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CHAPTER 2
London - January
1815.
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 a troubled mumbling.
"Brandon,"
cried one of the blue coats, "what are you about, man? You
carry on as if it is you getting married!"
"I beg your
pardon, Fitzwilliam," said Colonel Christopher Brandon.
"Do not mind me; I am in a foul mood today."
"We can't have
that, can we?" replied Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of the
__th Lt. Dragoons. "You'll put poor Buford off, and Caroline
would have your head!"
Sir John observed
the exchange with amusement. "What troubles you, Brandon?"
he asked.
"I am reflecting
over the reports from America. What a waste!"
"Indeed."
The reports were just coming in over the disastrous invasion
of Louisiana. A ragtag band of locals, frontiersmen and American
regulars had held off the finest British infantry. Two generals
dead, including Major General Sir Edward Pakenham, brother-in-law
to Wellington; several regiments shattered, including the Highlanders;
total losses over 2,000; and for naught. The ill-begotten war
had been over for weeks - the treaty had been signed in December
- but word could not get to New Orleans quickly enough to stop
the bloodbath.
"I have heard
the Americans lost but thirteen," said Fitzwilliam. "Could
it be true?"
"Tis hard to
credit," said Brandon, "but those people are frighteningly
good at shooting from behind cover." Brandon had heard tales
from the time the colonists had won their independence. "I
know a fellow that owns one of their Kentucky long rifles - puts
our Brown Bess to shame."
The two men continued
to discuss the wisdom of attacking fortified lines without cavalry,
but Sir John did not attend. The other two did not find this
remarkable - today was his wedding day; surely he had other concerns
on his mind than grand campaigns. But a campaign was on Sir John's
mind - his campaign to find a wife.
Colonel Sir John
Buford, a newly made Companion in the The Most Honourable Order
of the Bath, stood against a wall in Almacks, trying to look
as inconspicuous as a well-looking man could be wearing the red
sash of Knighthood - and failing. It was the beginning of the
Season and all the mothers who were on the hunt where dragging
their daughters about, trying to attach their little darlings
to someone worthy before all the desirable ones were either taken
or driven away. Sir John had to rank among the highest - a hero
with a title and two thousand a year - certainly acceptable for
a second son. It was not that Sir John disliked women; indeed
he had had the reputation of being quite the ladies man, and
was whispered to have dallied with some of the most illustrious
young wives of the fashionable set. And he was quite at leisure
to consider the delights of matrimony. No - his reluctance stemmed
from his character; he was a hunter, and therefore was ill at
ease to be the hunted.
It was ironic -
the reason Sir John was at Almacks at all was because after considering
his time of life - he would not be nine-and-twenty much longer
- and all the entreaties from his mother and sister, he decided
the time had come to begin thinking about taking a wife.
Coupled with the death of his honored father and the horrors
he had witnessed in Spain, the Colonel was coming more around
to accepting the inevitability of the idea. Ironic for two reasons:
first, the aggressive matrons of the ton would not have paused
an instant in their labors had they known Sir John's mind; second,
those labors were just the sort of activity that would assure
that their daughters would never be brought home to Wales.
"Buford!"
cried his companion.
"Yes, Fitzwilliam?"
he replied.
"If you truly
wish to be known as respectable gentleman, there are other ways
than imitating Fitzwilliam Darcy!" Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam
gave his comrade a lop-sided grin.
"I beg your
pardon, but I am certainly not as stiff as Darcy."
Fitzwilliam laughed.
"Oh, Buford," (by common agreement Fitzwilliam continued
to use the name he had called the gentleman for fifteen years)
"you make a fireplace poker look flexible!"
Sir John could not
contain his smile at the jib. He could always count on Fitzwilliam
to lighten his moods or protect his flank - as had been proved
many times in Spain and France. Through war, women and song they
had become brothers of a sort. Yes, he was closer to Fitzwilliam
and Brandon than he was to Edward, his true brother. Not that
they were estranged - they had been very pleasant companions
in his youth and they would still do anything for one another.
It was just that the Buford brothers had now little in common,
save family; Edward could no longer understand him. His younger
brother Thomas might have, had he not died a midshipman at Trafalgar.
"Such beauty
is before you - how can you resist it?" his friend continued.
"Well enough
- are you not affected?"
"I?" he
asked with a laugh. "I am not on campaign!"
Yes - "campaign"
was a good way of putting it. Since his realization of how he
had been wasting his life, Sir John sought to set things right.
The first step was to cut off all association with the "looser"
members of the fashionable set. The next was to rebuild his reputation.
Lastly was to find an occupation now that his fighting days were
behind him. His father had been generous in his will, but Sir
John could not be idle. Looking about for a calling he observed
his commanding officer. Field Marshall Sir Arthur Wellesley,
1st Duke of Wellington, KG, and his brother, Marquess Richard
Wellesley, while of noble birth, were of Irish stock and limited
in their expectations. They used their military and political
talents to make themselves two of the most powerful men in the
Kingdom. This was as good a model to follow as any other. But
before he could find his destiny in Parliament or Government
he needed a wife.
"'Tis rather
crowded for the first night at Almacks, Fitz," remarked
Sir John. "What is the occasion?"
"Do you not
know? The hounds of society are here for the debut of Mrs. Bingley
and Mrs. Darcy."
