Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles)

by Louise Franklin

  Georgiana shrugged. “One makes sacrifices. I have, however, come to think kindly of the old woman. She sneaks the children treats, and allows them to hide in her large pots when they are in trouble.”

  They sat companionably for a while, and then were joined by the men who took a turn about the garden.

  Mr. Madden walked beside Edward as if claiming a right, and she had to smile at the thought.

  “He does so like to preen, doesn’t he,” Lady Cloverdale said. “Poor, wretched man. He plays cards not at all well. I can only wonder where a man such as he attains the sums to be able to join us at all. Why, were it not for Sir Edward’s friendship, Mr. Madden would not even be allowed in the door. Do you know he accused me of cheating last night after he lost the last of his money?”

  “I was not aware of it.”

  “Insufferable twit,” she hissed. “Were not I a lady and my husband dead drunk, he would have been faced with the end of a sword this morning. What he fails to realize is that he lacks good judgment.”

  “It’s most unpleasant to have such a connection, but like Cook and Mrs. Blackwell, it seems Mr. Madden is to remain a permanent fixture until such time that fate does me the favor of removing him from my sight permanently.”

  “I often find that the wheels of fate turn far too slowly, and one must take matters into one’s own hand.”

  “But how?”

  “My dear, I am told you have a mind most object to, which can only mean you have an unnatural intelligence befitting a well-born lady. Use it by all means to rid yourself of that lout. He may have the manners and dress of a gentleman, but his soul is quite black.”

  “I fear Edward’s wrath were I to dismiss him.”

  “Men, I find, are so good at putting out of mind that which is not in front of them. It is, I believe, a particular skill of theirs. Therefore, I can be of better help to you in this matter. I have a cousin, rather good-looking (Edward himself remarked upon it), whom I will put in Edward’s path. That alone will soon have him wondering why he even allowed Mr. Madden to occupy his bed for so long, and the unfortunate steward will soon be quite forgotten.”

  “Excellent,” Georgiana smiled. “But is this cousin of yours of the same persuasion as Edward?”

  “Not at all,” Lady Cloverdale laughed. “But Edward will endeavor to try to persuade him, and that, my dear, will take all his concentration with no room to spare on an old flame.”

  “Indeed?” Georgiana frowned, looking concerned.

  “My dear, no need for concern. If my cousin takes offense, as many better men before him have, to Edward’s advances, I assure you Edward is skilled with a sword, thanks to Angelo himself. He has never killed a man yet, and with honor restored, it is usually all forgotten again.”

  “I see,” she said. “Who is Angelo?”

  “You have not heard of him?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

  Georgiana shook her head and shrugged.

  “He is famous for his skill with a sword, and gives lessons to the rich.”

  “Tell me Lady Cloverdale, do all in society know?”

  “Of Edward’s preference for men?”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “Good Lord, no,” Lady Cloverdale laughed. “It would be a scandal even Edward’s title could not endure. His close friends here know and share his desires, except for my husband who has threatened Edward with a duel because Edward failed to persuade him. It is in jest, of course, for my husband and I are much in love. I am sure there are those in society who suspect, but one can never be sure and to slander a man’s honor is an outrageous offense that can cost one own standing in that very society. Of course, Edward’s reputation for never having lost a duel helps as well. No man wishes to risk that shame without a good reason.”

  They watched Edward and Mr. Madden part from the rest of the group and walk toward the woods.

  “I think I will take your advice, Lady Cloverdale,” she said softly.

  “Excellent decision, Lady Fairchild. I look forward to the results.”

  Georgiana glanced nervously toward the gates at the end of the drive. It was already a full day and night since the raid and still the magistrate had not come for her? The waiting was proving to be torture itself.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze as she tried to relax but found herself jumping nervously every time she saw Elton or Dixon approach. One day followed another, and no magistrate came to Ravenstone.

  In the meantime, she had been busy planning a dinner at Edward’s request. The Kingstons would be in attendance, and therefore Nicholas would also be present. The Jones family, the vicar and the Major had also been invited.

