A Country Masquerade

by Margaret McGaffey Fisk

  Barbara glanced around to realize her baggage had already been placed in the wagon as well. Only she remained to be settled.

  She moved to her uncle and threw her arms around him. “Thank you for taking me into your home, Uncle. I shall treasure this time more than you know.”

  He stepped back to take a look at her in silence. “You are much changed from the spoiled girl who arrived on my doorstep.” He rubbed a thumb across her cheek. “I hope some of the change is to your betterment.”

  Her lips curved in a slight smile, the statement too complex to answer.

  He only nodded, reading what he’d been looking for in her gaze. “See to it my youngest gets some culturing before she does something she’ll regret, will you?”

  Barbara glanced to where Georgiana scowled at her. “I will try. I do appreciate the company.” She spoke not to her uncle but to her cousin.

  The other girls rushed forward to hug her and say their goodbyes to Barbara and Sarah both. New tears sprouted in Barbara’s eyes, but she blinked them away as her uncle lifted first Sarah then her into the wagon.

  The driver called to his horses as soon as they were settled, and they started out, leaving behind a place of much happiness, both because of Aubrey and because she’d enjoyed the company of her cousins and even the tasks she’d had to perform.

  No words came to her as she joined the other two in watching the farm retreat into the distance. Her pain grew no less for she carried it firmly rooted in her heart.

  THE FARM WAGON TOOK THEM to London at a slow and plodding pace. Sarah attempted conversation a couple of times, but Barbara could not find the energy to respond, nor did Georgiana. Whatever sorrows plagued her youngest cousin, the end to an inappropriate dalliance could hardly weigh against almost killing the love of her life after betraying his trust in a misguided attempt to teach a lesson she had yet to learn.

  “We’ll soon reach the town house. At the very least, we need to figure out what to tell your parents,” her friend said after a long silence.

  Shaking off a fraction of her melancholy, Barbara glanced up to see Sarah had spoken only the truth. A sigh slipped from her.

  “We shall tell them nothing for there is nothing to tell,” she said in a tone that allowed for no protest even had there been time to make one.

  “Here we are, Barbara,” the driver said, pulling the horses up to her very doorstep.

  The simple address seemed out of place here where it had felt welcome at her uncle’s farm. Still, she held up a hand to prevent Sarah from taking the man to task.

  “Thank you for driving us, Thomas. There’s a stable four streets over where you can rest the horses, and I’m sure our cook can set something out for you to eat once you’ve seen to them.”

  Thomas laughed. “No fancy stables will suit for these. The master’s sent me up to the city for supplies before, and he gave me what I need to secure lodging for the night. No need to worry about me.”

  The butler came down the steps then, his scowl warning of the charge he’d been about to lay.

  “Simmons,” Barbara called before he could begin. “Can you help Thomas get us down from here?”

  The butler squinted up at her, his scowl softening to a look of horror, if she could call that softening. “Lady Barbara?”

  She nodded. “We’re back from the country. There are no steps to descend, and there’s our trunks to be seen to before Thomas can take his wagon to more welcoming roadways.”

  “Certainly, mistress. Let me call the men.”

  In a surprisingly short time, most likely to remove the wagon from its position as an eyesore, Mr. Simmons marshaled the footmen and other servants to get their baggage. He caught Barbara lightly around the waist and lifted her down with little straining. Sarah and Georgiana had to wait on Thomas as the butler ushered Barbara up the steps and most likely to her father’s study.

  “Wait. Georgiana must come with me. She’s my cousin.”

  He spun to stare at the only unknown female, his disgusted look a clear sign he’d thought her no more than a farm girl. But then, Georgiana wore a better dress than Barbara, if in a country style, and at least her cousin did not bear the signs of a long journey afoot as Barbara still did.

  “Well? You heard Lady Barbara,” Mr. Simmons snapped at one of the footmen. “Get the lady down. She can’t be happy stuck in such a…rural…equipage.”

  Barbara let the title slip, a quirk of humor breaking through her sadness for a moment.

  Georgiana had become a lady through association much as Barbara had taken on the guise of a country girl. And as Barbara’s guest, she deserved the same consideration, her absence of noble blood of little consequence.

  “Barbara? Is that you?”

  At first, the sound of her name didn’t provide any warning as she’d grown used to the familiarity, but then she recognized the voice though the tones were strained.

  She climbed the steps once again, this time to hug her mother.

  Lady Whitfeld let the hug stand for barely a moment before she held Barbara at arm’s length, her brow furrowed. “We weren’t expecting you back so soon. Had we but known, we’d have sent a proper carriage.”

  From the scowl her mother directed at the wagon, Barbara guessed it had taken the blow for her ragged appearance. “It was time to come home,” she said simply.

  Lady Whitfeld’s gaze snapped to Barbara, and she stared at her daughter as though she hardly knew her.

  Barbara could not tell what had attracted that particular brand of attention so stood still beneath it.

  “You are different somehow,” her mother said, her eyes narrowed. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you are not the frivolous girl we sent forth.”

  Her tone shifted from confusion to satisfaction as she stated the transformation.

  Barbara shrugged. “It’s the clothing I suspect.”

