Chapter Eighteen
It might have been minutes or years later that Georgiana attempted to pull away. Instead of complying as she ought, Caroline
chased Miss Darcy’s lips eagerly, unwilling to permit the lovely new sensation to end so quickly. The feeling, hot and heady,
thrilled down her spine, her hands clenching and unclenching with nowhere to go, her world narrowed to a single point of focus
where two mouths met and unmet in a clumsy clash of teeth and lips and oh good Lord, she was probably going to get sad tongue
from kissing someone who was not her wedded husband but she couldn’t bring herself to care one single whit because this was
delightful and burning and passionate, and Georgiana’s fingers were curling around her waist, pulling her still closer, and—
When they finally broke apart, panting, Caroline wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, what had occasioned it, or what she
might do to elicit such a response again. The realisation that she wanted it to happen again shocked and delighted her in
equal measures. This was new indeed, and yet not unwelcome.
Perhaps too welcome.
Georgiana’s fingers rose to cover her own lips as she backed away. “I apologise most heartily for—for—”
“For what?” Caroline blurted.
For a heartbeat, Miss Darcy looked at her as if she’d gone completely mad. “For kissing you,” she whispered, sounding scandalised.
“You are aware that I just kissed you, are you not?”
“I am not so sheltered that I do not know what a kiss is.”
“You . . .” She shook her head. “No matter. In either case, I apologise.”
“You needn’t.” The world was too sharply-focused, too crisp. Caroline was acutely aware of each and every thundering heartbeat,
the dampness of her palms, the heat writhing through her veins. “You were not as bad as all that.”
“I— Excuse me?” Georgiana stared at her. Clearly, her friend had expected Caroline to faint or flee.
“Why did . . . How . . .” Caroline hardly knew what one ought to be asking in such a situation, nor how to phrase the question
in a suitable way. Floundering, she changed tack. “I must say, I had no idea that you—”
Georgiana’s expression turned frosty, and she backed away, putting careful distance between them. “That I what?”
The change made Caroline’s stomach drop. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice coming out uncharacteristically reedy
and uncertain. How could they have gone from kissing heartily one moment and feel like damned strangers in the next? “Georgie,
I really—”
“It is better that we do not talk of this ever again,” Miss Darcy said stiffly. “I have letters to write. Pray excuse me,
Miss Bingley. I shall see you at dinner.”
Without another word, she turned and fled the room.
Caroline’s knees gave way and she slumped onto the worn couch, one finger brushing against her now-swollen lips.
Every time she recalled Georgiana’s fingers clutching at her waist, her heart rate sped up so much, she thought she might actually faint.
How on earth was she going to get through dinner without bursting into flames?
How on earth was she going to achieve the Great Endeavour with such a distraction so close to hand?
And how on earth can I entice her to kiss me a second time?
After she felt herself suitably under control again, which took the best part of an hour, Caroline made her way up the staircase
to the first floor. She paused on the landing and listened intently, straining to hear any noise coming from Miss Darcy’s
bedchamber.
Nothing.
Perhaps Georgiana wasn’t even in her room; perhaps she had escaped elsewhere to avoid being cornered. Creeping closer, Caroline
sidled along the hallway, avoiding the creakiest floorboards, and shamelessly put her ear to Georgiana’s door.
Still nothing. No murmuring to herself. Not even the scratch of a quill or a sigh could be heard.
Frowning, Caroline lifted her hand to knock, then decided against it.
The reasons for the kiss might be as murky as lake-water, but Georgiana’s panicked flight had made some things crystal clear.
Forcing a confrontation might not be the best course of action at the present moment, even if it was Caroline’s first impulse.
Inside the guest room, Caroline went first to her bed, lowering herself onto it with still-shaky legs, then bounced up again with renewed vigour.
She had too much energy inside her to sit still right now, yet she could not simply keep pacing the floor lest she wore grooves in the hardwood.
Crossing to the window, she settled herself against the wall and stared out at the sky.
