Chapter 12
As soon as Charles shut the door to his own room behind him, he squeezed his eyes closed. What had he done? As his eyes drifted open, Jennings had turned from tending to Charles’s travelling clothes and lifted his eyebrows. “I trust Miss Darcy is well?”
“ Yes, I kept watch in the event more trouble arose .” Not true, but Jennings had no need to know what actually occurred last night.
Jennings held Charles’s gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, my lord. I brought warm water for you to wash.”
“ If you would not mind leaving me for now. I shall ring for you when I am ready for your help .”
His valet departed without a word. His man knew him too well. Had he seen through the lie Charles just told? The way Jennings held his gaze could mean he had—or perhaps Charles was reading too much into one look?
With a sigh, Charles removed his dressing gown as he approached the stand holding the basin of water and towelling. Truly, he had no desire to wash as it would remove Georgie’s scent from him, yet he had no choice. If even a hint of her perfume lingered upon him, Henry might notice while in the confinement of the coach. He could only hide so much when sitting in such close proximity, and he would be sitting beside his brother, which would afford no opportunity for him to claim the scent came from Miss Darcy.
After dampening and soaping the cloth, he wiped his arms and started to scrub his chest but paused. Blood covered parts of him below the waist. She had never seemed in pain. They had joined a second time during the night. Had he tortured her when they were together? His heart split in two as he made to remove the evidence from himself, but when he rinsed the rag out in the basin, he paused and dropped the cloth into the water. It had turned a pale pink. Blast! He trusted Jennings but would never reveal this secret about Georgie. The discoloration of the water would be enough to rouse his valet’s suspicions, even if they were not by his spending the night in Georgie’s rooms.
He completed his ablutions and tapped his foot in a steady rhythm. Only one solution remained to divert his valet’s notice. He would have to draw some of his own blood. Near a chair to one side of the room rested his open razor in preparation for Jennings to shave him.
His fingers shook a little as he picked up his shaving supplies and returned to the basin. He had tended to himself enough for this to be passable. After lathering his cheeks, he ran the blade up his cheek twice before nicking his jawline and cutting his thumb. He let the wound on his finger drip several times into the soapy water.
“ Damn! Jennings! ”
When his valet entered, he continued to hold his bloody finger over the water. “ I thought to shave myself and had a mishap. I require your aid. ”
Jennings attended him without question. He stopped the bleeding of the tiny cut upon Charles’s jaw and wrapped the finger until it ceased to bleed. A light plaster was applied to protect his leather gloves from ruin during their journey.
Breakfast proved to be awkward. Jane and Henry, after remarking on the plaster on Charles’s finger, spoke of the day’s travels and provisions for Clarissa while Georgie remained silent, sipping her tea and nibbling at a muffin. He had gone to the private dining room with every intention of speaking with her—enquiring of her well-being—yet he could not do so before his brother and sister. The muscles of his shoulders bunched and released with the need to talk to her. The last thing he desired was to wait until their arrival at Bathwick, yet what if he could not find a moment with Georgie before they departed?
Georgiana stood with Jane and Henry outside the inn, awaiting the carriage to be brought around from the stable in the back, while Clarissa awaited their journey with Jane’s maid inside the private dining room. The morning was warm, which did not bode well for the journey. The inside of a closed carriage would be stifling by the afternoon.
A robin landed upon the branch of a nearby tree, warbled a greeting, then flew away. Georgiana’s attention was then captured by a squirrel across the road. The impudent little creature bounded up close and rose on his hind legs as though studying them before fleeing and racing up the next tree. By his antics, one would have thought he had been threatened, yet no one had made a move towards the flighty creature.
At the ring of the bell on the door, she glanced over her shoulder as Charles joined them in their vigil. His eyes met hers as soon as he closed the door behind them, and after a word to his brother that she could not see, he moved to her side.
“Perhaps we can walk to the pond and take in the prospect while we wait.”
“I thought the carriage would be but a few moments.” Had a problem arisen she was unaware of?
“I do not anticipate it being long.” Some quality in the dip of his chin and his countenance, as he signed, made her nod.
“Yes, I would welcome the diversion. I am certain the pond is quite lovely in the morning light.”
