by Jane Ashford
Emma came into the room as Georgina nodded her understanding of his position. “Mama wants you,” Emma said to her sister. She began collecting food on a tray she’d brought with her, including a very large pile of cold meat. “And some luncheon.” She handed Georgina the now laden tray.
“We’ll never eat all this beef,” Georgina began. “Oh.”
Sebastian steeled himself and stepped forward. “There’s something we must discuss.”
“For the dogs,” Emma and Georgina said in unison.
“It’s rather important,” Sebastian said.
“Mama is ranting about sugared grapes,” said Emma in a carefully dispassionate voice. “She seems to have gotten the notion that they are positively…obligatory for a duchess.”
Georgina gave Sebastian a heartbreakingly lovely smile, but moved toward the door with the tray. “I’ll see you later,” she said. “As soon as may be.” And then she was gone. Emma followed her out.
“You may as well give it up,” commented Randolph from the dining table. He was applying mustard to a generous portion of sliced ham. “I have observed quite a few weddings by this time, and I can assure you that the groom’s opinion is the last thing anyone wants.”
“It’s not about that,” Sebastian muttered.
“Indeed, weddings are the province of women,” said Mitra. He joined Randolph with his plate of fruit and bread. “Until you are taken to your bride’s home on horseback and presented to her like a flower-wreathed gift.”
The Gresham brothers stared at him. He was savoring a slice of peach and didn’t notice. “These are exquisite,” he said. “I recommend them to you.”
Sebastian shook his head morosely.
“Have a bit of this ham then,” Randolph said to Sebastian. “It’s dashed good.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Randolph’s fork paused in midair. “You’re always hungry.”
In fact, the remaining cold roast beef looked very appetizing. And there was a fine-looking wedge of cheese as well. Edgar came in just then to pile a plate. Setting aside his worries for the moment, Sebastian went to help himself.
Afterward, he drifted about the castle at loose ends. Georgina remained with her mother, and he was too distracted to do anything but wait for her. Finally, he retreated to his bedchamber and found Sykes there, looking over a pile of red cloth. “What’s that?” Sebastian began, then realized he knew. “Oh.”
“Yes, my lord. They’ve found you a doublet and a pair of hose. Very Shakespearean. No ruff, though.” Sykes sounded a bit disappointed.
“I’m not wearing hose!” declared Sebastian.
“No, my lord, so I have already informed Lady Hilda. After a bit of…negotiation, she and Miss Byngham agreed that the doublet is sufficient. With black breeches.” He shook out a garment and held it up. The red material was richly embroidered.
Sebastian looked it over. It was like a costume for a masquerade.
“Your evening slippers are beyond help,” the valet added with a severe look. “It will have to be Hessians, which will look rather odd.”
“Odd!” Sebastian snorted.
His valet nodded. “A point, my lord.”
Sebastian paced the room. “The thing is, Sykes. This ritual.”
A brief, intense conversation took place in silence, then Sykes cleared his throat and spoke in a very dry tone. “I have made some inquiries, my lord. Expressing an interest in the communications from the beyond, you might say. You are not to be given the pages you are to read until just before the ceremony.” His manner gradually shifted as he spoke, from correct servant to curious playwright. “According to Miss Byngham, the words must not be spoken until that moment, ‘lest they be worn out with mundane use.’ An interesting thought, eh? Acknowledging the power of an apt phrase. She has everything to do with the ritual locked in her bedchamber. No one is allowed entry, not even the maids to clean.”
Sebastian nodded.
“I don’t see how I could get in there,” Sykes added. “And if I were to be caught…”
“Of course. I wouldn’t ask you to try.” He hadn’t really expected to escape exposure. “I’d already decided to talk to Lady Georgina about…it.”
Sykes nodded. “I think that’s best. My lord.”
