by Lara Blunte
Georgiana knelt on the bed, "Then go outside!"
"What?"
"Go outside! We will get married now, in the Hindu way."
John smiled and leapt up from the bed. He left the room and closed the door.
"Don't come until I call you," she cried out after him.
She lit candles and placed them all over the room, so she that could see better. Then she started taking things out of the box, and at the very bottom there were watercolors of India, of cities every bit as beautiful as John had described. There were water colors of people, too, and she saw an Indian woman decked out in her finery, and began to find the equivalent of what she was wearing in the box.
She found a small shirt in dark pink which followed the shape of her breasts and left her belly bare but fit her well, then a red skirt, and finally the red and gold scarf that she was meant to wrap around herself and, judging by the drawing, carry elegantly over her head as well. It took her a bit of frowning and turning around, until she understood how she was meant to wrap it.
John was knocking, "Are you ready?"
"No!"
He kept drumming his fingers on the door, "Well, hurry!"
"Go away," she said, muttering under her breath, "You impatient man! This is our wedding!"
She started to put on jewels, a brooch like a half moon on the exact place where her hair parted, bracelets, earrings, necklaces and anklets.
Then she opened some of the small vials in the box, putting a little dab of perfume that smelled like jasmine behind her ears; she found kohl in another vial, which she experimented with before understanding that she had to run the small stick inside the vial over her eyes. Inspecting herself in a small mirror, she removed the powder that had ended up on her cheeks and smiled. She looked exotic and mysterious.
There were some pots with red and yellow powder, and she did not know what they were for, so she left them on the table by the bed.
Finally she thought that she did look like an Indian bride, and she sat on the bed, with a sheer veil over her head and called, "Come in!"
Georgiana heard John's quick feet coming to the door, then it opened dramatically and he stood there with a makeshift turban on his head, his chest bare except for an extravagant chain on it, and loose Indian trousers.
She started to laugh, but he stood looking at her with wide eyes. "You are frightening me a little now..."
She laughed harder.
"Is it really you, under that thing? Georgiana?"
She became quiet. He started to approach cautiously.
"Don't make any sudden moves or I may strike, you know I don't control my reactions very well," he warned her.
He was now was quite close to her, and could make her face through the veil.
"It is you," he said softly.
He bent his head to her upturned face and kissed her through the red veil. Then he lifted it, his eyes scanning her face. He would have kissed her again, but she put her hand on his chest.
"And what would happen in an Indian wedding now?"
He narrowed his eyes, trying to remember, "There would be offerings to the gods, seven turns around a fire..." He looked around at all the things that were strewn over the room. He saw the pot with red powder and took it.
"You would put this on the parting of your hair and I would put a dot on your forehead, like this.” He touched her forehead after dipping his finger in the red. "This is called a bindi, and it means happiness in marriage, and awareness. And you would do the same to me."
She did. "And then?"
His voice became softer, as he looked into her eyes. "And then I would say that Kama, the god of love, had given you to me. I would say, I take thy hand in mine, yearning for happiness. Love is the giver, love is the receiver..."
Georgiana thought how true it was, this time. This was her marriage of love.
"I would say,” John continued, almost in a whisper, “May she remain mine, god of love…"
He leaned forward and kissed her, and she took his face between her hands. They did not recall, for a moment, that she was not his. He was bending her backward so that she lay in bed, and he lay with her.
They would only remember that they did not belong to each other in the morning, amidst the remains of their Hindu wedding.
Eighteen. The Worth of a Countess
"I was the victim of a news writer who needed to hand in his copy at short notice! I should have been the Danish Doom, the Deadly Dane! Instead, I am the German Rogue!"
Marcus bent at the waist, a hand over his heart to show how pained he was to his audience of two, John and Georgiana, as they sat in the shade of generous trees.
"And then this man here dares to tell me I exaggerate with my Irish poetry shite! At least we would know, in this country, what to name a bandit!"
John was laughing.
"The Laughing Bandit," Marcus added, motioning to him. "I suppose you like that one!"
John shrugged. "It has a ring to it!"
"That is just the point! The German Rogue has none!"
"It's your fault for getting the accent wrong," John said, "and, in any case, how could you hope that someone in England might recognize a Danish accent?"
“Well, the most famous Dane in the world was an Englishman,” Marcus said, referring to Hamlet. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes over the field, "These nuances are beyond the common man," he added, aggrieved. "It's just no use trying to do anything well!"
Georgiana was also laughing, but John became a little more serious, knowing that he had to address the point of Marcus' visit.
"Come, that does the Earl say?"
John reached his hand out for the note, the latest in a series of exchanges between the German Rogue and Hugh.
"The man is still haggling!" Marcus said, taking the note from his pocket and handing it over. "Did I not tell you about the tightfisted English?" He bowed to Georgiana. "Delightful present company very much excepted!"
