Simon Bingley's Resolve, page 6
‘Do you think she is well?’ Simon’s uncle asked.
‘On the surface, she appears to be,’ Father replied, after a momentary pause. ‘But I am no expert and I don’t really know what to think.’
‘Where is her husband?’ Aunt Lizzy asked.
‘Somewhere in Derbyshire pursuing his research, apparently.’ It was Simon who answered. ‘That is what gave her the notion of coming here herself, and without my Aunt Louisa around to prevent her…’
Everyone nodded.
‘Rochdale took over your aunt’s care when she was sent to London in disgrace,’ Simon’s mother explained. ‘He is a student of Alexander Morison, a physician and inspector of the Surrey madhouses. He lectures on mental diseases, encouraging doctors to open their minds to alternative treatments rather than confining their patients in grim institutions.’
‘He sounds like a good man,’ Simon observed.
‘I have always thought so,’ his father replied. ‘Rochdale took on your aunt’s care as a private patient, and they eventually married. Whether or not her fortune was his true purpose I cannot say, but he has always treated her with consideration, and Caroline appeared content. Anyway, he has used her wealth to fund his research into mental disorders. He can be remarkably single-minded in that regard. If he is currently chasing down some fascinating new line of research, it may have been sufficient for him to drop everything and leave his wife unattended.’ Simon’s father firmed his jaw. ‘I shall have words to say to him in that respect. And as for Caroline, I will take her back to London myself first thing in the morning. She cannot stay here oversetting everyone.’
Simon watched his aunt and uncle exchange a glance and reach some sort of silent agreement.
‘Don’t do that, Charles,’ his uncle said. ‘She can stay if she wants to. Lizzy and I no longer bear her any ill-will. She genuinely was unwell, making her an easy person for Wickham to manipulate.’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’ The pater looked wary. ‘There are no guarantees…’
‘Absolutely sure,’ Aunt Lizzy assured him. ‘She can do no harm to Will and me now.’
‘What shall you tell the children?’ his mother asked, addressing the question to her husband and the Darcys alike.
‘The boys will ask,’ Aunt Lizzy replied. ‘They already have—and I think, Charles, if you have no objection, that they are sufficiently mature to know the truth.’
‘No objection whatsoever. I am almost convinced that she is harmless now, but it’s best that they know what she was once capable of so that they aren’t taken in by her.’
‘Very well then.’ Aunt Lizzy smiled. ‘I will arrange a room for her. Jane, will you help her settle in?’
‘Of course.’
‘And I will try to track Rochdale down. If he is in the area the chances are that he will try to find me anyway, but he should be informed that his wife is here and needs to be escorted back to London. An express to his secretary in his London practice should suffice in that regard.’
*
Caroline had learned the wisdom of patience over the years since her fall from grace and subsequent marriage to an admittedly attractive man whom she suspected had been initially drawn to her for her fortune. She cared little either way; her attachment to him was entirely fictional and served a purpose. There had never been anything wrong with her mind, but it had suited her to pretend otherwise while she recovered from the miscalculation that had led to her humiliation. A humiliation that had deprived her of her rightful place at Darcy’s side and seen her unceremoniously evicted from Pemberley—a house that she had always looked upon as her own.
It had proved to be disappointingly easy to dupe Albert and all the other supposed experts who had examined her into believing that she had been the unwitting victim of a vengeful and desperate man. No one would ever know that the entire plan had been her idea in the first place; that Wickham had been her pawn, and that she had shamelessly exploited his greed and lust for revenge. Her only miscalculation had been to underestimate Darcy’s dedication to his fine-eyed wife. A wife who had somehow mesmerised him.
She shuddered, feeling a momentary grip of the old darkness that descended whenever she thought of the woman who had usurped her. She had learned over the years to keep those feelings firmly under control, but sometimes they were so severe that even Rochdale noticed her reaction and asserted that she was suffering from what he euphemistically described as “one of her episodes”. Her ultimate revenge had remained elusively out of her reach until her husband and gaoler finally relaxed his guard. It had taken a long time and an almost superhuman degree of patience, but at last here she was again, at Pemberley.
