inquiry of her own.
"What do you want to do?"
"Say yes if he asks me!" I replied.
Charlotte rested her chin on her hands for a moment, as if she was contemplating something.
"Then let me give you the finest piece of advice anyone ever gave me. You've been given a second chance at happiness. If it is what you want, what you really want, grab it with both hands and never let go."
We sat watching each other for a few seconds. Then I remembered just who had given her that advice and I let out a nervous little laugh. Charlotte merely smiled.
Easter Sunday has always been a quiet day in the Hurst household. After attending services at St. ____'s, we usually spend the remainder of the day at home. But this year I will remember forever.
The only people who ever call on Easter Sunday are Edward's family, so the fact that we had a caller who was not a relative was unusual indeed. You can imagine my shock when Sir Robert was shown into the sitting room. After spending a few minutes speaking with the family (for he is a great favorite with my nieces), he asked if he might have a word with me alone.
There was a moment's stunned silence, and then Edward's voice saying "Certainly, why don't you use the garden?" I lead the way out to the garden, with my heart beating so fast that I thought it would tear itself from my chest. "A word alone." Does this mean what I think it means?
When we arrived in the garden, Sir Robert asked me to sit down on the bench. I did so and watched him with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. I was anxious for obvious reasons, but was growing more and more curious about why Sir Robert was pacing up and down in front of me, mumbling something I could not quite understand.
Finally, after two or three minutes had passed, he stopped pacing and stood in front of me. "The most important speech of my life", he said quietly "And I cannot think what to say!" Sir Robert got down on one knee and hesitatingly took my hand. He began to speak:
"O' my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June;
O' my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune, --As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I
And I will love thee still my Dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry, --Till a' the seas gang dry my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will love thee still my Dear,
While the sands o' life shall run, --And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again my Luve,
Tho it were ten thousand mile!" **
Instinctively, I squeezed his hand as he finished and with no hesitation at all, I said, "Yes." He looked up at me and seemed confused. I repeated, with a sense of calm that I did not feel at all "Yes, I would be honored to be your wife." That radiant smile that I have come to cherish spread across his face and I slid over on the bench and helped him up so he could sit beside me.
We sat on the bench for a long moment and then we turned to each other. He leaned towards me, still hesitating somewhat and I knew what he meant to do. Our first kiss was a brief one and when we drew apart, I am sure that we wore matching dazed expressions. But then we leaned towards each other again . . .
I'm not sure how long we sat alone in the garden. After a time, I raised my head from his shoulder and said "We had best be getting back, or Louisa will think we have eloped!" He grinned, and helped me to my feet. As we made our way back to the house, I could see one of my nieces watching from the window. I suddenly felt very bold and I gave Robert a quick peck on the cheek. He turned to me, curious, but I merely smiled at him, having noticed during our sojourn in the garden that he finds my smile as intoxicating as I find his.
Whichever niece it was must have noticed and spread the word, since the family was assembled in the sitting room when we returned. Neither one of us said a word. We did not have to. As soon as we entered the room, Edward was congratulating Robert, Louisa was embracing me and my nieces were plucking at my skirts to get my attention.
** "A Red Red Rose" by Robert Burns
Author's Note: My thanks to Andrea for all her help with this one!
Monday, August 18, 1823
My last night as a single woman. I should be in bed, resting for my "big day" tomorrow. But I cannot. My emotional pendulum swings from a state of nerves so bad that I can barely think to happiness that borders on the silly! In just the last half-hour I have spent 20 minutes tensely pacing the room only to sit down and waste two perfectly good sheets of paper practicing signing my name. After all, how many ways can one write "Lady Caroline Macmillan"? At least twenty!
Finally, I forced myself to sit and write my journal. Sitting here by the fire, with my battered 1823 journal and my pen had a marvelously calming effect. But before I began to write, I took a few minutes to thumb through the entries since March 30. Pausing on April 4, I read the passage that I had copied verbatim from that morning's edition of "The Times". One phrase in particular caught my attention: " . . . announces the engagement of his sister, Miss Caroline Agnes Bingley, to Sir Robert James Macmillan . . . ".
