BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"

chapter 4

GEORGE HAD SUSPECTED Billie of feeling greater pain than the girl had shown, but he did not realize how big it was until they came down the stairs. He had considered bringing the girl down on his back, but it seemed safer to let the girl follow him. George had gone down three steps before Billie put his healthy foot up the stairs, then he watched as the girl dabbled with her sprained leg. Billie just stood still for a moment, probably trying to decide the best way to proceed to the next rung.

“I'll start off with healthy legs, and hold tightly to the stairs to absorb some of your body weight,” George said softly.

Billie nodded tensely and following the instructions, her breath released in the form of a hiss in pain when her healthy leg was already in a safe place, and she could lift her injured leg from the rungs above her.

The girl held her breath all this time. George did not blame him.

He waits until Billie manages to control himself, knowing the girl only needs to pass a few more steps; if Billie falls—and it may be; he could see his ankle was very weak—ia had to be close enough to stop the fall.

“Maybe if I try it another way..” said Billie, her breathing sounds heavy in the midst of her pain.

“I won't do it,” says George, keeping his voice quiet and low. Billie never liked being told what to do. George felt he understood this better than anyone. “You don't want the sprained leg to be in a lower place,” he said. “Your leg could lose its power—”

“Of course,” sahut Billie tensed. Not with anger, just tension. George knew that tone of voice. It was the tone of voice of someone who gave up on one thing and really didn't want a longer explanation for it.

That's a tone he uses quite often.

Well, as often as he pleases to give up on something.

“You can do it,” he said. “I know it must hurt.”

“Truly painful,” Billie admits.

George smiled a little. He wasn't sure why, but he was glad the girl couldn't see his face. “I won't let you fall.”

“Everything is fine up there?” call Andrew.

“Tell him silence,” growled Billie.

George laughed without being held back. “Miss Bridgerton asked you to be quiet,”.

Andrew wettest. “Everything is fine, then.”

“I won't say it like that,” grumbled Billie, choked as it passed one more rung.

“You're almost halfway through,” George is encouraging.

“You lied, but I appreciate your support.”

George smiled, and this time he knew why. Maybe Billie is almost always a bitch, but she always has a good sense of humor. “You are halfway to half way, then,” he said.

“Basic optimistic guy,” grumbled Billie.

He manages to get down one more rung without incident, and George realizes their conversation could prove to be a distraction. “You can do it, Billie,” he said.

“You said it earlier.”

“It was worth repeating.”

“Kurasa—” Billie hissing, then choked while moving down one more rung.

George waited while Billie was in control, the girl's body trembling as she looked for balance in her healthy legs.

“I think,” said Billie again, her voice arranged more carefully, as if she was determined to get her sentence out correctly, “this might be your most friendly attitude when with me.”

“I can say the same thing,” George said.

The girl reached the middle of the stairs. “Touch.”

“Nothing is more refreshing than a formidable opponent,” said George, thinking of all the times when they fought with words. Billie has never been an easy person to beat in a debate, so it always feels good to have George do it.

“I'm not sure it's true in medan—oh!”

George waited while Billie put her teeth in and continued.

“—on the battlefield,” said the girl after an angry-sounding sigh. “Yes God, this hurts so much,” grunts.

“I know,” says George is encouraging.

“No, you don't know.”

George smiled again. “True, I don't know.”

Billie nodded stiffly and took another step down. Then, since she was Billie Bridgerton and fundamentally could not let the unfinished matter lie dormant, she said, “On the battlefield, I think I might find a formidable opponent inspiring.”

“Give inspiration?” george muttered, wanting to keep Billie talking.

“But not to excite.”

“One will lead to another,” says George, not that he experienced it himself. The battlefields he experienced occurred in fencing places and boxing rings, and the most serious risk was one's self-esteem. He went down one more rung, gave Billie room to maneuver, then looked back at Andrew, who was whistling while waiting.

“There can I help you with?” asked Andrew when he saw the light.

George shook his head, then looked towards Billie again. “You are almost below,” he said.

“Please tell me you're not lying this time.”

“I'm not lying.”

George did not lie. He jumped down, passed the last two steps, waiting for Billie close enough to hold him. Moments later the girl is in her reach, and she grabs Billie into a hug.

“I've got you,” he murmured, and he felt Billie's body droop a little, for the first time in his life letting someone in control.

“That's great,” said Andrew cheerfully, and stuck his head closer. “Are you okay, Billie-goat?”

Billie nodded, but she didn't look all right. His jaw was still stiff and from the way his throat moved, it was clear he was trying his best to hold back the crying.

“You stupid girl,” muttered George, then she knew Billie wasn't okay, because the girl let her insults pass without protest. In fact, he apologized, and it was so unlike Billie that it felt almost alarming.

“Time to go home,” says George.

“Let's see that leg first,” said Andrew, his voice still sounding carefree and irritating. She took off Billie's stockings, whistled softly, then said in awe, “God, Billie, what are you doing to yourself? Looks brutal.”

