by DiAnn Mills
“What nonsense!” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and flinging on her bedgown. “You will marry him and do it with becoming modesty.”
“I would rather die.”
An outright lie, and her mother knew it, for her lips curved. “You should run away to the stage, my dear. Perhaps your father is right and I have spoiled you. A dutiful daughter will yield to the greater understanding of her elders and marry the suitor they select for her.”
“Loving parents would not select a suitor whose behavior the daughter finds disgusting.” Georgette did not have to fake the break in her voice.
“Child, you speak of things outside your understanding. Mr. LaTournay is no better and no worse a man than any other. You cannot be immune to his melancholy eyes? And such legs and shoulders! Were I but ten years younger, I should contend for the fellow myself! If you care anything for the honor of the Talbot name, and I believe you do, you will obey as a dutiful daughter should. The wedding will take place as soon as decently possible, and that is the end of the matter.”
Georgette looked up from the book she was reading. Her mother stood in the doorway. “Your father is away, and I am leaving for the church, dearest girl. Unforeseen difficulty has arisen regarding your wedding. Dr. Inglis is being unreasonable about the entire affair because of Mr. LaTournay’s Catholic baptism, and I fear we shall have to convince another minister to perform the ceremony. One would think that in a progressive city like New York, a minister would not be so bound by tradition.”
“He is Catholic?” Such a thing had never occurred to Georgette. Placing her book on the window seat, she rose, picked up Caramel, and strolled about the room. “If Dr. Inglis disapproves, should it not be taken as proof that this marriage is disapproved by God?”
Her mother shook her head. “Mr. LaTournay is a Christian, Georgette. I do not believe he is active in religion of any kind, so what should it matter to you? He has agreed that your children shall be baptized in the church of your choice.”
Georgette decided she would prefer to know the worst. After placing Caramel on the floor, she confronted her mother directly. “Does Mr. LaTournay wish to marry me, or is Father forcing him into marriage using some threat?”
Her mother appeared insulted. “To say such a thing about your own father! Why must you disparage your charms, my child? Mr. LaTournay desires to marry you, and that is all you need to know.”
Covering her mouth with one hand and holding her elbow with the other, Georgette shook her head. “The entire affair is distasteful, and I cannot comprehend why you and Papa seem pleased. Mr. LaTournay may plan to take over the Talbot estates or Papa’s business.”
“Stop hiding your mouth, speak clearly, and stand up straight. If you would cease questioning everyone’s motives, life would be much happier for all of us.” Without meeting her daughter’s eye, she closed the door.
Biddy brought up a calling card moments later. “A lady to see you, missy.”
Georgette read the name. “Lady Forester? Are you certain she wishes to see me?”
“She said your name clear enough, missy.”
“I shall come down directly.” Her thoughts spinning, Georgette checked her reflection in the mirror and hurried downstairs.
“She is in the parlor,” Biddy whispered in passing. Squaring her shoulders, Georgette nodded at the wrinkled little woman.
Lady Forester turned as Georgette entered the room. Her bright green eyes blinked in evident surprise. “Miss Talbot?”
Georgette’s heart gave a jolt of recognition. “Yes?”
At first glance, the woman was stunning—voluptuous figure, raven hair, those amazing eyes, and a low voice. Yet as light from the parlor windows touched the lady’s face, Georgette saw that her skin was rough.
The hint of a sneer curled Lady Forester’s mouth. “I cannot believe it. There must be more to the tale than I am aware.”
“Madam?” Georgette began to suspect the woman’s purpose, and anger heated her face.
“LaTournay must have some ulterior motive for choosing you as his bride. Perhaps he wishes to allay my husband’s suspicions.” She perused Georgette’s figure.
“If you intend only to insult me, I must request you to leave.” Georgette spoke through clenched teeth.
“I came in kindness to warn you. LaTournay may avow fidelity, but he will not keep that promise. Such a man can never satisfy his needs with one ordinary woman.” Her tone implied that she, Lady Forester, transcended the common female.