  Georgiana, with Lady Cloverdale’s help, stood in supervision of Cook to make sure the menu was well executed. Extra staff were hired from the village and Mrs. Bristow soon had everyone organized and running about to ensure the house was well prepared. The governess, Miss. Blackwell, was put in charge of making sure the boys were clean and presentable, as Georgiana had insisted they be present at the beginning of the evening.

  They were excited about the prospect until a bath was mentioned. Then, they disappeared for hours until finally found under the governess’s own bed. Rupert was trouble but he was smart. Georgiana smiled when she heard where they had been finally located. It was the last place anyone had even thought to look.

  Mud jumped into the big tub with the boys in front of the fire in her room. The boys laughed when he jumped out all wet and proceeded to dry himself with a good shake. She ordered the dog out so she could finish washing the boys, and then dried them and with Mrs. Blackwell’s help dressed them both in fine clothes. The clothes for James, which she borrowed from Rupert’s wardrobe, hung generously on him but would do for an evening.

  Edward had been against James’s presence in the drawing room, reminding Georgiana that the boy was no more than a servant. She had answered that insufferable fools ought not to be admitted to drawing rooms either, but then there would be scarcely any guests left for the dinner that night.

  Once the boys were scrubbed and polished, their hair combed flat against their skulls, Miss Blackwell’s duty really began, for she had to keep them that way until the guests arrived. With one by each hand, she exited Georgiana’s room and took them off to the library to read a book. The tub was emptied and refilled for Georgiana, and Harriet helped her into it.

  “It’s good that you are a tiny woman,” Harriet puffed after depositing her in the tub.

  Georgiana laughed. “So you do not wish me to eat too much of the feast tonight?”

  “No, miss,” she said, concerned. “My back fairly aches with the effort of your baths.”

  Georgiana felt a pang of guilt that she really could walk by herself, and poor Harriet really did not need to suffer from her deceit. Why was she so concerned with keeping up the pretense? Her father’s murder seemed a long time ago and no suspect had yet been found and none would, she knew. Constable Marsh was all but forgotten and no one would even suspect her did she walk.

  There was an advantage to keeping up the pretense. It was what she had said to Nicholas. She did despise all that was required of her in society, but couldn’t she simply refuse her subservient role and forge her own life outside of it? It would take so much more courage, she knew, than the pretense she now hid behind. It was easier to remain a cripple, far less frightening than to have to face the world every day. It was also a convenient cover. A cripple would never be suspected of smuggling.

  She had feared Edward at first and what would be required of her in his bed, especially after her father had so terribly used her. But he would not require her, for he had other tastes. He also had an heir, though he could have chosen to require a second. The custom in well-to-do families required at least two sons lest one fall to disease or accident.

  Would it be so bad to be in Edward’s bed? He was handsome enough. Despite his tastes, he had been able to father a child with his first wife, so why not her? Did she not want a
nother child from whom she would not have to be parted? She did not love Edward, but then love was not a requirement in these matters.

  Harriet scrubbed Georgiana’s hair as her mind drifted to Nicholas. She still dreamt of their night together, despite her best efforts to forget their passion and him altogether. She had not known such pleasure before, such hunger for someone’s touch.

  She closed her eyes and the images of his hands on her skin rose to her mind and she blushed, hoping Harriet would not see. He had not come to see her again. His reluctance angered her, but she did not know why it should. She had no claim on him. It had been her choice to give him up and he was gone, engaged to Caroline.

  Yet, every night she went to sleep, wondering if he would return that night to her bed, only to fall asleep cursing him, and cursing herself more. Were it not for her daily concerns of running an estate, a house, and seeing to the needs of her guests, she would have been driven mad by the thought of him. Thankfully, at night she had been able to leave her room and walk the woods until exhaustion claimed her.

  His visit at the party tonight was most welcome, she told herself. Seeing him next to Caroline was exactly what she required to put him forever out of her mind. She was looking forward to the evening.