Where she belonged.
Darcy was the only man she had ever loved; the only man who truly understood her and was worthy of her passion. The passage of twenty-five years had changed nothing, and during her darkest hours the thought of being reunited with him had sustained her. She knew that she had been right to return the moment she set foot in his elegant drawing room and their gazes clashed. He looked surprised but not displeased to see her again, and she knew he wouldn’t turn her away.
His mousy wife was inconsequential, and would be willing to forgive, if only to appease her sister Jane. Everyone avoided the subject of insanity, she had discovered over the years, since no one knew quite how to treat those who appeared to be afflicted with disturbed minds. Her brother’s reaction had shocked her upon her arrival today, since he still appeared to harbour her a good deal of ill-will. Charles had always been the most easy-going of men; a trait that he continued to display on his duty visits to her in London.
But not here.
Simon seemed to be the mirror image of his father, and would likely be easier to exploit. Make a friend of him and her life would become a great deal easier. She had sensed his curiosity about her, and since he hadn’t known why she’d been banished, he could have no preconceived notions regarding her conduct.
Oh yes, Simon Bingley would make an easy convert to her cause. She had not seen her nephews and nieces over the years, but her brother had written to her regularly and had boasted about their achievements. Caroline had stored every snippet of information away for future reference. Now the time had come to put that knowledge to good use. Her calculating mind, now that it was no longer dulled by the medicine her husband routinely foisted upon her but which she increasingly found ways to avoid ingesting, whirled with possibilities.
The door opened and Caroline glanced up, smiling innocently when Jane walked through it. She had aged well, Caroline was obliged to concede, which was more than could be said for her sister, the despised Mrs Darcy, who had grown old and coarse. But then Jane had always been the sweeter, more easily influenced of the two; a worthy addition to the Bingley clan. She suppressed a shudder, refusing to consider the damage that her other sister had done to the prestige of the Darcys.
‘Jane, it has been too long.’ Caroline stood to embrace her brother’s wife. ‘It is so very nice to see you again.’ She squeezed out a tear; an act she had perfected over the years and which usually saw her get her way. ‘Am I to be sent away again in disgrace?’
‘No, of course not.’ Jane returned her embrace, albeit fleetingly, and didn’t meet Caroline’s gaze. ‘Lizzy is having a room prepared for you. I will show you to it.’
Caroline hid her satisfied smile. ‘How very forgiving of her.’
‘Are you really yourself again? We have missed you.’
Caroline tamped down her anger, thinking the solution to that difficulty had always been at Jane’s fingertips, but that she hadn’t seen her more than a dozen times, and then only briefly, since her last visit to Pemberley.
‘Then I am glad that we are friends again.’ She linked her arm through Jane’s. ‘Show me to my room, if you would be so kind, and have my valise sent up so that I can make myself presentable. If I am to finally meet your dear children and Darcy’s, then I must look my best.’
Chapter Five
A deafening silence descended over the commodious drawing room at the appearance of the glamorous stranger. Nadia wondered who she could be and why she had come. She had clearly not been invited, but she appeared to be familiar with Pemberley and didn’t seem affected by the consternation her arrival had caused. Nadia’s attention was drawn to Simon Bingley, who had instinctively taken a position at his father’s shoulder when he addressed the woman. He referred to her as Caroline, and Nadia thought there was a slight resemblance in their facial features. Perhaps the woman was a long-lost relative.
‘Mrs Rochdale.’ Nadia turned at the sound of Lady Ripon’s voice in her ear. ‘I’m sure that’s who she must be.’
‘I know that name. I have heard it somewhere before,’ Nadia replied. ‘And recently too, but I cannot think where. Who is she?’ she asked. ‘I imagine she was not invited.’
Both ladies watched as Mrs Rochdale’s arm was taken in a firm grasp by Mr Bingley, who led her from the room. Simon followed his father, casting a worried look over his shoulder as he left, his gaze lingering upon Nadia for a protracted moment. Nadia wondered why. This was clearly a private family matter and she was barely acquainted with Simon.
