The Three Colonels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Concerned? Whatever do you mean?”

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

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

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

Annabella’s alarm showed on her face. Mr. Norris had inherited the properties upon his father’s untimely drowning during a hurricane. Had he not mentioned that very morning the possibility that he may have to travel to inspect his properties in the New World? She had not seen any danger; she only reflected with relief that with him gone, she would not have to submit to the wifely duties he expected every fortnight. Mr. Norris had seemed irritable and out of sorts lately, but she paid it no mind. She thought that one of his horses had lost again. She did not pay attention to her husband’s business, but she knew of his income and its source; why else would she have accepted him? Could her situation be imperiled? Would Caroline invent such a thing? Her thoughts in a turmoil, but unwilling to show weakness in front of her opponent, Annabella changed the subject.

“Caroline, you speak of current events and politics with your betrothed? La, but that is a strange manner of courting!” Annabella tried to smile but failed, not realizing she had set her foot onto the very path to which Caroline had led her.

Caroline smiled indulgently. “It would certainly appear thus, but Sir John trusts me to be informed, and for a very good reason. I am glad you brought up this subject, Annabella, for it allows me to explain my unfortunate inability to attend Miss Bennet’s wedding in February.”

Turning to the girl, Caroline continued. “Kitty, I hope you believe that Sir John and I would be most pleased to join you and Mr. Southerland in celebrating your wedding day, but duty calls from far away.” Turning back to Annabella, Caroline assumed her most haughty expression. “My wedding trip shall be on the Continent. Sir John is to join the king’s delegation at the Congress of Vienna as an aide to the Duke of Wellington. I shall be assisting Lady Beatrice in entertaining the dignitaries.”

This sent a shock throughout the entire party. “Lady Beatrice?” gasped Annabella. “Surely you do not mean Lady Beatrice Wellesley?”

“Yes,” said Caroline sweetly as she sprung her trap. “We have received the kindest letter from both the Duke and her ladyship, wishing us joy and a safe journey.”

The fact that Caroline had received an unsolicited letter from the Iron Duke and his cousin, who was acting as his hostess, nearly sent Mrs. Norris reeling. Jealousy and anger overcame what self-control Annabella still possessed. She could only lash out.

“Tell me, Caroline—how did you attach yourself to such a man?” she snarled.

The women gasped at the insinuation implied by such a question. She had gone too far—she should have retrenched—but Annabella cared not. In her pain, she wanted to hurt Caroline as much as she could, even at the risk of her own reputation.

But on Caroline’s part, there was no injury. Annabella had responded just as she knew she would, and she could only regard her former friend with pity and regret. Caroline wondered how she could have been so foolish, so blind. How could she have desired the good opinion of creatures like Annabella over people of character—when she could have cultivated friendships with people like the Bennet women? With an air of sadness rather than triumph, Caroline delivered her coup de grace.

“You may well ask, but I have no firm answer—in fact, I do not know. Sir John is certainly above me in accomplishments and improvements,” she stressed the word, “and I am honored that he would choose me to be his wife and helpmate. I hope I shall make a good one for him. I know I shall labor to make myself worthy of his regard. He has pledged his belief in my abilities, and I have pledged my belief in his honor. He trusts in my mind, and I trust in his heart. I have every expectation of happiness. Few couples, I think, enter into marriage with such a good understanding of each other’s character, but I am fortunate to have some examples among my acquaintance—such as you, Jane, and you, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth smiled at Caroline’s use of her Christian name. It was the ultimate peace offering. “Thank you, dear Caroline,” she offered in return.

Caroline smiled and nodded to her former rival. Returning to Annabella, she said, “But it is comforting to know that in his eyes I hold inducements to devotion other than intelligence, accomplishments, and dowry.” Her hand drifted to her cameo. “But come, ladies, we are taking Jane from her duties. Shall we not return to the gentlemen? It is surely time for the dancing to commence.” With that, Caroline took Jane’s arm and turned to walk towards the ballroom.

Standing in front of her was Sir John, regarding her with a slight smile. He approached them and said, “Allow me,” taking Caroline on one arm and Jane on the other.

As the party moved towards the ballroom, he leaned over and whispered in Caroline’s ear, “Well done.”

Walking behind them, Marianne whispered to Elizabeth, “I am glad I am not her enemy.”

Chapter 4

Three colonels of cavalry waited in an anteroom of St. —— Church in London. One wore the red uniform coat of the Life Guards. The others were in the blue of the Light Dragoons, one with the red sash of the Bath. The man in the red coat, eldest of the three, was engaged in troubled mumbling.

“Brandon,” cried one of the blue coats, “what are you about, man? You carry on as if you were getting married!”

“I beg your pardon, Fitzwilliam,” said Colonel Brandon. “Pay me no mind—I am in a foul mood today.”