Startled, Georgiana jumped, clutching a petticoat to her naked chest. “Apologies. I was trying not to wake you.”
“Must you leave?” Caroline complained. “You were so lovely and warm.”
“You surely do not wish me to be bare in your bed when the maid comes in to light the fire, do you?”
It was a fair point, though when Caroline thought about it, she realised that the maid had not been coming in first thing in the morning for almost a week now. At first, she’d attributed this to the new warmth of the season, which no longer necessitated a fire to be constructed immediately, but now that she considered the idea, she wondered if there was more to it. Did Mrs Reynolds suspect the affair? And if so, had the housekeeper sought to shield their activities from the staff? Caroline frowned, thinking the matter over.
Is it possible thatMrsReynolds disapproves so heartily that—
“Hmm?” Georgiana said, evidently expecting a response.
“Have it your way,” Caroline said, spreading her limbs wide and stretching, enjoying the view as Georgiana struggled into her dress. “I shall see you at breakfast, Miss Darcy. Though I am sad to note that I shan’t see quite so much of you.”
“You shall be the death of me, Miss Bingley,” Georgiana muttered, though she threw Caroline an amused look. With a blown kiss, Miss Darcy exited the room, leaving Caroline to drift back into the snug pink arms of sleep.
When Caroline woke that morning, she found a hastily written note pinned to her pillow, informing her that Georgiana had gone for a morning swim and might be late to breakfast.
Caroline stretched, feeling her body ache in wonderful places, then burrowed into the other side of the bed, pressing her face into the sheets which still smelled like her lover, dusky and dark as the roses Georgiana loved so much. Only a second growl of hunger from her stomach finally drove her outof bed, grumbling at the thought of having to wash and dress before she could eat. Sunshine poured through the window of the guest room when she pulled open the curtains, and she allowed herself a quiet moment of joyful reflection to bask in the warmth before turning to her ablutions. Caroline selected a rather ordinary but serviceable cream gown then dabbed a little perfume behind her ears. Her reflection in the looking glass had always shown a beautiful lady, but now she was radiant, glowing, in the full flush of gorgeous womanhood.
Unexpectedly, the sight made Caroline falter, her bright smile fading in an instant. Her affair with Miss Darcy was wonderful in so many ways, but they had agreed it was supposed to be something they did only until Caroline found a husband. Somewhere along the way, Caroline had forgotten about the purpose of the Great Endeavour.No,she thought,not forgotten, for I have become a better version of myself, have I not?
That much was demonstrably true: She had improved herself, become kinder, and shown that she was capable of love. Only...
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
And where did that leave her? Still unmarried, still uninterested in the suitors who had so far been presented to her, and deeply, stupidly in love with a woman whom she had promised to never ask anything more of. Even if Georgiana felt the same way—and Caroline swallowed, knowing what folly it was to hope—Miss Darcy had once been in love with a man, if one could call such a worm as George Wickham so, and therefore should be able to do so again. Georgiana could easily find a suitable match if she wished to marry and live out the rest of her life without any shadow of impropriety hanging over her.
Why, then, would she ever choose Caroline?
She would not, Caroline thought.She made that very clear from the start.Even if Georgiana felt something, and it was by no means certain that those feelings plumbed the same depths and dizzying heights as Caroline’s own, she still had a much easier route open to her. And from what Caroline knew of Georgiana, her friend would always choose the less confrontational path in any situation. Miss Darcy was a lot of things—bold, beautiful, kind—but she would seek any escape from a situation that required honesty about her feelings; she had spent too long guarded to be comfortable opening up fully.
Caroline sighed, no longer worried about sad lung. Mrs Bingley had been strangely silent on the notion of sad heart, never alluding to it despite it being one of the most important of all organs. Yet Caroline’s struggle was not merely one of adoration, but of selfishness and selflessness. Surely, it would be the ultimate selfish act to ask Georgiana to be hers and hers alone, cutting Miss Darcy off from an easy life? By even considering it, Caroline was perhaps showing how little she had actually changed.
Unfortunately, she thought,there is only one option left to me. I must keep pretending that my Great Endeavour is still ongoing.
No, she could not simply pretend that it was continuing; she had to actually continue it. Caroline sighed again, putting her head in her hands. The Great Endeavour had certainly changed her—far more than she had ever imagined, and in completely different ways. She had told Georgiana that she did not know what she wanted in a man, which was still true enough, but more and more, it had become clear that what she did want was Georgiana; the only person she absolutely could not have and the only person she could now ever imagine desiring. She wanted to be with Georgiana, to be the personwhom Georgiana made love to each night and smiled at over the breakfast table every morning.
Selfish, selfish girl, she chided herself.Thinking only of your own wants, as ever. Has she taught you nothing after all?
Caroline plastered on a smile which she did not really feel, and went down to breakfast, determined to act well. She would prove that she had become a better person, that neither her efforts nor Georgiana’s had been in vain.
“Good morning, Caroline,” Miss Darcy said, smiling when Caroline entered the room. “A letter arrived for you.”
Caroline did her best to smile back. She did not recognise the handwriting on the envelope as belonging to her family, but who else could be writing her? Opening it, she pursed her lips.Ah.
“Well?” said Georgiana, reaching for a plate of poached eggs and sliding two onto her plate.
“It is an invitation.”
“To what?”
“The ball at Lord and Lady Percy’s estate. Remember? Mr Radcliffe said he would—”
“Oh yes,” Georgiana interrupted, stabbing an egg right in the yolk. “I remember very well what Mr Radcliffe said.” She glared across the table. “You cannot really expect us to go.”
“You know as well as I that turning down an invitation to such an illustrious ball would look odd indeed. Tongues might start wagging.”
“They would wag even more if we go, for surely Mr Radcliffe will make his interest in you clear. Even clearer than he already has.”
