Page 64 of A Practical Man
I brushed her cheek with my knuckles. “I was, but I am no longer. Come,” I said, “you should rest. It is late, and I am willing to wait for you.”
“And Mama?”
“I will not do anything you do not wish me to do,” I said, but I was far too close to her. We were alone in a silent, darkened room, and the erotic implication of my words fairly bloomed around us. By its own volition, my hand slipped behind her neck, her lips parted, and instantly we were kissing—tentatively at first, and then with the wild urgency of a fire lit on bone dry tinder.
I pulled away. “Are you still afraid, Elizabeth?”
“No,” she whispered, her fingers now entangled in my hair, and in a flash, I had gone from kissing her to being kissed.
Were it not for my sister’s voice on the stair startling us apart, I do not know how far—perhaps even too far—we might have gone in answer to our desperation.
“Elizabeth, are you looking for a book?” Georgiana called as she came into the room. And then to me, she exclaimed, “Oh! I forgot you were here. Did you help her find something?”
Thankfully, the room was not well-lit, and I mumbled some vague reply while stepping back into the shadow of a corner. Lifting up her candle, my sister stepped to the shelf with her favourites, and Elizabeth took the first book she recommended, only glancing back at me for a flashing second, before following Georgiana out of the room.
When I woke the next morning, I suffered another of Carsten’s close examinations.
I could not hide the dark circles under my eyes or pretend to have slept more than I did. My valet had come in search of me in the library at two in the morning, claiming he feared I had fallen asleep in my chair, and he was too perceptive not to know he had found me in a fever of a different kind than the one he had so recently nursed me through.
“Is there aught I might bring you sir?” he enquired almost tenderly.
I asked for coffee, and after three cups in quick succession, I went to my sister’s room.
CHAPTER 44
After a light knock, I peeked into Georgiana’s room. “Is it safe to visit?” I asked.
I knew that since their arrival, she and Elizabeth spent time before breakfast cloistered together in my sister’s bedroom, presumably indulging in those conversations between close friends they could not enjoy when there was a houseful of guests upon whom they were required to divide their attention.
“Elizabeth has gone to help her mother already,” she said. “It will be time for breakfast soon. Did you need to speak to me?”
“Need to? No, but I have missed our morning talks. May I sit?” When I had taken my customary chair and angled it slightly so I could see the light on her face, I said, “What do you have planned today?”
“The Gardiners are coming to dinner. Did you forget? I sent a note to Fitzwilliam to remind him to come. I am surprised he has not yet been here,” Georgiana said with a light wrinkle on her brow.
“You should not be. Miss Bennet is here.”
“Oh?” And then she sat up and exclaimed, “Oh!”
“Before you begin to hatch any schemes, I think it best you wait to see if he comes or stays away. Has she mentioned him?”
“No, but Mrs Bennet has brought his name into conversation with great regularity. Perhaps you should visit him today?”
“To what purpose? Am I to call him out of his hole?”
She chuckled. “I wish you would. Miss Bennet seems to find his company most agreeable. Does he not like her?”
“He likes her too well, I think.”
“What?” she cried. “I thought he was avoiding us to spareherfeelings!” She fell into thought for a moment. “I suppose if he acts upon his inclination—which I hope he does—Lady Matlock will be furious.”
“That will be her choice, Georgie. We cannot take on anyone’s expectations and live a full life of our own.”
I had not gone to Georgiana’s room to speak of Fitzwilliam’s feelings, but with the vague intent of hinting at my own. She was, however, quite caught up in her own thoughts, and sensing the time was not yet ideal, I stood and said, “Dearest, I have letters to attend to this morning. Might you excuse me from breakfast?”
Upon receiving this reprieve, I asked Carsten to have a tray brought up to my room, and at the table by the window, I sat over a piece of half-eaten toast and a stack of unopened correspondence. I did not indulge in self-castigation for cowardice, for I was truly unequal to seeing Elizabeth that morning with even a particle of indifference. And it was upon this complication that I sat in contemplation for the better part of an hour.
By some miracle of fate, my intentions had somehow escaped Mrs Bennet’s notice. She may have been flighty, but she was also quite single-minded in her determination to marry off her daughters. After it became clear I would not oblige her by marrying one of them last year, she did not trouble to hide her dislike of me. By the time we met again, I had sunk in her estimation to the position of Georgiana’s brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s cousin. Both of my relations were delightful to her—my sister for her elegance and consequence and my cousin for his eligibility for her eldest after Bingley’s defection. I was merely there as a sort of accessory.