The parlor door opened and Biddy announced, “Miss Grenville to see you, miss.”
Georgette had never been more pleased to see Marianne’s angelic face. “Madam, have you met Miss Grenville? Marianne, Lady Forester. She is just leaving.”
Lady Forester’s lips disappeared into a tight line. Angry red blotches marred her complexion. Lifting her skirts, she brushed past Georgette.
As the front door closed with a thud, Marianne looked puzzled. “Did my arrival anger her, Gigi?”
“She was angry before she arrived,” Georgette answered. “I am overjoyed to see you, dearest friend. You rescued me from a most unpleasant encounter. I thought the woman might rend me with her claws as well as her tongue.”
Marianne’s cheeks turned pink, and her eyes expressed sympathy. “She came concerning your betrothal to Mr. LaTournay. Word of the match has spread throughout town. I pray you are happy, Gigi.”
“Come.” Georgette linked her arm through Marianne’s and led her into the garden. The girls strolled between beds of sprouting perennials. “What have you heard?” Georgette asked after a thoughtful silence.
“Only that the banns would soon be read for your engagement. Gigi, I have news of my own.”
Grateful for the change of subject, Georgette brightened. “Tell all.”
“Mr. Pringle has been calling upon me, and Papa has given permission for us to court. Yesterday Mr. Pringle took me riding into the country in his chaise. He tucked the lap robe around me and worried lest I take a chill. Imagine! The day was balmy.” Marianne giggled. “His voice gives me the shivers, so sweet and mellow. Oh Gigi, I have admired him for years. Never dared I believe that he might notice me!”
“I am happy for you.”
“And are you happy?” Marianne’s gentle blue eyes held concern.
“I shall never know happiness again unless God provides a way to escape this nightmare.”
“Gigi, you mustn’t say such things. God cares for our needs, and He wants to fulfill our desires, but sometimes we desire wrong things. We need to have our hearts in tune with His perfect will.”
Georgette gave a sharp laugh. “My parents pledge me to a soulless rake, and I am to see this as God’s will?”
Marianne cringed yet refused to yield. “I think you should start asking God to give you love for Mr. LaTournay. God can use a wife’s godly example to bring her husband to Himself. Mama says she did not love Papa when she married him, but she prayed to love him, and now she cannot imagine life without him. They adore each other.”
“But your father is a good man. If your mother did not love him, at least she did not despise him when they married. Do you know why that Forester woman came to see me? She told me that Mr. LaTournay will still be hers even after I marry him.”
Marianne looked wise. “That is what she wants to believe. I know better. Mr. LaTournay adores you, Gigi. You have the advantage over Lady Forester, no matter what hurtful things she says. Your love will make him forget her entirely.”
Tears burned Georgette’s eyes as longing burned her soul. Turning away, she covered her face with both hands. “I confess—I wish that were true. But never will I be able to trust him. He travels to the city often, Marianne, and she will be here waiting for him. I do not want to share my husband with anyone. I cannot marry him. I simply cannot!”
Marianne wrapped her in a tender hug. “If you refuse even to try to love him, all hope of happiness is gone. How my heart aches for
you, Gigi!”
Arms about each other’s waists, the two girls circled the garden at a slow pace, heads bowed.
Georgette sighed. “Very well. I shall attempt praying to love him.”
Mr. LaTournay joined the Talbots for dinner that evening. Georgette picked at her food and kept her gaze lowered while the men talked politics. More than once her parents tried to draw her into the strained conversation. When these efforts produced no response, she sensed their perplexity escalating into irritation.
Mr. LaTournay’s presence was like an ache in her soul. Sorrow blocked her throat.
“Tell us about your home, Mr. LaTournay,” her mother demanded. “Do you have servants?”
“There are many people living on the farm. Our servants work for hire; we keep no slaves. All speak at least some English, and several have children. We also have frequent guests drop in at Haven Farm. My wife will not lack for company when I am away on business.”
