Georgette and the Unrequited Love: Sisters of Castle Fortune Book 1

by Alicia Cameron

  Both Jocasta and Portia had breakfasted in their rooms, and Katerina, when prompted, had told Georgette that the two had talked together after last night’s supper. Georgette herself had been tempted to go and talk to one or both, but she had not done so, since bringing up the events of last night seemed impossible. One or other would come to her perhaps. Best leave well alone. She was relieved that they had talked, and was anxious to know the outcome, but it was too intrusive. The Fortune girls did not confide.

  As she came out of the small sitting room, where she had met with Dickson and Cook about today’s arrangements, she thought she heard the distant sound of the pianoforte. The thought of Portia made her head spin at the possible consequences of it all.

  Chapter 21

  The small chamber that the music led Paxton to was hardly more than a storage room, with space for just the piano and a few chairs, and some evident lumber consigned to the corners. A deal of dust caused His Lordship to cough, and Portia looked up for the briefest second, meeting his eye. Katerina was turning the pages, with an air of one doing her duty.

  ‘It is the second movement,’ said Portia, in a voice caught in her throat. Paxton was not surprised that it was the voice of the lady hidden in the foliage near the summerhouse. The lady who had sent him the poem that had so moved him. ‘I’ll commence again.’

  As Paxton sat on a chair a bit removed from the piano, for he did not trust himself to be nearer, he alternately closed his eyes to the swell of the music and looked at her full on as she played, never meeting his gaze again. It was better thus: he could look at her freely. A tall girl, thin as a reed, with fair hair caught up, some natural ringlets escaping around her face. She was dressed simply, and he was glad. The muslin was cream and brown, with long sleeves. She was not a fairy, like her sister, but her face with its even features, longish nose and lovely eyes had an otherworldly expression, a passionate involvement in the music she loved, that was even more entrancing than any fairy tale. His breath seemed caught in his chest, her beauty was related to the beauty she was creating, and they filled him with almost unbearable joy. He could not see her hands, but he remembered them from last evening, remembered everything about those long, delicate fingers and closed his eyes at the hope that he might one day have the right to kiss them.

  His thoughts since last night had hardly been sensible, but his heart had been sure. He’d remembered the romantic dreams that her sister the fairy had inspired in him and they had felt completely hollow, a mere fantasy of youth. He had been ashamed of his self-deception and what it had led to, but was also relieved that, having very little encouragement of the type he craved from Miss Jocasta Fortune, he had not spoken words to her that would now make him unable to sit here, loving her sister so passionately. His parents would be shocked, he was sure, but since he had been permitted to consider one Fortune sister because of the impeccability of her lineage, it could not much matter to them if he chose another, he reasoned. His sister Sarah had come to his room last night, but he had been unable to talk to her about it, and she’d left him, with a gentle touch on his shoulder.

  Portia was coming to the end of the third movement. At the tragic denouement, she slowly came back to the room and stood, finally raising her eyes to his. It was like her, Paxton thought, that she held nothing back in her gaze. Nor could he, it was quite impossible. He knew that the confession in her eye might be an indication of her youth, the fact of which he had wrestled with last night. She was two years younger than Jocasta Fortune, he knew, but it did not matter to his heart. He was ten years older, he thought. Not such a great gap in age. He would school himself to act as her protector. He would be careful of all the conveniences. Where he had wished to push Jocasta Fortune to a more passionate display of affection, he would take care to hold back Portia’s heart. She would be in danger of giving her all, he knew. He would protect her from both of them. All this he said to her with his eyes as they exchanged this long look. He found his voice.

  ‘I will go to find your father,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, not dropping her eyes in maidenly virtue but holding his in a blaze of honesty that thrilled him.

  Katerina showed the first interest of the morning. ‘Papa? What—?’

  But Paxton was leaving the room.

  Chapter 22

  Archery had been put back an hour in the hopes of avoiding the drizzle and Georgette was coming back to the hall after summoning the courage to find Portia. She had not succeeded, but had met her red-haired sister Katerina, descending the stairs on her own, trailing some knitting.

  ‘Whatever is that?’ Georgette looked up, astonished.

  ‘Something Portia did. She was going to rip it out, but I said I’d finish it as a muffler for Papa.’

  This was at once odd enough to divert Georgette from the point, she frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Katerina in a bored voice, ‘because he is my dear papa and—’ she gave a joyless laugh and stopped lying, ‘I want him to put off my season. This party has completely reinforced my deep desire to stay away from humans.’

  ‘Where is Portia?’

  ‘She’s in hiding from Papa.’

  ‘What on earth has occurred?’ shrieked Georgette.

  ‘Oh, such an absurdity as you would hardly believe, Georgie. Why are people so silly?’

  ‘Katerina!’ said Georgette, threateningly. ‘I could still pull your hair.’