Laying down my pen for a moment, I reflected on the week after my Easter afternoon engagement to Rob. Our return to the house after our sojourn in the garden had been a hectic one, needless to say. Edward was congratulating Rob and Louisa was embracing me, as Sarah and Caroline plucked at my skirts, eager for details. The commotion soon attracted Sam's attention and he wandered into the drawing room, leaving his books in the library.
Sam's reaction to the news was typical of him. He shook hands with Rob, and I remember thinking "Always the little gentleman!", but he embraced me tightly as soon as Caroline and Sarah had relinquished their grip on me.
A week after the announcement in the newspapers, we attended our first ball as an engaged couple. I was a bit nervous, I must admit, as it had been years since I had attended any sort of social gathering that was not family related. As we entered the ballroom, I heard with a good deal of surprise that I was once again the talk of fashionable London. The comments I overheard contained a wide variety of opinions, some good, and some bad. But many of them stung. More than one disappointed young lady or frustrated mother remarked that it was a tragedy one of London's most eligible bachelors seemed to be throwing himself away on an old maid.
Rob must have heard many of the comments and realized how much they had hurt me, even if I did my best not to show any kind of reaction. He gripped my arm a little tighter and I turned to look at him. He smiled at me, and it was all the reassurance I needed. A smile that eloquently said " I don't care what they say. I am happy with my choice."
We attended several more balls and parties that Spring, as I enjoyed my first London season in nearly a decade. My confidence was soon restored and Rob no longer felt the need to hover over me protectively. Society may have judged us to be an unusual couple, but neither of us minded.
Taking time from his Parliamentary duties, Rob showed me our London house. It was modest, even by the standards of Edward and Louisa's house, but I reminded myself that I would be the mistress of not one house, but three. It was also in need of "a woman's touch", something that Rob readily admitted as we walked through the public rooms of the dwelling.
I noticed Louisa looking at me curiously as Rob said that the house needed redecorating. When I had first moved in with her, after Charles and Jane were married, I had been full of ideas on how to redecorate her house. Considering how bad many of them had probably been, I think it was probably better that she tactfully declined!
Rob turned away for a moment and I took advantage of it to lean over and whisper in Louisa's ear "Don't worry, I won't insist on redoing the house in orange!" It was with a great deal of difficulty that she did not laugh and when my fiancé was facing us again, Louisa and I were both grinning. Rob raised an eyebrow, suspecting no doubt that we had shared some sort of joke.
Sarah and Caroline, who had carried out their own exploration of the house, soon joined us. They tugged at Uncle Rob's sleeve and asked if they could see the garden, explaining that they had seen it from the windows and that "It looked very nice!" Louisa suggested that Rob and I show them the garden, saying that she would remain in the library and rest her aching feet.
After a brief tour of the garden, Rob and I were soon settled on the bench as Sarah and Caroline played nearby. Seeing that the girls were unlikely to get into any trouble for a few minutes, I asked Rob about the Edinburgh house. Within minutes, he was painting another of his exquisite word pictures and I felt as though I was intimately familiar with a house and garden that I had never seen. We sat quietly side by side for a moment and then Caroline spoke up "It sounds like you will have a beautiful house Aunt Caroline!" Rob and I were startled for a moment and then I took his hand in mine and replied, "Yes it does!"
It seems strange now, the night before my wedding, to admit that even two weeks ago, I still had a slight doubt as to why Rob wanted to get married. Did he want the true me? Or was he being a gallant gentleman, offering to marry a woman past her prime, who would never receive another offer?
I cannot help smiling as I read my entries from late July, when these doubts were expressed almost nightly. At one party I had teased him that he had never experienced the notorious "Bingley temper". He smiled and said that Charles was the most mild mannered man he had ever met. My retort had been that while that was true, it was only because I had received two shares of it. Rob had not even flinched, murmuring something along the lines of "It can't be that bad."
But it was not my temper that had caused that scene in the hallway of Louisa's home that last Friday of the season. It was my own uncertainty, and something I had intended to keep close to my heart, exposing to no one, least of all him, was brought into the open.
