Georgiana grabbed her hand, tugging her down onto the bed. Caroline had never before been on a bed with someone whom she intended to touch or be touched by. The brief affair with the handsome neighbour in her youth had been all stolen kisses in the garden and one brief caress of her bosom, though none of it had ever made her feel breathless and desperate. At the time, she had assumed her lack of reaction to his more amorous advances was simply a product of her excellent upbringing, which had ensured that she was a modest young lady armed with every weapon of social graces and attributes needed to survive in society. However, the way she felt right now wasso far from modest that it fairly took her breath away. Truly, she had no idea what to expect or what was expected of her. A lesser woman might have quailed in the face of a new venture, but dammit, she was Caroline bloody Bingley. If any old fool could make love—and certainly fools had been doing it since time immemorial—then she could surely learn how to as well.
And do it far better besides.
She pressed Georgiana back on the bed, hovering over her. “If it is your first time, then you ought to go first,” Miss Darcy protested, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Never mind what ought to be done. Show me. I want to know how to do everything that you like.”
“Give me your hand, then,” Georgiana muttered. Her blush had brightened, making her dark eyes seem starry in the candlelight. She guided Caroline’s hand down and then up, under her dress until it rested at the apex of her naked thighs. Georgiana’s breath hitched as Caroline’s fingers curled experimentally, the sensation of softness and dampness belonging to another person entirely new to her. “Here. Press a little and— Oh.”
She stroked experimentally. “Like this?”
“Yes.” Miss Darcy’s gasp sent a thrill through Caroline’s entire body. “Just like that.”
Caroline had not Georgiana’s natural grace on the pianoforte, but she could almost match her friend for technical proficiency. Her music teacher had often told her that she played very well, though she lacked heart. She had been tempted to respond that she played without thought too, since she was not much interested in the instrument, but such a retort would only have earned her a disapproving look and another half hour of dreary scales as punishment.
She had never been quite so glad about those lessons as she was right now.
“Faster,” Georgiana breathed. “I mean, if you are sure. You do not have to do anything you do not feel ready—”
Her words were cut off by a moan as Caroline found what she was looking for and began to test out a few scales of her own, though these could never be called dreary. In fact, had the pianoforte made noises even half so lovely as the ones Miss Darcy was making right now, Caroline was in no doubt that she would have become a world-class musician.
“A little more pressure,” Georgiana instructed, fingers tightening on Caroline’s upper arms. “Oh, please, a little more.” She buried her face in Caroline’s shoulder, stifling another moan. Her body tensed and relaxed, flexing against the bed as need overtook her. Caroline nudged her face up for another kiss, swallowing the sound of Georgiana’s pleasure. Finally, Miss Darcy stiffened underneath her, the motion followed by a muffled exclamation of pleasure and a whimper that sounded very much like Caroline’s name. “Stop, stop,” said she, halting the movement of Caroline’s hand, which had continued stroking without any orders to cease. “I cannot bear any more pleasure.”
Caroline felt half-mad with need, but she waited patiently while Georgiana blinked up at her. “My turn,” Miss Darcy whispered, grinning wickedly, and for the next few minutes Caroline was lost in a blaze of passion she hadn’t known herself capable of feeling. The strange dreams she’d had of Georgiana did not even remotely compare to reality; the rough drag of fingers over sensitive flesh, driving her onwards to the peak of ecstasy. When they were finished, Georgiana rolled away and lay on her back for a moment, panting. Caroline could hardlycatch her own breath, so overcome was she by the waves of pleasure which rolled through her like a great, sweeping tide. It had been exuberant. It had been exciting. It had been...
Utterly wonderful.
Her delight was short-lived, however, as within a few moments Georgiana sat up and smoothed down her skirt, covering that which Caroline had hardly even had a chance to examine. She felt a stab of disappointment. She’d rather hoped for a few more kisses, but perhaps this was the usual way of things after one made love. Did not a man and woman usually have separate bedchambers, after all? Presumably it was the natural course of things to come together and then split apart. But if that was so, why did it make her feel so hollow? And why, despite having felt so close to Georgiana a moment before, did she still want to reach for her even now that she was satiated?
“Is it usual to feel a little strange afterwards?” she asked.
Strangewas not the right word, though—nostalgic, perhaps? Though, how could one feel nostalgia for something one had never had in the first place?
Georgiana hesitated. “Sometimes. Do not worry, though,” she added, busying herself with her dress. “I would never come between you and your goal. This changes nothing about our agreement.”
Caroline, whose heart was slowing to a canter rather than a full-fledged gallop, sat up and smoothed her own dress down. “Oh. I hadn’t thought it would.”
In truth, she hadn’t been thinking about the Great Endeavour at all. How could she, when Georgiana had been invading every inch of her body?
“Good,” Miss Darcy said, her tone cool. She rose, holding out a hand to help Caroline up. “Then we are in agreement.”
If that were really true, then why did it feel so much like an argument? Caroline accepted the offered hand, her legs still shaky from her earlier exertions, and made her way to the door. “Goodnight, Georgie,” she said, though her companion did not turn to look at her and muttered only a quiet farewell of her own as Caroline left the room.
Caroline padded barefoot along the hallway to her own chamber, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. By the time she made it as far as the bed, the tears sliding down her cheeks were coming thick and fast enough to thoroughly wet the pillow. She wasn’t even sure precisely why she was crying, though that made no difference; the hollow longing inside her ached and beckoned for a kind of satisfaction that could never come. She had given her body to Georgiana, who had taken it willingly enough, but she’d wanted to give even more than that, if such a thing were possible.
It wasn’t, though.
Was it?