Did he sound relieved? Sebastian almost thought he did. It was unmistakable. Sykes was on his way out of Sebastian’s life. He was ready to let Sebastian find his own solutions. Which was all very well, Sebastian thought, but Sykes wasn’t the one who had to tell the woman he loved that he was a dolt.
“I wondered,” the other man went on. “Do you think you could manage a few notes? I’d be fascinated to hear what Miss Byngham has put together. I don’t suppose I could observe? No, no that’s not possible.” His voice held the regret of a craftsman denied a potential treasure trove of knowledge.
“I’ll do my best,” replied Sebastian dryly. “I’m unlikely to have much attention to spare from my utter humiliation.” There was no sense skirting the issue any longer. It would be all over soon.
“I’m sure you’ll manage. My lord.”
Yes, Sykes was cutting him loose. Sebastian was aware of a forlorn feeling, which could only get worse as this day unfolded. Still, there was no way out. If you had to charge the guns, it was best to set the spurs and get it over. He decided to wrest Georgina from her mother’s clutches, no refusals accepted.
In the end, it wasn’t as difficult as that. When he appeared in the marchioness’s workroom and declared that Georgina needed some air, his hostess waved them off with hardly a protest. Georgina took his arm with another meltingly sweet smile, and they walked out into the garden.
The rain had passed, leaving bright-blue skies and warmer breezes behind. Flowers gleamed like jewels among the greenery, and sheltered nooks beckoned. Georgina moved to nestle within the curve of his arm. The scene might have been all he desired if not for the looming conversation. But he couldn’t put it off any longer. That was almost harder. “I have to speak to you about this…ritual,” Sebastian said.
“It’s ridiculous, I know.” She gazed ruefully up at him. “I am sorry. But at least it will be over before your family arrives.”
“I can’t do it,” Sebastian said. His pulse accelerated as if he’d been running a race.
“What?”
“I won’t be able to do it,” he said.
Georgina gazed up at him, a hint of concern becoming visible in her green eyes. “Sebastian, of course it’s silly. Papa gets these notions, and now Joanna has become even worse.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t believe she’s the same person. And she’s egging him on. But it’s not serious, you know. You can think of it as a bit of acting.” She smiled encouragingly. “We can pretend we’re onstage together in some dreadful melodrama.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t.”
She withdrew from him a little. “Papa will be utterly impossible if you refuse. You haven’t seen him really… He’ll throw the whole household into an uproar, right before the wedding! Most likely he’ll try to call it off again.”
Sebastian hated upsetting her. He would have given anything to simply agree. But he had to shake his head.
Georgina blinked as if she couldn’t believe it and frowned. “It’s such a small thing to ask, Sebastian. If you love me… You said you did.”
“I do! More than anything. More than life.”
“Then why can’t you just do this?”
She sounded mystified, and hurt, and irritated. Which was bad. Not as bad as it was going to be when she knew the truth, Sebastian thought. But there was no drawing back now. He pulled a small book from his pocket. He’d brought it from a shelf in his bedchamber to help explain. And although his heart quailed, he marched forward. “There’s something wrong with me,” he began. “I’ve always been stupid about…”
“You are not stupid. I wish you wouldn’t say it.” She sounded almost petulant now.
“But I am, Georgina. I-I can’t read.” There, he’d said it—starkly, without circumlocution or excuses, out loud—as he never had before in his life. He waited for her to take it in and despise him.
“What?”
“I can’t read,” he repeated. It was no easier to admit the second time. He opened the book and held it out before them. “When you look at this page, you see lines of words that make up sentences and tell you…whatever the writer wished to set down. I don’t. I never have. I see a mass of tangled lines, with all the letters shoved together. I can’t make head nor tail of them.”
Georgina looked at the page, then back up at him.
“There’s something wrong with me,” he said again. He closed the book, shoved it back in his pocket, and waited for her reaction. It was a bit like hearing artillery shots whistling overhead and wondering whether the next would do for you.
“You look at printed words, and you can’t see them as they are?” Georgina asked.
