BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"
chapter 16
GEORGE WAS ALREADY HALF way to Aubrey Hall before noticing Billie rushing beside him, forced to run just to keep his steps long and fast.
Runs. The girl ran.
With his ankle.
George's steps stopped. “What are you—”
But then it occurred to him, without even stopping to think about it. It's Billie. Of course he would run with an injured ankle. He's stubborn. He's sloppy.
He cares.
George said nothing. He simply scooped the girl into his cradle and continued his way home, his pace just a little slower than before.
“You don't have to carry me,” Billie said.
George heard the pain in the girl's voice. “Ya,” said. “I have to do it.”
“Thank you,” Billie whispered, her words as if melting into George's shirt.
But George could not respond. He was speechless now, at least other than meaningless empty words. He didn't have to say anything to Billie to tell her he heard it. Billie would understand. The girl knew George's mind was somewhere else, somewhere far away from please and thanks again.
“They are in a private sitting room,” Felix said when they got home. George could only assume they meant other family members. And maybe the Bridgerton family too.
They were family too, he realized. They have always been family.
When George arrived at the sitting room, the sight waiting for him was one capable of making any adult man turn pale. His mother on the couch, sobbing in Lady Bridgerton's arms. Andrew looked in shock. And hisfather…
Dad's crying.
Lord Manston stood far away from the others, neither facing them, nor turning his back. Both of his arms looked stiff on the sides of his body and both of his eyes were shut tightly, as if it might be able to slow down the roll of tears on the cheeks. As if it was possible, if he could not see the world around him, then none of this happened.
George never saw his father cry. He didn't even imagine it was possible. He tried not to keep looking at his father, but the scene was so astonishing, so life-changing, that he could not turn his eyes away.
His father was Earl of Manston, staunch and hard. Since George was a child, his father led the Rokesby family decisively but fairly. He is a pillar; he is a force. He was undoubtedly in control. He treats his children very fairly, which sometimes means no one is satisfied with his decision, but his orders are always obeyed.
In his father George saw what it meant to lead the family. And in his father's tears, he saw his own future.
Soon, there will come a time for George to take the lead.
“Yes God,” exclaimed Lady Bridgerton, finally seeing the two of them in the doorway. “What happened to Billie?”
George was stunned for a moment. He forgot he was still holding the girl. “This,” said, and dropped Billie near Lady Bridgerton. He looked around the room. He did not know who to ask for information. Where is the courier? Is he even still here?
“George,” he heard Felix say. He looked up and saw his friend holding a piece of paper. Without a word, George took it.
The Earl of Manston
I regret to inform you that Captain the Hon. Edward Rokesby disappeared on March 22, 779 in the Connecticut Colony. We are making every effort to find him back safely.
May God bless you,
Brigadier General Geo. Garth
“Disappeared,” said George, staring helplessly around the room. “What does this mean?”
No one has an answer.
Stunned George stared at the paper in both of his hands, his eyes watching every last arch of the writing. The message is spectacular with only a tiny bit of information. Why was Edward in Connecticut? Last they heard he was in New York Town, living in a government-supported tavern while watching General Washington's troops cross the Hudson River.
“If he disappears..” he said while thinking. “They should know.”
“Know what?” ask Billie. The girl looked up at George from the sofa, probably the only person close enough to hear his words.
George shook his head, still trying to understand it. From the contents of surat— which must be admitted not many—seems like the Army believes Edward is still alive. Which meant the general had the least idea of where his younger brother was.
If that's the case, why didn't the general just say it?
George restored his hair, the bottom of his palm rubbing his forehead hard. “How can a soldier with service mark disappear?” he asked, turning to face the room. “Did she get kidnapped? Is that what they're trying to tell us?”
“I'm not sure they know,” Felix said quietly.
“Oh, they must know,” George almost snapped. “They just don't want—”
But Andrew interrupted. “The situation is not like here,” he said, his voice sounded empty and blunt.
George threw a vexed glance. “I know, but what—”
“The situation is not like here,” said Andrew once again, this time with a rising fury. “The villages are far apart. The farm doesn't even border. There are giant sized lands that no one has.”
Everyone was stunned staring at him.
“And there are a lot of wild people,” Andrew said.