“Silence,” says George.

Andrew just put his shoulders down. “It looks not broken—”

“Indeed no,” cut Billie.

“Stay, you should rest your feet for a week, at least.”

“Maybe it wasn't that long,” said George, although he thought Andrew's judgment was correct. Still, there was no point in debating the girl's condition. They didn't say anything Billie didn't know. “We go now?” said.

Billie closed her eyes and nodded. “We have to move that ladder,” murmured.

George tightened his arms and headed east toward Aubrey Hall, where Billie lived with her parents and three younger siblings. “We'll move it tomorrow.”

Billie nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“It covers quite a lot,” said George flat. “Are you sure you want to owe that much?”

Billie looked up at him, the girl's eyes looking tired yet thoughtful. “You are too honorable to charge it.”

George laughed at hearing that. He thought Billie was right, though he never treated Billie Bridgerton like any other girl he knew. Shit, no one ever did that.

“Can you still come to dinner tonight?” asked Andrew who was running while jumping a little next to George.

Billie looked at him confused. “What?”

“Surely you didn't forget,” said Andrew, putting a hand dramatically over his heart. “The Rokesby family welcomes the return of the lost child—”

“You are not a lost child,” George said. Oh God.

“A missing child,” Andrew corrected cheerfully. “I've been gone months, even years.”

“Not many years,” says George.

“Not many years,” Andrew approves, “but it feels like that, doesn't it?” He lowered his head towards Billie, close enough to nudge her lightly. “You missed me, didn't you, Goatrix? Come, confess.”

“Give him a little space,” said George exasperated.

“Oh, he doesn't mind.”

“Give me a little space.”

“A completely different issue,” Andrew said with a laugh.

George started to frown, but then his head jerked. “What did you call him?”

“He often likens me to a goat,” Billie said in a flat tone someone who had stopped being offended.

George looked at the girl, then Andrew, then shook his head. He never understood their sense of humor. Or maybe it was because he was never part of it. Growing up, he always felt so separated from the rest of the Rokesby and Bridgerton family. Mostly because of the age gap of—five years older than Edward, who became the second heir of—but also because of the position. He is the oldest, the heir. He, as his father always quickly reminded him, had a responsibility. He could not walk in the village all day, climbing trees and breaking bones.

Edward, Mary, and Andrew Rokesby were born successively in the near future, less than a year apart from each other. They, along with Billie, who is almost Mary's age, form a tight-knit group that does it all together. The Rokesby and Bridgerton houses are only five kilometers apart, and the children often meet in the middle, in the gutter that separates the two estates, or in the treehouse that Lord Bridgerton woke up to Billie's insistence on an old oak tree by the edge of a trout pond. Most of the time George wasn't sure what kind of mischief they were doing, but his siblings tended to come home dirty, hungry, and full of vigor.

He's not jealous. Really, they're annoying. The last thing he wanted to do when he came home from school was to get dirty with a bunch of wild children whose average age was not even two figures.

But sometimes George feels a longing. What is it like to have close friends? He had no close friends of his age until attending school at Eton at the age of twelve. Because no one can be made friends.

But it doesn't matter now. They were all adults, Edward in the Army and Andrew in the Navy and Mary married George's good friend Felix Maynard. Billie has also passed the age of adulthood, but she is still Billie, still wandering on her father's property, but, still riding on an overzealous horse as if his bones were made of steel and commenting on the wide smiles around the villagers who admired him.

“We'd better get you to Crake,” Andrew told Billie. “The distance is closer, and you can stay for dinner.”

“He was in pain,” George reminded.

“Hahs. When did it ever stop him?”

“Well, she's not wearing fast clothes,” George said. He sounds like a cocky guy and he knows it, but somehow he's upset, and he can't turn it over to Billie because she's hurt.

“I'm sure she can find something to wear in Mary's closet,” Andrew wags. “He didn't bring anything when married, did he?”

“No,” said Billie, her voice muffled by George's chest. It feels funny, how one can feel a sound through the body. “She left quite a lot of her clothes.”

“It's done, then,” said Andrew. “You will come for dinner, spend the night there, and all will be fine.”

George turned slowly towards his sister.

“I'll stay for dinner,” Billie agreed, move her head so that her voice comes out into the air instead of into George's chest, “but then I'll go home with my family. I'd rather sleep in my own bed, if you don't mind.”

George tripped.

“You okay?” ask Andrew.

“Nothing,” grumbled George. Then, for no apparent reason, he was encouraged to add, “Only one of the times when your legs weakened momentarily and slightly flexed.”

Andrew looked at her curiously. “Only one, yes?”

“Diam.”

And that just makes Andrew laugh.

“I've experienced it,” said Billie, looking up at George with a small smile. “When you're tired and you don't even notice it. And your legs surprise you.”

“Quickly once.”

Billie smiled again, an understanding smile, and it occurred to George— that even though it was not for the first time, she realized with a little shock— that the girl was actually quite sweet.