  She was also a damnable liar, but the problem with lying to oneself was it rarely worked. Harriet washed Georgiana’s arms and legs with lavender soap and she closed her eyes and allowed the warm water to soothe her. After her bath, Georgiana washed her teeth with a clean cloth, scrubbing them with essence of pearl to ensure they sparkled. Then she chewed mint leaves to ensure good breath.

  Her dress for the evening was of a beautiful lavender silk, ornamented with lace, beads and tassels. The bottom of the petticoat was trimmed with point lace to correspond, and the headdress was of ostrich feathers. She touched her cheeks with some blush, and lightly used the dark pencil around her eyes, using her finger to remove the excess and to make sure the makeup blended well so no harsh lines were seen. She finished with a touch of rose to her lips, and tried not to read too much into her sudden need to make herself beautiful.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and she nodded at Harriet who went to open it. Edward entered, looking quite handsome in his full evening dress. His black velvet evening coat and trousers were an excellent contrast to his lavender waistcoat and its lavish embroidery. His white, starched collar provided a perfect backdrop for his intricate cravat from which a red ruby blinked.

  “You put me to shame,” Edward said.

  She smiled as he kissed her shoulder from behind. His white-gloved hands lingered on her shoulders as he rose to meet her eyes in the looking glass. She wondered at the intimacy, as he had never showed an interest before. Perhaps it was for Harriet’s benefit, though she thought the effort wasted as the staff, in all likelihood, were under no illusions as to the sleeping arrangements.

  “My dear Lady Fairchild, you look positively aglow this evening. Could it be you have been hiding this exquisite beauty from the world?”

  Georgiana studied his expression as best she could, and wondered was she not perhaps safer to remain paralyzed for a while yet. She was not an expert at flirting but she did know the look of desire, and Edward was not far from it. She could not credit it. Perhaps her short hair was confusing him, and she smiled to herself.

  “What is it, Edward?” she sighed.

  “You are too astute, my dear,” he said. “I suppose I have come to see how you feel about this damned Markham fellow. There was no way in avoiding an invitation to him but I would be much obliged to you if I did not have to fight another duel.”

  She smiled at him, but then looked away, fixing her earrings in the looking glass. It was considered better form, when lying, to avoid looking the person directly in the eye.

  “I assure you there will be no further duels for you to fight on my behalf.”

  “Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I have also been instructed to look under your bed, my dear, as Rupert has once again escaped his handler. Miss Blackwell is in quite a dither about the boy.”

  “He is not here for we have remained in this room a good long while,” she said as she fixed her black beaded earrings. She wore a matching, black beaded necklace of three strands around her neck. She pulled on her long kid gloves, careful not to rend their delicate seams. Edward sighed and moved to the window, glancing out into the garden, and then laughing.

  “Harriet, would you please inform Miss Blackwell that the young Mr. Fairchild is hiding in the oak tree. I can see the little man’s white legs, dangling from a branch.”

  “Oh, dear me, he will need another bath,” Harriet said.

  “Just do your best, Harriet, to wipe him down,” Georgiana frowned. “You’ll be busy enough as it is.”

  “Yes, madam,” she said and curtsied as she exited.

  “He is a right little hellion, that boy,” Edward said proudly.

  “Your indulgence of his behavior is, of course, instrumental in his being so,” she smiled.

  He turned to look at her. “You have grown fond of him?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “We have much in common.”

  “A complete lack of sympathy for rules?” he asked.

  “Exactly,” she said. “And an earnest desire to eat mountains of peach tart. He also appreciates the globe, and we often compete to see who can find a country or province the fastest.”

  “He at least has a good mind to go along with his less than admirable character. He is not a burden then?”

  “Far from it, I appreciate his heroic efforts to keep my days here highly entertaining. Why only the other day, he had decided it his duty to liberate the hens from the hen house and to hide them so they could not be taken prisoner again.”

