Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dear Miss Bingley,
Teddy—I mean, Mr Hall—says he is very eager to help you with your scheme and asks that we visit on Tuesday around eleven on
the clock, if that suits us both. It certainly suits me fine, as I have plenty to ask him about—
Never mind all that now. I shall explain on the next page. With respect to our travel arrangements, I think it best if you borrow Miss Darcy’s
carriage and pick me up on the way. I have studied a map closely and believe this to be the most convenient and expedient
route for all parties. Do let me know whether you agree.
Yours, with great affection and admiration,
Miss Emily Chester
The rest of the letter consisted of a full three pages describing the plot of some new book Miss Emily had recently read.
Hastily scribbled social niceties bookended this, as if the girl had only remembered at the end the real purpose of her letter.
Caroline couldn’t help but smile; she must be changing, for a few months ago, it would have seemed impossible to strike up a friendship with the Chester sisters, and now she was very much looking forward to seeing Miss Emily again.
It was rather nice to have a friend with whom one could really be one’s own self.
What a novel concept.
The second letter was from her mother, but she was loath to open it yet. It would surely ruin her mood, and said mood was
far too good at present to be sullied. She cast an eye across the room to where Georgiana sat on the couch, her gaze sliding
over the ample length of Miss Darcy’s body, which was encased today in a dark blue dress, giving her the appearance of a particularly
polished jewel. Caroline raised an eyebrow, her mouth already watering at the sight. “Just how long will it be before one or the other of
us caves to temptation?” she mused aloud.
Georgiana raised one eyebrow in return. “Are you implying that we cannot sit in the same room together without—”
“I am not implying anything of the sort. I am stating it outright.”
“Nonsense. You have your correspondence, and I have mine.” Georgiana gestured to the tray beside her. “We shall be perfectly
content for a while with our tea and scones, shall we not?”
For the better part of the next hour, Georgiana was right. Caroline wrote back to Miss Chester, confirming their plan, and
then began a long letter to Louisa, taking care to pad it out with the kind of minutiae her sister enjoyed most, in order
to make it seem like a lengthy and loving response. At least she could write honestly about how much she adored staying at
Pemberley. Feeling eyes on her, Caroline looked up. “What? I can hear you thinking from over here.”
Miss Darcy flinched guiltily, the tip of her quill brushing against her parted lips. “Apologies. I did not mean to stare. It was just that you looked . . . well, you were smiling rather prettily, and the sunshine was coming in through the window just so and . . .”
Caroline couldn’t help smiling. “We shall make a poet of you yet, Miss Darcy.”
“I doubt it. There’s nothing suitably poetic about what I’m thinking. At least nothing that could be written down in a book
without singeing the pages.”
Caroline swallowed, holding her gaze. “I thought you had correspondence to take care of.”
“I did. I mean, I do.” Still, she did not move, even when Caroline rose from her seat and prowled across the room, dropping
to her knees in front of the couch.
“We cannot do that here,” Georgiana hissed, casting a nervous glance back over her shoulder. “What if the servants—”
“I doubt you’ll last that long,” Caroline said, smirking. “Not with what I have in mind to try.”
Miss Darcy spluttered in outrage. “You make me sound as if I am a gun that only needs the lightest of breezes before it unloads.”
“With the most wonderful trigger,” Caroline murmured, hiking Georgiana’s dress up past her knees.
“You are interminable, and I still have three letters to write today.”
“Well, do not stop on my account,” Caroline said. “Pray continue with your task, Miss Darcy.”
“How can I possibly do so, when you are . . . oh, when you are doing that?”
Caroline pressed kisses along Georgiana’s lower thigh, following the line of muscle just above the knee as it tensed.
She really ought to insist that they spend more time in bed, so that she could devote herself to kissing Georgiana all over, every inch.
And speaking of every inch, Georgiana’s actions in the carriage had given her an idea.
Pressing another kiss even higher up caused Georgiana to wriggle and whimper. Fingers tightened in her hair, hard enough to
hurt. Caroline bit back a groan of pleasure, humming instead as her tongue traced a line higher and higher, then began to
mimic the actions her fingers normally performed. “Oh, Caroline—you can’t possibly—” Georgiana writhed underneath her, tasting
salty and sour and utterly delectable. “Oh.”
Caroline clamped onto Georgiana’s thighs and clung on for dear life, determined not to stop until she’d brought her lover
to the highest point of climax. The moment came sooner than she’d expected, and with a yelp only muffled by a hand hastily
clapped over her mouth, Miss Darcy sagged back onto the couch.
