Chapter 16
7 th August 1815
Charles set down his pen and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was so fatigued, his eyes seemed as though sand had found its way in to irritate them. Nevertheless, he had immersed himself in his ledgers and the business of the estate in an effort to divert his mind from Georgiana. But the ploy had yet to work. Instead, his mind spun incessantly, and he longed with every bit of his being to seek her out.
His heart was quite clear on the matter: it wanted her regardless of what his mind insisted was the eventual outcome—the reality of their situation. More than once, he had made to find her—to succumb to his feelings—but eventually, he would clench his hands into fists and return to his study to find oblivion in a glass or three of brandy.
He shook himself. This would not do!
Clarissa’s fever, though never severe, had broken, and Henry had accompanied him on rides around the estate since that day she had been of aid to him. Much to Charles’s surprise, his brother, weeks ago, had dispatched letters to friends and family in the hopes of finding another steward who was not averse to working with a man who was deaf. Henry had not mentioned his queries to Charles in the event his enquiries bore no fruit, but Lord Richmond had penned an immediate response with the suggestion of his under-steward. The man had arrived just after luncheon and had proven a pleasant surprise indeed. He even knew how to sign.
His now steward, Mr. Jasper, possessed a brother who was born not quite deaf, but did not possess enough hearing to get by without learning to speak with his hands. As it happened, the brother had attended the Braidwood Academy for the Deaf and Dumb [6] in London, and subsequently, his family learnt the art.
Thus far, Mr. Jasper seemed eager to fulfil his role and for the first time, had accompanied Charles that day without the benefit of Henry. The conversations with the tenants had gone exceptionally well. So well, it seemed Henry would be free to return to Clitheroe before the end of the summer.
Of course, his brother’s departure would mean Georgie would leave with them to return to Pemberley. A piercing pain shot through his chest at the thought of her leaving, but what else could he do? She might even depart before if her brother could make the journey. Word had arrived yesterday that Darcy had returned to Pemberley a se’ennight ago with Colonel Fitzwilliam who was now recuperating. His initial injuries had been severe, but he had survived and was, thankfully, on the mend.
Charles was too restless and fatigued to continue with his ledgers, yet it was dark outside and raining—again. This summer had been wetter than the few before it. Hopefully, the kitchen garden as well as their other plantings would not suffer from the surfeit of water.
After pouring a glass of brandy, he wandered from his study into the library. A book rested on the sofa. He lifted it. The Romance of the Forest. Jane read mostly in her sitting room while Georgie, who was accustomed to using the library at Pemberley, would sit with her feet tucked under her and nibble on her lip while she read novels. She had once claimed a preference for Radcliffe, had she not?
With a great exhale, he continued to the music room and trailed his fingers along the Broadwood grand Georgie played daily. She did not know he had happened upon her practicing two or three times in the past week. He loved to watch her graceful movements while she performed, swaying as her fingers nimbly glided across the keys.
He turned his back on the instrument, his eyes wandering up the staircase. Georgie had smiled at him as she had come down that morning for breakfast. He swallowed the last of the brandy in his glass and returned to his study. Even if Georgie left with Henry, she would be a spectre at Bathwick, who would remain the rest of his days. He would regret her. He could not avoid the grief that was sure to follow if he continued to push her away.
His legs carried him up the stairs and again up the next set that brought him to the family wing. When he entered his bed chamber, his valet made quick work of helping him remove his clothes and leaving his dressing gown on the bed.
The water in the basin was warm, and a part of him cursed his valet for being as efficient as he was. The chill of cold water would do a great deal to shock some of the restlessness from his flesh, yet it was not to be.
Once he slipped into his dressing gown, he opened the doors to the small balcony off his room. Due to the constant rain, the night air indoors was stagnant. No breeze flowed in through the windows, and the muggy air was thick and a struggle to draw into his lungs.
He sipped his brandy and let his gaze roam over the dark gardens. His rooms, as well as those of the mistress’s suite, had a prospect of the rose garden with its borders of lavender. In the summer sun, the view was stunning, and in ideal weather, one could see the lake in the distance.
