Chapter Twenty-Two
My dear Louisa,
Thank you for your kind offer—of course I shall join you in London later, though I expect after such a long trip with Mother,
you shall be glad to spend a little time in your glorious, finished abode with your dear William. I am sure he has been missing
you dreadfully.
How is Mother faring? Does she plan to return to Hadley Hall immediately or does she feel herself well enough to visit London
for a time? The answer, of course, will influence my plans for the next few weeks.
Your devoted sister,
Caroline
Caroline scowled down at the letter; what she had written was true enough, though Louisa would not be able to detect her true meaning.
Caroline had no intention of going back to Hadley Hall any time soon, and particularly not if her mother was there alone.
She would rather spend the next three years in Louisa’s London home, listening to William Hurst gamble and belch and rant at length about the depth and complexity of his cook’s ragout, which wasn’t even particularly good.
Miss Darcy had been gone for most of the morning and afternoon, though this time, she had assured Caroline that it was merely her correspondence which kept her.
If Caroline had doubts about the veracity of such a claim, the promise of later kisses had soon erased them.
They enjoyed a long walk around the garden in the late-afternoon sunshine, and after an excellent dinner of roast pheasant
and boiled potatoes, followed by another posset—this time, a raspberry one which was as tart as it was smooth—Caroline spent
a pleasant evening listening to Georgiana alternating between playing the pianoforte and wandering about the room, reciting
the history of this or that ancestor with all the studied airs of a history teacher four times her age. Caroline, sides still
aching from laughter, followed Georgiana to the door of her bedchamber in the hope of a goodnight kiss. She did not receive
one, though Georgiana permitted an embrace which lasted for long enough to raise Caroline’s hopes again.
“We should say goodnight,” Miss Darcy said, though she made no move to release Caroline from her embrace.
Caroline pulled back just far enough to meet her gaze. Georgiana had once told her that she spent far too much time looking
outward at everyone else and no time at all looking inward, but Caroline rather thought the same could be said of Georgiana.
“I suggest we stop worrying about what we should do and pay more attention to what feels right. We are not in society now,
Georgie. Did you not tell me that I may do as I wish when there are no eyes to judge?”
“One of us has to be the voice of reason here.”
“And you have decided to take up that mantle, have you?” Caroline moved closer, watching Georgiana’s throat bob as she swallowed.
Close enough to see the pulse in her neck fluttering.
“Why, if that’s really the case . . .” She reached up, pressing her lips to the patch of skin directly under Georgiana’s ear.
“Then surely you can command yourself not to be affected by this.”
A sharp intake of breath was her reward. “Who says I am?”
“The trouble with that statement, Miss Darcy,” she murmured, “is that I do not believe you in the slightest.”
“I don’t care what you believe.” The tone was brazen, the words careless, but there was something underneath that Caroline
couldn’t quite comprehend. She felt as if she were standing on a frozen lake and had, in the distance, heard a crack. Was
it the ice or merely a distant twig snapping? Was she safe—or about to plunge to a frozen death?
Such dramatics. It was only kissing, after all.
Caroline pressed her lips to warm skin, tasting salt. “And yet, you’re still allowing me to do this.”
Georgiana hesitated as if torn, but acquiesced to tip her head back, allowing Caroline full access to the column of her throat.
Caroline left a slow trail of kisses from left to right, then dipped down and pressed her tongue against Georgiana’s pulse
point, feeling the rapid beat. Her own heart rate had sped up too, though blood was thundering through other, lower parts
of her with a steady, aching insistence. “Why are you so stubborn, Miss Darcy?” she murmured.
“Why are you so persistent, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline chuckled. “We are rather a well-made pair, are we not?” She pressed another kiss to Georgiana’s soft cheek. “What
if we did not say goodnight yet?”
Georgiana cocked her head, a look of consideration on her face, but the sound of soft voices from downstairs made them both freeze; the housemaids, probably, exchanging some vital details about the next morning’s work.