As had become our practice over those months, Rob had come to collect me in order to take me to another party. Louisa and Edward stayed upstairs, tending to the children, so we had been allowed a few moments of privacy. All that day, I had been nervous, since the party was to be at the same home as our "first" gathering in April. After almost three weeks of worrying, my doubts had come to a head. What if the comments I had heard at the first party we had attended were true?
Rob, bless his kind heart had seen that something was wrong. Taking me into the drawing room, he quietly asked me what was disturbing me. I had wanted to deny that anything was wrong, but before I could stop myself, it all poured forth and I told him about my uncertainties. Looking back, I am surprised at how well Rob took it. He paused a moment, and stroked my cheek, saying, "Come now, where is the brave, kind lass I fell in love with? The one I waited ten years to find?"
My voice wavered "Ten years?"
Rob identified my tone immediately. It was not one of surprise, or pity. It was one of recognition of a shared experience. He smiled. "Yes indeed. It was ten years to the day after I first dreamed of you that I saw your face."
If I had not been staring at him in wide-eyed, open-mouthed astonishment before, I was now. Somehow Rob must have taken this as an indication that I wanted him to continue, because after a brief pause for breath, he did so.
"In 1812, after I had been wounded at the Battle of Salamanca, I was sent home to recuperate. At a ball given in my honor as "the hero returned from the wars" as my father put it, I met a beautiful, vivacious young woman. I soon found myself falling in love, but I gave no indication of it to anyone. My best friend also fell in love with her and he was a successful suitor. Since he had no knowledge of my feelings for her, he asked me to stand by him at the wedding."
"I cannot imagine how difficult that could have been for you."
He smiled ruefully. "The worst afternoon of my life. Makes even Waterloo pale in comparison. Of course I did nothing to help my cause, being rude and downright uncivil on more than one occasion that day. Fortunately, many people put it down to making a little too merry the night before. But it was not until that evening that I set out to get drunk. I was on third glass of whiskey when the door opened and my brother Andrew walked in and sat down at the other end of the sofa with his own bottle. I glared at him, but he merely stated, "No man should drink alone on an occasion like this. Besides, she's not for you Rob."
"The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning fervently wishing I could die. Of course Andy's snoring from the sofa did not help matters much." He paused for a moment and then asked, "I take it from your surprised reaction that you had a similar experience?"
I nodded.
"You fell in love with someone who chose another?"
There was nothing to do now but tell him everything. I tried my best to leave the identities of the other people involved out of the story. I even attempted a bit of humor at the end, mentioning that except for an occasional glass of wine, I had not done much drinking since.
Rob put his arm around my shoulders and drew me close to him. He kissed me on the cheek and then leaned his head against mine. "You know what this means don't you?"
I smiled. "That we were somehow fated for one another?"
"Exactly."
At this point, Louisa and Edward knocked on the door, indicating it was time to go. My courage had not only been restored, it had risen to new heights. The evening, needless to say, was a success.
My last few days living with Louisa were melancholy ones. My belongings had been packed for the move to Scotland and I began to realize just how much I would miss the old familiar house and the children.
The morning we were to leave, I sat quietly in my chamber. With my possessions now on their way north, everything that had indicated that a person had lived in the room was gone. It was just another guest room now.
Louisa came looking for me and found me staring out the window. Sitting down beside me, she asked what was the matter. "I shall miss this place."
"Nonsense" Louisa started, but her voice trailed off as she recognized my expression. We sat quietly for a moment, and then as if simultaneously possessed by the same notion, we laid on the bed side by side, each of us occupying a pillow. For a few moments, it was as though someone had turned the clocks back 20 years and we were two schoolgirls having a good laugh again. But our time was cut short by a knock at the door and Edward's announcement, "It's time."
I had tea with my nieces and nephews this afternoon. If Elizabeth was confused at all by my rather unusual request that we be allowed to take tea alone, she made no mention of it. Although I would swear that I saw a rather conspiratorial wink pass between her and my nieces as she showed us into the room . . .