Page 162 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

"Ladies!" the Viscount exclaimed, as if he had discovered a new continent. "What excellent timing. We were in the library discussing estate management—"

"You were napping on the sofa," Mr Darcy pointed.

"—and I heard the dulcet tones of feminine conversation. So naturally, I came to investigate." Lord Keathley's eyes landed on Caroline. His grin widened. "Miss Bingley! What a delightful surprise. I did not know you were joining us."

Caroline stood, curtsied, and contemplated whether leaping from the window would be considered rude. "My Lord. Mr Darcy. I was just... Lady Keathley invited me for tea."

"How marvellous." The Viscount deposited his books on a side table and claimed the chair nearest to his wife. "We are hosting a proper salon. All we need now is a philosopher and a string quartet."

Mr Darcy inclined his head towards Caroline. "Miss Bingley. It is good to see you."

It was a lie. A polite, well-bred lie and she knew it.

"Mr Darcy," Caroline replied, her voice steady. "You are looking well. Marriage agrees with you."

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "It does. I recommend it."

"I shall keep that in mind."

Mrs Darcy's eyes danced. "Do sit down, Fitzwilliam. You are making Miss Bingley nervous."

"I am not nervous." Caroline sat back down, arranging her features into a nun's serenity.

"Of course not." Mrs Darcy offered the plate of lemon cakes to her husband. "You merely look as though you are calculating the exact distance to the nearest exit."

"I have no intention to escape, if that is what you mean."

Lord Keathley leaned back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. "Miss Bingley, I must say, you are handling this with remarkable composure. I would have run screaming by now."

"You run screaming from kittens, my Lord," his wife said mildly.

"They have claws! Tiny, vicious claws!"

"They are kittens."

"Miniature tigers," the Viscount insisted. He turned to Caroline. "Tell me, Miss Bingley, how is your brother? Still apologising to furniture?"

"He is well, my Lord. And yes. Last week he apologised to a hatstand for existing in his general vicinity."

Lord Keathley roared with laughter. "Excellent! The man is consistent. I admire that in a person. Consistently absurd, but consistent nonetheless."

Caroline found herself smiling. Actually smiling. At a man who had every reason to despise her for attempting to sabotage his wife.

Miss Darcy, who had been quiet through the exchange, cleared her throat. "Miss Bingley, I wanted to thank you."

Caroline blinked. "For what, Miss Darcy?"

"For the advice you gave me last year. About posture. You told me to imagine I was balancing a book on my head whilst walking. It helped tremendously."

"You gave Georgiana deportment lessons?" Mr Darcy's eyebrows climbed.

"It was a single comment," Caroline said quickly. "Hardly a lesson."

"It was kind," Miss Darcy insisted. "And I appreciated it. You did not have to help me. But you did."

The room went quiet. Caroline stared at the girl—the young woman, really—and the walls around her heart developed another crack.

"It was nothing," she managed.