"So I am to
finally meet the famous Hertfordshire sisters? Excellent. I am
sure that Bingley's bride is just as pleasant and unassuming
as he is, but I am looking forward to meeting the woman who brought
down Darcy. Your cousin is an excellent fellow, Fitz," Sir
John assured his companion, "I like him very well, but he
can be taciturn and withdrawn to an embarrassing extreme! Are
you sure you are related?"
"Absolutely
- you have met the Viscount." The mention of Fitzwilliam's
pompous older brother caused Sir John to give a snort of laugher.
"Ahhh… I see the Bingleys are already here."
Looking across the
room Sir John saw Charles Bingley with an extraordinarily beautiful
woman on his arm. He admired Jane Bingley's grace and soft manners
- Just the sort of woman Charles would attach himself to.
I am happy for him. But, in the back of his mind, unbidden,
came the thought: better him than me. I need more. His gaze took
in the Hursts - thank God he's sober tonight! - and two
other women. With the eye of a connoisseur of the fairer sex,
he sized up the younger one quickly - young, yet serious;
does not know how pretty she could become, even with glasses;
could be something there if one was to put in the work; family
resemblance - could she be one of Mrs. Bingley's sisters? I heard
there was a virtual tribe of them. The other lady caught
his attention longer. Is that Caroline Bingley? My, she cleans
up well. Not her usual orange, but red suits her very well. She
always did look to best advantage in strong colors. Extra effort
in her dress tonight - is she still not reconciled to Darcy's
marriage? How foolish of her. What a waste. "Mrs. Bingley
is certainly the beauty," he observed to Fitzwilliam.
"Aye, she is…
had she fortune, I might have given Bingley a run for his money."
Not bloody likely,
not the way she is gazing at her husband, considered Sir John. A love match! Well,
the ton should forgive them that; no one expected much from Charles
Bingley.
"But still,"
Fitzwilliam continued, "there is something about the sister…"
"Not that mousy
one next to her?" Sir John cried.
"No, no - I
mean Elizabeth Darcy; wait until you meet her. She's got bottom,
that one."
She'd better, he thought. Aloud he said, "I'm
sure she's much like her sister, quiet and unassuming. I hope
she is ready for what the ton has in store for her…
what's so funny?"
Richard Fitzwilliam
could not answer him - in fact he could barely stand for laughing.
"Qui-qui-quiet and unassuming…?" another spurt
of laughter, "…Q-quite! Oh, you have really pegged
that one, Johnny Boy!"
"I am pleased
you find me so amusing, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Sir John observed
dryly. "Perhaps a glass of punch will restore your senses."
Reduced to what
sounded suspiciously like giggling, Fitzwilliam waved at his
friend and staggered off to the refreshments. Absentmindedly,
Sir John began to observe Miss Bingley again when he was accosted
by a person out of his past. "Colonel Buford! Or should
I now say 'Sir John'? What shall I call you, sir?" came
a female voice.
Goodbye would
do nicely, Victoria,
he thought. "That is up to you. Good evening, Lady Uppercross."
"So formal,
Sir John - and we being such old acquaintances!" Lady Victoria
Uppercross purred. "I say, you are looking fit. War agrees
with you."
It took all of Colonel
Buford's control not to scream at the baggage. Instead, in a
tolerable voice, he replied, "There are those who would
disagree with you, madam. It is a pleasure to come home and see
that few things have changed." He bowed.
"How lovely
- you were always the most charming liar, Sir John. But time
is no lady's friend."
"Not so - you
are as you have always been," he said with all false sincerity.
If you force me to complement you, at least I shall do it
my way. Your time is done - take a hint.
Lady Uppercross
allowed the comment to pass. "You have been missed…by
everyone in Town. Say that you are not to return so soon to Wales!"
Unspoken, she said, Why do you stay away?
Sir John hesitated
- how to answer? - when the room grew silent. Turning,
he began to hear small gasps and whispered comments. Then his
eyes took in the entrance - and he almost swore. For he saw Fitzwilliam
Darcy walk in with three of the loveliest women he had ever seen.
He thought he had recognized Georgiana but it did not signify
- no one could take their eyes off the creature on Darcy's arm.
It wasn't that she was classically beautiful, like her sister
- she was not. There was something else. A power, an intelligence,
a confidence, a complete assurance of her person in the affection
she held for and received from her husband that everyone, love
her or hate her, must admire Mrs. Darcy. Fitz is right. She
is regal yet real, thought Sir John. Oh, Darcy, I hate
you - how can you be so fortunate?
"Oh, my…"
Sir John turned.
He had forgotten Lady Upppercross.
"Miss Bingley
will be furious!"
Seeing his opening,
Sir John bowed. "Lady Uppercross, good evening." He
then crossed to the Darcy party. He spent a few minutes making
the acquaintance of Mrs. Darcy - she was even better up close
- and Miss Catherine Bennet - a bit unpolished, but she
will do for a parson's wife. Some very lucky parson. Sir
John was struck by the improvement to Miss Darcy; never had she
seemed so much at ease. He knew his reputation was not yet repaired,
so Sir John saved Darcy the concern of watching him dance with
his relations by only wishing them a good evening and excusing
himself.
Sir John spent the
next half hour strolling about, greeting a few friends here and
there, but mainly taking the room in. Almacks was awash in colors,
but they were lost on him; he only saw the sameness in character
of most of the ladies there - either mercenary or uninhibited,
sometimes both. What a waste to come here, he thought.
I only see what I do not want or cannot have, thinking of
Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley. A spot of punch might revive
his spirits, so he moved over to the refreshments table.