John was reading and frowning, "What a knave! He offers half of what we are asking, and we were already asking for half of what we started with!"
"But you did ask for a very high sum," Georgiana reminded him, "So as to delay his compliance!"
"It's not the sum that we will get that I am quibbling about," John said, "but the fact that he might easily pay it, and yet he haggles over your life and safety!"
Georgiana could see that John was getting angry, and even Marcus stopped and looked at him with apprehension.
"That coward tried to protect himself, when his wife was being abducted," John went on, getting up to pace, an artery showing on his neck. "He let bandits take her away, caring more for his own life. He could not know that she was not in danger!"
He looked at Georgiana, and there was fire in his eyes, "That is the man you married! The man you must return to!"
Georgiana had been worried for a while that the longer she stayed with John, the more chances there were that he would be found, or the identity of his band of men discovered. The abduction of a countess was a serious thing, it struck at the rich nobility, and the authorities would not stand for it.
To leave John would be agony, but she wanted him to take the money from Hugh, a fraction of the money he ought to have inherited, stop being a highwayman, and buy his farm instead. She wanted him to be safe.
And that is why she said, "You should take what he is offering, and be done with it!"
She realized almost immediately what a poor choice of words she had made, but she could not imagine that he would think that she wanted to go. How could she ever want to go, when she had known the happiest days of her life with him in this cottage, when the thought of being the Countess of Halford again made her nauseous, when she wanted nothing in the world but to stay by his side?
During the month of happiness they had had, she had forgotten how quick his temper was. He was staring at her with fury, and she opened her mouth to explain what she meant but he was already telling Marcus, "You have heard th
e Countess. Let us accept the offer. It's how much she thinks she is worth!"
He stormed off, and Georgiana stood up, flushed, determined to go after him and call him a villain for what he had said. Marcus slid in front of her quickly and blocked her path.
"I beg you to wait a moment before you go find him. Both of you are unhappy at what must come, but you should not say hasty words to each other."
She might have pushed Marcus aside, in her rage, but his kind eyes stopped her.
"How he infuriates me!" she cried. "How can he think -"
"Perhaps he wants to be angry, to be able to bear your absence," Marcus said softly. He shook his head. "I have never seen two people more in love than you, and sometimes that comes with a little too much feeling."
Georgiana bowed her head. How was it possible that they could still doubt each other? And yet she supposed the nature of passion was constant doubt, constant fire, constant fear. Marcus seemed to be reading her mind, as he said, "Sometimes a love like yours can lead to something more calm and eternal, but you must be wise!"
She could not help a mischievous smile, "I am sure you know all about lasting love and marriage!"
He smiled back, "God keep either from me always, but my parents did love each other till the day they died. My father went a few days after my mother for no discernible medical reason; a broken heart, is what it was. They had twelve children, eight survived -- all named after bloody Romans -- and that man and woman loved each other through it all."
He motioned for her to take a seat again, wanting to keep her from John for a while. She sat down, as did he.
"I will tell you their secret: only one person at a time could be angry, only one person at a time could be sad, only one person at a time could be weak. The one who was doing better would either help the other or leave well alone until the worst of the anger was past. Bad things were taken seriously, but every day irritations were laughed at as soon as possible. They never went to bed angry at each other."
Georgiana still looked a little mutinous as she listened to him. "And what would happen when both sides were miserable, as now?"
He shrugged. "One would have to find a way of being less miserable and comfort the other."
"And why should it not be he..."
"Another time it will be," Marcus told her with a smile. "Sometimes it's giving oneself importance that gets in the way. Do you think that if you go now to kiss John, he'll throw you about, or scream at ye?"
She was staring at the ground now, understanding that she did want to go to John, not to be angry but to comfort him, and herself.
"Why, Mr. Brennan, you are a philosopher!"
He waved his hand, "Any man who drinks as much as I do is a great philosopher, that let me tell you. A man understands everything when he is drunk, pity that later he can only recall half!"
She laughed, and stretched her hand to him, and he kissed it. It was with his good-humored wisdom that she went in search of John.
Georgiana found him pacing the fields, thunder still on his face, but when he saw her coming towards him, and saw the love in her eyes, his expression changed at once and he walked forward to embrace her so tightly that he lifted her from the ground.
"Will I just keep begging you to forgive me?" he asked. "I am sure at one point you should send me to hell!"
God's heaven, the philosopher was right! Georgiana realized that she wanted no harsh words, she only wanted to kiss him over and over as he held her up, her face above his.
"It's not yet that time!" she told him.
"Do you know, the Hindus believe we are born many times, ever better if we are good, ever worse if we are bad," he told her. "And our wedding is meant to last at least seven lifetimes."
She smiled. "Well, you are a thief and I am an adulterer, so I think we might be rats in our next life!"
"As long as we are in the same sewer!" he replied hopefully.
