Chapter Twenty-Four #2
just like her. “I believe that some prefer the opposite sex, some prefer the same sex, and some like both. That is the extent
of my knowledge, however, and I do not pretend to know very much upon the subject.”
“Hmm. That makes perfect sense.” Miss Emily nodded. “I find you attractive, yet I also find Mr Dilphy attractive.”
Caroline choked, spraying tea everywhere. Miss Emily stared at the herd of horses, completely unperturbed, as if she’d merely
made some remark about the weather. “Who . . . who is Mr Dilphy?” Caroline managed.
“Oh, he is a cousin of a neighbour of ours. Laurel says he is not a suitable match for me, though, as he likes travel too
much, and I do not. Also, he is forty.” Miss Emily cocked her head. “But he does have a very pleasing nose.”
“I see.” She wiped her mouth. “And . . . and you find me attractive?”
“Of course. You are a very pretty woman, Miss Bingley. I am far from the only one who notices that, I assure you.” Before
Caroline could decide how to respond to this—how on earth did one accept such a brazen compliment from a mere girl of seven-and-ten?—Miss
Emily added, “Thank you. I still have much to learn about the world, but this conversation has proved very interesting.”
Relieved that it had merely been a compliment and not an overture, Caroline risked another mouthful of tea.
“Since you entrusted me with your secret,” Miss Emily went on, “I ought to trust you with one of mine.”
“You needn’t, if you would rather not,” Caroline said, patting her on the shoulder.
“I insist. It is only fair, after all.” For the first time, Miss Emily blushed. “For several months, I have been corresponding
with a young man. We talk of everything of importance—books, inventions, philosophy. But I shouldn’t really be writing to
him, nor he to me, without anyone knowing. I haven’t even told my sister.”
“Really?” This was far more interesting than The Mysteries of Udolpho. In Caroline’s opinion, more books ought to be written about secret lovers exchanging passionate letters. “To whom have you
been writing? Or cannot you tell me?”
“Mr Hall,” Miss Emily confessed. “Teddy Hall. He is the nephew of Lord Ashbrook and was at the lake party. You may remember,
for they look rather alike, although I think Teddy the fairer of the—”
“Lord Ashbrook!” Caroline exclaimed, only just remembering not to shriek the name so loud that Miss Laurel could hear. “Why,
he is precisely the man I need to talk to. I have recently become acquainted with a painter, you see, and—well, it is a long
story.” She studied Miss Emily. “Do you think you might be able to help me? If you asked to meet Teddy, his uncle would surely
attend as his chaperone. And I could chaperone you in turn.”
“Oh,” Miss Emily said, turning an even brighter shade of pink. “That would require me to tell my sister about what I’ve been doing. Writing in secret to a viscount’s nephew will warrant at least a solid hour of lecturing, I am sure. Perhaps two.”
Caroline followed Miss Emily’s gaze. Georgiana had mounted an enormous brown horse which, to Caroline, looked far too big
for her friend, but which she managed without any trouble at all, turning this way and that gracefully, with only a nudge
of her knees, hands light on the reins. Miss Laurel was already astride a dappled grey stallion with a white mane and tail,
looking equally as comfortable.
“I once knew a young lady,” Caroline murmured, “who did not tell her brother the truth when she could have, and regretted
it all her days. Secrets one may have and keep, but some are precious, and some eat away at you like rot. Be certain you know
which is which, Miss Chester.”
Miss Emily patted her hand kindly. “I am sure that your brother would look upon your secret well. He is known to be a gentleman
of a tender nature, with great understanding of feelings.”
Wait, what? Caroline gaped at her. It hadn’t even occurred to her to tell Charles about her new feelings, though it made sense—of all
her family, he was the most . . . the least . . . She frowned. Well, he’ll no doubt be very Charles about it. Shocked, as anyone would be, but not cruel. Never knowingly unkind. “Would it help to know that your scolding may not be in vain? That it may in fact allow two secret lovers unknown to you,
who have been unable to marry for years despite their fervent wishes, to finally be able to do so?”
“Oh,” Miss Emily said, her eyes widening. “I would endure several days of scolding for such an achievement. How very romantic! I shall confess to my sister as soon as you leave, and we shall arrange the scheme as you like. I am sure that Teddy will be amenable.”
“What say you to a race, Miss Darcy?” called Miss Laurel, distracting Caroline’s attention.
“Oh, I do not know if that is a good idea.” Georgiana, her eyes already bright with happiness, cocked her head. “I would not
want to embarrass my host.”
Miss Laurel scoffed, though her smile was good-natured. “You are very confident for someone on an unfamiliar horse.”
“Oh, he and I understand each other quite well already, do we not?” Georgiana reached down and patted the horse’s neck, receiving
a soft whicker in return. “Where shall we race?”