He nodded heavily. “And so I can’t play my part in the deuced ritual. I won’t be able to read it.”
Georgina stared up at him for so long that Sebastian thought he’d burst. “And this is what was wrong?” she said then. “This is what had made you so distant?”
It wasn’t quite the reaction he’d expected. “Worried about what to do,” he muttered.
Georgina threw her arms around him and clung as if she would never let go. Startled, and confused, Sebastian embraced her gingerly. “I’m so relieved,” she said against his chest. “I was imagining terrible things.”
Wasn’t this terrible enough? Sebastian wondered. Had she understood him? Holding her was so wonderful that he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
After a while, though, she drew back. She looked much happier. “But how could this happen, that you can’t…decipher words?”
So she just hadn’t really taken it in. The blow was still to come. Sebastian let his arms fall to his sides again. “There’s something wrong with my brain,” he repeated bitterly.
“But Sebastian, there isn’t. You know all sorts of clever things. You carry on intelligent conversations.”
“I wonder if your father would say so.”
“Papa is not a good example,” said Georgina severely. “You’re a fine commander of men. I heard your colonel tell you so at an evening party. And look at the way you can make a fire out of nothing and help a shy young lady feel at ease at a London ball.”
“You’re being kind.” Of course she would be, Sebastian thought. She was that sort of person. She wouldn’t show him her contempt.
“Well, of course I am. I love you. But that’s not all.”
“You still love me?” He couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly. “After this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“But how can you?”
Georgina waved the question aside as if it was ridiculous. “Have you spoken to anyone about this…oddity? I don’t suppose a doctor would be of any help.”
“I’ve tried, but no one understood.” He hadn’t been willing to say it outright to his father or his tutors. The thought of appearing a dullard in their eyes had been intolerable. He’d only been able to tell Georgina because otherwise she’d think he didn’t love her. “I can’t always say exactly what I mean.”
“Well, we all have that problem,” replied Georgina wryly. She gazed into the distance as if deep in thought.
Amazed at the way she was taking the news, Sebastian felt hope reawaken in his breast.
“Is it something like being deaf?” she mused. “Or no, not quite that. Wait! Did you know that some people can’t see colors properly? Mostly men, I think. When they look at red, it seems gray to them. They have no way of knowing the real color.”
Sebastian stared at her.
“A scientist published a paper about it. Papa—you’ve seen how he loves odd bits of knowledge—he told us one night at dinner. I didn’t really listen, I’m afraid.” She shrugged guiltily. “He’s always going on about something.”
“Colors,” wondered Sebastian. “Like light?” Alan might know about it; he followed all kinds of scientific developments.
“I expect so. But I do remember this much. Such people look at the colors we all see, and they simply cannot perceive them. It’s just the way they’re born. And certainly has nothing to do with their intelligence.”
“You think it’s that way with me?” He’d thought of his problem as stupidity for so long that he couldn’t quite take it in.
“Yes, I do. And…” She paused to grip the lapels of his coat, demanding his full attention. “I don’t care if you never read a word, Sebastian. I love you.”
“Still?”
“Always.”
There could be only one response to this, and the two of them spent several intensely agreeable minutes in one of the shrubbery nooks demonstrating the strength of their attachment. When they had to step apart, or else go too far, Sebastian said, “Sykes writes my letters.” He wanted to make a clean breast of the whole matter.
“Does he?” replied his beloved, a bit breathlessly. She put a hand to her tousled hair.
“He has a particular handwriting just for them. A very bad one.”
Georgina laughed. “How clever of the two of you. Though I think, in that case, we will dispense with the exchange of passionate love letters when we are apart. Which I hope we shall not often be.”
Sebastian gazed down at her, amazed and touched. “You’re perfect, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I am,” she said with another laugh. “Oh, I am so glad that this was all. It’s such a relief.”
“Except for this blasted ritual,” said Sebastian. “And Miss Byngham insisting I read her…whatever it is.”