Georgette winced inwardly.
“Haven Farm,” her mother repeated. “How charming. Did you name it?”
“My grandfather, Piers Vanderhaven, settled the land and chose its name.”
“Did you grow up there?” Georgette’s father spoke around a mouthful of food.
“My mother was born on the farm,” Mr. LaTournay said. “My grandmother died when my mother was born, and Grandfather never remarried. He left Haven Farm to me and my sister, Francine.”
“So your mother was Dutch?”
“My grandfather was Dutch, but my mother’s mother was French, as was my father.” He sounded uneasy.
Georgette sensed displeasure emanating from her parents.
“You seem so English,” her mother said.
“Neither France nor Quebec claims my loyalty. New York is my home, and it receives my allegiance.”
“As a colony of His Royal Majesty, George III,” her father added.
Georgette sneaked a look at her fiancé across the table. He met her gaze as though he had been waiting for her notice. “I am deeply committed to country and family. My wife will have no cause for fear or complaint.”
Despite a strong desire to roll her eyes, Georgette faked a smile and returned her attention to her filet of cod. Hearing a whimper, she noticed that Caramel was not in his usual begging spot beside her chair.
He sat beside Mr. LaTournay.
Mr. LaTournay stayed for only a short time after the meal ended. Her parents retired to the parlor; Georgette could hear them arguing as she climbed the stairs. In her room, she bathed and prepared for bed, then lavished extra attention on Caramel, throwing a ball until even he tired of the game. The little dog scrambled up on the bed and flopped to his side, panting with lolling tongue. “At least Mr. LaTournay likes you, my precious puppy. Some men do not care for lap dogs.” Circling the pug with her arms, she rested her forehead on his heaving side. “Why must he be so attractive, Caramel? I despise him, yet I crave his attention.”
Biddy rapped at the door for the second time that day and held out a folded paper. “Sorry to disturb you, missy, but a man asked me to give this to you.”
“A man?” Georgette hopped to her feet and broke the seal. “Did you recognize him?”
“I should say ’twas the same man what brought that dog, miss. He wore a cloak and spoke quietlike, but I heard the foreign in his voice.”
Georgette sucked in a deep breath as she read. “Biddy, do not tell a soul, but I am to meet him in the garden.”
Biddy’s watery eyes widened. “A rondyvoo, miss? I’ll be quiet as the dead.”
Not even the morbid simile could diminish Georgette’s excitement. With Biddy’s help, she dressed and hurried downstairs. Her father dozed over a book in his study. Georgette tiptoed past the door and rushed along the hallway.
Moonlight silvered the rose trellis and threw stark shadows on the stone walkway. Shivering, Georgette tightened her grip on her knitted shawl. Would he come? She peered through the wrought iron gate, but no cloaked figure waited outside.
“Georgette.”
With a startled cry, she spun around. A shadow detached itself from the deeper shadows near the wall. “Hello.” Her voice quavered.
“You came.”
“You thought I would not?”
“I know of your betrothal to Mr. LaTournay.” He stepped closer, a looming specter. “You no longer believe him to be evil?”
She studied her own linked fingers. “I have no choice but to marry him.”
“You have many choices, petite grenouille. Does he know of your father’s coercion? What man would wish to marry a woman by force? Have you no affection in your heart for the poor wretch?” His voice held a caressing note.
“Lady Forester called upon me today.” The words poured out before she thought them through.
A pause. “Indeed.” Cracking ice sounded warm in comparison to his tone.
“She told me that Mr. LaTournay would not keep his marriage vows to me, that I could never satisfy him.” Aghast, Georgette lifted her hand to her mouth. This was an unknown man, not a father confessor.
He turned with a swirl of his cloak and walked the length of the garden path, spun about, and returned. “Her words contain no truth. You heard the vengeance of a resentful woman, bien-aimée.”
“And how would you know?”
