The Three Colonels Page 4

  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—”

  She held up her hand. “Nottinghamshire is some distance from London or Wales. Is that a difficulty for you?”

  “No distance would be too far.”

  “And for how long would you court me before expecting an answer?”

  “You are my heart’s choice, therefore, I will await your—”

  “Please, Colonel.” She sighed. “I see no profit in such an exercise when it would make no difference with the eventual answer. Therefore, I shall give you my answer now. Yes, I believe that you have reformed your life, and I forgive you all past transgressions. No, you may not court me. Yes, I will marry you.”

  “Pardon me?” Sir John asked, confused.

  Caroline smiled. “Colonel Buford, I see no reason to postpone the inevitable. I would be happy and honored to become your wife.”

  Surprise gave way to joy, which gave way to satisfaction on Sir John’s face. Regaining control, he reached out, helping Caroline to rise from the bench. He softly began kissing the back of her hands while saying, “Caroline, my own.”

  Caroline was almost overcome by the sight of this extraordinarily handsome man taking such liberties with her. The skin under his lips tingled, and the memory of walking into the Netherfield library while her brother and Jane were stealing a moment of affection ignited a longing of… something. She was unsure what that craving was, but perhaps if she imitated her relations’ activity, she would discover it.

  “John,” said Caroline, using his Christian name, “if I must marry a man with your reputation, should not I receive some benefit from it?” At his renewed confusion, she added, “Surely you can do better than this,” as she indicated her hands. She had forgotten all about Abigail.

  Caroline never realized that blue eyes could become so dark. Sir John lowered her hands to her side and took her into his arms, a slow smile creeping over his face.

  “Oh yes, Caroline, much better.”

  He lowered his lips to hers. The kiss started light and tender, but began to build in passion as Caroline surprised herself by kissing him back. He drew her even more firmly into his embrace, and the warmth of his closeness set a fire that threatened to engulf her body. Caroline’s hands rose to his broad shoulders, hard and firm beneath his coat, when she felt his tongue brush her lips. Startled back into control, she pushed herself away slightly.

  “Yes… much better, sir. But we should return to the house, I think.” Caroline smiled weakly. She quickly became mortified on catching sight of a shocked Abigail.

  “Of course, of course. Let me give you my arm,” her newly betrothed said. As the couple began making their way back to Bingley House, Sir John asked, “To whom should I speak? Your brother, I should think. May I approach him this evening?”

  Caroline shook herself and answered, “Yes, speak to Charles.”

  Only later would she remember that he and Jane were at Netherfield.

  * * *

  The Buford family of Wales was announced in the ballroom of Bingley House. The dowager Mrs. Albertine Buford came forward to greet her son and his intended. Walking beside her were Mr. and Mrs. Philip Buford, the current masters of the family estate, and her daughter, Lady Suzanne Douglas.

  “Caroline!” cried Mrs. Buford in her slight French accent that thirty years in Wales had not eliminated. “How lovely you look tonight. And this is very becoming,” she said, eyeing the cameo. “My son spoils you.”

  Caroline blushed while Sir John looked on with pleasure. “Thank you, Mrs. Buford.”

  “Caroline! I must insist—it is Mother Buford! Rebecca is Mrs. Buford now.”

  Caroline tried not to roll her eyes. “Yes, of course, Mother Buford.” She greeted the others. “Philip, Rebecca, Lady—er, Suzanne.”

  Sir John frowned. “Is Lord Douglas not coming?”

  Lady Douglas took Caroline’s hand. “Forgive us—tenant troubles in Scotland. He promises most firmly he will be present for the wedding.”

  The Buford family continued to exchange pleasantries with everyone while once again Caroline wondered at the kindness shown her. For such a fine family, they were certainly informal. They were undoubtedly standoffish in the beginning. Why, Sir John, a second son, came with two thousand pounds a year! Perhaps they thought she was after his fortune. Now she wondered whether they were truly fond of her or simply happy that Sir John was settling down. If it were the latter, how long would their kindness last?

  The butler approached to interrupt them. The first guests were arriving.

  Chapter 3

  Caroline, at last free from her stint on the receiving line, walked with Jane and Louisa to the punch bowl. There she saw Eliza Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner with a young lady Caroline had not met that evening.

  “Caroline, Louisa,” Elizabeth said, “allow me to introduce to you a very good friend of mine, Mrs. Brandon. Marianne, Miss Bingley, Sir John’s intended, and her sister, Mrs. Hurst.”

  Caroline smiled. “I am pleased to be able to meet you finally, Mrs. Brandon. Sir John has told me so much of Colonel Brandon and his lovely Marianne that I feel I know you already.”

  “You are too kind,” replied Marianne as Kitty, Georgiana, and Anne de Bourgh joined them. “His friends have despaired for years that Sir John would ever settle down, but I see we had no reason for fear, for he was waiting for the right lady.”