Before he could
reach his goal, he was presented with the sight of Miss Bingley
in conversation with two other ladies. You know, her dress is
the same color as my sash; how singular. It is certainly striking
against her pale skin. It was only then that he became aware
that Miss Bingley was not only pale but also distressed; her
arms were moving in a distracted manner. What are those vultures
doing to her?
Suddenly Miss Bingley
turned in his direction and almost collided with him. His pardon
died on his lips as her heard her whimper as she fled towards
the library. Sir John stood frozen after she entered the library,
then impulsively he went in search for the lady's relations.
"Mrs. Hurst."
"Colonel Buford!
Good evening, sir. Allow me to give you joy for your knighthood.
May I introduce you to my friend?"
"Please,"
Sir John said politely.
"This is Miss
Bennet, Mrs. Bingley's sister from Hertfordshire. Mary, this
is Colonel Sir John Buford."
"Charmed, miss.
Mrs. Hurst, do not be alarmed, but I must suggest that you repair
to the library as soon as you may. Miss Bingley has taken ill."
Mary gasped while Mrs. Hurst blanched.
"Sir John how
is she? Have you seen her?" cried Louisa.
"I only observed
her going into the library. She appeared…ill," Sir
John said as kindly as he could.
Louisa could not
miss the meaning of his words. "Oh no, I knew it, I knew
it…" she said under her breath.
Mary looked about
her, her expression becoming stern. "Beauty and goodness
do not always go together, especially in Town."
Sir John looked
at Miss Bennet. There always seems to be more than meets the
eye with these Bennet sisters. "Please, allow me..."
With that he escorted the two ladies across the room to the library.
As they prepared to enter the room he said, "If I can be
of any service to you or Miss Bingley…"
"No thank you,
sir; you have been too kind…"
"It was not
a kindness - it was an honor." With that her took his leave
of them.
Later he would learn
that the Bingleys would leave Almacks through a back door very
early in the evening. He could not help but overhear the jibes
over that. Sir John became disgusted with the whole business;
he had spent the last few years in war and death and waste -
the last thing he wanted to see at home was ugliness almost as
bad.
"Sir John?"
Startled out of
his thoughts, "Hmm?"
It was the vicar.
"It is time, sir."
"Excellent,"
he said as he rose, straightening his jacket. "Well, gentlemen,"
he said to his friends, "shall we get to it?"
Colonel Richard
Fitzwilliam was doing his best not to insult the lady seated
to his left at the wedding breakfast, but he was in danger of
failing. It was not that the young woman in question was repulsive
- on the contrary she was rather comely. What set the colonel's
teeth on edge was her insipid conversation, held in a manner
and tone of speech she undoubtedly considered cultured but to
Richard's ears sounded like the squawking of chickens.
"Isn't it lovely?
Everything is so charming! I do adore weddings, don't you, Colonel?"
"I like it
of all things."
"I do believe
that our Lord was very wise to invent marriage. Such happiness
- and children! Do you like children, Colonel?"
How blatant can
you be, woman? "Of
course."
"I should love
to have children, should I marry. Two I think - one would show
a lack of feeling and three, well I do dislike odd numbers. Are
not odd numbers so very…odd?" She giggled at her own
jest.
"Indeed."
"And more than
three - heaven forbid! I cannot see how ladies can have more
than three children. It has an air of…" her voice dropped
to a whisper, "…unseemliness." She batted her
eyelashes at him.
Kill me, kill
me now.
The Darcys were
across the table from the two and were observing their cousin's
predicament with amusement. Taking pity on Richard, Fitzwilliam
whispered in his wife's ear. "Richard!" said Elizabeth.
"While you are in Town you must come by and see the twins.
They have grown much since your last visit."
Richard was puzzled
- How much could they have grown in two days? - until
he recognized the rescue offered him. "Ah, I have been remiss
in calling upon my cousins. Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy. Regimental
duties, I am afraid. I shall correct my failure at the first
opportunity." How about right now? "Fatherhood
suits you, Darcy, I think."
"Indeed it
does, as long as one has a wife of sensibility and sense to manage
the household. 'Tis a requirement to handle the Fitzwilliam Curse."
By this time they have caught the attentions of Mr. and Mrs.
Tucker.
"Curse, Mr.
Darcy?" asked the young lady. "Of what can you mean?"
"Oh my dear
miss, do you not know?" asked Elizabeth, eyes growing wide.
"Being the wife of a Fitzwilliam or a Darcy must have such
extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her
situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine
were it not for the Curse. For centuries it has been thus. But
the Viscountess bears it well and Mr. Darcy trusts that I shall
do likewise."
"But Mrs. Darcy,
dare I ask what is the nature of this Curse? Please, I do not
wish to offend, but I am full curious!"
"Mr. Darcy,
shall I?"
"Very well,
madam," replied her husband grimly, "She should be
forewarned. I just hope she should not find it too distressful."
Elizabeth looked
around the table and leaned forward. "Well, my dear,"
she continued to the girl in a low voice. "It seems that
the wives of Fitzwilliams - my husband is one on his mother's
side - always have at least three children, and many times more,
and always an odd number of them!" Her victim's eyes grew
wide. Hers were not the only ones - Mary knew full well that
Mr. Darcy had only one sister. "Oh, the scandal, the unseemliness…"
Elizabeth put her hand to her eyes in a dramatic fashion, "…but
such is my lot in life."
"Forgive me,
my dear…" consoled Mr. Darcy.
"Do not speak
of it, husband," she responded, taking his hand in hers
for a moment. "I shall persevere."