‘Lud no, she is definitely not welcome.’ Lady Ripon sighed. ‘She is my uncle Bingley’s estranged sister.’ Conversations resumed when the door closed behind the Bingleys. ‘I don’t know the particulars, but something happened here at Pemberley before I was born that resulted in the lady being banished from the estate. From the county of Derbyshire, in fact. Whatever she did, it must have been something catastrophic for my aunt Jane to have turned her back on her.’ Lady Ripon smiled. ‘My aunt has the softest heart in the entire world, and doesn’t have it in her to be unkind to anyone. Anyway, before her banishment from Pemberley I’m told that the then Miss Bingley was a regular visitor and that she and my uncle were close.’
‘Your Mama and Papa look very upset—your Mama especially, as does Mrs Bingley.’ Nadia tapped her fingers against the back of a chair, wondering whether she ought to change the subject. She felt awkward, knowing that she was one of the few non-family members in the room. But then again, Lady Ripon had chosen to speak about the matter, showing good manners by attempting to put Nadia at her ease, even though she seemed full of curiosity and less than comfortable herself. ‘I wish I could recall where I have heard the name Rochdale,’ she muttered. ‘But I don’t suppose my hearing it has anything to do with the lady’s arrival here.’
‘It is an English town in the Pennines. Perhaps you have heard someone mention it since your return.’
‘Possibly.’ But Nadia didn’t think that explained why the name was significant, and the coincidence continued to nag at her brain.
‘Well, I will say one thing for Mama’s parties. They are never dull and always full of surprises. Whatever must you think of us?’
Nadia smiled. ‘Really, Lady Ripon, I am the last person you should apologise to. Anyway, you have nothing to apologise for. This is hardly your fault. All families have skeletons, and mine is no exception.’ You can have no idea.
‘Please, call me Bella. We are all friends here and I cannot abide formality.’
‘By all means, and you must call me Nadia.’
‘I shall.’ Bella paused. ‘Mrs Rochdale married her doctor, in case you are wondering. He is quite famous, apparently, always looking for ways to ease the suffering of the insane.’
‘Goodness, that does sound worthwhile—and very brave of him. Most people lock their mad relatives away in an institution and forget all about them. Well, in this country at least.’ Nadia slapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I do hope Dr Rochdale did not come across his future wife in his professional capacity, in which case I have probably offended you.’
‘Not in the least. We can none of us help our ailments, physical or mental, and I don’t see why they shouldn’t be talked about. I find your forthright attitude refreshing. But I’m afraid I cannot satisfy your curiosity, since I know no more about Mrs Rochdale’s history than you do. Neither does Simon or either of his sisters, but since my cousin went with his father just now, I dare say he’s about to find out. Never fear, I shall make him tell me.’ Bella flashed a mischievous smile. ‘None of the men in this family can resist me when I make up my mind to extract the truth from them.’
Nadia smiled. ‘I have no difficulty in believing you.’ She cast a glance across the room, where Sophia was making a fool of herself by clinging to Marc Darcy’s coattails, almost literally. ‘Oh lord, I had best—’
‘Leave it,’ Bella placed a restraining hand on Nadia’s arm. ‘Marc can take care of himself. She will soon grow weary of trying to impress him when he continues to ignore her, and will have to look elsewhere for admirers.’
‘And you feel the need to apologise for your family.’ Nadia rolled her eyes. ‘I wish Mama would temper Sophia’s excesses. It is excruciatingly embarrassing to watch her, but Mama is the one who convinced my sister that she is beyond comparison, and she actually believes what she says.’
‘Rest assured, no one in this room will judge you for your sister’s behaviour. Quite the reverse, in fact. It is immediately apparent to me that you possess great good sense and dignity.’
Nadia inclined her head. ‘I’m not so sure about that. I am as capable as the next person of losing my temper and—prepare to be shocked—of speaking out of turn and inveigling myself into other people’s affairs.’