Her eyes were beautiful—a dark brown color that was always warm and welcoming, no matter how much annoyance might be stored in them. And her skin was so white for someone who spent as much time outdoors as her, even though her nose and cheeks were indeed sprinkled with light spots. George can't remember whether the spots existed when Billie was a child. He had not noticed Billie Bridgerton's freckles before.

He had not noticed the girl at all before, or at least he tried not to do so. Billie—always—quite hard to avoid.

“What do you see?” the girl asked.

“Your spots.” George saw no reason to lie.

“Why?”

George put his shoulders. “Because it's there.”

Billie's lips wrinkled, and George thought it would be the end of the conversation. But then Billie said, all of a sudden, “I don't have many freckles.”

George's forehead lifted.

“Sixty-two,” says the girl.

George almost stopped his steps. “You counted it?”

“There's nothing else to do. The weather was bad, and I couldn't go outside.”

George was clever enough not to ask about embroidery, or watercolor painting, or the dozens of other indoor jobs that women of his acquaintance used to do.

“Maybe there's some extras now,” I'm Billie. “Spring this time is very bright.”

“What are we talking about?” ask Andrew. He walked a little ahead of them and they had just chased after him.

“My spots,” Billie said.

Andrew blinked. “Yes God, you are indeed boring.”

“Or bored,” reply Billie.

“Or both.”

“Definitely because that accompanies.”

“I always thought George was boring,” said Andrew.

George rolled his eyes.

“I'm talking about you,” said Billie.

Andrew just grinned. “How are your legs?”

“Sick,” replied Billie short.

“Better? Worse?”

Billie thought about it for a moment, then replied, “Sama. No, better, I guess, because I didn't put a load on it.” He looked up at George. “Thank you,” said. “Once again.”

“Sama-sama,” said George, but his voice sounded rude. They have no place in their conversation. Never does.

The path branched, and George turned right, toward Crake. The house was indeed closer, and since Andrew's arm was in a buffer cloth, it was the one who had to carry Billie along the way.

“Am I too heavy?” the girl asked, sounding a little sleepy.

“ Won't change anything if you're heavy.”

“Yeah, George, no wonder you're short of girlfriends,” Andrew groans. “That's a clear invitation to say, ‘Of course not. You're like a soft flower petal’.”

“No, I didn't mean it that way,” Billie said.

“You mean it that way,” Andrew said firmly. “You just didn't realize it.”

“I have no shortage of girlfriends,” says George. Because it's not.

“Oh, yes, of course not,” Andrew said with thick sarcasm. “There's Billie in your arms.”

“I think maybe you just insulted me,” Billie said.

“Not at all, Honey. Just stating a fact.”

Billie scowling. His dark brown brows furrowed close to his eyes. “When did you return to the sea?”

Andrew looked at her with a haughty look. “You'll miss me.”

“Trust no.”

But they all knew he was lying.

“At the very least, you'll have George,” Andrew said, extending a hand up and hitting the low perched twig. “You two look compatible.”

“Be quiet,” says Billie. And this came out a lot softer than what came out of George's mouth.

Andrew chuckled, and the three of them continued on towards the Crake House, walking in a friendly silence while the wind whistled lightly through the leaves of the newly grown tree.

“You are not too heavy,” suddenly George said.

Billie yawned, shifting slightly in a sling while looking at her face. “What should you say?”

“You are not too heavy.” George put his shoulders. I don't know why, it seems important to say it.

“Oh. Well.” Billie blinked a few times, her brown eyes looked both astonished and delighted. “Thank you.”

Up ahead, Andrew laughed, though George had no idea why.

“Ya,” says Billie.

“What?”

“Yes,” said Billie again, answering a question that George thought he was not asking, “he is laughing at us.”

“I already feel like it.”

“She ****,” Billie sighs to George's chest. But it was a sigh of affection; never said he was a fool spiked with so much love and affection.

“But it's nice to find him home,” said George quietly. And it's like that. He spent years feeling upset with his younger siblings, especially Andrew, but now that they have grown up and pursued a life as extraordinary as it was in Kent and London, he misses them.

Almost as much as his sense of compassion towards them.

“It feels nice, doesn't it?” Billie smiled full of longing, then added, “Not mean I ever told her.”

“Oh, no. Obviously not.”

Billie chuckles at the jokes they share, then yawns. “Sorry,” murmured. He couldn't keep his mouth shut with both arms around George's neck. “Do you mind if I close my eyes?”

Something strange and unfamiliar shook on George's chest. Something almost like protecting. “Of course not,” answers.

Billie smiled—s happy and sleepy smile—and said, “I've never had trouble sleeping.”

“Never?”

The girl shook her head, and her hair, which had long since rebelled from the flops, crept up and tickled George's chin. “I can sleep anywhere,” he said as he yawned.

And Billie slept for the rest of the way home, and George had no objections at all