He offered her his arm, and they ambled across the road to the edge of the water. A small brook fed the pond from one end and another flowed away from on the opposite. A fine mist hung over the surface as well as the field behind it. No doubt, the fog would burn away when the heat of the day descended upon them.
“ Are you well? ” asked Charles aloud when they reached the edge.
She furrowed her forehead. “Yes, why do you ask?”
“ When I returned to my room and made to wash, a good amount of blood was still on me .”
Her cheeks burned. It was no wonder he was speaking aloud. They were far enough away that Jane and Charles would not hear them, but they could possibly discern what he was signing.
“ You never mentioned you were in pain. Why did you let me continue? ”
She exhaled. How was she to answer without giving away what they had endeavoured to keep secret? She faced the pond. “At first, yes, it hurt, but the discomfort faded quickly. I assure you; I did not merely endure your attentions. I took great pleasure in them, in fact.” Was it possible for her cheeks to burn any hotter than they were at this moment? “I hope my admission does not offend you—”
His hand clamped over hers. “ I wished for nothing more than your pleasure. That said, what occurred should not happen again. ”
A sharp pang pierced her chest, yet she glanced towards some sheep in the distance to compose herself before looking at him. “I disagree. We both deserve love as much as anyone else. Your lack of hearing does not mean you should be alone for the rest of your days.”
He released her to scrub his face with his hands. At the rhythmic beat of horses’ hooves upon the hard road, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “ We must go .”
She walked to the coach with her hand in the crook of his arm. His bicep was so strong under his coats, and her palm fit so well tucked within just as the two of them had fit so well last night. He obviously cared for her. Mayhap she just needed to prove he could not live without her. How difficult could that possibly be?
They had to be nearing Bathwick by now! Georgiana looked out the window at the verdant green of the dales and bounced her knee under skirts. As picturesque as the prospect was, she could not rid herself of the suffocating air in the carriage. How was she to breathe?
At the moment, Clarissa was with Jane’s maid in the equipage that followed, yet her fussiness when she was last with her parents was surely caused by the sweltering heat within the carriage as well as the tension between the four of its occupants.
She had not mentioned what had occurred at the inn after Charles departed her rooms, yet speaking to him at breakfast had been impossible, and in front of the inn, he had been more concerned about her welfare before delivering the blow he did. No time had existed to tell him more.
Once they arrived at Bathwick, Georgiana would need to corner Charles alone and inform him of Jane’s visit to her room and her subsequent questioning. She had wanted to know what had occurred with Charles during the night. What could Georgiana say? She would never reveal that she and Charles had flaunted propriety, so she repeated Charles’s words to Henry almost word for word. Jane did not seem pleased that Georgiana would not say more, but her almost sister did not attempt to force a confession. Thankfully, although the bedsheets were exposed, their position when he took her maidenhead prevented any blood from spilling upon the sheets. Jane possessed no evidence to prove any suspicions she may have had.
When she had entered the breakfast room, Henry and Charles had both stopped speaking abruptly, with Henry’s hands falling to his lap as though they had been silent the entire time. Then, aside from pleasantries about the weather and the state of the roads, naught had been said except between Jane and her husband—an awkward meal indeed!
Now, it seemed Charles had even closed himself off from her. A shade existed in his eyes that was not present before, shielding her from the emotions she had previously been able to read in his gaze. More often than not, he stared out the window, and for a time, even dozed. Her eyes stung at the barrier between them. She could not bear it.
Her heart leapt in her chest when they passed through a stone gate and descended into the valley below. She leaned closer to the window in an attempt to see what was before them. After another curve, a great stone building came into view set before a winding river in the distance. Fertile hills and fields spotted with the white of grazing sheep composed the remainder of the picturesque scene.
As soon as the equipage drew before the front of the grand home, the step was placed, and the men disembarked before handing the ladies down. Jane took her husband’s offered hand, leaving Georgiana to take Charles’s arm.
