Much in a woman’s world was expected, but much more was not. For example, it was not expected that one complain about those things that were expected. She was to follow her mother’s wishes. When her mother decided that, for appearances, she needed her daughter’s company in the drawing room, Georgiana should not protest. So her objection had taken the form of silence.
Georgiana refused to talk to her mother politely about the weather, which was expected. Instead, Georgiana asked her what had brought on the sudden need of her company. This was unexpected. So finally, they had fallen into a silence, her mother retreating to write letters and Georgiana content to stab at a piece of cloth with a needle.
She knew that part of the reason she was brought downstairs was that with her father’s death, her mother was forced into mourning, which meant no visitors would call, and her mother would not go forth. She had become trapped in the house just like Georgiana.
Her mother had no one to converse with but the servants, and any exchange beyond giving orders was not allowed in a world like hers where the classes were separated. The other reason her mother had forced this new arrangement was because of Charles. It was Charles’s insistence that she should not be hidden away like a shameful secret that Georgiana had to thank for this new torture. This made her stab her embroidery all the harder.
Charles probably saw it as a kindness. He never had to sit through an afternoon sewing and making idle small talk about the weather. He had the luxury of going out to ride, or stroll along the streets. Being born a woman was a curse. Day in and day out for a week now, they had whiled away the hours in the infernal drawing room. But Georgiana could sense from her mother’s self-satisfied smile that she had some new and special torture prepared for this day.
“I have written to Sir Edward,” her mother said.
“I can’t imagine why.”
“He has called upon you twice since your father died, and you have refused to see him.”
“I have been too distraught to entertain any visitors.”
“You hated your father.”
“With good reason, as you well know.”
“You are insolent and I will not have you continue to malign his good name after his death. It is more than my spirit can endure.”
“Your spirit, my dear mother, has long been absent and I see no advantage to restoring it now.”
“There is a devil in you and long have I known it. I looked on you on the day of your birth and it was clear to me that you were an unnatural child.”
“Why is that, dear Mother, pray tell? What is it about me that so disturbs you?”
“I will not be spoken to in such a manner in my own home.”
“It is no longer your home, Mother, or have you forgotten that Charles is now the master here?”
“You are evil and it is for Charles that I must rid this house of your presence. I will not have you taint his mind as you for so long tried to turn me against my own husband.”
Georgiana laid her sewing in her lap and studied her mother from across the room. She sat rigid at the desk, her eyes ablaze with such anger and open hatred that Georgiana wished she could leave the room. But it had never been her custom to avoid a confrontation, and so she met her mother’s gaze with her own.
“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” she said. “My dear Papa was only following your wishes in this match with Sir Edward Fairchild. Pray tell, since he never did anything for you, why would he do this one thing? What secret of his did you discover to hold over him?”
“Your ideas give away your evil nature. I cannot allow you to remain in this house indefinitely for fear of the hold you will have over Charles. I will not allow it. I now must think of my son. It is my duty.”
Georgiana laughed, the sound loud in the drawing room, and her mother stood to walk over to the window as if to get away from her.
“Forgive me, Mother, only it is such cruel irony that you seek to protect the one child when the other had for so long needed the very same sentiment and you denied it.”
Her mother remained silent, refusing to be drawn in.
Georgiana sighed. “So the engagement is to remain. I am to be married off. I suppose that you have written to Lord Fairchild with the assurance that the banns may be read despite the fact that I am in mourning for dear Papa. Such impropriety, Mother! Think of what society will say to such unconventional behavior.”
“You care nothing for society,” her mother snapped, pacing in front of the window.
“True, and you should have remembered that, for I shall refuse to marry him.”
Her mother stopped pacing, and moved to stand in front of her daughter. “You will, or I will expose you for the whore that you are.”
Georgiana smiled while inside she could feel herself shattering into a thousand pieces. “You wouldn’t. The shame would destroy your standing in society. It would be the end of your reputation as well, not just mine.”
Her mother stood her ground, which frightened Georgiana more than anything did. “I am thinking, Georgiana, of neither my reputation nor yours, but the girls. No one will believe your outrageous lies about your own father, but the girls would be branded your bastards and they will be outcasts for the rest of their lives. Is that what you wish for your precious darlings?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I have for too long lived with the lie that I was the mother of your sin. I did it only because your father demanded it. He is dead now, and I want you gone from this house for I will not risk exposing this family’s name to more unholy shame. You will marry Sir Edward or I will destroy your children’s lives by exposing them for the bastards they are. I stand firm on this.”
Georgiana felt the panic growing inside her again. Her mother meant it.
The door to the drawing room opened, and Charles entered. “There you are.”
He crossed the room and kissed his mother on the cheek, breaking the spell.
“Charles,” she said sweetly, moving to sit down on the settee. “You are returned early from your meeting with the lawyers.”
Charles sat down next to Georgiana and smiled. “I wished to have tea with my dear mama and sister.”