He stepped to the edge of where the rain fell. The line where the roof protected him from the drizzle was clearly noticeable on the stone beneath his feet and allowed him to remain dry while taking in the view down the side of the house. His gaze paused, and his entire body stilled.
Georgie stood on her own balcony, further out since her face was turned up into the shower. In the dim light from the doors to her bedchamber, she was not clearly visible, but the rain was heavier than a mere mist. She would not need to be in the weather for long to be soaked through.
Without even setting his glass down, he strode from his room down a floor to Georgie’s. He did not knock but walked inside and straight to the balcony doorway.
“What are you doing?” he said aloud.
She whirled about with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“You will catch your death.” He placed his drink on a nearby chest of drawers without removing his gaze from her.
A slight laugh bubbled from her throat. “You said that the last time I was in the rain. Naught came of it. The night is not cold enough for me to take a chill.”
When she dropped her hands to her sides, his heart began to beat through his sternum at the picture she presented. Her nightgown was drenched and clinging to every part of her. He swallowed hard at the sight of her rosy nipples, easily discerned through the thin white cotton. Even the juncture of her legs was visible. He shook himself. She was trying to kill him. She had to be.
“I insist you come in and dry yourself at once.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Do you mean to frighten me by making such forceful signs?”
“Will it make you come in out of the rain?” Without laying hands on her, how was he supposed to get her inside?
“No. The cool shower is refreshing.”
He gripped his hands into fists. She was going to make him scream. At a sudden tug to one of his arms, he was pulled into the rain.
“There, now you will be wet as well.”
He flinched at the first drops, and she laughed again. “On a few occasions, Lizzy and I have walked about the gardens of Pemberley during a shower, especially during inordinately hot weather. Mrs. Reynolds has always expressed her disapproval upon our return, but we never took ill. After all, we never do so when it is cold.”
His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. “ I cannot argue with you, can I? ” He raked his fingers through his hair. “ I cannot do this anymore; I am done quarrelling .”
“I beg your pardon?” Her eyebrows drew down in the middle.
“ It is all too difficult—trying to protect you; to keep my love for you contained so I do not ruin your life .”
“You would never ruin my life.”
“ I suppose we shall find out then. Georgiana Darcy, I have been in love with you since we napped together in that field of poppies. As much as I should let you go, I am helpless to continue as I have. I cannot breathe, I cannot eat—I cannot live without you. I am miserable when I am apart from you. I know not what else to do but make you the offer of my hand. Would you do me the honour of being my wife? ”
Before he could react, she had leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. She laughed between kisses as his arms enfolded her waist. Her body fit in his arms as though she was meant to be part of him. Whether they were doing what was right or not, he was weary of resisting his love for her. His heart begged to be happy. The only recent instances of contentment for him had been in her company. If she had departed Bathwick a fortnight ago, he would have eventually run after her to fetch her. He was too weak to withstand their separation.
As they parted, his gaze left her face and made its way down to her toes and back up. She frowned and glanced down, her hand trailing between her breasts and resting on her stomach. It was no wonder he kept looking down; her nightgown was almost transparent. A part of her startled at the instinct to cover herself, yet he had seen her breasts as well as the rest of her when they were together at the inn. Her cheeks were aflame at the memory of his hazel eyes watching her while she came undone.
Her breasts became heavy, and an ache formed between her legs. He had tried so hard to ignore his feelings for her. Regardless of how it injured her, he had behaved so out of love. He cared or he would not have fought his own heart as he had.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He was not wearing his usual waistcoat and topcoat. Instead, he wore a dark silk dressing gown that was becoming wetter by the minute. His sizeable feet were also bare.
She stepped forward and slid her hands up his chest, embracing him around his neck while pressing herself to him. He was strong and solid against her. She brushed her lips against his neck in a soft movement that made him stiffen.
“Georgie,” he said in almost a groan.
She kissed his jaw, his chin, and before she could lay claim to the tip of his nose, he stopped her with his mouth upon hers. His confident lips moved over hers without hesitation while his tongue licked and caressed hers in a way that made her breathless.
His fingers dug into her hips and anchored her to him while his kisses became more and more consuming. One palm covered her breast and began to knead and toy with her nipple while the other cupped her rear and held her tightly against his hips. A hard object pressing into her lower belly made that ache in her core become more of a throb. When his mouth covered her breast over the thin fabric of her nightgown, she fought to remain standing. She would fall at his feet if he continued as he was.
