Chapter Twenty #2
She knocked softly on Bingley’s door. It opened a small bit, and then he reached out and pulled her into his room. He had taken off the wig, but he still wore the gown he had performed in. “Rebecca, thank God! I am stuck, and I cannot bear my valet to see me in such a state.”
“Sixty people at least just saw you in a dress – it was delightful.”
“It is a disaster." He gestured to a tangled knot of gold cord at the bodice. “I cannot unlace it.”
“You were meant to tie it in a bow, not knot it and double knot it. It is all twisted up.”
“Surely you must know how to untangle it. If you do not free me, I fear I must cut myself out of this gown.”
Rebecca was overcome by heady, uncontrollable giggles. She set aside the tunic she had contrived to return to him, a feeble excuse to come to his room, and applied herself to the tight knot of his garment. “I hardly came to undress you, sir, but if I must.”
He stared down at her as she worked her fingers around the tangled mess. “Did you not? No, you came to… return my shirt.”
Rebecca averted her gaze, managing to pull one of the braided gold cords loose. “I noticed it was your own, and not part of the costume, which the maid took away “
She loosened the bodice enough for him to wrest himself free of the gown; he pulled it up over his shoulders and tossed it aside. Rebecca openly gawked. She had not expected him to be so muscular. She shivered.
Bingley started back at her, then let out a nervous laugh and pulled on the shirt she had returned to him. She motioned to a bottle of brandy on the sideboard. “Shall we continue our custom of nightly….”
“Congress?” He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. “Sit. Can you handle another drink?”
Rebecca sat on the edge of his bed. “Tell me your favorite part of the night.”
Bingley poured then each a small dram, then came to sit beside her.
She forced herself to look over at him, fearing he might be uneasy at her boldness, but he smiled.
“I think it was when I went looking for you, and found you sitting with Darcy and Miss Elizabeth. An actress passed by and sat on your lap, thinking you a man! Darcy looked horrified!”
She laughed. “I did not notice you.”
His smile flickered. “That is a pity. But you would not admit it, when Miss Elizabeth asked us, that day in Brighton – you would not admit that you have never noticed me.”
“Whatever do you mean? You are my dearest friend. Of course I notice you. And if anyone was mincing their words that day, Charles….” Rebecca drew in a sharp breath, surprising herself at this use of his Christian name.
He took her empty glass and set it aside, along with his own, and then leaned closer to her. “You were saying?”
“I am asking you, Charles – why has there never been anything between us?”
Bingley sucked in a slow, shaky breath. “I told you, Rebecca – I have aimed too high before. Even a man as prone to levity as I am can only bear being laughed at so many times before losing heart. I have been rejected by girls of birth but no fortunes, ladies of for the be but low birth, and several with both. Beautiful women with all this, and wit and title besides… you are vastly too far above me. Besides, I should hate to ruin my friendship with Darcy and Richard. And… supposed you despised me for it….”
A deep ache pierced her chest as she comprehended that for all her dear friend’s easy cheer, he possessed enough emotional depth to have been truly hurt in the past. He did not have her confidence, and the station to back it up – and yet, he had not been too guarded to have known love, as she had always been.
“Charles, I am on your bed, in your room, in the middle of the night.”
“Right,” he murmured.
And then she could bear the tension no longer – she had as good as declared herself. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, and he swiftly relented and returned her kiss. Rebecca wrapped her arms about his neck and he drew her into his lap before tangling his hands in her unbound hair.
It was a fantastic kiss. His lips moved in perfect time against her own, hungry and desperate, and Rebecca let out a low moan as he hands slid down his muscled chest. And then he sharply drew away.
“Rebecca, we cannot.” He gently eased her off his lap and moved away from her, pulling a pillow onto his lap. “It is not right.”
Rebecca shot to her feet, taking a few steps backward in stunned mortification. It was just what she feared. “Are you rejecting me?”
“You have had a lot to drink – so have I – we cannot….”
And then a decidedly feminine shout rang out in the corridor, and they both froze.
An excruciatingly long minute passed, during which they neither spoke nor moved, and then another shout.
Bingley slowly closed his eyes and let out a heavy exhale.
“I ought to go and see what is the matter. Stay here, until I tell you it is safe to leave. If you are discovered here, we shall be forced to….”
He shook his head and rose slowly before creeping out into the corridor.
Rebecca hugged herself. She was trembling from shame and no little anger at his refusing her advances – she had actually allowed herself to believe there was a chance for them.
She had been a fool, the sort of fool she had vowed never to become, and had never felt such bitter regret.
The euphoric joy of the evening was now crashing in desiccated wreckage around her, and she desperately wished to flee.
He returned a moment later. “There is an argument, around the corner – two or three women, and two men.”
“Whose rooms are there? It cannot be Darcy or Richard – they are across the hall.”
“Willoughby, I think, and Sir Walter. Perhaps Bixler, I could not tell.”
“And what ladies?”
He sighed and gazed down at the floor. “One of them was unmistakably Mrs. Jennings. I… I think I heard my sister.”
Rebecca’s eyes went wide. The cad Willoughby had shown a marked preference for Miss Elliot all night, which she had presumed to be for the sake of discouraging his poor, penniless admirer. Miss Bingley had been quite as vexed as Miss Dashwood. “Could she have… done something foolish?”
Heat flamed at Rebecca’s cheeks. She had no right to remark upon what might have happened, given what she had attempted, what she had been perfectly willing to do – what had occupied her mind all day, long before the wine made her brave.
“I suppose you must go and find out what has happened.”
He nodded. “You should be able to leave unnoticed, for the commotion is around the corner – the less desirable rooms. When I have left, count to twenty – count slowly – and then you shall be safe to make your escape unnoticed.”
“Very well.” Rebecca kept her head down as she stalked to the door, but she paused as she moved past him.
She braved a glance up, and saw all the turmoil she felt mirrored back in Bingley’s blue eyes.
Rebecca took his hand in hers, and he allowed her this much.
“All those ladies who rejected you – have you never thought that perhaps you were not so objectionable? For years, your sister has pushed you to aim high, as you say, but for her own purposes. She has chased away good women like Jane, who might have taken you, if your sister had not put her own aspirations ahead of your happiness. And where you have loved above your station, perhaps your sister’s mercenary motives have shaded your own, or rendered the situation too preposterous to be quite serious. ”
Rebecca drew in a sharp breath, realizing as she spoke those words, that there was truth in them even for herself. For her part, it had been Caroline’s greedy speculation about a match between them that had rendered it preposterous to Rebecca, and perhaps to Bingley.
A tear slid down his face, but he did not move a muscle, save for a slight squeezing of her hand before he released it. “You cannot know….” His voice cracked, and he lowered his head.
“You know I am right. I apologize if I presume too much about what is presently happening, but if it is what I think – if your sister has done what I myself might have been guilty of…. Show her no mercy, Charles. Do not let your own prospects be damaged by her choices, when she would certainly not do the same for you. But I hope I am wrong.”
Bingley retrieved a candlestick and went to the door. He turned back to her, a sad smile flickering over his lips. “How do you always know just what to say?”
She laughed, summoning what she could of her usual self, for it seemed to be what he sought now. “Do not pretend you have been unaware of my genius.”
He left the room, and Rebecca did as he asked. When she had counted to twenty, she went to the door, promising herself she would not shed a tear until she was safely back in her own room.