“I know much about women and their devious ways. I also attest that any man of sense would be more than satisfied to have you as wife. LaTournay, for all his faults, is generally accepted as a sensible man.”
“You are acquainted with him?”
“I am.”
“You say ‘any man of sense.’ Does this mean that I appeal only to a man’s brain?”
He murmured something in French. “You play with fire, ma belle Georgette.”
“Yes, I feel that fire within each time you speak my name.” She pressed her hands over her heart. “I do not understand myself! Why is it that my heart responds to a man even while my mind doubts him? My mind knows Mr. LaTournay to be an immoral and ungodly man, yet my heart yearns within me when he is near. And you—I know so little of you, not even your name, and yet …”
“Pray do not leave me suspended thus.” His long arm reached out, and his warm hand clasped hers. She wrapped her other hand around his.
“And yet you …” She struggled for words. “You seem like one to whom I may safely bare my soul.”
His grasp tightened, and she heard him sigh. “Georgette, this charade must—”
“Marianne, my friend, tells me that I must pray not only for Mr. LaTournay’s salvation from sin, but also that God will teach me to love him. You and I must never again meet alone, kind benefactor, for I am pledged to another. From this time on, my loyalty and love must belong to Mr. LaTournay alone.”
His hooded head bowed low, and silence stretched between them. Rousing, he lifted her hand, turned it, and touched his forehead to her wrist. “I am your slave and your footstool. Be merciful, I adjure you, belle grenouille.”
Before she recovered her equilibrium, he disappeared into the shadows once more.
Chapter 5
If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?
MATTHEW 7:11
Georgette dutifully prayed to love Mr. LaTournay. Although her fiancé’s moral code still disturbed her, she began to appreciate the possible benefits of marriage to such an intelligent man. As spring passed into summer, listening in on LaTournay’s conversations with her father stimulated Georgette’s thoughts and broadened her understanding of the turbulent political conflicts engulfing the city of New York.
She depended upon her betrothed for protection from an uncertain future. Not only did he always possess the latest news about the fluctuation of power between Whigs and Loyalists, he also seemed undaunted by it. More than once, Georgette heard her father quote Mr. LaTournay’s remarks or advice to associates, citing the y
ounger man as a reliable authority.
One rainy afternoon, Georgette spread the Thursday edition of the Gazetteer on the library floor, scanning it for conversational material that might impress her fiancé. Most of the news centered on politics. Everything in life seemed to revolve around politics, since the Provincial Congress now prohibited most social activities. The possibility of war was no longer whispered behind hands in drawing rooms. Now it was shouted in the streets—insults to Mother England, threats to her loyal subjects.
Although the Talbots showed carefree faces to the world, Georgette observed her father’s tension in his constant smoking and recognized her mother’s fear in her strident tones. For the first time, Georgette saw her parents as frail beings seeking security in every possible place—except the one place they might find it. Her attempts to discuss God and the meaning of life with her mother met with sighs and rolling eyes of rejection. The one time Georgette spoke in her father’s presence of seeing God’s guiding hand in their present circumstances, she feared he might do her physical violence.
Would life be different with Mr. LaTournay? Despite Marianne’s assurances that a godly wife might influence her husband to seek the Lord, Georgette knew such change was unlikely. Not that Mr. LaTournay was unkind—but then, he was not yet her husband. A man would reveal only his best side before the wedding. Georgette’s probable fate would be a marriage of mutual toleration, as exemplified by her parents.
Mr. LaTournay spent much of his time away from the city, never offering explanation for his absence. Georgette had not seen him for more than a week. She feared he might be visiting Lady Forester, although the latest gossip, according to her mother, testified that the two had parted ways. Georgette did not have the nerve to ask if he had other female friends. If he did, she thought she would rather not know. But then again, she did want to know.
Of all things, she feared unrequited love. The torture of loving a man who cared for other women! Already Georgette suffered. If he never loved her in return, she would want to die.