The young woman
colored - whither from shock of learning such a horrible secret
or mortification of being the butt of a joke no one could say,
for she chose that moment to excuse herself - "Forgive me…I
must attend my mother…good day…" - and left the
table. It was well, because Richard could not contain himself
very much longer.
"Fitzwilliam
Curse? Oh, Darcy, that is rich!" he sputtered, trying to
contain his laugh.
"Happy to have
been of service, Colonel," said Elizabeth, an eyebrow arched.
"I hope we did not offend."
"Oh, I am deeply
mortified madam…" he chuckled, "…that I did
not come up with it first!" Richard eyed his cousin. "I
am full aware of Mrs. Darcy's talents, but I did not know you
had it in you, sir."
"Indeed,"
said Mary. "It seems my sister has had an affect on you,
brother."
Darcy lifted his
wife's hand to his lips. "All for the better, I can assure
you." If you only knew, he thought. Elizabeth blushed at
the gesture. "What are your plans, Richard?" he asked.
"You mean besides
attending weddings? Must not miss Miss Bennet's, you know. Thank
goodness it is the last one. I am sure Mrs. Bennet is in high
sprints."
Both Bennet sisters
laughed, and both of their husbands gave each other a look. "You
can very well say she is beside herself, cousin! It is a day
she has long looked forward to," cried Lizzy.
"Five daughters
married! Oh, Mr. Bennet, I shall grow distracted!" Mary
recited in a fair approximation of her mother's voice, which
sparked renewed laugher around the table.
"Will the Earl
and Countess attend?" asked Darcy when he was able.
"Aye, if it
is warmer. The old goat doesn't take much to traveling in the
cold these days, and Hertfordshire is a bit closer to Matlock
than London," said his son affectionately. "Then, after
I report to headquarters, it's off to Rosings."
"In February?
'Tis very early," replied Darcy. Since Mr. Darcy's marriage
to the insufferable Miss Bennet, it had fallen to Colonel Fitzwilliam
to make the pilgrimage to Rosings to both play court to Lady
Catherine and to receive the annual report from the steward.
"All is well, I take it?" Darcy continued with a trace
of concern in his voice.
With only the slightest
of pauses, Richard answered, "Oh yes, nothing to worry about."
But the look in his eye, which his cousin did not fail to mark,
gave the lie to his statement. We need to talk, Darcy.
At that moment there
was a shuffling at the main table. Mr. Bingley was rising to
give the farewell toast to the newlyweds.
"Sir John,
what are you about? Put me down, sir!" cried Caroline.
The only answer
she got was her husband's laugh as he carried his bride over
the threshold of Buford House. The servants, used to sometimes
strange behavior from their employers, gave every appearance
of being made of stone. "Lady Caroline, welcome home. At
least for the next five days."
Lady Caroline.
I am really married. But the servants… "Sir John, please…"
He gave her his
most disarming smile. "A kiss first, lass."
"What?"
In front of the servants? "Here? Have you lost your
senses, sir?"
Sir John's face
was very close. "No," he whispered, "Just my heart."
She looked into
his deep blue eyes, the fluttering starting up again. Oh,
very well… "Close the door, at least. All of London
can see."
His grew even closer.
Just before he claimed her lips with his own Colonel Sir John
Buford said, "I care not."
Caroline stopped
thinking for a while.
Marianne was enchanted
by the sight of her husband lying face up on the floor of their
London townhouse playing with their daughter. "Who's my
love? Who's my love? Why, it's Joy! Ha, ha, ha!" Colonel
Brandon cried over and over, to the child's delight. Their guests,
Mr. and Mrs. Tucker looked on in amusement. They had heard that
the Brandons cared little about what other people thought of
their attentions to their daughter. Many thought them strange
but Mary and Thomas could see no harm in it.
Finally the babe
began to yawn. "Time for nap time, my love," said Marianne,
retrieving Joy from her protesting father's arms. With a sweet
kiss she gave the child to the nurse to put to bed, then returned
to the guests. Already talk had turned to politics.
"Every day
more common land falls to enclosure. It has yet to happen in
Meryton, but can it be far behind?" said Mr. Tucker. "What
is your opinion, Colonel Brandon?"
Christopher shifted
uncomfortably. "Ah, had you asked me that question two years
ago, you could be sure of my answer. But now…I see both
sides. So much land has been wasted, used up; the latest arts
in agriculture have not been used to their fullest extent. The
population is rising. We need more food. Those lands that have
been enclosed have been the beneficiary of suitable management
- yields are up - proper rotation of crops. And yet…"
"Yes,"
the young lawyer replied. "People without access to lands
that were available for centuries! They are fleeing the villages
for the cities to find employment. Yet, everything you say is
true, as well. Our world is changing, Colonel. Can you honestly
say it is for the better?" They looked at each other for
a while.
Mary broke the silence
with, "We must pray for God's guidance to help us through
these times and trust in His wisdom. And we cannot forget the
poor."
"Amen,"
said her husband and the others nodded in agreement.
"Colonel Brandon,"
Mary asked, "have you given any more thought about standing
for Parliament?"
Christopher glanced
at Marianne. "Yes. The seat for Delaford will be vacant
in a year or so; Mr. White, good man that he is, wishes to retire."
Mr. Tucker, a true-blue
Tory, wasn't as sure about Mr. White's goodness, as the man was
a wicked Whig. But knowing Colonel Brandon's Toryish leanings,
he kept his opinion to himself. "You will be a great addition
to the Commons. You have it arranged with our Friends?"
