Chapter 10
30 th June 1815
28 th June 1815 Darcy House, London
Dearest Georgiana,
Pray forgive the delay in responding to your letter and for not breaking my journey at Hemel Hill on my way to town. I am certain you must be beside yourself with worry over the notice of Richard in the paper, but I know little aside from what was printed. Before departing Pemberley, I sent a note to Lord Fitzwilliam in hopes of learning something of our cousin, but I have yet to receive a response. Tomorrow, I shall visit Horse Guards with the aim of discovering when Richard will return to England. I assure you; as soon as he has returned, I shall see him to Darcy House and if he is able, to Pemberley to recuperate.
Do not fret until we know more. Richard is a tough, solid sort and not prone to illness or weakness. I almost expect him to appear at the door upon his arrival, demanding brandy and a cigar and proclaiming he had a devil of a time during his voyage home.
In the meantime, I understand you are to depart within a fortnight for Yorkshire. Until we know of when Richard is to return or his condition, little can be done here. Enjoy your time with Jane and her family. Richard would not want you waiting and despairing over him.
Elizabeth and the children send their love.
Your brother,
Fitzwilliam
Georgiana let the letter fall to her lap and lifted her head to take in the roses around her. Hemel had a lovely and well-tended garden near the house, and after a few days of sun, the grounds had dried enough to finally venture from the gravel paths.
As she lifted her face into the sun to soak in the warmth, a movement in the corner of her eye drew her notice. The tall form, clad in breeches and an expensively tailored blue topcoat, strode towards her. The butterflies that seemed to now reside in her belly took flight in large soaring circles. Charles was so handsome with his broad shoulders and those muscular thighs wrapped in buckskin breeches. Her cheeks flamed. If he caught her scrutinising him thus, she would be mortified!
“Jane said you received a letter from Darcy,” he signed as he approached.
“Yes, he has told me to remain with Jane and her family until he has reason for me to join him.”
Charles nudged her over a little on the bench as he sat beside her and took the note from her hand. After perusing the contents, he returned the paper.
“He is correct, you know. You would do naught but sit around and wait if you returned to London. All of the gentry are departing for the country, and the heat always brings disease and pestilence. You are better off coming to Bathwick Abbey.”
“I do not want to be an imposition.”
He lifted her chin with his knuckle. “You would never be so. Pray, you are welcome at Bathwick whenever you like, for as long as you like, and for whatever reason.”
“You make it sound as though I could come and stay forever if I wished it.”
He stiffened some with a slight change in his countenance she could not place. “I would not object if you did.”
“It would hardly be proper.”
With the use of his walking stick, he stood and held out his hand, which she took as he tugged for her to rise.
“Where are we going?”
“You will see.”
He brought her to the stable where the curricle was prepared, and a groom held the horses while they waited. “I thought one more ride before we depart for the north, but if you would prefer, I can drive you into London to see your brother.”
She bit her lip. Would she wish to journey to town? The distance was not prohibitive, but not one she would prefer to take. “Fitzwilliam mentioned going to Horse Guards and enquiring of Richard. I am certain he is busy, and I would not want to deter him from being of aid to my cousin. We should probably leave him to it.”
He tipped up her chin. “Do know I shall take you if you wish it. All you need to do is ask.”
If a groom had not been nearby, she would have risen to her tiptoes and kissed Charles’s cheek. His consideration meant everything to her.
“So, how about that drive?”
His strong arms lifted her to the seat, and in moments, he sat beside her. The groom handed him the reins, and Charles gave them a flick to send the handsome dappled greys into motion.
They did not speak while they sped along the drive away from Hemel Hill. Instead, Georgiana breathed deeply of the air and took in the scenery. The day was warm, as was the wind, but the movement helped keep her cool. The weather was perfect.
After almost ten minutes, Charles turned onto a smaller road before pulling onto the verges. Georgiana took in the field to her right with her hands clasped to her chest. The field of poppies had seemed full when they last visited, but now it was teeming. She could not contain her joy when she looked back at the gentleman who had thought to bring her here. On their journey to London, she had longed to spend more time in the poppies, and he had ensured she returned.
“They will go to seed soon, but I thought we would enjoy them one last time. I was correct before. This field is on Hemel lands, so we need not worry of someone intruding.”
She lunged forward and hugged him, then kissed his cheek. This was the most perfect thing he could have done for her.
“This is just what I would wish to do today. Thank you!”
After he helped her down, he lifted a rug from the back of the curricle and removed a basket secured to the board. They wandered into the sizeable field until a small clearing appeared right in the middle of the vivid blooms. He spread the blanket and set the basket on one corner.
“Are you hungry? Cook packed cold chicken, bread, some cakes, and strawberries.”
“It all sounds lovely, but I would be content to sit for a time.” He offered his hand for her to lower herself then sat a small distance away while she glanced in all directions.
The poppies swayed in the breeze, and she could have sighed, her heart was so full. She was engulfed in a sea of crimson, and she desired to never leave. As she took in the view, her fingers worked at the ribbons of her bonnet, and when they were loose, she tossed the hat beside her. The covering kept her head too warm, and she longed to let the air cool her scalp.
That familiar tingling covered her cheek, and she glanced over her shoulder to Charles’s unreadable gaze. “What are you thinking?”
He shook his head. “Nothing of importance to most.”
“Maybe I am not most.” She tilted her head, and his serious expression gave way.