He reached for Georgiana’s hand “Why you are shaking, Georgiana?” he asked, concerned. “What is the matter?”
She avoided her mother’s glance and smiled at Charles. “I am a trifle cold, I confess, nothing more.”
“I shall ring for some tea,” her mother smiled. “That should warm you, my dear.”
“Good, and after I will take you for a ride in my curricle for it is a glorious warm day outside and you look pale. I think some air would do you good.”
“Georgiana is not used to such activity.”
“What do you say, Georgiana? Do you feel well enough for a ride through St. James?”
She nodded. “I would like that very much.”
“Then it is settled. Ring for tea, Mama.”
Lady Wyndham stood and did as she was told before returning to the settee. Georgiana knew what was coming next, and she had to play her part well. She wanted desperately to escape the trap she could feel closing in around her, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She needed more time to find a means of escape, but her mother would also play her cards expertly.
“We are to congratulate Georgiana, Charles,” her mother said.
“Oh, how so?”
“She has accepted Sir Edward Fairchild. They are to be married forthwith.”
The astonishment on Charles’s face was comical, but the last thing Georgiana felt like doing was laughing. She was closer to panic. She glanced away briefly, taking a deep breath in order to once again play her part.
“Married!” Charles cried. “But how did this come about?”
She smiled at him and turned to her mother. “Why don’t you tell him, Mother?”
“It is quite simple, really. As you know, Sir Edward Fairchild has long been acquainted with your father, and before his death
it was so arranged.”
“But I thought you refused him,” Charles said to Georgiana and stood up to walk across the room.
“Naturally she was apprehensive to leave the only home she has ever known,” Lady Wyndham replied. “With time she has reconsidered and found it to her advantage.”
“Is this true?” he asked, turning to her.
She could not find her own voice, not ready to confirm by her own word her life sentence. Her mother spoke instead.
“We can hardly expect Sir Edward to wait until the appropriate time to be recognized as Georgiana’s fiancé. He is eager to be wed and she is fortunate to have such an offer made. I would be remiss in my duty to her to let such a good match go without the attention it deserves for she is not likely to receive any other offers in her situation.”
Charles sat down next to her again and took her hand in his. “Georgiana, what do you say to this affair? Do you wish to be married to this Fairchild fellow?”
She did her best imitation of a credible smile. She could refuse and hope her mother’s words were only that, but she couldn’t be sure. Her mother’s hatred was powerful enough to make even her reckless.
Georgiana could feel her mother’s eyes on her and said, “I am quite fortunate, Charles, that he wishes to marry me.”
“But do you wish to marry him?”
“Yes,” she said simply, keeping her eyes on him.
He squeezed her hand as if in silent communication but she didn’t know how to respond. The tea tray arrived to give her a few minutes to pull her tattered strength together. Her mother poured the tea and Georgiana was thankful that her hands did not shake when she took a cup. Her years of practice keeping her true feelings hidden were serving her well now.
“But do you love this Fairchild?” Charles asked, watching her over the rim of his cup as he sipped.
“I have yet to meet him.”
Charles choked on his tea and Lady Wyndham rose to take his cup from him as he coughed. She placed it on the table in front of him as he recovered himself.
“Charles, love does not enter into the contract,” Lady Wyndham said. “Society does not dictate it. All that matters is they have both agreed to the match.”
Fully recovered, Charles frowned at her. “Perhaps not, but society does dictate that he should formally propose so she can accept him. Society also dictates that the head of the family should approve the match, and as the head of this family now, I have not been approached by Lord Fairchild as society dictates, good madam.”
Georgiana couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips, and she didn’t care that her mother witnessed it. Charles paced the room while her mother sat quietly sipping her tea.
“How much are you to be sold for then?” he asked, stopping in front of Georgiana.
She flinched but could not argue the point, and instead she said, “I don’t know.”
He turned to look at his mother who swallowed her last sip with some difficulty before answering. “Must you be so vulgar, Charles?”
“It’s the truth,” he insisted. “How much?”
“The dowry is ten thousand pounds a year and your father had agreed to pay Sir Edward’s debts.”
“Dear Lord, Georgiana, you are worth a small kingdom,” Charles muttered and sat down again next to her. He picked up his tea and drank it slowly, deep in thought.
Georgiana wondered how he would respond, hoping perhaps he would refuse the match.
“If you so wish it, I will arrange to meet with Lord Fairchild. Do you wish it?”
He would not refuse it if he thought she wanted it. She knew this and with it her hopes sank. She hesitated a moment because she knew with her next words the trap would be firmly sprung and she would be caught forever in it. She glanced at her mother before replying to see the anger burning in her eyes.
“I do,” she said softly.
He seemed disappointed in her words, turning away from her.
“I will arrange it,” he said. “Now, I shall ready the curricle. I think we both need the fresh air.”