“Ah.” Georgina frowned. “Yes. I don’t think we want anyone else to know why you cannot. People can be so spiteful.”
How had he gotten so very lucky? Sebastian wondered. He felt as if a great weight, which he’d been lugging around all his life, had fallen off his back.
“We need a plan,” she continued. “I don’t suppose you could memorize her…composition? If I read it out to you a few times.”
“Oh yes,” said Sebastian. “I’m a whiz at getting passages by rote. Had to be.”
“Well, then.” She spread her hands as if the problem was solved.
“But Miss Byngham’s got it locked in her room. Sykes told me no one’s allowed inside.”
“Does she indeed?”
A smile spread over Georgina’s lovely face. It wasn’t quite like any expression Sebastian had seen there before. She looked rather like a cat who’d spotted an unguarded cream pot.
“I expect I can get around that,” she said. “Though I’ll need your help.”
He nearly snapped to attention. “Anything. Of course.”
“At the proper time, you’ll have to keep Joanna occupied for, oh, say an hour. Just to be certain.”
“Mount a diversionary action?”
“What a fine way of putting it. Precisely.”
“Just tell me when,” Sebastian answered, thinking yet again what a delight it was going to be, having such an exceedingly clever wife.
Eighteen
If only they had a bit more time, Georgina thought as she made her way to her mother’s workroom very late that night, after everyone else was abed. But by tomorrow at this time, Joanna’s ritual would be over, for better or worse. She had to act quickly, and every step had to go as planned. Sebastian had been gloomy about that last part. He’d said that a plan never survived first contact with the enemy. “It’s not a matter of enemies,” Georgina murmured as she stepped into the room.
The first necessity was to placate the pugs. A certai
n level of sleepy yapping in the wee hours was an accepted part of life at Stane Castle, but if the dogs went wild, it would draw unwanted attention. They knew her, however, and made no great fuss as Georgina crossed the room. She spoke to them softly, patting heads and responding to wriggling greetings on the way.
Sitting at her mother’s desk, Georgina opened the bottom drawer and took out a great iron ring of keys. It held duplicates for all the modern rooms of the castle, and the older ones if they weren’t lost, in case a key went missing. Papa called it a chatelaine, and he’d suggested, years ago, that Mama wear it at her belt, like the lady of an ancient manor. Mama had snorted at the idea that she would go about with a clanking bunch of metal weighing her down. She’d put it in the drawer and never looked at it unless asked to help open a door. She wouldn’t notice its absence unless Georgina was very unlucky. If she was, she’d find some excuse.
Georgina wrapped the ring in a shawl she’d brought to keep it from making a noise and slipped out of the room and back along the corridors to her own chamber. She now had a key to Joanna’s bedchamber. The trouble was, she had a great many other keys as well. No matter how long Sebastian kept Joanna occupied, she couldn’t stand in the hallway outside her former governess’s room trying a whole ring of keys. Someone was bound to catch her. Georgina carried the chair from her dressing table over to her own door, sat down, and began to experiment. The key for Joanna’s room was likely to be similar to the one that opened her own. Surely she could narrow down the choices. She picked out a key and tried it. It wouldn’t turn. She chose another.
An hour later, drooping a little in the chair and fighting repeated yawns, Georgina had done her best. She’d found the key that fit in her lock and compared it to all the others on the ring. She’d singled out ten to try and was almost certain one of them would work. As she got into bed at last, she began to manufacture reasons she might be hanging about in the corridor near Joanna’s room. None of them seemed very convincing, but that was a problem for another day.
Sebastian entered the breakfast room far too early the next morning, while the servants were still setting out the food. He knew it was too soon, but with a mission before him, he hadn’t been able to lie about in bed. He hadn’t even summoned Sykes, but had dressed himself and come down. Now here he was with a good deal of time to kill. The thing was, he hadn’t been certain when Joanna Byngham would appear.