George stepped closer, trying to block his mother's gaze from Andrew's tormented face. “This is not the time,” whispered roughly. Her sister may be in shock, but so are they. It was time for Andrew to grow up and take control of his emotions before he shattered the little bit of calm left in the room.
Andrew spoke very unwisely. “It's very easy to get lost there.”
“You've never been there,” George snapped.
“I've heard of it.”
“You've heard of it.”
“Stop,” someone said. “Stop now also.”
The two men were almost face to face.
“There are people on my ship who have fought in the colonies,” Andrew said fiercely.
“Oh, and it will help us save Edward,” George snapped at him.
“I know more about it than you.”
George was almost snorted. He hates this. He hated her so much. The Impotence. His helplessness. He's outside playing the fucking Pall Mall and his sister is lost in the wilds of the cursed colony.
“I'm older than you,” hissed, “and I'll be the head of this family—”
“Well, now not.”
But it's possible. George threw a glance at his father, who said nothing.
“Oh, that's very subtle,” taunted Andrew.
“Silence. Anyway diam—”
“Stop!” Two hands appeared between them and pushed them away violently, and when George finally lowered his head he realized they belonged to Billie.
“This doesn't help,” said Billie, arguably pushing Andrew into the chair.
George blinked, trying to restore his balance. He didn't know why he was yelling at Andrew. He looked at Billie, who was still standing between the two of them like a petite soldier. “You shouldn't be standing,” he said.
The girl nodded. “That's what you want to say?”
“Maybe you made your leg hurt again.”
Billie kept looking at him. George knew he sounded stupid, but the girl's ankle was the only situation George could get involved in.
“You should sit down,” said Billie gently.
George shakes. He does not want to sit. He wanted to act, do something, anything that might bring his sister back safely. Yet he is bound here, he is always bound here, to this land, to these people.
“I can go,” Andrew choked.
They all looked at him. She was still sitting in the chair Billie had forced her to. He seemed to suffer. Noblest. George felt Andrew looked just like he did himself.
But with one big difference. Andrew at least believed he could help.
“Where to go?” someone finally asked.
“Ke colony.” Andrew looked up, the desperate and gloomy expression on his face slowly turning into a strong determination. “I will ask to be assigned to a different ship. There may be a ship that will go next month.”
“No,” screams Lady Manston. He sounded like a wounded animal. He sounded like something George had never heard before.
Andrew standing. “Ibu—”
“No,” said her mother again, this time with the fortitude she gathered from Lady Bridgerton's soothing embrace. “I won't allow it. I won't lose one more child.”
Andrew stood stiff, looking more like a soldier than George had ever seen in him. “This is no more dangerous than serving at my place now.”
George closed his eyes. You said the wrong thing Andrew.
“You can't,” Lady Manston tried to stand up. “You can't.”
His voice began to break again, and George inwardly cursed Andrew for his indiscretion. He stepped forward. “Mother..”
“She can't,” Lady Manston choked, her tormented eyes stopped on George's face. “You should tell him... he can't.”.
George pulled his mother into a hug, looking Andrew in the eyes above his head before muttering. “We can discuss it later.”
“Omong empty.”
“I think you should lie down.”
“We must go home,” said Lord Manston.
They all look. This was the first time the man had spoken since the horrible message had arrived.
“We should be at home,” said Lord Manston.
Billie was the one who reacted. “Of course,” said, quickly move to his side. “You will be more comfortable there.” He looked at George. “The last thing you need is this house party.”
George almost groaned. He forgot the other guests. The thought of having to have a conversation with one of them was excruciating. There will be questions and condolences, no matter if none of them knows a bit about Edward.
Oh, my God, it's all so unimportant. These. Feast of. All but the people in this room.
He looked at Billie. The girl was still watching him, anxiety evident in every line of her face. “Did anyone tell Mary?” she asked.
“I'll do it now,” said Felix. “We will join you in Crake, if we can. I'm sure he'll want to be with his family. We do not need to return to Sussex immediately.”
“What will we do?” ask Lady Manston in a losing tone.
George looked towards his father. It's his right to decide.
The earl looked lost. He said they should go home; it seemed that was all he could do.