She watched him leave the room, wanting to call him back, but instead, she turned to look at her mother whose satisfaction appeared to be surpassed only by her smile. “Now that wasn’t so hard after all, was it, dear?”
***
The curricle moved quickly down St James Street as Charles handled his team with ease through the busy street. He was an excellent whip and his high stepping horses were well matched, their hooves echoing on the cobbled street. Glossy black hindquarters glistened in the sunshine and Georgiana yearned suddenly to go riding across the countryside on a powerful horse again.
They turned several fashionable heads as they passed, the ladies eyeing both occupants. She watched with interest since she had not been outside in the daylight in a long time. Her night excursions never took her through the middle of the most fashionable part of London where society came to stroll in the sunshine. Matrons escorted their fine young charges along the walk. Ladies wore the most beautifully colored dresses and bonnets, and she envied them their displays.
Gentlemen strolled along behind them or in groups with their top hats perfectly slanted and their cravats tied to impress. She watched a dandy in his bright yellow and purple colors, his walking stick swinging at his side. He had to turn his whole body in their direction, as his high stiff collar did not allow him to move his head. He watched them pass, catching her eye. He bowed in her direction, and she wondered who he was.
She turned to look at Charles, who concentrated on the reins and guided the high stepping blacks through the traffic. He had been quiet throughout the journey, and she allowed him to bide his time. Once they were in the park, he slowed the pace of the horses.
“I don’t understand you anymore, Georgiana,” he said finally. “Why would you wish to be married to this man you don’t even know?”
“It is a good match,” she said and turned to look at the passersby. The soldiers in their red uniforms looked quite handsome on horseback, or strolling through the park escorting young ladies in their finery. There seemed to be so many of them; she wondered who was left on the Continent to fight the war.
“When did you start caring about a good match?” he asked, his voice angry. “You used to defy anything society dictated. You had a passion for life that equaled none I have ever known. Nothing was impossible for you, and you were afraid of nothing. What happened to you to so change your very being?”
“I grew up, I suppose,” she smiled, her lips pressed together tightly to keep them from quivering. “It happens to the best of us.”
He drove through Hyde Park and continued into the less busy Kensington Gardens and stopped the curricle beside a stand of silver birch trees. With the reins securely tied, he put the whip aside and turned to her. She looked out toward the lake, watching the ducks, keen to keep her face turned away from her brother.
“Look at me, Georgiana,” he demanded.
She turned to him and he removed her bonnet, undoing the bow under her chin.
“Mama isn’t here now. Tell me what this is all about. I refuse to accept that you are so changed.”
He was no fool, this little brother of hers, and it only made her part so much harder to play. She longed to tell him the truth but knew she dared not.
“Charles, who would marry me?” she asked. “Look at me. I am a cripple and already over twenty. I should have been married years ago. It is a wonder that Sir Edward would even consider this match.”
“What about Nicholas?”
“Nicholas?”
“Yes, Nicholas. He has loved you since we were children and his adoration has remained constant all these years. He has returned for you. I am sure of it.”
“He has confided this to you?”
“Only yesterday.”
“Oh, Charles,” she sighed. “Everything has changed. I most of all. We are no longer children who play at children’s games. I am certain that any feelings Nicholas had for me were t
hose of a child and have long been replaced by friendship and nothing more. We cannot hold him to it out of pity for my changed circumstances. It would be a great injustice you would do your friend to expect that he should marry me. If you care for Nicholas, you must know that. Sir Edward already has an heir, I am told. It is therefore a perfect match, you see.”
“You are the one who is mistaken. Nicholas loves you and you will break his heart to be sure. He is a good man. No, he is the best of men. I have never known a more loyal and honorable person in my life, one with such strength of character and a heart so generous and filled with only goodness. You will damage him greatly if you do this. He has never wavered in his love for you, Georgiana, but it is you who have refused to take him in earnest.”
“That is not fair, Charles, for I have seen him but twice since your return. Before that, we were children and I responded to him as a child would. Yet, you malign me for lack of feeling toward him when I do not even know him. You were both gone, Charles, for a long time. He cannot love me for he does not know me. He knew the child I was, and I am not that anymore. You are being unjust in your judgment of me.”
“Perhaps you are right, but then let us put off this match for now and allow some time. I feel that you will come to see Nicholas as I do.”
“You have a great respect for him,” she said.
“Yes, I owe much to him that I will never be able to repay.”
“Then know this to be the truth, Charles. I love Nicholas like a brother, nothing more. He is indeed the best of men, and were Nicholas to marry me it would indeed be a great injustice to him. Were you to let him marry me, you would destroy his life.”
“Why do you say such a horrendous thing?”
“Because it is the truth, look at me. I am a cripple and can bear him no children. You yourself said I am much changed.”
“You will find yourself again and he cares nothing for your changed circumstances.”
Charles was stubborn; she should have remembered that from their childhood.
Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 9