Tucker was referring to what party apparatuses existed in the
early 19th Century - party politics was still in its infancy.
"Yes. They
have pledged their support. I have no idea who else will stand…"
"Why should
anyone?" cried Marianne. "All Delaford knows Colonel
Brandon - what a fair magistrate he has been. There is no more
worthy man in all England!"
The fire in her
voice moved Tucker. Too bad women don't have the vote - she'd
be wonderful on the stump. "No doubt, no doubt. But
the other side won't give up a seat without a fight, Mrs. Brandon.
However I am sure that the fair people of Delaford will come
out for your husband."
Marianne began to
regain control of her emotions as Christopher looked upon her
with humble affection. "I would certainly expect so, Mr.
Tucker. Ah, the tea is here. May I pour you a cup, Mary?"
"Damnme, Darcy!
That's fine brandy." Richard exclaimed after sipping the
glass Darcy poured for him. "Where on earth did you get
it?"
Darcy smiled indulgently.
"Such is the rewards of having an uncle in trade, cousin.
I am sure Mr. Gardiner would be most disposed to setting you
up."
"At the family
price, I hope?"
"Richard! Uncle
Gardiner is kind, but not that kind. Cigar?"
"Thank you,"
he said as he chose. Lighting their cigars, both men relaxed
in their armchairs in Darcy's library. They simply, silently
enjoyed the evening in each other's company for a while.
"Richard,"
said Darcy finally, "As much as I enjoy keeping you in cigars
and brandy, I have the impression you wished to discuss something
with me."
Richard sighed.
"I have received a letter from the steward of Rosings recently."
"Indeed,"
said Darcy carefully. "Everything is well, I expect?"
"No, Darcy,
everything is not at all well. In fact, it is worse than last
year."
Darcy's face began
to lose all expression. "How bad is it?"
Richard was not
alarmed at his cousin's demeanor; he had known Darcy's ways all
of his life. "The yields were off another ten percent -
at least."
The gears in Darcy's
mind worked over the estimates. "Fifteen hundred pounds
in two years - and that is just the income to Aunt Catherine.
And yet, Mr. Bennet reported good crops last year."
"As did the
Lucas'. 'Tis not the weather, Darcy." Meryton was but fifty
miles from Rosings.
"This will
not do," cried Darcy. "If this keeps up, staff will
lose their positions, tenants will have to choose between food
and income." The nightmare of the English agricultural economic
system was the loss of stability. "Richard, people will
starve!"
The men sat silently,
considering what a bread riot would do to Aunt Catherine's fine
garden. "What do we do, Darcy?" asked Richard.
"I can do nothing
- I am still persona non gratis. This is your task, Richard."
Sir John laid quietly
in his wedding bed awake, his wife, sleeping sweetly, curled
next to him. Usually after a night of love he fell fast asleep,
sometimes in the very same bed as his lover. This time was different
- he had a feeling he had never experienced before. Contentment.
In his previous
encounters, no matter how jolly or pleasurable his partner was,
Colonel Buford would in the end become disenchanted. Most times
he would want nothing more than to leave as soon as could be,
fleeing back to his own rooms, trying not to feel too disgusted
with himself. As he had no frame of reference, he believed that
it was always so. He finally gave up the business before his
last posting to Spain. Sir John did not give up women
- he was no priest. No, the next time Colonel Sir John Buford
would enjoy a woman's favors was with not some other man's wife
but his own.
It was not long
after the incident at Almacks that he noticed that he was comparing
any eligible lady that was introduced, pointed out or thrown
to him with Caroline Bingley. Sir John could not get Caroline
out of his mind. From what he knew of her, Caroline Bingley met
many of the requirements he had for a wife: accomplished, graceful,
at ease in society, a comfortable dowry, and attractive. Her
disgrace had an interesting effect on Sir John - it became apparent
to him that Miss Bingley had some sense of feeling, and that
her nearest friends and family thought enough of her to protect
her. Caroline's apparent break with Annabella Adams and that
set relieved Sir John's mind. He was aware of Miss Bingley's
reputation and her actions showed a desire for improvement. Colonel
Buford considered: could they be fellow souls, striving for redemption?
As the summer progressed
this observation was collaborated by the actions of the Darcys
- or rather the inactions of that august family. No matter what
evils, real of imagined, Miss Bingley had visited upon Mrs. Darcy
in the past, Sir John never heard a word against the lady by
any member of the Darcy or Fitzwilliam family.
Sir John had hoped
to further his acquaintance with the lady, but he was foiled
by Caroline remaining at Netherfield for the remainder of the
year. He did not grieve in silence - Sir John continued to enjoy
society, but his observations there only strengthened his opinions
and his resolve. He made his plans.
When Miss Bingley
returned to Town the following spring Colonel Buford was ready.
Like a military campaign he courted her; with little secret tests
sprinkled here and about. Caroline passed most of them; to his
delight he found that she was experienced in the management of
an estate, certainly better read than he had been led to believe
and that her character seemed much improved. The estrangement
with the Darcys was certainly past.
To Sir John's concern,
Caroline, who had seemed to enjoy his company, began to distance
herself as August came. To his chagrin, Sir John realized that
he was so busy trying to ascertain Miss Bingley's improvements,
via his little tests, that he had neglected to assure the lady
of his desire to change. Such was his worry when Sir John came
upon a drunken fool pawing Miss Bingley at a ball. Without a
thought Colonel Buford sprang to Caroline's defense and in so
doing exposed himself.