Caroline had expected her friend to flinch away entirely, fearing being seen or heard by the servants, but instead, Georgiana grasped Caroline’s wrist and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them and pushing Caroline against it with enough force to send a wave of desire roiling through her body.
In an instant, they were kissing, and to Caroline’s unfettered delight, Georgiana’s hands began to roam as if Miss Darcy were mapping out her body for later study.
The thought excited Caroline and she did her best to mimic the movements, squeezing and caressing until Georgiana’s breath came hot and fast against her mouth.
“I was hoping you would bed me tonight, Georgie,” she murmured.
Georgiana’s fingers tightened hard enough to bruise on Caroline’s hips, though when she next spoke, her voice was relatively
calm. “You are too keen. A lady does not rush so.”
A lady probably does not often feel as I feel right now, Caroline thought, biting back a growl of frustration, and cast about for a good enough reason to insist upon the matter.
“Well, it is possible that I may meet a suitable gentleman any day now who will prove to be a good match for me. And I do
not believe I could conduct such an affair if affianced, for that would be a discredit both to myself and my husband-to-be.
Therefore it seems to me only sensible that you and I should make haste in the time that we have together.”
“Ah.” Georgiana was silent for long enough to make Caroline worry.
“You make an excellent point.” Without warning, she dipped her head and kissed Caroline soundly again, relieving her of any anxiety.
“I ought not to take you, though,” she added, when finally they broke apart.
“For that is an act reserved for the marriage bed, as you no doubt know. But we may perform other . . . activities.”
“Other activities?” she repeated, feeling dazed. She rather liked the sound of that. And was it merely coincidence that Georgiana
seemed to be generally spurred on by the mention of losing Caroline to a suitor? No doubt this was simply her competitive
nature emerging once more, albeit in a slightly unusual vein. “And what might those entail?”
“Have you really never—”
“No. Never. Not like this.” She moved forward, walking Georgiana back to the bed, until Miss Darcy fell backwards on it with
a soft thump. “Show me what to do.”
“Caroline—”
“This I will not beg for, Miss Darcy,” she said firmly. “I want you, and I will not apologise for it. You said you wanted
me too, did you not?”
Georgiana grabbed her hand, tugging her down onto the bed.
Caroline had never before been on a bed with someone whom she intended to touch or be touched by.
The brief affair with the handsome neighbour in her youth had been all stolen kisses in the garden and one brief caress of her bosom, though none of it had ever made her feel breathless and desperate.
At the time, she had assumed her lack of reaction to his more amorous advances was simply a product of her excellent upbringing, which had ensured that she was a modest young lady armed with every weapon of social graces and attributes needed to survive in society.
However, the way she felt right now was so far from modest that it fairly took her breath away.
Truly, she had no idea what to expect or what was expected of her.
A lesser woman might have quailed in the face of a new venture, but dammit, she was Caroline bloody Bingley.
If any old fool could make love—and certainly fools had been doing it since time immemorial—then she could surely learn how to as well.
And do it far better besides.
She pressed Georgiana back on the bed, hovering over her. “If it is your first time, then you ought to go first,” Miss Darcy
protested, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Never mind what ought to be done. Show me. I want to know how to do everything that you like.”
“Give me your hand, then,” Georgiana muttered. Her blush had brightened, making her dark eyes seem starry in the candlelight.
She guided Caroline’s hand down and then up, under her dress until it rested at the apex of her naked thighs. Georgiana’s
breath hitched as Caroline’s fingers curled experimentally, the sensation of softness and dampness belonging to another person
entirely new to her. “Here. Press a little and— Oh.”
She stroked experimentally. “Like this?”
“Yes.” Miss Darcy’s gasp sent a thrill through Caroline’s entire body. “Just like that.”
Caroline had not Georgiana’s natural grace on the pianoforte, but she could almost match her friend for technical proficiency.