George turned to the other occupant of the room and took a breath. “We will take a while,” he said firmly. “We will be quiet and calm down and decide on the best way to proceed.”
Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but George was fed up. With a sharp gaze, he added, “Time is important, but we are too far away from the military headquarters, one day will not make a difference.”
“He's right,” Billie said.
Several pairs of eyes were fixed on him in surprise, including George.
“Currently neither of us are in a condition that can make the right decision.” Billie turned towards George. “Go home. With family. I'll come tomorrow to see how I can help.”
“But what can you do?” ask Lady Bridgerton.
Billie looked towards her mother with calm and determined elegance. “Whatever it takes.”
George gulped, surprised by the roar of emotion behind his eyes. His sister is missing; his father is devastated, and now he feels maybe he will cry?
He has to tell Billie that they don't need help, that the girl's offer is appreciated but not needed.
That's a polite thing. That's what he would say, to someone else.
But to Billie he said, “Thank you.”
BILLIE TAKES HERSELF to the Crake House the next day, using a simple carriage with one horse. He wasn't sure how his mother managed to do it, but the party was shortened by a few days, and everyone either left or planned to leave by morning.
It took a ludicrous long time to decide which clothes to wear. The pants obviously can't. Despite what her mother thought, Billie knew how and when to dress appropriately, and she would never wear work clothes for social visits.
But this was no ordinary social visit. Bright colors will not match. But he can't use black. Or purple or gray or anything that hints at grieving. Edward is not dead, he cried in his heart.
In the end she chose the comfortable morning dress she got last year. Her mother chose her motif—the typical flowers of spring with green and pink and orange on the muslin krem—but Billie has loved it since the beginning. The dress made her think of the garden on a cloudy day, which somehow seemed appropriate for a visit to the Rokesby family.
Crake was silent when he arrived. Feels wrong. The house was huge; like Aubrey Hall, in theory one could go for days without seeing other family members. But even so, the house always felt alive, vibrant. One member of the Rokesby family or the other is always on the loose, always having fun, always busy.
The Crake House is big, but it's home.
But now the house feels dim. Even the servants, who usually worked diligently and wisely, were more silent than usual. No one smiled, no one spoke.
The situation almost broke my heart.
Billie was directed into the sitting room, but before she came out of the corridor George appeared, clearly had been informed of her arrival.
“Billie,” the man nodded in greeting. “Happy to meet you.”
“How is your mother?” Billie asked.
George smiled sadly. “As good as can be expected.”
Billie nodded, following the man into the sitting room. “And your father?”
George stopped, but did not turn to face him. “She sits in her study and keeps looking out the window.”
Billie gulped, her heart breaking at George's gloomy posture. He didn't need to look at the man's face to know the pain George was feeling. George loved Edward, as he did. Like all of them.
“He's useless,” said George.
Billie's mouth opened in shock at the harsh words, but then she realized George didn't mean to say them as a condemnation.
“He was paralyzed,” George clarified. “Herday..”
“I think none of us know how we will react to a crisis until we are forced to deal with it.”
George turned around, one corner of his mouth raised. “When did you grow up to be so thoughtful?”
“Not wisdom when just repeating empty words.”
“That's discretion when knowing which ones are worth repeating.”
Surprisingly, Billie felt a bubble of humor rise within her. “You are determined to give me compliments.”
“That's the only bright spot today,” grumbled George.
Usually such a comment would make Billie's heart jump in excitement, but like the others, she had also become too blunt due to pain and worry. Edward is missing, and George is injured
He sighed. This isn't about George. George is fine. The man was here, right in front of him, strong and healthy.
No, it's not about George.
This is not possible about George.
Except. lately it seems like everything is about George. Billie was constantly thinking about the man, and God, did they just play Pall Mall yesterday and he could be said to be close to kissing the man?
Billie wants. My God, he wanted it, and if George showed a little interest in—and if there were not four others moving to and fro with the hammer of Pall Mall—Billie would have done it. He had never kissed anyone, but when did that ever stop him? He jumped over his first fence at the age of six. He had never even jumped over the bushes before, but he had only seen the one and a half meter high fence once and knew he had to jump. So Billie jumped on her horse, and she succeeded. Because he wanted it.