When she stood before the great house, she took in every inch from a sort of arch that seemed almost a gateway on the path to the front door, to the curved wing of the structure that appeared to wrap around a turret. The row of windows that surrounded the ground floor of that portion of the house would be a lovely place to sit in good weather. Charles’s home was certainly older than Pemberley—without a doubt a great deal older—but resembled a castle you would imagine existing in a children’s story. She loved it almost as much as she did its master.
A heavy weight landed on her chest. She had recognised the first stirrings of her heart, but that had still not prepared her for the overwhelming realisation of her affection. A sizeable gulp was attempted to relieve herself of the lump that had risen into her throat, and she blinked to keep from crying.
“I have never seen the like,” she signed with the best smile she could manage. “Your home is like a castle in a fairy tale.”
“It was a castle when it was built in the 12 th century but became an abbey in the 14 th , then with the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16 th century, it became a property of the Granvilles. My father gave it to Simon, so I suppose it is now the seat of the title. I am grateful Simon never sought to change the exterior. He was able to alter little on the inside as well.”
“You mentioned you were here before?”
“Yes, we journeyed here once after Simon’s death to see the property. I am hopeful some of the changes I requested at that time have been carried out. Simon’s finances before his death kept him from decorating the estate similarly to his house in town, which is just as well since the country suits me better than town these days.”
As they made their way inside, Georgiana released Charles’s arm and fell to the back of their grouping. She needed to speak to him before they retired this evening. Not only about Jane, but also about his own feelings about what had happened between them. How else would she know what he was thinking?
With Jane’s keen eye watching them, she could not avoid being shown to her rooms. Ambrose helped her change, and without delay, Georgiana hastened back to the hall in an effort to find Charles.
She wandered from room to room during her search. What she could only assume were small touches made by the late Lord Bath could be found here and there. He must have placed them in the rooms he favoured or used more than others. She paused at a particularly odious vase. The pattern was overdone and the colours not to her liking. She crinkled her nose. The piece appeared very old—it was likely valuable as well. Perhaps Charles would sell the eyesore. She could not imagine him enjoying it either.
The beat of her heart accelerated when she reached the library, but Charles was not within. Instead, he stood before a tall window in the attached study with a brandy in his hand.
Carefully, she pressed the door closed behind her as well as the connecting door to the passage before she approached him. She took the drink from his hand and took a sip, ensuring she drank from where his lips touched the glass.
His whiskey-coloured eyes never wavered while she sipped. “What are you about?”
She set down the glass. “We should talk.” He would not deny her, would he?
“Our emotions ran away with us last night. We both hold feelings for the other, but you would be better off with someone whole—”
“Stop saying that!” Her signs were forceful. “You are no less. Why can you not understand that?”
“If I were no less, I would not have required your help last night.”
She scoffed. “You required little from me. I only told you what was occurring. If someone had entered, you would have shot them and protected me. I would have done no more than stand there. Do you not see that?”
He shook his head. “After last night, we must marry, but I believe you should return to your brother. We would be husband and wife in name only.”
She stiffened. “I would never agree to such an arrangement.”
“Georgie, you could be with child—even now.”
“Then I shall have my brother release my fortune to me and live as a widow in a small village somewhere I can raise the child. I shall not wed a man only to be sent back to my brother as though I am the source of some…some…sort of shame.” Her signs became rougher and larger as she continued. “Do not attempt to force the matter either as I will deny any claims of an engagement between us.”
“You do not want to marry me.” He appeared oddly calm despite the conversation.
Her eyes stung, and she took a great gulp of air in an attempt not to cry. “If you wanted to give me your heart and spend your life with me, then yes, I would happily accept your offer of marriage.” She swiped a traitorous tear that still managed to escape her feeble attempts to stave off crying. “But the offer you make, I will never accept.”
He stepped towards her. “Georgie—”
She held up a hand between them. “Damn you. Do not ever address me as such again, not unless you intend to give me your heart.” She covered her face for a moment. “After you departed my room at the inn, Jane came and enquired of what occurred last night. I thought you should know she is suspicious of us.”
His hands lifted, no doubt to sign some argument, but she did not wait to find out what he had to say. Instead, she fled the room and hastened out of doors. The gardens around the house were extensive and well-tended. Within minutes, she found a quiet nook where she could cry without interruption. What was she going to do?