  ‘And I could pull yours. I have caught up with you, dear sister.’

  ‘What new disaster? Tell me at once,’ said Georgette, descending from threat to plea.

  Georgette looked at her younger sister, and thought that the impervious cat in her sister Katerina had changed into the cat with the cream. No one could expect her to deal with the consequences, and she was enjoying Georgette’s air of panic.

  Katerina said with relish, ‘Paxton has gone to find Papa.’

  Georgette sank, her knees on the ground, her skirts billowing around her. ‘Oh, what do I do?’

  Katerina gave a short laugh and went on her way to find a draught-less spot to knit.

  Chapter 23

  It had taken Lord Paxton a full half hour to locate the Baron (who had been visiting a friend in the village) and he went directly to him. ‘May I speak to you, my lord?’

  The baron, who had been dismounting his horse King grumpily, with many insults thrown at the groom, became his bluff version, hope in his heart. ‘Yes, dear boy, certainly! Shall we walk back to converse?’

  ‘No sir, I have something to do first. Shall we meet in the anteroom in a half-hour?’

  The baron clapped his back. ‘It seems to be a serious matter, my boy.’

  ‘It is sir, it is,’ Paxton’s voice did not betray excitement, as the baron noted, but just some steel.

  In a half-hour Lord Paxton entered the long antechamber, seeing the baron at the end, standing next to small table that housed a tray of wine and two glasses. He was looking impressive. Since Paxton had seen him some minutes ago, his luxuriant thatch of grey hair, then so unruly, had been combed back into a magnificent pompadour, his boots cleaned and a colourful cravat added, giving him a new touch.

  Paxton made a steady way towards him, and looked at his expectant face gravely.

  ‘I am here,’ the young man said clearly, ‘to ask for the hand of your daughter-’

  The baron’s chest had swollen during this speech and he interjected, ‘Well, well, I have been expect—’

  ‘—Miss Portia Fortune, in marriage.’

  The baron dropped the glass he was holding out and it crashed to a thousand pieces on the ancient flagged floors. ‘Eh?’ he responded eloquently.

  ‘I have spoken with my parents,’ continued Paxton woodenly, ‘and they are pleased at the union to come of our ancient houses.’

  ‘Eh?’ repeated the baron.

  ‘If you give your consent,’ said the human automaton that had once been the quick and vibrant figure of young Lord Paxton, ‘my
father will be pleased to meet with you to discuss arrangements.’

  ‘Eh?’ but the magic word seemed to have an effect on him. ‘Wha—? Arrangements?’

  Paxton nodded his head stiffly.

  There was silence for perhaps half a minute. They stood three feet apart, the elder with high colour and apoplectic appearance, the younger a wooden soldier, waiting. When the silence became unbearable, Paxton finally flushed slightly, the first sign of animation that he had shown. ‘Of course, you may feel Miss Portia to be too young, but I do not expect to be wed this year…’ he looked at the baron’s mouth, moving like a fish but with no sounds emerging. ‘My request is that you allow Miss Portia her season next year, though I know that is early.’

  ‘You are saying that she will go an engaged woman? That the, er — settlements — will already be in place?’ The baron’s voice was rising.

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘And she has agreed? Portia is a weird fish, too many opinions of her own and not so easy to manage as the other one.’ He’d been mouthing this to himself, then looked panicked. ‘That is to say, make you a charming countess, eventually, I’m sure. Plays and sketches and so on, I believe. If such things are to your liking.’

  ‘They are,’ said Lord Paxton. He coughed. ‘Then shall I speak to my father, sir?’

  ‘Yes, yes! Very happy my boy. I will meet your father in my study at three o’clock. Quite informal you know, we’ll leave the lawyers to discuss the details.’

  Paxton flushed and bowed low to take his leave. After he had achieved the door at the end of the anteroom, he turned, watched the baron empty the other wine glass in a gulp, and said with difficulty. ‘If you are wondering about Miss Jocasta Fortune—’

  ‘What? Jocasta? No, no my boy, don’t worry about that.’ Paxton gasped in shock. The baron continued affably, ‘Forgotten about that already! We won’t worry about Jocasta.’

  A look of disgust crossed Paxton’s sensitive face, but he made do with another stiff bow, and left the room.

  Chapter 24

  The archery was postponed altogether, and many of the ladies crowded the fire with their work, and chatted. Georgette longed to sew something useful, like mending linen, but instead was tediously working a chair cover in thick wool on jute. Her mother had begun it, heaven knows why, and now Georgette set some stitches for show. Amethyst Bailey and Lady Sarah were on one side of her, while Julia White was on her other, prettily couching down silver threads on velvet which she declared would be a reticule for her mama. Katerina was at the other side of Julia, knitting with quick hands the gift that would make no difference to her father’s decision. Portia was nowhere to be seen. The younger gentlemen were in another room playing billiards, and some of the more aged members of the party had disappeared until dinner, perhaps napping in their rooms.

