“I think it is accurate in this instance. There, am I forgiven?”
Caroline looked around, putting on a faux frown. “Do you think it possible that you left your drawing journal upstairs, Miss Darcy? Perhaps in your bedchamber?”
Georgiana glanced at the small table to her left, where the drawing journal lay in full sight. “Yes,” she said, trying and failing to repress a smile. “I believe that I did. Will you assist me in finding it, Miss Bingley?”
“Of course I will. One can never be too careful over the placement of precious items.”
Georgiana squeezed her hand, before letting it fall. “For once, I quite agree.”
After dinner that evening, Georgiana poured them each a sherry in the library, but held Caroline’s slightly out of reach, smiling. “Are you still afraid that you will develop sad liver?”
She considered this with all the care such a sensible question required. “I think it prudent to always be worried about what the future holds for one’s internal organs.”
Georgiana snorted and passed the glass over, lingering long enough to brush Caroline’s fingers. Despite the fact that they’d spent almost two hours in bed that afternoon, the graze sent flames licking along Caroline’s arm and into her chest. The blaze of desire was familiar by now, but the contentment which smouldered underneath was new; it made her want to curl up on Georgiana’s lap like a cat and mewl for attention.
“I never asked whether it was possible to get sad womb,” Miss Darcy mused.
“I used to think so.” Caroline waited until Georgiana had taken a large gulp of sherry. “Though my womb feels exceedingly happy these days.”
Georgiana choked on her mouthful. “You did that on purpose,” she accused, when she was finally able to speak again.
“Of course I did. I live only to tease you, Miss Darcy.”
“That is odd,” Georgiana purred, leaning over to kiss her, “for I rather recall it being the other way around earlier.”
Caroline hummed her approval of the kiss, which was short and sweet and promised more to come later. “If we only had a little music, this scene would be perfect,” she said, tracing the rim of her glass. It was true—the library was as cosy as ever, the candles dotted around the room each giving off a gentle kiss of light, the scent of Georgiana’s rose perfume beckoning her closer.
“You shall have music enough tomorrow at this damned Percy ball,” Miss Darcy grumbled. Glancing at Caroline, her expression relented. “Though I could play something for you now, if you so desired?”
Caroline shook her head, then put her sherry down and tugged Georgiana closer, putting one hand on her waist and sliding the other up Georgiana’s wrist to take her hand as she had so often seen men do when leading. “I wish we could dance together. Not even at a ball, for I know such a thing would never be possible, but simply here, at home.”
Georgiana swayed into Caroline, moving to some unseen music. “My cousin Eleanor shares our proclivities and is talented enough on the pianoforte. I am sure I could persuade her to accompany our dance with a tune or two.”
For a moment, Caroline let herself picture such a scene; some years from now, perhaps, she and Georgiana a little older, dancing cheek to cheek in candlelight. The image gave her a new boldness. If she could not speak her truth now, while she was so full of love and longing that she felt that she might spill over, then when could she?
“Georgie, I think I—” She took a deep breath and pulledback just far enough to see her lover’s face. “I might be developing... feelings.”
She had braced herself for all kinds of emotions—outrage, panic, fear—but never could she have predicted Georgiana’s sudden burst of laughter. “Feelings?” Miss Darcy said, grinning. “You? Surely not, Miss Bingley.”
Hurt lanced across Caroline’s chest, as jagged and agonising as a lightning bolt, and the thunder of anger came rumbling swiftly afterwards. Instinctively, she took a step back, her hands falling to her sides. “You have found me out.” She forced a chuckle. “I know how much you like my jests.”
Georgiana stared down at her. “Wait a moment. Do you really—”
She could admit that she had been serious. She could still admit all that she felt. But the words and the laughter—oh, God, the laughter—had cut her to the very bone. What the devil was wrong with her, that she should simper and swoon and fall about so, all for a woman who chuckled at the very thought that Caroline might have a single feeling? Did Georgiana still, after all this, think her so shallow that—
I thought you saw me truly, she thought desperately.As I saw you.
She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t breathe. “I have never been able to lie very well, as you know.”To hell with it, she thought. It will come out sooner or later, and it might as well be now.“The truth is that I’m in love with you.”
“Caroline,” Georgiana said, her expression passing through a multitude of feelings and shades, finally landing somewhere between awestruck and stricken.
“I don’t expect anything from you. I want everything, of course, but I don’t expect it.” Now that the words had begun tumbling out, she couldn’t seem to stop. The floor felt as if itwere tilting underneath her, and she reached out, clamping a sweaty palm onto the arm of the couch. “I know you were hurt before, and I would never do that to you again. I know I am unsuitable as a match. I understand how unconventional this is. But I do love you, Georgie. Truly, I do. I cannot get over my feelings for you, nor do I wish to. I want to build a life together.”
Georgiana stared, her face so pale that she looked on the verge of fainting. “You... you said you didn’t think you could fall in love.”
“You were the one who told me that I could, that I was surely capable of it. And you were right.”
“Wait a moment. Did you not tell me once that there was... Let me see if I remember correctly... ‘Not a man in the world who could elicit such feelings in me that would compel me to give up everything I have in order to love him’?”