Miss Laurel pointed east, to a field which lay like a vast, outstretched hand and only ended in a line of dark trees. Several
small fences had been erected on the grass, each set apart from the others, making them look like doorways to nowhere.
“I do not think a race would be wise,” Caroline called, as a slight breeze ruffled her curls. The scent of clover and fresh-cut
grass which drifted over was a delightful one, but it did not alleviate any of the foreboding feeling that lay in her stomach
like a stone, pressing all the previously-enjoyable cake into a tight ball of nerves. “What if one of you is hurt?”
The ladies exchanged wry looks. Miss Emily, apparently unperturbed by such wild ideas, went off inside to request more tea.
Georgiana steered her horse over to Caroline and lowered her voice to a murmur. “I promise you, there is no need to worry.”
“You cannot promise any such thing,” Caroline protested.
Up close, the horse was even more formidable—a far cry from pretty, stolid Edward, who looked more like a white barrel with legs than a real horse.
Georgiana’s own Swift was on the leaner, rangy side, whereas this horse was heavily-muscled and looked as if it could easily kick down a barn.
Georgiana bent down and cupped Caroline’s chin, the horse’s flanks blocking her action from view. “Look at me,” said she,
her dark eyes serious. “I promise you that I will be perfectly safe.”
“Well, I . . .” Caroline began, then edged aside as the horse tried to nibble on her bonnet. “I do not trust this enormous
beast.”
“But you trust me, don’t you?”
“With my life, certainly. I do not necessarily trust you with your own.”
For a moment, a strange expression flashed across Georgiana’s face, but before Caroline could decipher it, it was gone. “So?”
she added, after another heartbeat had passed. “Will you let me compete?”
“Let you?” Caroline scoffed. “As if you actually would listen to me.”
“I would.” Georgiana’s gaze turned fierce, as if trying to tell her something unspoken. “If it really frightened you, I would
beg off.”
“Of course it frightens me. It downright terrifies me.” Caroline sighed. There was no winning here. “Yet, I would never keep
you from doing something you wanted to do. A fact which you know very well.”
“Thank you.” Georgiana looked relieved, her fingers stroking the underside of Caroline’s chin, and her smile was unexpectedly
tender.
“Please be careful,” Caroline murmured, though the advice was likely to go unheeded.
Georgiana clicked her tongue and the horse turned at once, ambling back towards Laurel, who waited on Snowfall.
The stallion pawed at the ground with his front hoof, evidently eager to be off.
Caroline’s mouth was dry, her palms clammy.
She wiped them on her dress and tried to reason away her fear.
It was only a short race, after all. Surely neither could come to any real harm.
“Where to?” Miss Darcy asked.
Miss Laurel pointed to the end of the field, where a large, gnarled tree stood a little separated from the rest. “What about
by the old oak?”
“And what of these fences? What purpose do they serve?”
“Oh, I practice my jumps on them.” Miss Laurel waved an airy hand. “But since they are only big enough for one horse at a
time, they will not suit for a race.”
They lined up, taking care to ensure that neither horse stood abreast of the other, and after a shout from Laurel, they were
off. Georgiana’s horse surged forward, his long legs giving him an initial advantage, but after only a few strides, Snowfall
surpassed him. The young stallion was fleet of foot indeed, bounding over the grass as if he were descended from the swiftest
of deer—the ones, presumably, who had lived long enough to outrun a wolf pack. Georgiana was not to be outdone, however, and
leaned low along her horse’s neck until they appeared to be one creature as she urged him onwards. The beast thundered past
Snowfall in the last few moments, eking out a clear victory. Georgiana turned him in a wide circle, whooping in triumph; without
stopping to congratulate Laurel on a race well run, she pushed the horse onwards at speed, back towards Caroline.
A series of gates lay in the way. Instead of swerving around them, Georgiana’s horse leaped one, then another, his muscles bunching.
Caroline’s heart mimicked the action, choking the breath from her lungs in a strangled cry.
Surely, Georgiana knew better than to attempt the final gate, which was set as high as the horse’s chest. Surely, no one could make that jump without injury.
The horse’s powerful haunches tensed as it gathered itself for a last great leap. As if time itself had slowed, it soared
through the air and—
No, Caroline thought, instinctively reaching into the air as if she could hold Georgiana up with invisible hands as the horse—
Landed cleanly without incident, then slowed to a canter. Caroline felt a great swoop of relief, her knees weak. For a horrible
moment, she had pictured the horse stumbling, Miss Darcy’s joy turning to terror, a fall to the ground, a scream of pain . . .
People had died from less.
Caroline swallowed down the bitter taste of fear. Nothing had happened. Georgiana was fine. But in that moment, she had been
really, truly terrified to lose her. A life without Georgiana would be no life at all, whether Caroline achieved the Great
Endeavour or not.
Oh God, she thought, a terrible, helpless feeling overcoming her. I think I might be in love for the very first time.