It became only a
matter of time before Sir John declared his intentions, but his
timetable was disrupted by Caroline forcing the issue in September.
Sir John was pleased
and contented with his choice. He felt Caroline would be an excellent
manager of his house, a charming hostess for his guests, and
an asset in his planned political career. By observing her with
her niece he believed that Caroline would also be an affectionate
mother. The only thing that remained was to make her a tolerable
lover. Sir John was an experienced, passionate, and introspective
man; while he had every intention of honoring his marriage vows,
he knew he could never be happy unless he had pleasure in all
the activities marriage offered. There was only one thing for
it - he had to seduce his wife.
A new campaign began,
culminating with their wedding night - in actuality wedding evening.
While Sir John had never been with an innocent before he knew
how things could go wrong - his sister was very explicit about
what to expect. One wrong move, any show of impatience or aggression
on his part, and much could be lost. Therefore, slowly, carefully,
with the greatest of self-control, Sir John concentrated on Caroline's
pleasure…
Sir John sat upon
Caroline's bed - their wedding bed - and held his wife's hands.
"My dear," he said to her, "I do not know what
you have been told about this night - how you have been prepared.
Please, share this with me."
Caroline became
very shy, her cheeks grew ever hotter. "I…I have been
told…enough…I know my duties-"
"No - there
is no duty here - only pleasure." He released her
hands to grasp her cheeks lightly. "Look me in the eye,
Caroline. This night shall be given over only to your
pleasure. Do you trust me?"
Caroline struggled
with the concept, and then finally surrendered. "I will."
Sir John smiled.
"An honest answer." He kissed her lightly on the lips.
"I shall now call for Abigail. Will a half hour be sufficient?"
"Thank you
- yes." Her husband smiled and left the room through the
door that connected their suites. Caroline drew breath and made
her way into her dressing room. A few moments later Abigail joined
her. Without a word, the girl helped Caroline out of her dress.
She is as nervous as I am, thought Caroline. The maid
crossed over to Caroline's trunk.
"Er…my
lady, you wish to wear…this?" Abigail stuttered.
The maid's modest
reaction brought a smile to Caroline's lips. "Yes."
"And the robe…?"
Caroline considered.
"No. Come, girl - see to my hair…"
After thirty minutes,
Sir John entered his wife's room wearing a robe over his nightshirt.
He beheld his bride seated at her dressing table, hair down,
back to him.
"Caroline?"
he inquired.
Slowly she rose
from the chair. Sir John almost gasped - the orange negligee
she wore was almost transparent; he could clearly see the outlines
of her back and buttocks. She turned and he could see that her
nipples were distended - evidence of her desire.
"Beautiful…you
are beautiful." Caroline could not believe she could blush
further, but no one had ever called her beautiful before. "Come,
my dear." Sir John held out his hand. Caroline slowly walked
toward him, as if in a dream. To her it was a dream; she felt
somehow detached, as if she was watching someone else.
Sir John slowly
caressed her shoulders and arms, while murmuring low tones in
her ear, while kissing her hair. Finally, he sensed that some
reserve had been broken; she began to relax, to respond. His
lips moved to hers while his arms encircled her. Caroline melted
into the kiss, her body coming in firm contact with his. Not
for the first time did she feel the evidence of his desire, but
she did not flinch - she felt a need that she knew only it could
fulfill.
Sir John's hand
slid downward to her buttocks and lightly cupped them. Caroline's
eyes opened in surprise, before closing with renewed pleasure.
Her arms rose first to his shoulders, then around his neck, further
deepening the kisses. Sir John's lips moved to her chin, her
cheek, her neck. Caroline felt the heat within her grow, and,
to her shame, a dampness. She began to moan in regret when Sir
John suddenly stopped his attentions to her person and cupped
her face. For a moment blue eyes bore into green. Caroline drew
breath and relaxed.
Sir John stepped
back and removed his robe. At first he seemed to Caroline's eyes
a bit silly in the nightshirt. Strangely that acted to relax
her further. She then noticed that the top buttons of the garment
were undone, and his broad chest was peaking from underneath.
Unconsciously, she licked her lips. Sir John moved closer again,
this time caressing her collar bone. His fingers drifted down
to the small points of her negligee and began making circles
around them.
Lady Caroline knew
she was slim and, therefore, smaller than many ladies of her
acquaintance. She had worried that Sir John might be disappointed
in her. But his attentions to her dissipated that concern. The
feelings he was generating were all delightful and Caroline could
not help but give out a small cry of pleasure.
"Yes, Caro…let
me know what pleases you…" he murmured. Sir John smiled
as his hands then cupped her breasts, his thumbs feeling her
nipples though the material.
"W…what
did you call me?" she asked, trembling.
"Caro…you
are my Caro…my delight…and I shall call you thus when
we are together…thus…"
"Oh…"
With that, Caroline threw her arms around her husband again.
Covering his face with kisses, she barely noticed that Sir John
had dropped his hands to raise the hem of the negligee. He pulled
it up and Caroline paused in her abolitions to her husband to
allow him to raise it over her head. With a flick of his wrist
he sent the flimsy nothing towards a corner. Sir John reached
and lifted his bride in his arms and carried her to her marriage
bed.
As he placed on
the sheets, he slowly said, "To pleasure thee is my delight."
He stood up and slowly removed his own garment. Caroline could
not tear her eyes away from his manhood. "Do not fear, my
dear. 'Tis me; 'tis natural. It was made for thee."