“No, I conceded long ago that you are not like most people.” He glanced off into the field of flowers and back. “Henry questioned our friendship. I believe he is concerned for you.”
Her stomach tightened a little. “And what did you tell him?” The last thing she wanted was for Jane and her husband to realize how close she and Charles had become. Either they would insist upon their engagement or return her to Fitzwilliam. While she would not object to marrying the gentleman in front of her, he should not be forced by his relations but by his own depth of attachment. She would not have him any other way.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said we are friends, and what Jane witnessed on the portico that day was me offering you comfort.”
“Comfort I heartily required.”
“I want you to know I care for you. I cannot be certain I can provide what you need, but…”
Was he declaring a certain attachment to her? She covered his hands with one of hers. She did not want him to rush his feelings. “One day at a time. You need not know anything now, but we shall take matters day by day. We have all the time in the world, do we not?”
“I do not want to hurt you,” he said, his striking eyes tugging at her heart.
“’Tis too late. My heart has been engaged for a while now. I do not know when it happened. One day I was going along charmingly and the next, my heart was full of you.”
He shifted closer and pressed his forehead to hers. Her entire body thrummed as his fingers traced along her cheek and down her neck. When he drew back, he touched her hair. “You may refuse, of course, but would you consider releasing your hair?”
She balked for but a moment, then one at a time, she removed the pins and placed them in his palm. When the last of her tresses fell around her shoulders, his eyes flared for a moment. She glanced down to where her finger picked at the rug.
“You are stunning,” he said aloud. After setting the pins on the basket for safe keeping, shaky fingers touched near her crown and wove into the strands, combing through to the ends. “So soft.”
He dropped back onto the blanket and stared up at the sky. After a few moments, he looked at her and stretched out his arm. She curled next to him, her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. How did such a simple embrace bring such contentment? The only sense of home she ever received was at Pemberley, but within Charles’s arms had somehow become where she belonged.
His heart beat into her ear, and she committed the sound to memory. How long they lay there, she could not have said, since a welcoming darkness overtook her soon after.
Charles lay on his back while the fluffy clouds passed overhead, and the poppies swayed to and fro around them. How could one gentle lady stir him so? Even now, curled to his side, the urge to defend her—to see she was never harmed prevailed, not to mention the more lustful longings he tamped down and struggled to keep under regulation.
The arm underneath her curled up so his hands could continue to comb through her long mahogany locks. Her hair was not straight, yet it was not the curls possessed by her brother. Instead, the texture was something in between. His dreams of her with her hair down did not do her justice, but he had wrongly assumed her hair was straight. This look suited her better.
She shifted closer to him and raised her knee to rest over his hips. He gritted his teeth. This was an exquisite torture, but one he would not trade for all the riches in England. Her delicate hand rested at the top of his belly, the heat travelling through his waistcoat and lawn shirt to brand his skin. What he would not give to have that mark be permanent!
He nestled his nose into the hair at her crown and pressed a kiss. She needed to wake. He had let her sleep for two hours, but they would need to return soon. Jane had made him promise to return Georgiana for tea.
His fingers brushed down her cheek. “ Georgiana, ” he said aloud. Speaking in front of her still caused unease, but the spark in her eyes when he used his voice proved she had no care for the alteration. On the contrary, she seemed to pay closer heed to him when he spoke.
“ Georgie. ” He used a bit more force this time, but not much. He had no wish to startle her.
She groaned and rubbed her nose against his topcoat. With a grin, he tipped up her chin. Her plump lips were pouted just so, and he could not deny himself.
He made an effort to cradle those bits of flesh with care, then indulged in pecks to her eyelids and nose. “ Georgie, beautiful, you must wake up. ”
Crystal blue eyes looked up at him as her eyes drowsily blinked open. A lazy smile he had only seen in his dreams tugged at her mouth as her palm found his cheek, drawing his lips back to hers in a languid connexion.
He sucked in a deep breath at the riot of sensations filling him: his heart began to quicken and a current ran through him from where they were joined to travel the rest of his body. More than anything, his body screamed for him to roll her under him —to meld her to him, but he could not, especially in an open field where anyone could happen upon them!
As he had before, he tempered her ardour, and his own, and made each kiss smaller, though no less heartfelt.
“ Are you hungry? ” he asked before pressing his lips one last time to her forehead.
She shook her head. “Poor Cook will not know what to think if we return a full basket.” His body protested when she drew back enough to sign the answer to his question.
“I can tell her we were enjoying the ride so much we never stopped to eat.”
“You came up with that lie without much thought.”
He grinned. “Well, I cannot tell her we chose to sleep in each other’s arms in a field full of poppies, can I?”
Her shoulders shook indicating she chuckled. “No, I suppose that would cause a scandal amongst the servants.”
Much to his chagrin, they sat up, and he handed her pin after pin while she tended to her hair. He despised watching her tame it into what society deemed appropriate, but driving up to Hemel Hill with her tresses blowing in the wind would also cause a great deal of talk.
He picked up the basket while she folded the rug, and hand-in-hand, they made their way to the edge of the field. She turned at the road, making his arm cross over her stomach as she gazed back at the prospect.
“What is it?” he asked aloud.
She tucked the blanket under her arm. “The flowers will be gone in a few weeks. Even though we will be for Yorkshire soon, I like the idea of this scene waiting for us. ’Tis silly of me.”
He shook his head. “No, I know what you mean.”
Without further sentimentality, they tied the basket and rug to the back of the curricle, he lifted her to take her seat, and they turned for home.