And also because Edward challenged him. But Billie wouldn't try if she didn't think she could.
And know he'll like it.
Billie knew even then that she wasn't like the other girls. He didn't want to play pianoforte or sew. He wanted to be outside, flying on a horse's back, sunlight dancing on his skin as his heart raced and roared with the wind.
He wants to be high.
He still wants it.
If Billie kissed George.. if the man kissed her?
Billie fingers down the back of the sofa, trying to fill the moment with empty movements. But then he made the mistake of looking up…
George looked at him, the man's eyes were fierce and full of curiosity as well as something else, something Billie could not name.
But whatever it was. Billie felt it. His heart was pounding, and his breathing was speeding up, and he realized it felt like he was racing on his horse. Gasps and like drifting and full of determination and wildness.Everything was there inside him, wanting to gush out freeing himself.
All because George looked at him.
My God, if George really kissed her, maybe she'd fall apart.
His fingers tapped on the edge of the sofa nervously, then pointed foolishly at the chair. “I'd better sit.”
“If you want.”
But his feet would not move. “I don't seem to know what to do with myself,”.
“I too,” grumbled the man.
“Oh, George..”.
“You want to drink?” ask George suddenly.
“Now?” It's not even past eleven in the morning.
George's shoulder twitch approached imperiously. Billie could only wonder inwardly how much liquor the man had gulped down.
But George did not walk towards the brandy nerve. Instead he stood in front of the window, staring out toward the garden. It was then that it started raining; a light misty speck that made the air tight and gray.
Billie waited a while, but George did not turn around. Both his hands were clasped behind the back—posture classic gentleman. But his attitude is not right. There was a certain roughness in his pose, a tension in the shoulder that Billie was not used to seeing there.
The man looked rude. Dingy.
“What will you do?” billie finally forced herself to ask. He felt that he would not be able to endure the silence any longer.
The man's posture changed, a slight movement in the neck was possible, then he turned his head to the side. But not far enough to see Billie. Instead Billie looked at the side of the man's face when she said, “Go to London, I guess.”
“Ke London?” repeat Billie.
George grunting. “There are not many things I can do.”
“You don't want to go to the Colony to look for it?”
“Of course I want to go to the Colony,” George snapped, turned to face him. “But that's not what I did.”
Billie's mouth was open, but the only sound that was heard was her blood flow, pulsing wildly in her veins. The man's explosion was unexpected. Never happened yet.
Billie once saw George lose his temper. He couldn't have grown up with his younger brothers without seeing George lose his temper. But he's never seen anything like it.
The tone of hate in George's voice is not to be missed, nor is the fact that hatred is directed entirely within the man himself.
“George,” Billie trying to keep her voice calm and reasonable, “if you want—”
George stepped forward, his eyes looking hard and full of anger. “Don't tell me I can do whatever I want because if you believe that, you're as naive as they are.”
“I wouldn't be—” But perhaps it's better for George to cut Billie's words off with a mocking grunt, because that's what Billie would say, and only now does he realize how ridiculous his words are. George could not go to the Colony; they all knew it.
He will never be as free as his brothers. Their birth order ensures that. George will inherit the title, the house, the land. Most of the money. But privileges followed responsibilities. He's tied to this place. This place is in his blood, like Aubrey Hall is in Billie's blood.
He asked if George would mind. If given the opportunity, would the man exchange positions with Andrew or Edward?
“What will you do in London?” Billie asked. Because he could never ask what he really wanted to know. Not while Edward's destiny is still uncertain.
George flicked his shoulders, though more with his head and eyes. “Speaking with people. Ask.” He laughed bitterly. “I'm very smart in talking to people and wonder.”
“You know how to get things done,” Billie agrees.
“I know how to get others to do things,” George said in a mocking tone.
He clenched his mouth tightly before being able to say something stupid like, “That's an important skill.” But it was indeed an important skill, even if he had never demonstrated it himself. He never left anything to his father's estate manager; the man must have been the most paid employee in this place. He acts first and thinks later; always. And he cannot let others do things when he himself can do them better.
And he can almost always do it better.
“I need a drink,” suddenly George grumbled. Billie did not dare to remind that it is still too early for booze.