“Perhaps we ought to have done this upstairs, for I long to hear you,” Caroline murmured, licking her lips. “I confess I am
quite enraptured with all those lovely little noises you make.”
“Stop it,” Georgiana said, though it was a half-hearted snap at best. “Good grief, you ruin me anew every day.”
“I cannot possibly stop. Not when you look so enticing. So wanton.” She licked her lips again. “So . . . delicious.”
“You’re a perfect beast, Miss Bingley.”
She leaned in, intending to press a quick kiss to the side of Georgiana’s mouth. “If I am a monster, Miss Darcy, it is because
you made me one.” She’d meant it as a jest, but Georgiana pulled back, her face strained.
“I did not make you anything.” The silence lengthened. Georgiana was looking everywhere but at Caroline. “Did I?”
“Hold on a moment.” She reached for Georgiana’s hand, but it slipped out of her grasp. “I did not mean it like that.”
“Then however did you mean it?”
“I only wanted to tease you, Georgie.” She reached for the hand again, grimacing when Georgiana again pulled out of reach.
“Do not take it to heart, please. I—”
Miss Darcy smoothed down her dress, taking her time. “Are you saying that you would never have done something like this, were
it not for me?”
Caroline hesitated. “I do not know.” She sighed, taking a seat on the couch next to Georgiana. “I think I must have come to
the conclusion eventually. Certain things that I once dismissed outright as silly have become much more apparent of late.”
“Such as?” Georgiana was still watching her, her expression wary.
“That I found the female form much more alluring than I ought, and not everyone felt that way about other women. That I, perhaps”—she
rolled her shoulders, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of honesty making its way down her spine—“put other ladies down not
simply to raise myself up or to degrade them, but to distance myself from feeling certain . . . strange feelings.”
“Good heavens,” Georgiana breathed. “Are you confessing you had a crush on Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Well, I— No! I certainly wouldn’t say anything of the sort!” Caroline spluttered. Her discomfort at the idea being voiced
aloud was only partly relieved by Georgiana’s giggle of genuine amusement.
“I hadn’t thought her your type, Miss Bingley, but I see why she may have caught your eye. She is a very pretty woman, after
all.”
“I didn’t know I had a type, Miss Darcy.” Caroline inched closer. “Until now. Not too tall, fair hair, long eyelashes. A handsome set to the mouth. A certain wicked gleam in the eye. Those are the features I like best.”
No reply came. Caroline’s stomach sank with all the haste of a rock dropped into a pond. “A lady might think your silence
an insult, Miss Darcy. Have you no response?”
“Well, you . . .” Georgiana swallowed, looked slightly panicked. “You already know you are beautiful.”
That was worse than an insult, in a way. It stated what Caroline knew of herself, not whether Georgiana thought it or agreed
with it. “I do know that,” she agreed, trying to ignore the flutter of hurt in her chest. “But one likes to feel . . . desired.”
“I have often told you that you looked handsome,” Georgiana pointed out.
“Not often since we began . . .” Caroline waved her hand. Whatever this is. “Since we became intimately involved.”
“It’s not as if your looks have changed over the past few weeks,” Miss Darcy muttered. The tips of her ears were bright pink.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, why are you refusing to compliment me? Any idiot swain knows how to flatter, and yet you—”
“What do you want me to say?”
Caroline’s teeth ground against each other. “Would you like me to write out some suggestions? I am only asking for— You know
what? Never mind. It was silly to suggest it. I do not even care what you think of me.”
She rose, intending to storm off, but warm fingers caught her wrist and spun her back around. “I think you are beautiful,” Georgiana said, struggling up from the couch, as if her knees were still weak. She looked terrified, though for the life of her, Caroline couldn’t work out why.
“You needn’t bother saying anything. Words under duress have no value.”
“Excuse me, Miss Bingley. I am still reeling from the pleasure you just gave me, and it is difficult to think. Pray give me
a moment to rephrase my words.” Georgiana tugged on Caroline’s wrist again, forcing the space between them to close. “Beauty
is more to me than simply looks. It is how one talks, how one walks, how one acts. It is the perfume you bring with you when
you enter a room. It is the way you immerse yourself in a painting or a thought, with a furrowed brow that crinkles in the
most adorable way. It is . . .” She swallowed again. “The way you look when I kiss you. When you . . . lose yourself to me.”