Their last two days were spent in half sad, half happy harmony. When Georgiana was ready to ride out again with Marcus, John said, as he kissed her goodbye, "Remember, you are my rat!"
"And you remember to leave banditry aside!" she asked him. "No matter how many lives we are meant to have together, I like this one, and I want it to be long!"
As she rode away with Marcus she put her head out of the carriage to look at John. He stood there, not waving, but rather looking as if he were waiting, and she thought that this was not the last time they would be together.
She knew it was not.
Nineteen. The Heir
"They will hang for this, that I promise!"
Hugh paced in front of Georgiana as she sat in her morning room, having tea.
He had received a note with the bandits' acceptance of the ransom, and instructions of where to leave the money. Of course he had alerted the police, but the German Rogue was too wise to have actually meant the place indicated on the note, and had led the messenger delivering the money a lively chase, before taking the ransom safely and confounding his pursuers.
A note had then been delivered, informing the Earl that the Countess was at a certain crossroads, and that is where Hugh had found her.
Georgiana was surprised by his eagerness to embrace her, and his constant asking if she were well and unharmed. He displayed a tenderness that she had not seen in him for a long while, even if he had decided that she was only worth one fourth of the money that had been asked.
One could never give in whole to bandits, Hugh had said. One must not encourage them, or where would it all end?
He was very annoyed that his ploy to catch the highwaymen had failed, when they had outraged him, kept Georgiana for a month and, in spite of this, remained at large. She had sworn that she had not been harmed, that she had been taken to a farm which she could not find now, as she had been blindfolded, and that during the whole time she had not seen the German Rogue or the Laughing Bandit.
(She was not lying, because she had seen John and Marcus instead.)
Hugh could not stop looking at his wife, as her absence had made him remember how beautiful she was, or perhaps there was something different in her upon her return. Perhaps the danger she had passed had made her seem more vivid, as she glowed with a renewed light. He had always wanted to possess the light in her, before it had seemingly disappeared.
Georgiana was, as well, sweeter to him than she had been for a long time, as if something in her spirit had calmed down, or as if, perhaps, the thought of losing her life or her family -- dare he believe, the thought of losing him -- had made her more serene and loving.
He found her breathtaking by day and irresistible by candlelight, and when he knew that she was indisposed with her monthly complaint, he realized that she had not been raped, just as she had assured him, and that there was no danger of a bastard by some highwayman ending up as the Earl of Halford.
He therefore made plans to send Bess away, as he would not be able to woo his own wife if her sister – his mistress -- were present. Bess thought that she had gained such ascendancy over him that he would never again touch Georgiana or have an heir, but that was absurd to anyone with a mind.
Georgiana's miscarriage the year before had torn them apart, and for many reasons he had not returned wholly to his duties as a husband and as the head of a noble house, but now he would.
He therefore invited Virginia and her husband, Mr. O'Malley, to Halford, and they came complete with twin toddlers and a baby. Virginia wore a very high coiffure and was powdered mauve to the eyelashes, in spite of her husband having been nothing but a penniless Irishman and schoolteacher until Hugh had settled a dowry on her. She sported more ribbons and trinkets than her sister, who was a Countess.
Knowing her to be cunning and greedy, Hugh told her that her dowry would be increased, as she kept hinting it should be because of her fertility, but she needed to do him a little favor: she needed to get Bess to go with her to Bath, where they would be kept in luxury by him, and she needed to take Cecily and Dotty as wel
l.
Virginia only heard the words money and luxury, and set out on her mission, though Bess dug her feet and refused to accept leaving Halford to Georgiana. Neither did Georgiana want her to go, for she feared the looks that Hugh was throwing at her, and did not want the younger girls to be at the mercy of the older ones.
However, imperious Virginia carried the day, using such a mixture of emotional blackmail -- she needed help with her babes, what sort of an aunt was Bess? -- and insistence, that Bess agreed to go for two weeks and no more. Bess could not forget that Virginia was her last ally in the family, and that she ought not to cross her and be left standing on her own, especially considering the unlikelihood of Hugh ever marrying her, unless Georgiana died.
Bess had, in fact, half prayed that her sister would disappear, not killed by bandits, since she was not heartless, but kidnapped by them forever.
Hugh happily saw the sisters off, and even more happily got rid of Mr. O'Malley and his brood of shrieking children, who could be heard all over the enormous castle and grounds as if they were three thousand instead of three.
His children with Georgiana would not shriek so, he thought, as he went up the stairs. They would be lovely little things, pretty as their mother, at least the girls. He would not mind a son who would resemble him, and would inherit his title and estate.
Once a child was conceived, his household would again be in order, and he thought there might even be some gladness in it. He thought all this with a small smile, as he went towards his wife's room to begin the business of making an heir.
Twenty. In Answer to an Advertisement
The German Rogue was still at large when Mad Jack returned to Woodbrook, the village nearest to Halford, and got himself a room at the inn.
