by Fiona Faris
“And so? They will agree to it?”
“Aye,” Maisie’s eyebrows rose, and she smirked.
Ethan got to his feet. “Thank ye for the soup, Maisie.”
No doubt, her tendency to feed him was partially responsible for keeping him alive all this time. Nearly all the grain he managed to grow went for rent, and if he had even one more mouth to feed, he would have died of starvation long ago.
He walked slowly home, deep in thought. He felt sorry for this girl – whoever she was – she had no idea what she was in for.
Chapter Two
Georgiana Leighton took the stairs at a dead run, charging into her chambers and slamming the door behind her. She stood with her back against the door, head thrown back and breathing hard. Getting the cut directly was not something she had ever expected to happen to her. Yet here she was.
This isn’t my fault!
The tears rolled down her cheeks at the unfairness of it all as her mind swirled at what had just happened. She had received an invitation to attend Lady Caroline York’s engagement party weeks ago and had been so excited. She and Caroline had come out together the previous year and became quite close. Georgiana could even have ventured to call them friends.
Now, she had not only been banned from the party, but Caroline would not even meet her eyes when Georgiana had pleaded to see her. All because of that…rake, Clarendon Wakefield, Viscount Ashness.
Why won’t anybody listen to me? She thought with despair as hot tears began to sting her cheeks.
It had begun three weeks ago when she attended her cousin’s coming out ball. It was a pleasure to endow Lady Susan Allen with the benefit of her experience as a debutante. She smiled indulgently as her cousin danced with everyone who asked, her dance card just as full. She was still in quite some demand herself, knowing that it was partly because her father was a duke, but also as she was quite confident in her looks and demeanor. The three proposals she had already received also served to boost her confidence.
Foolishly, in hindsight, she had turned them all down – holding out for something intangible she could not even name. And now, because of Viscount Ashness, she was disgraced.
He had filled her dance card twice, and even when they were not dancing together, his eyes were upon her, intent and unwavering. She was flattered by his attention, her heart fluttering with excitement as the other ladies favored her with envious glances and jealous looks. Her cheeks were becomingly flushed as he appeared at supper time to escort her to the dining room.
He sat opposite her, paying proper attention to the Dowager Duchess Lakenfield, who sat on his right, and another debutante whose name Georgiana wasn’t sure of, that sat on his left.
Nevertheless, he continued to cast hot glances at her throughout the meal. It was heady stuff, and she was ready to admit that he’d swept her off her feet without so much as a word.
When he came up to her after dinner, asking if she cared to join him in the card room for a game of whist, she had only hesitated a moment. After all, it might be populated by the chaperones and other older people, but whist was still a perfectly acceptable way to spend the evening.
She allowed him to lead her down the hall, a smile playing on her lips. They passed the portrait gallery, and the viscount stopped.
“I’m always curious about how well portraits stand up to their original subjects. Care to join me on my sojourn?” he asked with a smile as he gestured towards the door.
Georgiana giggled, knowing that what he suggested was not entirely within the bounds of propriety. But it was innocent fun, at least as far as she could tell. So why not?
She nodded, and he smiled so wide that her heart leaped into her throat. Holding his hand out, he bowed chivalrously and covered her hand with his when she looped it through his arm. They walked arm in arm into the portrait gallery. The place was dark; clearly, the hosts had not expected anyone to go in there.
“Oh, just a minute.” Lord Ashness stepped towards the windows and, flinging open the curtains, allowed the full moon to shine brightly into the room. “Ah, that’s better.”
He turned to Georgiana with a smile, and she smiled tentatively back, although she began to worry about them being there, in the dark, alone.
“Uh, perhaps we should return to-”
“No, no, we haven’t even seen the portraits yet,” he protested, interrupting her. Taking her hand, he propelled her forward towards the paintings. Georgiana let him drag her reluctantly along… his hand on the small of her back. She stiffened, wanting to move away but not quite sure how to do that.
He came to a stop in front of a portrait of Lady Susan’s grandmother and stared up at it.
“The resemblance is uncanny; don’t you think?”
“Resemblance?” she asked nervously, most of her attention on the hand slowly creeping up her back.
“Yes, between Lady Susan and her grandmother.”
“Uh, yes, yes. She does take after Lady Diana.” Georgiana giggled nervously and tried to move away from him.
His hand tightened on her arm, and he pulled her close, turning to face her. “I must confess that I have been imagining being alone with you all evening.” He reached out and ran a hand along her collar bone, “So beautiful…” he murmured, “your creamy skin shines in the moonlight, and those eyes of yours…mmm. I could drown in them. I’ve been watching them all night, and they seem to change with the lighting and your mood. Sometimes they’re closer to azure blue … other times, they flicker so close to black. But now, when you’re wide-eyed and afraid, they are as bright as silver.”
