Page 53 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

Caroline's fingers found the fringe, defensive. "This is mine."

It was such a poor lie that Darcy nearly pitied her for it. Then he remembered Elizabeth standing bare-shouldered in a crowded ballroom while this very garment waited here to be used as evidence against her, and the pity was gone.

"Sarah mended that fringe with blue silk after Miss Elizabeth was caught in the rain," he said, each word deliberate. "McKeever chose that same thread for a book marker not a fortnight past. We could identify every knot in it if it came to that, Caroline."

Caroline's smile vanished as though someone had snuffed it like a candle.

Louisa came hurrying down the corridor, two ladies trailing a little way behind her. Curious rather than invited, drawn by the scent of scandal the way flies find an open pantry. When Louisa saw her brother standing at the door, she stopped short.

"Charles. I was looking for you."

"Send the ladies back to the ballroom," Bingley said.

Louisa obeyed at once. Her companions retreated, disappointed and no better informed than when they had arrived. Bingley stepped into the saloon. Darcy stayed at the open door. McKeever remained out in the corridor, a silent, immovable presence.

"Give me the shawl, Caroline."

She drew it off. Her hands were shaking now, and not, Darcy thought, entirely from anger. "This has been made to look far worse than it is. I only wished to speak privately with Mr. Darcy about his conduct."

"While wearing another woman's garment."

"It was a jest."

"You sent him a false message."

"My maid sent it."

"At your order."

Caroline turned to Darcy, pleading now. "Surely you understand. Miss Eliza has thrown herself in your path from the very moment she arrived. You were trapped in that pavilion. Everyone in the county expects an offer. I meant only to show you how easily appearances can be arranged, that is all."

"You meant to arrange them against me," Darcy said. "And you meant to use Elizabeth's name and Elizabeth's shawl without a moment's thought for her consent in the matter."

"I was protecting you. From a family beneath you."

"You were pursuing your own interest, Caroline. Do not dress it up as mine."

Caroline's eyes filled at last, glittering in the lamplight. Bingley looked away for one long moment. When he turned back to face her, the anger had gone out of him, leaving only something sadder in its place.

"You will go to Scarborough with Louisa and Hurst tomorrow," he said. "I will tell our guests that Louisa has had urgent news and that you have chosen to accompany her. Nothing of this leaves the family, or the servants who already know it."

"You are banishing me from my own brother's house. For a country girl."

"I am sending you away because you tried to force my friend's hand and injure my guest under my own roof, Caroline. Those are your words to answer for, not mine."

"Charles—"

"Tomorrow."

Caroline turned to Louisa for support. Her sister could offer none without admitting her own part in the whole affair, and so said nothing at all.

Bingley took the shawl and passed it to McKeever. "Return this to Sarah. She will see it back to Miss Elizabeth, and explain the truth of it."

"Yes, sir."

The handling was exact, careful. Darcy watched McKeever fold the blue fringe inward to protect it, the way a man handles something he has been entrusted with and means to honour that trust.

"I will stay with my sisters a while longer," Bingley said. "Go back to the ball, Darcy."