Bella clasped a hand over her heart, affecting an incredulous expression that made them both smile. ‘Outrageous!’
A child’s loud cry and a responding indignant squawk had Bella glancing in the direction of the terrace. ‘Oh lud, I know that voice. It’s one of mine causing mayhem. Excuse me Nadia, I had best go and prevent full-scale warfare. We shall have plenty of opportunities to converse when the children are safely tucked up in the nursery.’
‘Of course. Do go. I have enjoyed our conversation, but we cannot have the next generation killing one another.’
Bella smiled. ‘I doubt whether it will come to that. My brothers and I tried it often enough, but no lasting damage was done.’
She disappeared in a swirl of muslin skirts, and Nadia found herself alone again and at leisure to ponder upon the appearance of the unwelcome aunt. Mr and Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley had left the room and no one else appeared to know what to say or do. All three Darcy sons were huddled together by the window, their closeness discouraging even the determined Sophia from intruding upon their private discussion.
‘What a to-do,’ Nadia’s mother said, coming up to her. ‘I hear tell the woman is a disgraced relative of the Bingleys who has been banned from Pemberley. Imagine inflicting herself where she isn’t wanted. She must have an incredibly thick skin.’
Nadia glanced at Sophia, whose renewed attempts to attract the sons of the house caused the three of them to glance over their shoulders and move away from her.
‘We must shun the woman, Nadia—if she is permitted to stay, that is. We are firmly on the side of the Darcys.’
Nadia flexed a brow. ‘Without even understanding the nature of the dispute?’
‘The Darcys cannot possibly be at fault.’
Nadia shook her head but knew it would be a waste of breath to point out the flaws in her mother’s argument. In the various disputes that had sprung up in Jamaican society, Mama had always supported the leading lights, even if she had no idea what had caused the disagreements in the first place.
Especially then.
‘Talking of thick skins, Sophia is in danger of earning herself a reputation.’
‘Oh, do stop picking on your sister. It’s almost as though you are jealous, which is not an attractive trait.’
‘I am embarrassed by her forwardness, Mama, but I dare say it would be a waste of my time advising you to check her behaviour. It’s obvious that the Darcy gentlemen have no interest in her. Only you and Sophia appear blind to their obvious discouragement of her frantic attempts to attract their interest. She would be better advised to ignore them, concentrate on looking pretty and wait for one of them to approach her.’
‘Bah. Young men don’t know their own minds, but once one of them looks properly at Sophia he will not be able to help being enthralled.’
Mama rippled her shoulders, a gesture of indignation that Nadia was well acquainted with, and she knew that continuing to point out the error of Sophia’s ways would be futile. Given that her own circumstances were so dire, she failed to understand why she was in the slightest bit worried about her sister’s behaviour. Perhaps she was subconsciously looking for an excuse to avoid considering the serious disagreement that would ensue between herself and her father if he insisted upon her marrying Molineux.
‘I saw you in conversation with Lady Ripon,’ Mama said. ‘Such a refined lady and so influential. I hope you will make an effort to befriend her. What did she have to say about the unwanted guest?’
‘She is as much in the dark about her as the rest of us.’
‘Really?’ Mama elevated one finely-arched brow. ‘Perhaps that’s the impression she wants to create, but I don’t believe it for a moment. She probably made a point of singling you out in order to prevent unfounded speculation from spreading.’ Mama looked highly incensed. ‘I hope we are better bred than to indulge in common gossip.’
‘God forbid,’ Nadia muttered, valiantly holding in a smile. Her mother had been one of the biggest gossips in Jamaica, and a lack of facts had never prevented her from fanning the flames of wild speculation.
‘We will not mention a word to anyone. Anyway, I had best…’
Her mother drifted away again and Nadia once more found herself alone. Before she could make an effort to converse with anyone else, the Darcys returned to the room, along with Mr Bingley and his son. Of Mrs Bingley and the unwanted aunt there was no sign.