Her music teacher had often told her that she played very well, though she lacked heart. She had been tempted to respond that
she played without thought too, since she was not much interested in the instrument, but such a retort would only have earned
her a disapproving look and another half hour of dreary scales as punishment.
She had never been quite so glad about those lessons as she was right now.
“Faster,” Georgiana breathed. “I mean, if you are sure. You do not have to do anything you do not feel ready—”
Her words were cut off by a moan as Caroline found what she was looking for and began to test out a few scales of her own,
though these could never be called dreary. In fact, had the pianoforte made noises even half so lovely as the ones Miss Darcy
was making right now, Caroline was in no doubt that she would have become a world-class musician.
“A little more pressure,” Georgiana instructed, fingers tightening on Caroline’s upper arms. “Oh, please, a little more.”
She buried her face in Caroline’s shoulder, stifling another moan. Her body tensed and relaxed, flexing against the bed as
need overtook her. Caroline nudged her face up for another kiss, swallowing the sound of Georgiana’s pleasure. Finally, Miss
Darcy stiffened underneath her, the motion followed by a muffled exclamation of pleasure and a whimper that sounded very much
like Caroline’s name. “Stop, stop,” said she, halting the movement of Caroline’s hand, which had continued stroking without
any orders to cease. “I cannot bear any more pleasure.”
Caroline felt half-mad with need, but she waited patiently while Georgiana blinked up at her.
“My turn,” Miss Darcy whispered, grinning wickedly, and for the next few minutes Caroline was lost in a blaze of passion she hadn’t known herself capable of feeling.
The strange dreams she’d had of Georgiana did not even remotely compare to reality; the rough drag of fingers over sensitive flesh, driving her onwards to the peak of ecstasy.
When they were finished, Georgiana rolled away and lay on her back for a moment, panting.
Caroline could hardly catch her own breath, so overcome was she by the waves of pleasure which rolled through her like a great, sweeping tide.
It had been exuberant. It had been exciting. It had been . . .
Utterly wonderful.
Her delight was short-lived, however, as within a few moments Georgiana sat up and smoothed down her skirt, covering that
which Caroline had hardly even had a chance to examine. She felt a stab of disappointment. She’d rather hoped for a few more
kisses, but perhaps this was the usual way of things after one made love. Did not a man and woman usually have separate bedchambers,
after all? Presumably it was the natural course of things to come together and then split apart. But if that was so, why did
it make her feel so hollow? And why, despite having felt so close to Georgiana a moment before, did she still want to reach
for her even now that she was satiated?
“Is it usual to feel a little strange afterwards?” she asked.
Strange was not the right word, though—nostalgic, perhaps? Though, how could one feel nostalgia for something one had never had in the first place?
Georgiana hesitated. “Sometimes. Do not worry, though,” she added, busying herself with her dress. “I would never come between
you and your goal. This changes nothing about our agreement.”
Caroline, whose heart was slowing to a canter rather than a full-fledged gallop, sat up and smoothed her own dress down. “Oh.
I hadn’t thought it would.”
In truth, she hadn’t been thinking about the Great Endeavour at all. How could she, when Georgiana had been invading every
inch of her body?
“Good,” Miss Darcy said, her tone cool. She rose, holding out a hand to help Caroline up. “Then we are in agreement.”
If that were really true, then why did it feel so much like an argument?
Caroline accepted the offered hand, her legs still shaky from her earlier exertions, and made her way to the door.
“Goodnight, Georgie,” she said, though her companion did not turn to look at her and muttered only a quiet farewell of her own as Caroline left the room.
Caroline padded barefoot along the hallway to her own chamber, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. By the time
she made it as far as the bed, the tears sliding down her cheeks were coming thick and fast enough to thoroughly wet the pillow.
She wasn’t even sure precisely why she was crying, though that made no difference; the hollow longing inside her ached and
beckoned for a kind of satisfaction that could never come. She had given her body to Georgiana, who had taken it willingly
enough, but she’d wanted to give even more than that, if such a thing were possible.
It wasn’t, though.
Was it?