"For me? That
will fit…inside of me?" She was fascinated with it
as it bobbed in the air.
"Oh, yes, my
dear; and it will give you great pleasure…" He took
his place lying next to Caroline and began to kiss her, stroking
her breasts again with one hand. Currents of delight seemed to
course though her.
"Yes…oh,
yes…" she murmured over and over again.
Finally Sir John's
hand reached down to the dewy core of her. Slowly, carefully,
he played her as Caroline might play the keys of her pianoforte;
only the music was Caroline's cries of delight.
Finally Sir John
sensed she was ready. He moved over her; as he did so, her arms
embraced him. "Are you ready, Caro?" he asked. To her
nod, he added, "There will be but a bit of pain, forgive
your Johnny; but it shan't be but a moment." She nodded
again; Louisa had been most complete in her advice.
Slowly he eased
his manhood into her depths. Caroline gasped as she felt for
the first time the sensation of being filled. Sir John tried
with all his will to be as gentle as he could, but the exquisite
pleasure nearly undid him. Caroline cried out; then began to
relax.
"Caro, are
you well?" he asked.
"Yes…"
she growled, the pain already fading. "Oh…yes…please…don't
stop…" Her hands reached down to his buttocks. She
grasped him and pulled him ever deeper inside.
He began his strokes;
first slowly then with increasing speed. Caroline started to
undulate beneath him. He whispered in her ear, "Caro…my
Caro…"
"Yes…"
She kissed his ear.
"I am yours…your
Johnny…forever…"
"OHH YESS…"
That was too much
for Sir John; with a cry he spilled his seed deep within his
virgin bride. Caroline could feel his release flooding her core,
the heat radiating into her. Caroline had a sensation of being
one with her husband, of completeness. She seized Sir John as
tightly as she could as he continued to convulse. Finally he
collapsed upon her breast, both of them slick with the evidence
of their labors.
When she could catch
her breath, Caroline asked, "John - are you well?"
"Ahh…yes
my dear - never better. But…" he stoked her face, "are
you…?"
He saw her eyes
fill with tears of joy. "I…I never dreamed…oh
John…"
"Johnny,"
he interrupted her with. "As you are Caro, I am Johnny,
when we are…thus."
"Very well…Johnny…thank
you," she said with a kiss.
The result was beyond
his expectations. Caroline's slim, pleasant form proved most
responsive to his ministrations and soon overcame any apprehensions
or awkwardness that had then existed. Afterwards, the look of
wonder and gratification on Caroline's lovely face was the greatest
reward Sir John could imagine.
And now as Caroline
slept, her body practically wrapped around him, Sir John was
filled with wonder and gratification as well. Another man might
have basked in self-satisfaction, but Caroline's husband knew
his own talents. The greatest of musicians can make an inferior
instrument sound only so well and no more. He knew he was not
the great lover of the world; he had not that much practice.
To his increasing delight Sir John was coming to the realization
that he had been far more fortunate in his choice of wife that
he could imagine. There was something there, something hidden,
that he had been able to unlock and set free. There was nowhere
on earth he would rather be than next to Caroline. He could not
help himself - he had to experience it again.
He leaned over and
began to lightly stoke her face. "Caro…my lovely Caro…"
Lovely green eyes
opened to his blue. "Hmm…hello…" she smiled.
He began to kiss her lightly on the forehead, then the eyelids.
"What is the time? Is it morning already?"
"No, my dear."
Sir John moved down to her neck.
"Oh, Sir John…"
moaned Caroline.
"My name, Caro
- say my name - the one I taught you - for moments like this…"
as his lips traveled to her breasts.
"Johnny…!"
Sometime later,
as his labors finally exhausted him enough to join his again
sleeping wife, Sir John's thoughts were those of caution: Must
take care - it would not do to commit that most fatal of sins
against the ton - by falling in love with my own wife…
The morning sun
was full upon Caroline's face as she awoke. At first she was
confused by the unfamiliar room until she remembered - I am
married… I am Lady Caroline… Caro… oh Lord, what
a night!… She stretched like a cat, feeling aches from
places she didn't know she had - Like the first time I went
ice skating - recalling the events of the evening. I had
nothing to fear, John was so kind… but - how wanton I acted!
And I am still abed! My duties! Oh, what must he think of me…!
Caroline began to
rise out of bed when she noticed her husband still in bed with
her. Not sleeping, but sitting up watching her with an amused
eye - and obviously without a stitch of clothes on. That realization
brought to Caroline's attention that she was as naked as he.
She scrambled back under the covers, too embarrassed to speak.
"Good morning,
Lady Caroline," Sir John greeted her.
"Good morning,
sir," Caroline answered, too mortified to notice that her
husband had used her new title. "May I ask what you are
doing here?"
Sir John grinned
- Caroline was reacting in just the manner he had foreseen. "I
beg your pardon. I thought you were my wife."
Caroline colored.
"Of course I am your wife, but why are you still here? Do
you not have your own bed?"
"Yes, and I
am in it."
"Sir, it is
my understanding that these are my rooms. At least that
was what I was led to believe yesterday."
"Ah, I see…I
am afraid there has been a misunderstanding, my dear. How unforgivable
of me…I forgot to tell you something. I suppose I was preoccupied…"
Caroline blushed deeper. "Well, let there be a right understanding
between us, madam - these are indeed your rooms. However, there
shall be no talk of your bed and my bed - only
our bed, Caro…" Sir John's face drew very close.