  Caroline was unsure of the lady’s sincerity, but she chose to ignore it. Besides, she had been dealing with people doubting her improvements for two years. “Thank you, but I am sure I deserve no such praise.” She looked at the young lady, who appeared to be surely no more than one and twenty, and asked, “Tell me, to which regiment is your husband attached?”

  Marianne looked askew at Caroline’s odd question. “My husband is not with a regiment at the present time. He is what the War Office calls ‘inactive,’ but he has not resigned his commission. He holds an honorary position with the
Life Guards.”

  “Oh…” Caroline, disappointed, looked away crossly. She had hoped that this young woman could give her some idea as to what was expected of a colonel’s wife.

  The silence in the room brought Caroline abruptly to her senses. She blanched at Mrs. Brandon’s hurt expression. Knowing her only by reputation, the lady could only take Caroline’s sigh as a snub.

  “Mrs. Brandon, I am afraid I have given offense; please forgive me. I meant no disregard towards your husband. I am only disappointed. I am soon to be an officer’s wife, but I do not know my duties. I had hoped you could give me guidance.”

  Caroline’s eyes began to fill with mortification; she could not offend the wife of Sir John’s particular friend! “I spoke ill. I had hoped to call upon you as my mentor, now—”

  Marianne, touched by her sincere remorse, put her hand on the older woman’s arm. “I am afraid you will have to look elsewhere for a mentor. We shall just be friends, shall we? Is that so bad?”

  Caroline, surprised and relieved, eagerly accepted the olive branch. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Brandon,” Caroline smiled as she took Marianne’s hands in hers. The other ladies present had various reactions. Jane looked on with a proud expression at Caroline’s modesty, Elizabeth was pleased, and Anne seemed shocked that Caroline would apologize.

  Caroline was thankful for the interruption when Mary joined the group and immediately engaged her friend in conversation. This gave Marianne a chance to speak to Kitty.

  “I bear greetings from Delaford Parsonage, Kitty. Is Mr. Southerland here?”

  “No, parish business kept him at Kympton. He is overseeing the enlargement of the parsonage.”

  Marianne smiled. “No matter—now that I consider it, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars will prefer to wish him joy in person… say at Hertfordshire in February?”

  At this, Kitty turned positively red.

  * * *

  Caroline had been honored with the request that she assist Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner in the debuts of Georgiana and Kitty, a commission she accepted with pleasure and only a tiny bit of self-satisfaction. Kitty’s debut was short-lived; she almost immediately attracted the attention of a Mr. Southerland, son of a wealthy family from Scotland and destined for the church. Kitty was much amazed that a clergyman could be so charming and sensible—and so handsome. He deserved closer study, and so her fate was sealed, especially as he had gained the living at Kympton.

  Mention of Kitty’s nuptials reminded Caroline of the secret she meant to tell her and the other ladies. “Kitty, I am so happy for you and Mr. Southerland, but I am afraid that I have some news that, while delightful on the whole, may give you disappointment and regret for me.”

  “Oh, Caroline, what is it? Do not say you cannot come to my wedding!”

  “Kitty, I am sorry, but—”

  “Caroline!”

  All turned at the source of the interruption. Walking towards them was a tall woman in a gown of the latest fashion. Caroline’s expert eye took in Annabella Norris’s outfit at a glance. She was certain the gown was costly, but no amount of money could buy refinement. She then noticed the hard glint in Annabella’s eye, which immediately put Caroline on her guard.

  “Annabella, you look lovely tonight,” she greeted the woman in all false affection.

  “I simply had to take another look at your necklace. What an unusual color for a cameo! Did you have it especially made?”

  “Specially made it certainly was, but not at my request. This is a gift from Sir John.”

  “How thoughtful of him! Orange is certainly your color.” Caroline hardly blinked at the attack, while the other ladies stood in silence. Annabella turned to them. “Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Bingley, good evening. And of course, I am acquainted with Miss Bennet.” She nodded at Mary.

  “Mrs. Tucker,” Mary retorted.

  “Oh yes, you married that young man from Hertfordshire, did you not? A childhood sweetheart, I dare say. What does he do—a clerk of some sort, is he? Country romances are so charming!” Turning to Kitty, she continued, “So you are now Miss Bennet, unless you have run off lately?” She finished with a giggle.

  Kitty showed a little hurt at the reminder of Lydia’s elopement. “I still own Miss Bennet for a few months more. I am lately betrothed to Mr. Southerland.”

  “How wonderful! Everyone is getting married!” She ignored Mrs. Gardiner and cast her eyes upon Marianne. “But I have not been introduced to this lady.”

  Caroline was forced to do the honors. “Mrs. Brandon, allow me to present Mrs. Norris, wife of Mr. Norris of Park Place. Annabella, this is Mrs. Brandon, wife of Colonel Brandon of Delaford in Dorsetshire.”

  Annabella narrowed her eyes. “Were you not a Dashwood? Are you not related to John Dashwood of Norland?”

