Read Online Pride and Prescience by Carrie Bebris - Free Book Online Page A

intended. She withdrew into the corner of the carriage, the rebuff having smothered all sympathy toward her seatmate. In the year or so she’d known Caroline Bingley Parrish, she’d never aspired to enter the woman’s confidence, never wished to number her among intimate friends. But really! When concerned acquaintances rescued one from robbery and who-knows-what-other harm, some word of explanation seemed a not-unreasonable expectation.
    She was tempted to leave Mrs. Parrish and her “headache”to face alone whatever predicament had led to her midnight stroll. Obviously, Elizabeth’s concern was neither solicited nor welcome. Yet she sensed something different about tonight’s rudeness—that it stemmed not, as usual, from disdain toward herself, but from a desire to keep some private anxiety private. For that she could not fault her.
    The fact did, however, set one’s mind to wondering what could so trouble a woman who, twelve hours earlier, had declared herself the happiest, most fortunate bride in all England. A glance at Darcy’s face revealed that he, too, knew not what to make of their companion’s behavior. He started to speak, stopped, then began once more. “Mrs. Parrish, is
everything
quite all right?”
    Caroline met his gaze. For a moment, confusion clouded her countenance, and she looked as if she might confide in Darcy. But then her features smoothed and she tilted her chin once more.
    “Yes, Mr. Darcy. Quite.”
    Mrs. Parrish asked to be dropped off at her door, but Darcy insisted on escorting her into the house. Elizabeth concurred, curious to witness the bridegroom’s reaction to his wandering wife’s homecoming.
    Upon opening the door, the butler stepped back, unable to conceal his surprise at the sight of his new mistress standing on the stoop. “Madam! I thought you were within.”
    Caroline walked past him without a word and climbed the stairs to the drawing room.
    “Is Mr. Parrish at home?” Darcy asked.
    “Yes—at least, I believe so.”
    “Summon him.”
    The butler escorted Elizabeth and Darcy to the drawing room, then continued up to the second story. Caroline waited inside, her back to the door.
    It was a good-size room, with furnishings that reflectedFrench taste. While Elizabeth knew the style was not of Parrish’s choosing but his landlord’s, the elegant pieces adorned with boulle marquetry and brass inlay seemed well suited to both master and new mistress. A few ornamental items, such as a small wooden statue of an eagle and a heavy earthenware vase, contrasted but did not clash with the main décor. The accents reminded Elizabeth of the American objects she had seen in Professor Randolph’s exhibit. She wondered if these mementos of home had been gifts from the archeologist.
    Rapid strides on the stairs soon brought Mr. Parrish to them. He raked a hand through elevated locks of hair; his shirt, coat, and breeches appeared hastily donned. His face betrayed utter astonishment. Obviously, their arrival had roused him from bed. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.” He acknowledged them with a brief bow before quickly moving to his wife’s side.
    “Caroline?” When she did not immediately turn around, he laid a hand on her shoulder.
    “Oh, Frederick!” Mrs. Parrish spoke so softly that Elizabeth heard only with difficulty. “I’ve had such a fright.”
    His expression became still more confused, but he drew her into his arms. “Whatever has happened, you’re safe now, my love.” Despite the presence of the Darcys, Caroline did not resist the tender display. Elizabeth surmised she was still in a state of shock over the robbery attempt.
    Nevertheless, the embrace disconcerted their guests. Elizabeth and Darcy averted their gazes, suddenly seized by a compelling mutual interest in a painting that hung above the fireplace. The illustration depicted a large white classically inspired mansion, situated atop a graceful hill, surrounded by magnolia trees and great oaks with Spanish