Caroline nodded and rose to her feet. “I shall go home,” she announced, “Thank you, mother.”
They shared a quick hug before Caroline turned around and made her way back to the carriage. She spotted Beatrice almost the second that she stepped outside. Her sister was pacing along the gravel path, her face pensive and withdrawn.
“Beatrice,” Caroline called out, her voice trembling. “Can… can we talk?”
Beatrice looked up and her eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, her face contorted in a mask of hurt, but her expression changed quickly—back into the stoic coldness.
“Caroline,” she said, her voice trembling. “Shouldn’t you be at home? Playing the role of perfect wife?”
Caroline flinched at the barb, but managed to force a smile onto her face. “I was here to talk to mother, but it’s good to see you Beatrice,” she offered. “I was hoping we could talk, that I could explain…”
“Explain?” A cold laugh escaped her sister’s lips. “Do you want to explain how you stole my wedding and the man who was meant to be mine? How you ruined my chances of a good marriage? What could you possibly say to make any of that right?”
Tears formed in Caroline’s eyes at the pure venom in her sister’s voice, but she blinked them back, determined to stand her ground. “I never meant to hurt you, Beatrice. What happened with Sebastian… it was a terrible misunderstanding. And I wouldn’t have married Sebastian, I’d have refused but if I did, your reputation would suffer too—you’d be ruined by association, I was trying to protect…”
“Oh, stop,” Beatrice laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. “Stop pretending that you did not want this. Stop pretending that you are noble when we both know what a traitor you truly are.”
A wave of guilt washed over Caroline and she shook her head. “I am sorry that you are hurting,” she pleaded now. “But you must know that I never wanted this, never dreamed that things would turn out this way. Please, Beatrice, can we not find a way past this? Be sisters, the way we used to be?”
Beatrice laughed shrilly at this and looked down—though it was not quick enough for Caroline to miss the tears brimming in her eyes. “Do you expect me to be your sister while you share a bed with the man who was meant to be mine?”
“It is not like that,” Caroline burst out before she could help herself. Beatrice’s eyes flitted up at this and she lifted a brow.
“Not like what?” she asked eagerly and Caroline shook her head.
“It’s just… not like that,” she mumbled, but it was too late.
“You…” Beatrice let out, a shrill laugh following her words once more. “You are not his wife in the Biblical sense, are you? He didn’t…”
More laughter interrupted her thought and she shook her head, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light Caroline had never seen before.
“He didn’t bed you,” she let out at last. “He doesn’t want you,” she continued. “What, are you spoiled goods after the scandal?”
“Don’t,” Caroline pleaded softly. “Beatrice, please…”
But there was no stopping her sister—her hurt, it seemed, had found a foothold in rage. “Oh, do not tell me what to do,” she burst out. “You married the man, and now you are no more than a burden to him? It is delicious, dear sister… too delicious for words.”
The words hit Caroline like a physical blow, the air rushing from her lungs as if she had been punched in the stomach. Tears blurred her vision, hot and stinging, and she felt a sob building in her throat, threatening to choke her.
“I’m not a burden,” she whispered. Beatrice, however, seemed to take heart at the sight of her sister’s misery.
“Of course,” she laughed now. “You thought you would be my better, you’d marry the man promised to me. But you didn’t realize… Sebastian Fairchild married you only to salvage both your reputations, whereas with me he had somewhat of a choice. Make no mistake… he will tire of you soon enough. His second choice… and then he will seek his pleasures elsewhere, just like any other man of his station.”
It was true, Caroline realized. She had not been Sebastian’s first choice, and as kind and courteous as he’d been, there was no guarantee that he would not tire of her and resent the forced union that tied him to her.
Beatrice seemed to enjoy this horrific thought and it was the absolute stranger she saw in her sister’s face that finally caused the tears to spill over and stream down her cheeks. She turned away from Beatrice at last.
“I have to go,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. “I cannot do this, I cannot fight you anymore.”
She did not wait for a response. Instead, she rushed towards the carriage quickly, paying no mind to the concerned look the driver shot her.
“Take me home,” she got out, her voice barely audible over the painful pounding of her own heart. “Please, just… take me home.”
As the carriage rattled down the drive, carrying her away from the painful confrontation with her sister, Caroline pressed her face against the cool glass of the window, her tears blurring the passing scenery into an indistinct haze.
She had thought that by coming home, by seeing her mother and Beatrice, she could find some measure of peace, some relief from the doubts and fears that plagued her. But instead, she felt more lost than ever, adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.
All she could do now was return to Casterbridge, to the man she called husband and the life she had chosen. And pray that somehow, someway, she could find the strength to weather the storms that lay ahead.