Though the sun was still an hour or two from setting, the deep blue which she had so admired earlier that day had begun to fade, tinged with a rosy glow.
What was that old saying her governess had so loved—red sky at night, shepherd’s delight?
Though what shepherds had to be delighted about, Caroline had no idea.
Perhaps a flock behaved better if they saw a particularly
lovely sunset the night before. It was impossible to know what might matter to a sheep.
She rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. The first thing to do, presumably, was to ascertain why Georgiana had kissed
her in the first place. Caroline hesitated. Was it a why? If not, then she wasn’t sure what else it would be. Certainly not how or where—she knew both of those, and the memory brought a hot flush to her cheeks and a thrill to her stomach. No, perhaps it was
not a why, but a what. She had been talking of men and her inability to determine what she liked about them in the marriageable sense, and then
Georgiana had asked her about women. Caroline felt certain that her feelings must have shone clearly on her face in that moment,
whatever those feelings were—and good Lord, that was a thought she ought to address at another time—and instead of being repulsed
or outraged at such deviancy, Georgiana had . . .
Responded to it.
As if she too found women attractive.
At least one woman, anyway.
Caroline drew in a deep, ragged breath. Well. That is certainly something. She turned to the looking glass and stared at her reflection. The lady who stared back was gorgeous, stylish, and looked utterly
lost. I hardly think that you teaching me to be kinder can be dangerous in any way, she’d told Georgiana only a few days prior. Caroline sighed at the memory, allowing the breath to escape unchecked without
any consideration for sad lung. How absolutely wrong she’d been.
Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.
She turned back to the window and threw it wide open.
The gust of fresh air which entered made her feel more grounded.
If one breath achieves that much, she reasoned, then surely several hundred will be even more reviving.
Decision made, she swept out into the hallway and made her way downstairs.
She was halfway across the great hall when footsteps
sounded in the passage behind her. Not Georgiana’s, which she knew by heart and could have picked out in any crowd, but heavier,
more stately.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bingley,” said the housekeeper. “Is Miss Darcy upstairs, ma’am?”
“Good afternoon,” Caroline muttered. She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact, not when she was so flustered, and made
a great show of putting on her bonnet and gloves to avoid doing so. “I expect so. She left me only a short while ago to, er,
finish her correspondence.”
Mrs Reynolds nodded, though did not press the matter, and Caroline fled through the front door, relieved to escape any further
questioning. She stalked down the path which led between high hedges and along a left-hand turn, which, in truth, was her
least preferred route, until she reached the flowerbeds. She’d had some thought of sitting here on the bench for a while,
but the rosebushes merely reminded her of Georgiana. Instinctively, Caroline reached for the nearest rose; dark petals, velvet-soft,
simply begging to be touched and fondled and smelled and—
Good grief, she chided herself, yanking her hand back. Are not even the flowers safe from your amorous intent?
The thought made her chuckle, despite the strange way her stomach twinged at the thought of any kind of amor.
Instead of sitting, she headed down yet another path, admiring the bright blaze of purple and white columbines and the tall stems of pink hollyhock.
Not even the faint scent of lilac drifting on the breeze could distract her from the memory of the kiss, from the way Georgiana’s lips had descended on hers, creating a storm cloud of passion, which had sent a bolt of lightning all the way down to her very toes.
One unassailable point of the matter was that Georgiana had kissed her—had kissed her first, in fact—and Caroline had kissed
back. Miss Darcy had been right, of course, that they ought to leave it at that. One kiss was simply one kiss. It could be
swept under the rug like any other indiscretion, could it not? Caroline found she’d taken another left, quite without meaning
to, and was now en route back to the house. Her pace quickened as she considered the matter, as if by marching she could bring
her thoughts closer and thus sort through them more efficiently.