"Oh…"
Does he mean to share my bed every night? How extraordinary!
"But the servants, sir! What shall they make of this?"
"The servants?"
Sir John laughed. "Why, they shall think no harm of it;
only that the Mistress is so enamored of the Master's person
that she cannot bear to be separated from him."
Caroline couldn't
decide if she was distressed or not by this observation, but
she did feel those dratted flutterings again. She began to rise.
"What are you
doing, Caroline?" her husband inquired.
Caroline gave him
a look. "Perhaps you can sleep the day away, but I have
duties to attend. Your breakfast, for example…"
"Madam, please…"
Sir John placed his hand upon hers. "Your duties can wait
for tomorrow; it is my particular wish that you enjoy your first
day as Lady Caroline." She paused, then looking into those
eyes she gave in. He smiled at her, then proceeded to get out
of bed himself.
"John? What
are you doing?"
He gave her a smile.
"Patience, my dear. I shall return." With that Sir
John left the bed. Caroline could not help but to look upon her
husband, naked as Adam. Those blasted flutterings again!
He pulled on his robe and disappeared into his bedroom. A shame;
she found his buttocks attractive.
Sir John saw that
everything was proceeding as he had instructed the day before.
A quick word to the servant and he returned to Caroline's bedroom.
He crossed to her side of the bed.
"Well, sir?"
Caroline asked with an arch look. "What shall we do now?"
Sir John grinned, then reached beneath the covers and lifted
his wife bodily out of bed. For the second time in as many days
Caroline cried, "Sir John, what are you about? Put me down,
sir!" Without a word he carried her naked form to her dressing
room.
"I am sure
there are matters you wish to attend to;" Sir John said
as he placed Caroline in her chair. "I shall leave you,
madam, but will return. Oh, by the way," he added offhandedly,
"the staff is rather short today - I gave most of them the
day off." He bowed and left the room. Caroline completed
her morning ministrations. She was irked that she would have
no maid to help with her toilette, but she put on her best robe
and was able to do something with her hair before her husband
returned. Sir John had an expectant look on his face that Caroline
could not credit. "Lovely robe," was all he said before
picking her up again. Caroline thought his plan was to take her
to bed again, so she was surprised that they went through the
open doorway into his rooms.
"John, what…?"
was all Caroline could get out when they entered his dressing
room. There she saw a bath freshly drawn, steam rising from the
tub and a bucket next to it. Her bewilderment turned to surprise
when Sir John put her back on her feet and lovingly removed her
robe. Without a word he lifted Caroline again and gently placed
her into the bath. She gasped as she laid back; the water enveloped
her body, her aches soothed by the warmth. It was exactly what
Caroline needed. But her surprises did not end; within a moment
she felt a steam of hot water cascade over her head. With absolute
shock Caroline had the experience of her husband, Colonel Buford,
a war hero and Knight of the Bath, washing her hair. Never before
had the procedure felt so pleasurable. Caroline was temporarily
lost to her feelings; at that moment she would do anything Sir
John asked of her.
The only words Sir
John spoke to her, though, was a request that she lean forward
so that her hair may be rinsed. Once accomplished, he strained
as much of the excess water from her tresses as he could before
he leaned over and kissed her ear. "A moment, my dear,"
and he was gone. Disappointed, Caroline washed the rest of her
body, standing up to do her torso.
Task completed,
Sir John returned to his dressing room to the spectacle of his
tall, slim wife standing in the tub facing away from the door,
soaping her body, her buttocks gleaming. He mouth went dry at
the sight. Eventually he was able to croak out, "Venus rises
from the waves."
Sir John was almost
undone when Caroline looked over her shoulder at him with a smirk
and said, "Don't just stand there. Do something useful and
help me rinse off." A bit of suds clung to the tips of her
nipples. Snapped out of his trance, he smiled and proceeded to
do so.
Caroline reclined
in the bath while Sir John reclaimed his stool. He held her hand
as she relaxed. Minutes passed before he said, "You will
want to get dressed before the water gets cool, I think. I shall
leave you now."
Caroline grasped
his hand. "Do not leave…please. Perhaps you can help
towel me off?"
"Your wish
is my command, m'lady."
Working together
they dried Caroline's body with towels while wetting each other's
lips with kisses. There were able to remain in some control of
their passions, however, and it was not long before the pair,
dressed in sleepwear and robes, returned to Caroline's rooms
hand in hand. By now nothing could surprise Mrs. Buford, so it
was no great shock to see that breakfast had already been laid
out for them on the table at the foot of the bed. Caroline did
note with interest that the sheets on the bed had been changed,
but seeing no profit in inquiring about it let the observation
pass without comment.
While eating Caroline
asked, "What did you have in mind for today, sir? You seem
to have everything planned. More tea? I assume we will leave
this room at some point."
"Thank you.
Why, it had passed my mind that you may wish to do a bit of shopping,"
Sir John replied. "Our ship leaves in four days - just long
enough to have a dress or two fitted, and pick up some other
necessaries as well. There are shops nearby; we can be there
in a trice."
There were few things
Caroline enjoyed more than shopping. Sir John's suggestion brought
a smile to her face, which brightened when she realized that
he meant to go with her. "That sounds delightful, John.
I would like very much to go." She paused, then looked at
him through her eyelashes. "But the shops are nearby, did
you say? I can see no reason for us to hurry…Johnny…"
as she opened her robe.
There were
few things that Caroline enjoyed more than shopping - but she
may have found something.
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