She peeled a section of soaked petticoat away from her stomach, then let it slap back into place. Caroline’s stomach did a strange somersault, as if she’d unexpectedly missed a step on a staircase. Georgiana leaned sideways, wringing her dripping hair onto the grass before toweling it vigorously, an activity which caused a noticeable—if Caroline had to call it anything—jiggling of other bodily parts.
“Fitzwilliam does the same thing, you know,” Miss Darcy added, while Caroline wondered what to say next, casting her eyes up to the heavens as if checking to see if it might rain. The few clouds which had gathered were grey, though none yet looked expectant with rain-children. “Likes to dive in off that little pier after he’s had a long, hot journey onhorseback. He says there’s nothing quite like it to cool off.” She pointed to a tiny jetty about thirty feet away. “As children, we swam here together very often.” She wrapped the towel around her waist and chest, covering up those parts of her which had been most on display, filling Caroline with a surge of relief. “I could never dive as well as he, but then he could never swim as fast as I.”
“Indeed?” Her voice sounded rather croaky. Caroline cleared her throat, then cleared it again. Really, it was very strange that the sight of Georgiana’s petticoats should have such an effect. Why, Caroline had seen her mother and sister thus undressed—and more besides—and even an aunt or two. Was it simply that Georgiana was not family? Yet she did think of Georgie as family, in a way. Certainly Miss Darcy had been a better sister to her than Louisa, though there was something decidedly unsororal in the way Caroline’s stomach swooped. Her gaze was still averted, but out of the corner of her eye, she could still see the... the...
Thejiggling.
Good grief. Was it really necessary to shake one’s bosom so much? She’d never noticed them bobbing around so much before, though perhaps they’d been held in like penned sheep by the fit of Georgiana’s dresses and only now were allowed to roam freely upon the hills of her—
“—and so I said to Mrs Reynolds,” Georgiana was saying, apparently oblivious to Caroline’s sudden distraction, “if it were true that one caught a cold every time one had wet hair outside, then I ought to have had a thousand colds in my lifetime. And yet I can count the number of colds I have actually had on the fingers of one hand.”
“I expect she simply worries.”
A sodden strand of Georgiana’s hair was still plastered to her face. Without thinking, Caroline reached out, plucked it away, tucking it behind Georgiana’s ear. Miss Darcy looked at her, a strange expression on her face. “Your cheeks are flushed. Are you feeling well? And what are you holding?”
Caroline had entirely forgotten she was holding anything in her other hand. It was rather crumpled now, for her hand had clenched into a fist, although she wasn’t sure whether that had happened before she’d left the house or in the last two minutes. “Oh, it is nothing. Just a letter from my mother.”
“Ah.” Georgiana’s expression softened at once. “What says she?”
“She is going to the coast with Louisa for a couple of months.”
“The coast? Which one?”
The cold coil of hurt, which had receded from the moment Georgiana stepped out of the water, came flooding back full force. Caroline shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Are you not planning to—”
“I was not invited,” she said, relieved that her tone was only edged in bitterness rather than dressed in it entirely. The Darcys would never have treated their children so, choosing favourites among them. Nor would they have suggested that friendships could sink if one actually dared to spend time with their companions. Did even her own mother think her company so unbearable? First Darcy, now this. Her very soul felt crushed. “I suppose I ought to go home,” she said, though she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to do less than travel back to Lancashire simply to sit alone in an empty house forseveral weeks. Her mother’s words rattled around her skull until she felt like she could scream.You ought not to linger. You ought not to linger.“I’ve imposed on you quite enough.”
“Imposed?” Georgiana repeated, looking surprised. “But what about your marriage scheme?”
“Oh, do not pretend that you really want to be part of such a silly thing. I am aware that I forced it upon you from the start.” It wasn’t at all what she’d meant to say, but she couldn’t simply announce her real feelings; they were too wrapped up in hot humiliation and shame as dark and rippling as the depths of the lake. How could she profess to be lonely when her family were still alive, and Georgiana’s parents were not? How could she identify this nameless need, when even acknowledging its existence made her feel like her world was crumbling apart? A sudden yearning stole her breath, yet she could not even say what it was that she wanted, or why.Is it too much to hope that I could belong somewhere?Without meaning to, she squashed the parchment into an even tighter ball.
Miss Darcy stared at her, then at the letter in her hand. “What did your mother say?”
Embarrassment burned in her chest, and now the tips of her ears were hot. “What makes you think—”
“Even a stranger could see that you are entirely unsettled. Therefore, your mother must have said something to upset you.” Georgiana’s hand closed around Caroline’s other wrist, fingers cool and still damp. “May I read it?”
Caroline thrust the letter at her. Miss Darcy took it but didn’t let go of Caroline’s wrist with her other hand, her fingers sliding down until they entwined with Caroline’s own. This was not usual for them—they embraced as friends did, but they had never held hands before. Caroline flattened herpalm, seeking every inch of contact she could find, and drew a long, slow breath while Georgiana read. Without warning, Miss Darcy crumpled the letter, then reared back and flung it as hard as she could into the lake. It bobbed on the surface for a moment before taking on water and sinking out of sight. “There,” said she. “That is what I think of your mother’s suggestion. What use is there in going to Hadley Hall when none of your family will be there to greet you?”
Mutely, Caroline shrugged.Because Mother likes to order me around, she did not say.Because the world must act as she says, regardless of what anyoneactually wants.
“Well, too bad. I demand your company for a week or two yet, for if you leave, I shall be quite alone here,” Georgiana added, squeezing Caroline’s hand gently. “Besides, we have a scheme to work on. And we have already begun, have we not? I am sure that your mother will be delighted when you return home with the happiest of news.”
She swallowed, an unexpected surge of gratitude overtaking her. Another person might have agreed to her return home, might have failed to see through her façade or even been relieved at being provided with an escape route from her madcap marriage scheme, but not Georgiana. “You really are a very good person,” she murmured. “And an excellent friend.”
This ship shall never sink, she thought, an unexpected fierceness coursing through her.Whatever my mother says.
Now it was Miss Darcy’s turn to blush. “You will not say that when we are fighting over the last piece of cake.”
Caroline felt her shoulders relax at Georgiana’s gentle, teasing tone. “Friendship is one thing. Baked goods are quite another. I believe I would don armour and go to war to defend Mrs Addlecombe’s pear cake.”
“I would fight beside you,” Georgiana admitted, her shoulder bumping Caroline’s as they turned to head back to the house. “The things that woman can do to a piece of fruit are downright sinful. I feel certain that God cannot possibly approve.”
Sinful.The word echoed around Caroline’s brain, her throat suddenly dry. For some reason, her eyes flicked to Georgiana’s bosom, which was only partially concealed by the tightly-wrapped towel. She was extremely glad when they arrived in the main hall and Georgiana made a hasty exit to change into dry clothes, promising to meet Caroline in a few minutes for breakfast, followed by a truly tremendous amount of cake.
