by Lorri Dudley
She’d known all along, hadn’t she? Julien wasn’t coming for her any more than ol’ Willy would come back from the dead. Julien had never intended to propose. He never really wanted her. She’d wanted it so badly, she’d convinced herself of a lie.
Her dream of being accepted by her mother and sisters had already died.
Chapter 20
…I’m sorry for our exchange before you left. I should have given you more time to adjust to the idea, but I feared you’d wear me down with your refusal. I wish we weren’t always at ends.
—From Nora Lennox to her daughter, Georgia Lennox
Georgia ate supper in her room that night, claiming to be still recovering from the near drowning. In truth, the weight of her grief was more than she could cover up.
Jenneigh came and applied more cream, then helped her wash it off a couple of hours later. The salve did take the heat out, and her cheeks faded from a vibrant red to bright pink. Georgia stared into the mirror and studied the sprinkling of freckles that appeared across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She’d never regain her perfect alabaster complexion.
“Mista Wells and Max came by askin’ about you dis afternoon.”
Georgia’s breath hitched at the mere mention of his name. Jenneigh rubbed the sticky gel-like substance over her burned cheeks. The smell caused Georgia’s eyes to water, but everyone swore the aloe gel could work wonders.
“Mmmm,” Georgia murmured as Jenneigh coated around her lips. It was a shock that Harrison would think of allowing Max to be in her presence after the other day’s disaster. Oh how she would miss their daily fishing trips. It seemed life on the island had taken a lonely turn.
The following day, Georgia forced herself to come out of hiding. She dressed in a deep lavender gown that drew some of the red out of her face—at least she told herself it did. Now she wished she hadn’t let Harrison’s comments regarding her wearing pink irk her. On a bold whim, she’d selected gowns of other colors, but now she’d give almost anything for a pink dress to boost her confidence.
She had Jenneigh spend extra time on her hair, which she pulled up into a beautiful spray of ringlet curls. Hopefully, her buffer of outward glamor, along with her practiced serene smile, would cover her inner turmoil.
Yet sadness followed her around like a shadow as the morning progressed.
Aunt Tessa commented on her quiet behavior as the two of them sat in the solarium, and Georgia told her about the letter. Surprisingly, she didn’t break down at her aunt’s shocked face, nor at her look of pity as she did her best to cheer her up. Georgia put on a good show, but she felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“I know it hurts, my dear.” Her aunt laid a hand on Georgia’s arm. ”When your uncle passed, I thought my world was ending, but slowly I found joy again. First, it appeared in the little things, like my morning talks with God.”
The words pricked Georgia’s curiosity. “You speak to God in the mornings?”
“I speak to God all the time, but especially during my morning cup of tea.”
Georgia leaned in. “What do you tell him?”
“Back then, I told him of my pain and loneliness, but now I tell him how thankful I am for you, for your papa, and for my new friends.”
A twinge of pain twisted in her chest. “Next time you speak to God, can you ask Him why He would destroy my future hopes?” Her words dripped with bitterness.
Her aunt patted her arm. “Georgia, God wants what’s best for you.”
That couldn’t possibly be true. She turned from her aunt and reached for a book from the side table. She didn’t want to hear what Aunt Tessa had to say. The best for her was Julien, but she’d been forced to sail away from him. God obviously didn’t give a wit about her. If He did, wouldn’t He have answered the one prayer she’d wanted more desperately than any other? If He cared about her, why would he squash her dream?
Aunt Tessa sighed. “Sometimes what’s best for us isn’t how we pictured it.”
Georgia’s eyes misted with tears and the words on the page blurred. She didn’t want to let go of the dream she’d striven so hard to achieve. Didn’t God understand how much work she had put into catching Julien’s attention? She could sense Aunt Tessa’s gaze upon her, but she refused to continue the conversation.
As the sun rose in the sky and warmed the house, Georgia tried to read, but her mind drifted. Her pain wasn’t quite the same as Aunt Tessa’s. She couldn’t imagine the horrible finality of being separated by death. Her aunt and uncle’s marriage might have been arranged, but over time they’d grown to love one another deeply.
Julien hadn’t died. However, he had rejected her.
Her uncle couldn’t prevent his death. He didn’t leave Aunt Tessa on purpose.
Not only had Julien chosen not to come for her, he had chosen someone else over her.
Georgia closed her eyes to hold back tears. Why would God destroy her dream of marrying well? Why would He take Aunt Tessa’s husband from her? Why did He take Papa from her as a child? And why would He take Papa from her a second time just as she started to let him back into her heart this time? Everyone here acted as though his days were clearly numbered.
The indoor air suffocated her as she fought down a fresh surge of tears. Another drop of sweat cascaded down the side of her face, and she slammed her book shut.
Aunt Tessa peered up from her embroidery. “Some fresh air might do you good.”
The idea had merit. A brisk walk along the beach might clear her jumbled thoughts. She grabbed her pink parasol, the last intact pink item she owned, and picked her way down the path to the shoreline.