  “No, it’s more than that.”

  Georgiana could not have chosen a better moment to step up beside them in Barbara’s opinion.

  She had no intention of conveying the sordid details of her failure while at her uncle’s farm. They had no need to know. It was enough she’d learned from the experience and would temper her behavior going forward.

  Lady Whitfeld raised both eyebrows as she surveyed the intruder on their conversation. “And who is this then?”

  Barbara put an arm around Georgiana’s shoulders, grateful for the easy camaraderie she’d shared with her cousins. “This is your youngest niece, Mother. Georgiana.”

  “Little Georgie? Why it can’t be. You’re a woman grown now, and quite a beauty at that.”

  The distraction served its purpose as her mother tugged both girls up the stairs and into the town house, peppering Georgiana with questions about her father, her sisters, the farm, and any number of other things she could as easily have asked Barbara.

  In the chaos of moving their things inside and arranging a room for their unexpected guest, the reason for their abrupt return, and for Georgiana’s inclusion, seemed forgotten much to Barbara’s relief.

  She’d hoped coming home would ease the black emptiness where her heart had been, but the familiar walls only made the distance from Aubrey seem greater. It felt as though she’d slipped back into a time before she’d truly known him, returning to when she’d judged him on words overheard, her opinions no better than his for judging her on the experience with others in that season.

  Her spoon drew patterns in the cream of her soup, the effort to consume it too great.

  “So, Barbara, does that sound like a plan? Georgie needs a proper introduction before she can be included in anything regarding the season, but a quiet poetry reading would be just the thing to make others aware of her presence. She can borrow from your wardrobe.” Lady Whitfeld paused. “Unless they are all in the same state as the rag you arrived in. I had it burned.”

  That brought Barbara’s head up. “Mother, it was Charlotte’s dress. I was planning to clean and rep
air it.”

  “All by yourself, I suppose. Of course my brother had you working like a maid. I should have expected as much.” She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her expression. “Perhaps I did. You needed some reminding of the advantages you hold. But you’re in London now. You’ll be soaking your hands in cream before bed every night until they regain their beauty. You, too, Georgie. We can’t have you showing at any less than your best.”

  Georgiana blushed and ducked her head, but she was wise enough to recognize a command when she heard one.

  Barbara let her mother’s strategies wash over her. They no more inspired a wish to engage than the soup had inspired her appetite. Though she planned to be the dutiful daughter, beyond that she could not promise while enthusiasm seemed too much of an effort.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  They’re all so lovely.” Georgiana stroked a hand down the third dress she’d pulled from Barbara’s cabinet. “You really don’t mind sharing? I know your mother said so, but these are your coming out dresses. It’s just there’s no time before the poetry reading Lady— Aunt Whitfeld arranged for us.”

  Barbara waved her permission, not even finding the heart to smile at how Georgiana continued to struggle with her mother’s name. “Take whatever you need. I doubt I’ll have much use for them.” She turned back to the paper on her desk, though even a discussion of the latest London politics couldn’t hold her attention for long.

  Georgiana stopped her assessment to stare at Barbara, her intent look discomfiting. “For someone who was so eager to return, you don’t seem any happier for being home.”

  Barbara shrugged. “You are happy enough for the two of us. From your scowl on our journey, I expected little joy. Yet not even a day later, and here you are admiring my dresses.”

  “And such wonderful dresses they are,” Georgiana said, pressing a lovely cream satin to her as she spun in a circle. “Why shouldn’t I make the most of it? I might not have had a choice in coming, but that’s no reason to waste the opportunity. Besides, my Freddie will still be there when I return.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought of her beau, something likely to upset both her father and Charlotte were they able to see.

  “I doubt your family, or my mother for that matter, plan to have you return home to your farmhand. I’m sure they’re hoping a young viscount or baron will turn your head until this Freddie is forgotten.”

  Georgiana laughed at some private joke, full of the supreme confidence of young love, then shook her head at Barbara’s statement, her lips curling into a broad grin.

  A flash of jealousy went through Barbara. Had she ever felt such simple knowledge about anyone? It seemed the moment she’d set her sights on finding love, every bit of confidence and surety were lost forever leaving her in a well of doubt and confusion.

  After putting the dress over a chair, her cousin came to kneel next to Barbara. “We weren’t talking about me,” Georgiana said. “Why do you think you’ll have no use for your dresses? There’s time yet even in this season.”

  Barbara gave up all pretense of reading the paper to twist and face her cousin. “I already have offers to spare. I’ll put their names on a letter, close my eyes, and jab with my finger. It doesn’t matter which of them I choose, and this way I can’t curse myself for choosing poorly if I don’t come to love the man as my mother did.”

  “You love him that much?”

  She rose to pace the room, fleeing from her cousin’s knowing gaze. “I just told you I’d choose at random. Does that sound like love?”

  “If it were my Freddie,” Georgiana said as though Barbara had not spoken, “I would fight for him. It wouldn’t matter what had happened. Besides, who is he to complain when he was right there in the fields with you? If propriety is at question, question his.”

