Page 46 of Bella Darcy is on the Run

She chuckled at him. "I think we should come to know the gentleman better. They do not have to marry tomorrow. They do not have to marry at all, and perhaps once the shock of everything that has happened has worn off, they will discover that they are not suited. But it is hardly as though we cannot afford to set them up in some comfort if it came to that. Or he could live at Pemberley."

"How have we jumped to him living at Pemberley?" William said with a great huff of breath.

"We have not. I am merely saying that we are in the privileged position of being able to ease the way for our daughters, and I very much doubt you would ever place Bella in circumstances in which she had to scrub the floor. We cannot protect her from the world, William, or indeed from her own heart. Do you remember what happened when we both tried to deny and hide our own feelings?"

"We were miserable."

"We were. And I would not have that for her. I am not saying he is the man she will marry, but there is clearly a connection between them, and he did save her life. That must count for something."

"Why do you always have to be so wise and reasonable? It is very vexing, my love."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. "I live to vex you, my love. And you look so very handsome when you are cross." She ran a gentle finger over the furrow that had formed between his brows, then kissed it lightly. "Now let me talk to Bella, and you may have an apology to make to the good captain."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bella did not speak to her parents, or indeed any of her family, for the rest of the day. What she did instead, and very effectively, was stew. She went between anger at her father, then George for clearly giving in to him with very little fight, and finally herself for allowing her emotions to become so engaged so quickly and with so little consideration. She paced the room over and over again until Clara commented mildly that she would wear out her slippers if she did not stop keeping up with that nonsense. Bella glared at her and took up a book, but she could not read. She could only pick at the trays of food that came up and refused visits from her mother, sisters and her aunt, pleading a headache. She even attempted a little embroidery, a pastime she had never enjoyed or truly mastered, and ended up with a hazardous tangle of threads that Clara looked at askance before shaking her head sadly.

By the time night fell, Bella had dismissed her maid and was sitting in bed with a single candle lit beside her, wondering if there was some way she could contrive a meeting with George. Even if he had decided against her, she needed a conversation. She needed some way to understand how the feelings that had burnt so brightly between them, and which still consumed her heart, had apparently flickered out so quickly for him. She could not simply disappear again. She was vexed with her father, but she did not wish him to suffer an apoplexy over her continued bad behaviour. Perhaps she could contrive a shopping trip with Aunt Lydia that just happened to pass the Customs Office or, or... she did not even know where George lived. It was hopeless.

She continued to trace idly over the pattern of the counterpane when she heard three soft taps. Bella looked up, unsure where the noise could have come from. It was not her door. In fact, it seemed to be coming from the window, but that was impossible. A bird, perhaps, although the sound had been far too purposeful. She pushed back the bedclothes and took a hesitant step towards the drawn curtains when the noise came again. Three definite, clear, purposeful raps.

Bella pulled back the material tentatively and had to clap both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. There was a face at her window. Her window on the third floor. It took her brain a few seconds to catch up with her eyes and realise that it was George, now tapping rather desperately against the glass with an expression of grim urgency upon his face. Bella hurried forwards, removed the catches and pulled up the sash. George tumbled into the room in a damp, dishevelled heap.

"Thank you kindly, Princess. I thought I was going to be out there all night. Your aunt’s drainpipe is not quite as accommodating as it looks and I feared several times that I might lose my grip. But, as you can see, I have not fallen to my death, which is good."

He spoke the words in hushed tones while brushing ineffectually at his damp and crumpled coat, and Bella simply stared at him blankly. How could he be here? In her room? At this time of night?

"How... why..."

George stopped fussing with his coat and looked suddenly more serious. "I had to talk to you. I realised when I left earlier today that you must have thought me heartless, or worse. I know you must return home, and after speaking to your father I know that I have no place in your grand life, Princess, but I had to speak to you. I had to see you one last time."

Bella gazed at him, trying to take in the words he had spoken, when she suddenly became aware that she was standing before him in nothing but a thin cotton nightgown. She hurriedly grabbed her wrapper and pulled it around herself. George's face flushed as he appeared to realise the same thing and turned his head pointedly away.

"I know this is most improper," he said, staring fixedly at the wall, "and I know your father would skin me alive if he had any idea I was here, but we must speak."

When Bella had arranged the wrapper securely, he turned back and indicated the bed before taking her hand and guiding her gently down beside him. They sat together for several moments, their joined hands resting between them, and Bella felt a sense of contentment she had not managed to find since they escaped the clutches of Sly Trevethan and his men. Eventually she found her voice. "George, why are you here? I do not think I understand."

"I wished you to know..." He paused and looked down at their hands. "You must know that the time we spent together, the connection we shared, meant something to me. It meant everything to me. If circumstances were different, if you were not the Princess of Pemberley and I was not a lowly naval captain, I would hold you by my side for the rest of my days."

He lifted one hand and placed a gentle finger beneath her chin, turning her face until she was looking directly at him. "I know your life is very different from mine, and I have been thinking much upon it. I know the right thing to do is to let you live this big, glorious, important life. But I could not let you go without telling you just how deeply you have affected me. I told you that you had my heart, and I think that will be true forevermore."

Bella pulled her hand sharply from his and jumped from the bed. She turned on him, working very hard to keep her voice low enough that she would not attract attention. "Why is every man in my life determined to make choices for me? First my father and now you. I thought I could trust you, George."

"You can," he said shakily.

"So you thought you would come here in some grand romantic gesture, tell me how very much you cared for me and then disappear off into the night, never to be seen again, leaving me to do what? Marry some weak-chinned duke or an earl who cares only for his port and his racing horses? And you call that noble?" She pressed her lips together furiously. "Do you know what I call it, George? Stupid. Absolutely bloody stupid."

George winced at the curse and came to his feet. "Your father made me see that I cannot offer you the life you deserve."

"Can you love me?" she demanded, jabbing one finger into his chest.

He only stared at her.

"Can you care for me? Can you think of my needs and the needs of our children above all others? Can you build a life that suits us both? I do not need some titled, landed gentleman to tell me what to do. I need a partner. Someone who can learn the business of Pemberley with me and build something with me. I thought, perhaps stupidly, that you could be that man. But no. The great Fitzwilliam Darcy has spoken and you have snapped to heel and obeyed his command."

"It is not like that, Bella. Truly. This is what is best for you."

"If one more person tells me what is best for me, I shall scream."