She wanted to be closer—no, she needed to be closer! Her fingers found the tie of his dressing gown and released it in order to get her hands inside. When her palms met with the warmth of his bare chest, he gasped in response.
His chest muscles quivered under her touch, as did those along his sides, as she wrapped her arms around him once more. In her embrace was where he belonged. He had finally asked her to marry him! They would belong to each other for the rest of their lives.
At her feet being swept out from under her, she inhaled sharply to find herself scooped up into his arms and carried inside. He deposited her near the bed and gathered her nightgown, separating just long enough to draw it over her head. The garment was tossed away as he drew her flush to him. She pressed her forehead against his chest and drowned herself in the remnants of his cologne. This was where she belonged. As much as she had always cherished Pemberley, this was home.
She kissed the centre of his chest then moved to bestow another over his heart while his fingers threaded into her hair. He had removed her plait, though she had been unaware of it until he combed her locks over her shoulders.
After nuzzling the soft skin over his heart, she mimicked what he had done to her before and grazed her teeth over his nipple. What she desired more than anything was his lips upon hers, so she rose to her tiptoes to so their mouths would come together—so she could express every feeling, every emotion coursing through her.
They kissed while he lifted her just enough to lay her back on the bed. Their bare flesh met once again when he moved over her, and she gave a sharp inhale at the contact that became more intense with each touch. She needed to be closer! As much as she could, she curled against him in an effort to become so. Her leg wrapped around his to urge him to come into her. She wanted him, all of him. No, they were not yet wed, but she would not hold back from the one person she loved more than anything and anyone.
She could have wept when his lips left hers, but he continued to kiss down her chest, trailing his tongue and nipping at her hip bones before settling between her legs. What was he about? She lifted up onto her elbows as he dipped down and licked until he reached that place that throbbed and began to suckle. With a harsh cry, her head dropped back, and she gripped the coverlet under her. What was this madness? She could not think or speak if she tried. He had taken control of her body and soul, and she would be hard-pressed to stop him—not that she wanted to.
Her breathing began to resemble panting and her heartbeat quickened until it was so rapid she could have been running. The more he bestowed his attentions upon her core, the more insensible she became. Then, she shattered and floated into the heavens. Meanwhile, he continued his ministrations until all she could do was sob.
“Pray, no more. I cannot take it.”
When he came up over her, she reached for the hardness between his legs, but he stopped her by the wrist. “ Not now; I will spend if you touch me .”
“More,” she signed.
His mouth came down over hers again while he rubbed the tip of himself through her folds. Did he not understand? She would expire if he did not do something!
She reached down and grasped his buttocks, drawing him closer, as that part of him finally began to push inside. He stopped and made to withdraw some, but she grasped his buttocks and pulled him into her until he was fully seated.
With a groan, he began to move while she lifted her hips to ensure she took every bit of him on every thrust. While their time together at the inn had been special, this was more. She had never experienced anything so intimate. They had at last become betrothed, so as close as they had been before, they would now be one forever. He kissed her, and it was all she could do not to weep at the tenderness of the moment.
Before long, her insides coiled and tightened in a way that was familiar. Much to her dismay, he lifted some from her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. When she followed his gaze, he was watching himself as he plunged into her, then drew back out and repeated the motion again and again. She could not help staring with him, the sight of them together creating a burn that threatened to engulf her.
He suckled at her neck as his movements became more forceful, demanding more and more of her, yet he could never take more than she desired to give him. She would hand over every last part of herself to him if he demanded it.
Her toes curled and her ankles flexed as she was being sucked into the surging tide. Her head fell back against the mattress. She lacked the strength to hold its weight.
He increased his pace as her body succumbed a piece at a time and a cry overtook the sounds of their coupling—or was it a sob? She was too overcome to know, as she could only let the most exquisite sensations engulf her once again.
Charles pressed his cheek to hers as his breaths became ragged. Moments later, he bellowed into her hair and collapsed atop her. She brought her arms around him and stroked her fingers through his hair while tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I will love you forever.”