  Barbara’s path took her to her cousin once more, and she put a hand on Georgiana’s shoulder in the hopes of ending this conversation. “If only it were that simple. No, what happened at the farm is over and done with. I must look to my future and you to yours.” She forced a laugh past stiff lips. “If you don’t have a dress chosen for the reading tonight, my mother will choose for you.”

  Georgiana watched Barbara for long enough she had to fight not to fidget under that penetrating gaze, but then her youngest cousin’s nature reasserted itself as she swept up and back to the cabinet. “Well, then, I better be at it. So many to choose from. Do you have any you’d prefer I let be?”

  “No. Choose whatever takes your fancy and get your enjoyment from them.” She would not let her cousin’s good spirits be dampened by her own. She’d proved to be a spoiled and foolish girl where she’d thought herself more than that, but at least she wasn’t so horrible a person as to wish her cousin miserable just because she was.

  Barbara moved to the window to stare blindly out on the busy street below. If she had only decided to prove to Aubrey that she could be steadfast rather than proving his falsehoods to be true, none of this would have happened. She had herself to blame for finding love and corrupting that very emotion.

  She wished Georgiana a better road, though with her uncle set against this unknown Freddie, she doubted they had much chance especially now with her mother involved. Perhaps someday Barbara and her cousin could comfort each other in their grand houses with their well-positioned husbands, each having once known the simple freedoms of a love that sprang to life in the wild countryside.

  Barbara turned to look on her cousin, grateful to find the other girl occupied in choosing which fancy, but not too fancy, dress to wear. She didn’t want Georgiana to see the pity in her eyes, for all she couldn’t help it being there. She might deserve the fate in store for her, but for Georgiana to lose faith in her love seemed needlessly cruel. Her cousin had done nothing to merit it beyond ignoring rules that held much less sway in the country, and less still for the daughter of a simple landholder regardless of what wealth he may have accrued.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Aubrey swam out of a laudanum-induced sleep to find a bitter taste on his tongue and the late afternoon sun filling his empty room. He had to find Barbara.

  He braced his arm and rolled to one side, the expected groan unvoiced as his head, though aching, no longer threatened to split open wide. Emboldened by this success, he kept going, this time sliding both legs off the mattress and slowly rising until he sat on the edge.

  A glance at the door, half-expecting to see the doctor charge in with another draught to force down his throat, revealed instead a small boy.

  “You’re awake,” the boy said with eyes widening. “I’ll tell the master.”

  Between one blink and the next, the boy disappeared like an apparition.

  “Just how much opium did that blasted man give me?”

  No one answered the question.

  The very absence of watchers made Aubrey wonder if he wandered in a dream once again, the best explanation for his rapid recovery.

  With one hand curled around the headboard, Aubrey heaved himself the rest of the way to his feet.

  He swayed, grateful for the sturdy wood support, but upright at last.

  A hand caught his other arm. “You’re looking none too steady for all you’re standing.”

  Aubrey turned to see Jasper had arrived, making the boy less ghost than guard.

  “I’m steady enough. I have to find Barbara.”

  Jasper shook his head. “You have to let her go until you’re fully healed. Another couple of days, and you’ll be strong enough to go after her.”

  Aubrey stared at his friend, the words matching a little too comfortably with the way he felt. “Days? How long has it been?”

  “Three if you count the first. The doctor thought you would refuse to rest otherwise, and his fears seem warranted,” Jasper added with a nod to Aubrey’s upright state.

  Aubrey put a hand to his swimming head only to stagger against Jasper when he lost the headboard’s support. “Three days is too long. I must find her.”

&
nbsp; Jasper raised an eyebrow as he steadied Aubrey. “She came to no harm in the forest. She’ll have come to none on her walk home.”

  Aubrey only stared at his friend.

  “I could send for the doctor.”

  “But you won’t. I’m well enough, and I dare not delay any longer. It’s not her physical state that concerns me now. Who knows what she will convince herself of in my absence?”

  Jasper looked back in silence for a long moment, but then shrugged. “No, I won’t. You supported me in the mess I made of my own courtship. What right have I to stand in the way of your own mistakes?”

  Aubrey gave a feeble chuckle at that, recognizing the warning even though his friend used more subtlety than Daphne. Besides, the mistakes had already been made, and he had to repair them before the damage grew worse.

  “Then show your willingness by bringing round a horse.”

  A bark of laughter escaped Jasper. “You can barely stand. There’s no way I’m trusting you on even the most gentle of my stable. I’ll call for the carriage, and you will drink the broth already on its way up. You’ll do nothing to ease her fears if you swoon at her feet. An extra minute or five will make little difference when she doesn’t know you’re coming, and the time to regain your strength, at least in some measure, is time well spent.”

  Though every bone in his body demanded he hurry, Aubrey could hear the truth of his friend’s statements. He made no protest as Jasper let go with a light push toward the bed, though this time only as a sitting surface.

  “And here’s your repast now.”

  The door swung open to reveal Willem carrying an aromatic tray.

  The man glanced from Aubrey to Jasper before stepping inside, warning enough that the choice of servant had little to do with tradition and more with fear of another outburst.

  “I’m done fighting, Willem, and Lord Pendleton has given in to my wishes already. There’s no need for you to be on guard.”