It was a fair point, but even so. Caroline set the letter aside. “Dearest, please. It’s much too early in the morning for bickering.”
Georgiana blinked and fell silent, blushing.
“Pass the tea,” Caroline said. Georgiana made no move to do so, her blush deepening every moment. “What?” she added, baffled.
“You have never called me so before,” Miss Darcy murmured.
“Oh. I suppose that is true.” It had slipped out without thought, though it felt very right. She shifted in her chair, feeling rather exposed. “If you do not like it, I won’t do it again.”
“No, I—” The blush had spread all the way to Georgiana’s collarbones. “I do like it.”
“Very well, then. Dearest.”
Georgiana choked back a small, undignified whimper, and swallowed hard. “Tea, you said?”
Caroline pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh. It really was impossible not to adore Georgiana. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”
Unexpectedly, Georgiana rose from her chair and moved to stand next to Caroline, so close that her hip was pressed against Caroline’s arm. She poured for them both, her hands trembling a little, before setting down the teapot and turning to face Caroline. Whatever Miss Darcy had been about to say died on her lips at the look on Caroline’s face. For her part, Caroline could not hide her desire or her longing. Every good intention and promise she had made to herself upstairs fled her mind. The moment expanded, the air between them growing thick, as Georgiana bent down to kiss her, mouth hot and insistent against her own, and Caroline leaned up eagerly to meet her, moaning as—
The door opened.
They sprang apart hurriedly. Mrs Reynolds hesitated on thethreshold, her gaze fixed pointedly on a spot on the wall about a foot above Caroline’s head. “Good morning, Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley,” said she, her voice perfectly normal.
Caroline’s heart, which had already been thudding rather hard, pounded until she thought it was going to erupt from her chest.
“Good morning, Mrs Reynolds,” Georgiana said, her voice slightly hoarse. A long moment passed in which mistress and housekeeper stared at each other. No words were spoken, though Caroline had a feeling that an entire conversation was taking place, and she was not privy to any of its contents nor its conclusion.
“Mrs Addlecombe would like to know whether you would like her to pack another picnic today,” Mrs Reynolds said. “It being such a glorious day and all.”
Another silence reigned. Caroline’s gaze bounced between Georgiana and Mrs Reynolds, wishing that she could comprehend whatever invisible conversation was happening in the space between them. “Mrs Addlecombe is most attentive,” Georgiana said stiffly, her fingers twitching restlessly against her skirts.
“You have been taking many picnics of late,” the housekeeper said. “Mrs Addlecombe merely seeks to serve the needs of yourself and Miss Bingley.” The very slightest of hesitations followed before Mrs Reynolds added, “Whatever those needs might be.”
“Indeed.” Another silence was only broken by the sound of Georgiana’s fingers drumming against her thigh. “Mrs Addlecombe is most kind to anticipate all our requirements and indulge them so.”
By now, Caroline was quite sure that poor Mrs Addlecombewas no longer actually part of the conversation. She probably ought to have left the room already, but both Georgiana and Mrs Reynolds were standing between her and the door; escape was impossible. She cast a despairing glance at her still-steaming tea, which lay untouched only tantalising inches away. No Englishwoman could be expected to broker such a delicate situation without at least one or two cups.
“Mrs Addlecombe,” Mrs Reynolds said, and now her voice was softer and more hesitant, “merely worries for your health, Miss Darcy, as she has always done. Should there be anything you wish to... add to the menu, I am sure she would be most open to a discussion.”
For the first time, Georgiana’s glance flickered down to Caroline, who gave her a supportive and encouraging look, though she had no real idea what she was being supportive and encouraging about.
“Very well,” Miss Darcy said. “Miss Bingley, would you give us a moment?”
Caroline grabbed her cup of tea and beat a hasty retreat to the library, where she hovered under the portrait of a bearded Darcy. “Were you all like this?” she said to the painting. “So bloody guarded?”
He did not look impressed by the question, but neither did he answer it. Caroline sipped her tea at last, though it hardly did anything to quell her panic. They had done rather well not to be discovered thus far; now that they had, she had no idea what Georgiana might do, or whether Mrs Reynolds might encourage her mistress to call the whole affair off.
She did not have long to wait. The door opened. Caroline braced herself, expecting Georgiana to burst in, to declare that everything they’d done together was merely a foolishchapter in their lives, and it was time to turn the page on it. Instead, Mrs Reynolds appeared. Trepidation rising, Caroline stared, unsure what this could possibly mean. Her surprise increased beyond measure when the housekeeper entered the room and closed the door behind her.
“Miss Bingley,” she said, approaching until she stood only a foot away.
Caroline straightened. Whatever her fate, she would meet it head-on. “Mrs Reynolds.”
“I have only two questions, ma’am,” the housekeeper said, her mouth set in a thin line.
Oh God, what was it going to be: When had the affair started? Were they going to tell Fitzwilliam? Was Mrs Reynolds going to threaten to hunt her down with one of Mr Darcy’s many guns? Were housekeepers generally well-armed and skilled with myriad weaponry?
“Yes?” she managed, clutching her teacup as if it were the world’s smallest, most useless shield.