The ocean breeze cooled her flushed face and gently tugged at her parasol. The waves lapped at the shore, quite different from the ones that had tried to drag her under a couple of days ago. Maybe she had more in common with the island of Nevis than she’d originally imagined. Its beauty was alluring, but upon closer inspection, it was conflicted, untamed, and misunderstood.
She veered off the beach to the path that led up a hill. Before her stood a stunning view of St. Kitts, sitting only a canal away. The crystal waters and the lush greenery of the island eased her nerves as she weighed her options.
She could scurry back to London to try to salvage whatever she could of her relationship with Julien. It would entail paying someone to row her to St. Kitts to obtain passage on a ship bound for England. It meant leaving her father in his moment of need, and she would likely never see him again. Max would be hurt by her departure. And Aunt Tessa would have to end her blossoming romance with the vicar to act as her chaperone. If Georgia did return to London, there was no guarantee that Julien would even choose her.
And if he did, would that truly make her happy?
On the other hand, if she stayed, Cynthia would wring a proposal out of the earl. Georgia’s sisters and mother would chastise her for once again failing to capture a husband. And when she returned to London, without any alternative, Mama would force her to marry the Viscount of Ashburnham.
She could avoid her mother and sisters and public scrutiny by remaining here in Nevis. But eventually, her father would succumb to the ague, and she would need to find a husband to support her.
There was Edward Rousseau. He could be a decent match. He was from money and held a prominent position in Nevis. True, he wasn’t titled, but her chance for a title had passed—or sailed might be a more apt word.
Mama would be disappointed. Not a splendid match, but acceptable. Would Rousseau's boastful nature wear on her? How long before she grew bored with his flaunting lifestyle? Could she live that life?
A thought slipped in, stilling her as she stood on the rocky bank overlooking the ocean. Did she appear the same as Mr. Rousseau? Did others see through her pretense? Did they see the pathetic woman beneath her façade, the woman desperate for their acceptance?
The sea swelled, and white foam sprayed as the waves slammed against the rocks below.
Harrison seem
ed to see through her. There were moments when all the pretense felt stripped away, when he looked at her as though she mattered to him. That look had found its way deep into her soul, drawing a longing she’d worked so hard to squelch.
Would she consider marrying Harrison? Assuming he would speak to her now, and would ever ask for her hand. Could she live as the wife of a local schoolmaster, a man who lived off the land with no wealth or title to his name? Could she forego all she knew and face the scorn of her sisters for her heart’s whim?
She remembered his throaty laugh as he’d danced with her, and his crooked grin as he’d teased her. The man riled her, but just as quickly made her laugh. She didn’t have to pretend around him. He liked her better when she was herself, crawling in the dirt to play games with the schoolchildren or sloshing through the ocean water as she fished with Max.
She sighed. For someone of her station to marry someone from the working class—it simply wasn’t done. She’d be an utter disappointment. Her mother and sisters would never speak to her again, and she would never be able to hold her head up if she returned to England.
But she’d be happy. If all she wanted was to impress her mother and sisters, wouldn’t she have given in and married Ashburnham in the first place?
And anyway, her happiness didn’t seem like an option now. After the boating incident with Max, Harrison believed her to be the most irresponsible chit on the island. Perhaps in all of the English territory.
And she probably was.
She wouldn’t even allow herself to go boating with Max anymore. He’d been entrusted into her care and she fell asleep.
“Ho, there. Georgia.”
As if her thoughts conjured him, Harrison’s boots thumped on the path behind her. Tiny crabs scuttled back into the cracks of rocks, and she swallowed, steeling herself for a lecture on her reckless behavior. Her emotional state was too fragile for a good set down, even if she deserved it. She didn’t turn, but waited for his approach, watching the crabs and wishing she too could hide within the cracks.
“Come away from the edge.”
She glanced down at her feet, surprised to find herself so close to the drop-off.
His warm fingers encircled her upper arm and tugged her back a few steps.
“There’s something we need to—”
She finally forced herself to turn and face him.
He winced. “—discuss.”
He tried to cover it by looking away, but there was no mistaking—his first reaction to her face was shock.
She broke away from his grasp and covered her face with her hands. “God is punishing me.”
“It’s merely a sunburn.”
“No. It’s not. Look.” She uncovered her face and pointed at her nose.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer. Confusion touched his face.
“Freckles.” A half-laugh, half-sob erupted from her throat. “My complexion is forever ruined.”
He pinched his lips, but a snort of laughter escaped out his nose.
“Go ahead and laugh. I deserve it.” She turned and started to walk away. “I was reckless, selfish, and irresponsible, and now God has punished me.”
“You were out on the water at midday. That’s not God punishing you. That’s poor planning.”
“It’s not simply that. It’s everything—my marriage prospects, my family, my looks…” Her voice dropped as she fought against tears. “And now Max.”
“Max?” His brows drew together.
She couldn’t look at Harrison, so she dropped her eyes to her grip on the parasol. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let me around him either, but it seems unfair to punish him too. He loved our morning fishing adventures as much as I.”
“Georgia…”
She swallowed through the lump in her throat.
“Georgia.” He raised her chin with his index finger. “I don’t blame you.”