Georgiana gasped as he held her even closer to him, and when Lord Galford and His Grace, the Duke of York – her uncle - stumbled into the room accompanied by two servants, he dared to bend and kiss her. The two men stopped short when they caught sight of Georgiana and Clarendon in their guilty embrace by the painting of His Grace’s mother.
Georgiana pulled away and opened her mouth to say…something, anything, she had no idea what and jumped when the viscount whipped around, ran to the large bay windows, opened one, and slipped through it, disappearing into the night. She gawped, unable to comprehend what had happened.
“Lady Georgiana Bellingwick?” Lord Galford shouted rather sternly.
Georgiana simply stood there, breathing rapidly, her chest rising and falling as her vision blurred, she saw spots in front of her eyes, and she prayed with every fiber of her being that she would faint.
Her uncle stepped forward, and she caught a glimpse of the disappointment in his eyes before everything went black.
When she woke, she was in bed, and her mother was sitting beside her. She shot up to a sitting position. “Mama?” she whispered as the events of the night came flooding back.
“Don’t speak,” her mother replied, not looking at her. “Just…don't.”
Georgiana lay there, her bottom lip trembling…trying to find the words to defend herself.
“You played right into his hands.” Her mother’s voice was harsh and startled her.
“W-who?”
“Lord Ashness. He’s been looking for revenge on your father for buying the Ashness estate. As if your father was responsible for his father’s debts. It’s ridiculous.”
“W-what?” Georgiana’s heart sank.
At last, her mother looked her in the eye. “He’s ruined you. Your reputation is soiled. Lord Galford saw you…even the servants, and you know how they talk,” she shook her head, “It’s bad, Georgie.”
She put her hand on her heart as if that would slow down it's pounding. “What will we do?” she whispered.
Her mother sighed. “We shall go on as usual and hope that this all blows over. You will act no differently. Just carry on as you have been.”
“Yes, mama.”
Georgina had no idea what the gossips were saying, but she was willing to wager that she was the subject. Word seemed to spread quickly, and now she was officially ostracized – no more invitations to even
ts and probably no more proposals. She was doomed to die an old maid.
For a moment, she wanted to grab her shawl, run off, and disappear. If she had any clue where she could go, she would have been on her way by now. It was hopeless, and she fell face-first onto the bed and bawled herself to sleep.
* * *
Three weeks later, her mother walked into her room with the first smile Georgiana had seen since this farce began. The girl had confined herself to her room, dressed for mourning.
“I have some good news,” her mother came to sit beside her on the window seat.
“Yes, mother?” Georgiana could barely lookup.
“We have received an offer for your hand.” Georgiana could hear the excitement in her mother’s voice, which contrasted sharply with the sinking feeling in her belly. How desperate must this person be to offer her marriage?
“W-who is it?”
Georgiana was ready to bet it was some old man, unable to father heirs of his own and hoping that Georgiana was with child.
“He’s a Scottish lord. His name is lord Lachie Alasdair Buchanan, and he is the son of an old acquaintance of your father - they fought in the wars together – lord Barclay Alasdair Buchanan. I am acquainted with his wife; she comes down for the season. They are a good family.”
“I-I see. And he’s…uh, he’s a young man?”
“Yes, dear. He’s four and twenty as I understand it.”
“A-and he kn-nows about…?”
Her mother sighed. “Yes, he knows. There is no way we could have hidden it from him. I am sorry, Georgie.”
Georgiana shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I did this to myself. If he is willing to…”
“Yes, he is.”
Georgiana closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying her best not to ask the question, but it came out anyway. “Why?”
“Well, …let’s just say that marrying the daughter of a duke is not a feat that many Scotsmen can accomplish with ease.”
“Ah, so he is after my bloodline.”
Her mother shrugged. “I suppose he is.”
“And probably my dowry.”
“That certainly helps.”
Georgiana sighed. “And you want this? You want me to go ahead with this marriage?”
Her mother looked away, covering her mouth with her hand. There was a pregnant pause. “I-” she heard the click in her mother’s voice, loud and clear, and watched the duchess blink rapidly, her eyes reddening. “I wanted you to…marry whomever you pleased.” She choked, looking away. Hot tears poured down Georgiana’s face, and she didn’t know if she was crying, for her mother or herself. “But that is not to be. So at least this is a gentleman, a young man from a good family. We have heard no disturbing news of him. If you try, I think you could be happy with him.”
Georgiana nodded. “Yes, I suppose I could.”
“So, you will do this?”