George walked to the sideboard and poured the brandy of the nerve for himself. He sipped. Lengthy. “You want?”
Billie shakes.
“Surprising,” murmured George.
Something sounded loud in his voice. Something that almost sounds bad. Billie felt her back stiff. “What?”
But George just laughed, his forehead raised pretending to salute. “Oh, come on, Billie. You live to shock. I can't believe you wouldn't accept brandy when offered.”
Billie put her teeth on, reminding herself that George is not herself right now. “Now it's not even noon.”
The man raised his shoulders unconcernedly and spent all his brenda.
“You shouldn't drink.”
“You shouldn't set me.”
Billie stood still, even stiff, allowing a long pause to express her disapproval. Finally, as he had to act as cold as the man, he flashed a cold gaze and said, “Lady Alexandra sends her greetings.”
George looked at her in disbelief.
“He came home today.”
“You are very kind to say hello.”
Billie felt a sharp reply move up her neck, but at the last minute she said, “No! It's laughable. I'm not gonna stand here and talk in circles. I came to help.”
“You can't help,” said George Sharp.
“Obviously not if you're like this,” reply Billie ketus.
George slammed the glass onto the table and walked over to Billie. “What did you say earlier?” exacting. His eyes looked wild and full of anger, and Billie almost stepped back.
“How much have you been drinking?”
“I'm not drunk,” replied George in a dangerous tone. “This...that,” he corrected, and waved an arm towards the glass he left on the sideboard, “is my only drink today.”
Billie felt she should have apologized, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.
“I want to get drunk,” George moves closer with elegance without the sound of a big cat.
“You didn't mean it.”
“Really?” George laughed harshly. “If drunk, I may not remember my sister disappearing somewhere wild damned where locals dislike anyone wearing a red suit.”
“George,” Billie tried to say, but the man was unstoppable.
“If drunk,” says George again, his words were harshly issued, “I probably wouldn't have realized my mother spent the whole morning crying on her bed. But best of all”—both of his hands were pounding the sideboard table, and he was staring at Billie with an angry look wrapped in despair—”if I was drunk, I might somehow forget myself to be at the mercy of others. If Edward found—”
“When he was found,” cut Billie fierce.
“Whatever, it's not because of me.”
“What do you want to do?” ask Billie slowly. Because he felt George didn't know. The man said he wanted to go to the Colony, but Billie wasn't sure he trusted the man. He said George didn't even let himself think about what he wanted to do. George was so caught up in his boundaries that he could not think clearly about what was really in his heart.
“What do I want to do?” reset George. He looked.not surprised, to be exact, but perhaps a little dumbfounded. “I want... I want to.” he blinked, then brought his eyes to Billie's eyes. “I want you.”
Billie can't breathe.
“I want you,” George, and it feels like the whole room is shifting. The dazed spotlight left George's eyes, replaced by something fierce.
Something predatory.
Billie can't talk. He could only see as the man approached, the air between them heating up to the boiling point.
“You don't want to do this,” he said.
“Oh, I want to. I really want.”
George did not mean it. Billie knew that, and she could feel her heart breaking because she wanted it. He wanted George to kiss her as if she were the only girl George dreamed of kissing, as if the man would die if he did not touch her lips to Billie's lips.
Billie wanted the man to kiss her and meant it.
“You don't know what you're doing,” he said, stepping back.
“What do you think?” George murmuring.
“You've had a drink.”
“Just enough to make this perfect.”
Billie gnashing. He doesn't know what that means.
“Come, Billie,” tease George. “Why so hesitant? It's not like you.”
“It's not like you,” reply.
“You don't know at all.” George moved ever closer, his eyes flashing with something Billie was afraid to define. George grabbed and touched his arm, only one finger on his skin, but enough to make Billie tremble. “When did you ever step back from a challenge?”
Billie's stomach was turbulent and her heart was racing, but her shoulders were still upright and stiff. “Never,” he declared, and looked straight into George's eyes.
The man smiled, and the look in his eyes turned hot. “That's my new girl,” she murmured.
“I'm not—”
“You will be my girl,” the man growled, and before Billie could say anything, George's lips caught his lips in a burning kiss
DON'T FORGET AS USUAL!!