“Of course you do. I blame me. I was foolish and—”
“Stop. I don’t blame you.”
She finally raised her eyes to his face, searching for malice or teasing. He seemed sincere. “You don’t?”
“Max told me the whole story. He wanted to prove he could reel in a fish without your help, so he waited for you to drift off to sleep, then pulled up the anchor. He figured he could catch a fish and row back before you woke.”
“But I never should have fallen asleep. Not when he was in my care.”
“No, but minor lapses in judgment can have worse consequences than we ever anticipated.” His eyes reflected a deep pain.
Georgia sucked in a quick breath. The night of his wife’s death, he’d wanted to walk home. Surely he didn’t blame himself?
“Max told me how your quick thinking saved you both. You were brave and strong, and you saved my son's life.”
She searched his face. “You forgive me?”
“I do.”
But there was more than that. Her eyes dropped to his boots.
“You don’t believe me?” He ducked his chin to see her face, but she didn’t look up.
“It’s just…all these horrible things keep happening to me.”
“Georgia.” Her name swept over his lips like the cool ocean breeze. “You’re looking for God to alter your situation, but maybe God is looking for a heart change before he changes your circumstances.”
He might be right, but how could she do it? “I can’t go back to the way I was, and I know I can’t remain the way I am, but I can’t seem to find a middle ground.” Her words sounded like a plea.
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her further up the path. His eyes rose to the pink parasol, then back to her lavender gown. “In some ways you already have. The Georgia I dragged out of the ocean the first day is not the same person I pulled out of the ocean two days ago.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
He smiled. “Please tell me it’s the last time you’ll be in need of rescuing.”
She eyed him, but couldn’t promise anything. “I never meant to be in need of rescuing on the first two occasions.”
Harrison’s smile broadened.
The path narrowed, and he allowed her to go first. She crested the ridge and stopped at the view of a large sailing vessel anchored in Basseterre Bay. “But all the dreams I’ve striven so hard for, do they have to change too?”
He stopped alongside her. She peered up at him as his gaze swept over the ship in the distance. “Your dreams to marry an earl you mean.”
“Yes… No… I don’t know.”
He stiffened beside her. “You’re still pining for Claremont.”
“No.”
He sent her a cynical sideways glance.
She summoned the courage to speak the words still so hard to say. “He’s not coming.”
Harrison didn’t respond. He merely returned to stare into the distance.
“Deep down, I always knew he wouldn’t, but a letter arrived from my sister confirming it. Turns out, he’s now smitten with Miss Cynthia Orville, my closest friend.”
He turned to face her, but now it was her turn to stare off into the distance as the sun dropped behind an array of pink clouds.
“I truly believed he was going to propose.” She released a long sigh. “He told me he needed to marry, and he wanted me to be his bride. He merely had to get his affairs in order.” She hugged her midsection. “I asked him when that would be, and he said a fortnight. He intended to ask for my mother’s blessing. I pressed him to come by and get Mama’s approval the following afternoon. There would have been time to get his affairs in order while I planned the wedding. But I sailed on the Aberdeen that morning.”
A harsh chuckle slipped from her lips. “I realize now I might only have heard what I wanted to hear.”
“Claremont has a reputation for playing on a woman’s affections.”
She shook her head, then lowered it in shame. “Indeed, he wooed me with sweet words before he grabbed my shoulders a
nd pulled me in for a kiss.”
She sensed Harrison stiffen next to her. “Claremont is a cad.”
“It didn’t work out the way he intended.” A smile tugged at her lips. “He was so eager in his assault, so intent to steal a kiss. And I was so focused on a proposal, he caught me off guard. I tried to hold my balance, but when he applied more pressure, it was too much. We toppled over the back of the bench into a wisteria vine. Julien landed soundly on top of me and knocked all the air from my lungs.” She laughed, but it sounded bitter to her ears. “What a horrid sight we would have made if anyone had passed by. My mouth opening and closing like a fish, unable to make a sound or drag air into my lungs, and his feet hanging over the edge of the bench as he struggled to right himself.”
“You deserve better than that lout.”
“No, I don’t. I was as much to blame. I was so intent on proving myself to my sisters. I only thought of the wedding, not the man I was planning to marry.”
“From what Fredrick tells me, you have nothing to prove to your sisters.”
She snorted. “Not anymore. I came close enough to smell my wedding bouquet, but then it fell apart.” The breeze yanked on her parasol. With a sigh, she closed it and hooked the handle onto the crook of her arm. “Men always leave—Papa, Julien, and they aren’t the only ones.”
“Your father didn’t want to leave.”
“I know that now.”
“Why do you think the others left?”
“It appears I can attract men, but my personality sends them fleeing faster than a fox during a hunt.” She released a self-deprecating laugh.
But instead of laughing with her, Harrison turned her to face him. His hands braced her shoulders in a firm grip.
Dreaded tears blurred her vision, but she couldn’t blink them away without letting loose a deluge.
His eyes locked on hers. “Maybe if you let them see the true you. If you didn’t push them away.”
She shook her head, and the tears slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t push them away.”