  “John Dashwood is my brother,” Marianne admitted.

  “Yes! I remember you now! You had your debut three years ago.” Marianne paled at this reminder of her disastrous Season. “You must know my particular friend, Sophia Willoughby!”

  Marianne reeled as if struck by a blow.

  “She will be so pleased that I made your acquaintance.” Annabella nearly purred.

  Of all the other ladies present, only Elizabeth knew the particulars of that terrible spring. Almost white with anger, she began to respond when she felt a touch on her arm. Turning, Elizabeth saw Caroline, who gave her a knowing glance.

  No, Elizabeth—she is my prey.

  Caroline did not know why Mrs. Brandon was so distressed, but she meant for this lady to be her friend and would stand for Annabella’s antics no longer.

  “Annabella!” she cried, interrupting her dissection of Marianne. “I cannot tell you how I admire your dress! What an unusual color! Very rare, I dare say. Very few women look becoming in it, do you not agree?” she finished with a small smirk.

  Annabella’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed. No one could miss the insult carelessly hidden in her words—as Caroline intended.

  The others stood back—a challenge had been accepted, swords had been drawn, and the battle had now been joined.

  Annabella’s target that evening had been her former protégé. Attacking Caroline’s friends was a way of softening her opposition. She was no fool; it would not do to insult the wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy or the wife of his particular friend. The others, however, were fair game. Now that Caroline had forced the issue, it was time to begin.

  It should have been no contest. Annabella Norris was one of the most celebrated artists of the false compliment, the cutting remark, and the polite insult among the fashionable set. Having achieved nothing save marrying a rich, dull man who enjoyed billiards and brandy more than his wife’s body, she lived to hurt others so that she could ignore the pain in her own empty soul. It was her one joy. Caroline had been the student, she the master, and Caroline should have been out of practice.

  However, there was a grave misunderstanding regarding Caroline’s transformation. Caroline Bingley never had completely destroyed what she was. She had only submerged it by exercising what she had the potential to be. Kindness had been triumphant, but darkness was there still, held under tight regulation. All Caroline required to deal with Annabella was to set her inner witch free.

  “Caroline,” Annabella began, “you were missed at my wedding. I am very sorry that you did not attend.”

  With perfect composure Caroline replied, “I am sorry indeed that I could not attend, but as I stated in my note to you and Mr. Norris wishing you joy, my sister had need of my presence, as your nuptials coincided with her confinement.” The note had as much existence as the wedding invitation. “’Tis a joy to be engaged in employment in the service of one’s family, is it not?” Caroline continued, knowing that Annabella was estranged from her only brother.

  “I had not known you so maternal or so attached to your sisters!” replied the other, accenting on the plural. “You had not expressed such desires before, but one’s views change as years go by, I dare say.”


  Caroline did not rise to the bait, but said instead, “Yes, I had expressed foolish views in the past, but one often disparages what one does not have, yet craves.” Caroline glanced at Elizabeth, who did not fail to note the apology hidden in her words. “But with the years comes wisdom, I think, and my goddaughter, Susan, has been such a source of delight that I quite look forward to experiencing the same unspeakable joy my dear sister Jane enjoys with children of my own. And Sir John joins me in this desire.”

  Annabella giggled. “Caroline Bingley a mother? Pardon me, my dear friend, but you must own it to be excessively diverting! However, I am sure you would make the most excellent of mothers. Think of the expense you shall save by not employing nurses or governesses, for you shall be so attentive that no one shall touch your children save yourself.”

  “Indeed I deserve no praise for such talents,” Caroline said gravely, purposely misconstruing the intended insult, “but”—she turned to Jane—“with guidance from my sister”—then to Elizabeth—“and my friends”—finally back to Annabella—“I shall bear the burden tolerably well.”

  Annabella was taken aback; the smiles on the faces of the Hertfordshire sisters gave the lie to stories of incivility between Miss Bingley and her relations, and the lady’s unexpected humility set Mrs. Norris off her stride.

  Caroline knew this was the moment to attack. “But I must say I am concerned for you, dear Annabella.”

  “Concerned? Whatever do you mean?”

  “Why, surely you have heard the news from Vienna? It was in all the papers.”

  “News? What news? What does it signify what happens in foreign places?”

  “Then you do not know. His Majesty’s delegation has convinced the other parties at the Congress of Vienna to join Britain’s ban on the trading of African slaves. Sir John has informed me that the Admiralty has sent squadrons off the African coast to suppress the slave trade. ’Tis a wonderful thing for those poor savages, to be sure—but, Annabella, how will Mr. Norris survive without sugar and slaves?” Caroline said, referring to Mr. Norris’s plantations in the West Indies, the source of the bulk of his income. “But I am being foolish. Mr. Norris is a very wise and clever man; he will think of something. You have nothing to concern yourself over, my dear. Forgive me.”