Georgiana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing full well that there was only one answer to that question. “Of course, mother.”
* * *
Getting engaged to a Scotsman was not the complete saving grace she had hoped it would be. Many still looked askance at her, but she was at least able to re-enter society. Plans for the wedding went full speed ahead.
“Will I be able to meet him before the big day?” Georgiana wanted to know.
“Well, his mother’s letters state that he is preparing to come, but he has to take care of the new harvest first. So at least we know that he works hard. Is that not good?”
Georgiana nodded reluctantly. “I suppose so…” she bit her lip worriedly. “Mother, I know nothing about living on a farm. Does he know that?”
The duchess smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure he does not expect you to work on the farm. He knows you’re a lady.” Her mother reached out and squeezed Georgiana’s hand, but somehow, she wasn’t comforted. “It’ll be alright.”
She did not know if her mother was trying to reassure Georgiana or herself.
* * *
She was walking to get some ice from the Pot and Pineapple with her abigail, Misty. It was a lonely life with no one of her caliber to speak to. Misty loved to chatter, and she would go on and on if Georgiana let her, but it gave her a headache, and she’d specifically asked her to keep the chatter to a minimum, so she could think.
She was about to get married to a man she did not know and had never met. She knew nothing about him: how he looked, his likes or dislikes, whether he had any disfiguring features, or was cruel and violent. Yet she was expected to join her life to his and live with him in the most intimate manner. Her hands had barely stopped shaking since she’d become engaged.
Her mother said that her new family had sent a family heirloom, an emerald ring for her to wear. The ring arrived with no note or letter from her betrothed. It seemed strange to her that he would not send so much as an introductory letter. She asked her mother if she could write to him, but the duchess was not sure it was a good idea and might appear too eager.
Georgiana could not believe what her life had become.
“Georgie!” she turned around to see Lady Susan gazing awkwardly at her from inside the drapes. Georgiana was just about to enter the shop in search of bolts of fabric for her trousseau and stopped, stiffening slightly. “Lady Susan. What a surprise.”
Her cousin had the grace to blush. “I…admit, it’s a bit early for shopping, but I wanted to find something for your wedding.”
“Is that so? I wasn’t aware that you had replied.”
“My mother did. We are all terribly excited for you.”
Georgiana inclined her head. “Oh, you are?”
“Y-yes.” Susan grasped her friend's hand. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I feel a little guilty because it all happened at my party. You must know that I would not have turned my back on you if I had a choice.”
Her eyes were wide and pleading, blinking up at Georgiana as if she might cry if her friend did not forgive her.
“It’s quite alright, Susan. I understand.”
“You do?”
Georgiana nodded, summoning the parody of a smile from somewhere to reassure Susan that she was serious. She could well understand the pressure to conform to whatever society dictated. She didn’t blame her poor cousin, who had just come out, for turning her back like the rest of the town, and appreciated the fact that Susan took the time to apologize.
She reached out and squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Thank you, Susan. Now I will let you get back to your shopping. Which seamstress are you using?”
“Mrs. Charleston, of course. You know she makes all my gowns. Will she make your trousseau as well?”
Georgiana inclined her head. “I suppose so. I thought to give Misty here some practice as well.”
Susan’s brow furrowed. “Oh? Why is that?”
“Well, I do expect that I shall be grateful that my abigail is an accomplished seamstress, seeing as I shall be moving soon to Scotland.”
Chapter Three
Ethan decided that it was time to leave. He was tired of the constant anger and pain he lived with from seeing his father and half-brother almost daily. His half-brother -embarrassed by the humiliation at his father’s hands, and knowing that all the servants and therefore all the crofters knew about it – took out his frustration on Ethan. Lachie lurked by the well when Ethan went to collect water with his friends and gave Ethan a beating almost every day. Just yesterday, his half-brother poked a hole in Ethan’s only bucket by driving his foot through it, and last week, he had torn Ethan’s threadbare coat by pulling on it.
Ethan was a braw fighter, but he was constantly outnumbered.
“What am I still daeing here?” he asked himself as he made some oatmeal porridge for breakfast. “Ah have nothing to stay for.”
He sighed, knowing that it was time. Having nothing much to pack and no one to stay for, he gathered what food he could manage to carry with him, stuffed his extra
shirt and a long knife into a small bag, and set out on the road to Edinburgh.
He made sure to say goodbye to Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Maisie and thank them for their care of him since his mother’s death. He walked once again past Abby’s hut, which she shared with her husband and Ethan’s nephew. She had married an old blacksmith who had sold his smithy and come to Daltern village to retire. Ethan had heard he treated her kindly and took the boy in as his own. It was both a relief and a pain to him to know that she had found a home.