  “Good Lord!” Edward frowned. “Where does one hide thirty hens?”

  “Why, in the wine cellar, of course. Poor Mr. Elton,” she sighed. “I thought we had lost him for good after he returned from fetching a bottle of wine. He was covered in feathers, the poor man, feathers out of his pockets and ears even. I had never seen anything like it. The sight of a feather-covered Elton, still every inch of dignity and correct posture, informing me politely that it seemed a flock of fowl had sprung up in the cellar, will keep me in laughter a good long while yet. The poor man had to lie down a while to recover.”

  Edward laughed when she finished the story, and she enjoyed the sound, having lived so long in a house too quiet. He helped her downstairs, and they arrived in the drawing room a picture of domestic happiness. He placed her next to Lady Cloverdale, who complimented her on her dress. Miss Blackwell arrived with Rupert and James, whom she had seated between herself and Lady Cloverdale. She asked the boys about the book they had read, and James told her the story of Odysseus while Rupert sat frowning and pulling at his collar in irritation.

  Mr. and Mrs. Jones soon arrived with Lydia and Robert. Lydia joined Georgiana and Lady Cloverdale by the fire and spoke to Rupert about his interest in geography. He would become a sea pirate, he said. James would be his lieutenant, he declared, but James bristled at this suggestion, for he required his own ship. They argued over who would own the Atlantic Ocean and her rich fleet of ships until Lydia informed them that Captain Markham would be best qualified to help them in their decision of ownership since he himself had commanded a ship. These words left the boys speechless until Rupert turned to her and demanded she produce said Captain Markham at once. Georgiana settled for supplying them with an atlas, which they studied in front of the fire.

  “Takes to commanding naturally, doesn’t he,” Lydia said, astounded by such great confidence in one so young.

  “Indeed,” Lady Cloverdale said. “We can only hope he decides to join the Royal Navy, or no one will be safe in the Atlantic for a good long while.”

  Lydia smiled. “He does not take after his father, for Sir Edward’s character is quite amiable. Perhaps his mother was a strong character, not easily led.”

&nb
sp; They all glanced up at her portrait, which hung on the wall above the fireplace. A dark-haired young girl smiled at them, her eyes soft and gentle.

  “I dare say not,” Lady Cloverdale said. “I knew her, though not well, and she was the model of gentility and good manners. Were it not for his resemblance to Edward in the structure of his face, and did he not have his mother’s coloring, one would have to wonder about his lineage.”

  Lydia looked shocked by the suggestion but recovered soon enough.

  “What say you, Lady Fairchild?” asked Lady Cloverdale. “Does his character resemble that of anyone on the walls of this great house? I’ve heard it said that Edward’s father, the late Sir Henry Fairchild, was of ferocious character and daring. Did he not sail to India and make his fortune there in gems?”

  Edward had arrived to stand behind Georgiana and, having heard the last remark, said, “My father was, indeed, present in India. As the second son, he had bought himself a commission in the army and fought the Maharaja for the East India Company. He was a skilled man on the battlefield, and soon had not only gained a reputation there, but had gathered many riches in gems as well. Then his older brother died childless, and my father returned with his wealth to Ravenstone, only to meet his own death not long after, from a fall from his horse. He was as reckless in the saddle as he had been in life. ”

  They all gazed at Rupert with a better understanding.

  “It’s a shame Rupert has no brother then,” Lydia said sadly, not aware of the words until she had said them. Her face flushed, she glanced meekly at Georgiana who, taking pity on her guest, smiled and said, “Rupert is quite hardy, and I fear less for him than I would for a typical child.”

  It was odd, Georgiana thought, that this particular sentiment should arise that day, not once but twice. She herself had the same exact thought earlier. She could not see Edward’s expression as he stood directly behind her.

  Lady Cloverdale, thinking Georgiana was sad, squeezed her hand, but did so under the folds of her dress so as to spare Lydia’s feelings. Georgiana was beginning to like Lady Cloverdale immensely.