The second unassailable point of the matter was that, even before the kiss had taken place, she’d desired Georgiana in a manner
she had not quite understood. From the moment she’d seen Georgiana emerge dripping from the lake, Caroline had wanted to embrace
Miss Darcy in a way that went very much beyond mere friendship. She was prepared to admit that it had taken her a ridiculously
long time to reach this elementary conclusion, though this had hardly been her fault given how little she knew of these things,
but now that they had kissed, and at least some future potential had been made plain to her, she could not simply close the
door on the business without stepping through it again at least once. It need not interfere with the Great Endeavour, either,
since Miss Darcy was not a man and would therefore have no interest in marrying her.
My reasoning, as ever, is perfectly sound.
She sped up until she was flat out running, bursting through the front door of Pemberley with a vehemence that was not at
all ladylike before bolting up the staircase two at a time, ripping her bonnet off as she went. Panting, Caroline kicked the
door of Georgiana’s room open without knocking, strode inside, and swung the door shut behind her. Miss Darcy was sitting
at her desk, quill in hand, though she’d been staring out of the window rather than at the correspondence in front of her,
and flinched when she saw Caroline.
Georgiana was up and out of her seat in a moment, putting as much distance between them as possible. “It’s considered polite
to knock and wait to be admitted to a private chamber, you know.”
Caroline ignored this. She hadn’t been in the habit of remembering to knock before, and she wasn’t about to start now. “It
is my conclusion,” she announced breathlessly, “that we ought to do that again.”
Georgiana stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“We ought to kiss again,” she said, advancing. “That is my conclusion.”
“Your . . . your conclusion to what?” Georgiana backed up again until she was in danger of becoming lost in the curtains.
“The argument that you will undoubtedly make.”
Georgiana blinked, her eyes sliding down towards Caroline’s lips. Her shoulders, which had been up around her ears, relaxed
minutely. “How do you know what sort of argument I will make?”
Caroline scoffed. “You cannot really be asking me that.”
“Whyever not?” Miss Darcy straightened her shoulders, inching forward so that she was no longer trapped against the wall. Her gaze flickered past Caroline, presumably to the closed door, but Caroline had no intention of letting her run a second time.
“Because I know you, Georgie. I do.” Her heart was beating so fast she felt rather light-headed, but she kept her eyes on
Georgiana, intent on making her case plain. “I know you will say that it is improper, but no one ever need know. Besides,
can an improper action truly be called so if there is no one to witness it?”
“How very philosophical of you. Is that your entire line of reasoning?”
She refused to let herself be deterred by such a jab. “No. I have other conclusions. Sub-conclusions, if you will. And they
all amount to the same . . . peroration.” There. She was rather proud of that summary. She waited, but Georgiana made no reply.
“Caroline, I do not think it a good idea. It may lead down a path which . . .” Miss Darcy pressed her lips together, as if
clamping down on her own sentence. “It is simply an unwise course of action. Therefore . . . no.”
Caroline hadn’t expected Georgiana to leap into her arms immediately, but the abrupt dismissal stung. “No?” she repeated,
incredulous.
“No. I cannot possibly—” Georgiana caught herself, then swallowed hard. “We could not possibly—” She halted again, clearing
her throat. “No. My answer is no.”
“I see.” Caroline straightened, unable to help a smile creeping across her lips.
If Georgiana had intended to reject her properly, she would have done so in a manner far more sympathetic, which took Caroline’s own feelings into account.
She knew Miss Darcy well enough to suspect that this panicked response was likely borne of the instinct to protect herself from something she found frightening.
And why not, when her last dalliance had ended so badly?
Not that Caroline would ever deign to compare herself with the likes of George Wickham. “Very well,” she said mildly.
“What are you smiling about?” Georgiana demanded, staring at her.
“Nothing, my dear friend.” She smiled even more widely. It was excellent to have another goal. Obtaining a single kiss was
far more immediately achievable than the end goal of marriage which underpinned the Great Endeavour. That stubbornness which
Fitzwilliam had accused her of, and which he’d been perfectly correct about, would serve her well here. “Nothing at all.”
“You did hear me, did you not?” Georgiana said, a look of deepest suspicion suffusing her pretty features. “I said no.”
“Of course, Miss Darcy.” She turned, throwing a coy look over her shoulder. “Whatever you say shall be.”