  Julia White leaned over to Georgette and gave admiration of her work. Georgette, had this been said by Onslow or Faulkes, would certainly have responded to this as a teasing remark and used her tongue to reprimand them appropriately, but Julia’s smile forbade such thoughts, so Georgette only said, ‘Thank you. It does not compare with your own exquisite work, Julia.’

  ‘How sweet of you my dear Georgette. And you knit, Miss Katerina?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Katerina, but meeting her sister’s eye past the figure of Miss White she added, as though forced, ‘It is a muffler for my dear papa.’

  Georgette’s eyes warned her, but the chatter continued. Her eyes strayed to the vestibule frequently, having been unable to find Portia, Paxton or her father all day. The one she didn’t want to see appeared.

  ‘Georgette!’ he called. She made haste to put down the canvas and run to him, lest he come further into the room and vent his spleen. She had no idea what he knew or did not, no idea whether Paxton had found him or had not. No idea whether Portia was locked in an empty stable stall or lumber room being punished. Therefore, she moved forward anxiously, and her father barked at her. ‘Find Portia!’ and she shook. ‘Paxton’s gone to find her, but you know her hidey-holes better than anyone.’

  ‘Erm, why, Papa?’ asked Georgette anxiously.

  ‘To congratulate her of course. I have settled it with the Alderlys and you must lend her your best gown for dinner this evening.’

  Georgette put aside the impossibility of this given their respective heights, not surprised that he had no idea of it. Instead she said, ‘Settled? What is settled?’

  ‘Everything,’ boasted the baron largely. He leaned towards her confidingly, ‘And handsomely, too.’

  ‘You mean,’ said Georgette, drawing her father further from the Hall, ‘that she is to be married?’

  He clapped a hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s it! But we shan’t announce it until the guests depart.’

  ‘She is fifteen, Papa!’

  ‘What is that to say to anything? More mature than Katerina and Jocasta. And you know that Gwendolyn Fortune married the Earl of Cray when she was eleven, bringing great wealth to her papa as a result. Early marriage runs in the family.’

  ‘That was in 1352, Papa!’ she shooed him into the sitting room, and he sat heavily down. ‘What of Jocasta?’

  ‘What about her?’ Georgette’s eye was not to be avoided. ‘Why do you look like that? Find Portia, I say.’

  ‘Papa!’

  ‘I won’t have my happy day scorched by that sour face of yours, miss! Do as I say!’ He flung himself from the room in the dramatic temper that she had seen him use time and time again to forestall awkward questions. Georgette sat heavily in his vacant chair. She wanted to find Jocasta more than the younger sister, but Papa must be obeyed, she supposed.

  Finding her spencer and bonnet, she ran from the house.

  Lady Bailey, encountering the baron on her way to her room to dress for dinner, looked at his beaming face and ventured to stop on the stairs to say, ‘The party goes well, my lord?’

  His great chest swelled, and he looked down upon her genially, and said, ‘Well, very well indeed, my dear lady. Yes, yes! Very well.’

  ‘The guests seem to be having a pleasurable visit.’

  ‘What? Eh? The guests, yes, the guests.’ He leaned down on her, so that she took a step down to avoid his smug face. ‘One of the guests has had a very pleasurable time, I may tell you. And it has resulted in—’ he stopped and stood back up, patting his waistcoat. ‘I was not going to say a word, my lady, but to an old friend such as you … the result is not what I expected, I must say … but just as good, just as good!’ He inclined his head and went down the steps past her in the same spirit of good humour, obviously thinking he had confessed all clearly. However, Lady Bailey was an intelligent woman, and she had it in a moment. Paxton had offered, not for Jocasta, but for Portia. And her father had no fault at all to find with this scheme if it filled the coffers of Castle Fortune. Her every instinct was to search for Jocasta and offer comfort, but she knew a little of that young lady’s pride and forbore to do so. Instead, she sent her daughter Maria to find her sons immediately.

  Maria dressed quickly and put up her hair anyhow since her mother had been so insistent. She did not, as Amethyst might have done, implore Mama to explain, just answered her plea simply. Her brothers were not in their chambers and she met Lord Bucknell emerging from his, which was next to Frederick’s empty one. She stopped and blushed.

  ‘Miss Maria,’ he said in his brusque manner. His eye seemed to alight on something on her forehead, and Maria self-consciously put her hand up to her hair. To her horror, a stray lock had escaped from her topknot and dangled there. Bucknell continued. ‘Something is amiss.’

  She blushed. ‘Oh, no sir,’ she said in her quiet way, wrestling with a pin to adjust her coiffure.

  ‘Yes. You are in a rush.’

  ‘It is merely that my mama wishes me to find my brothers before dinner, and send them to her.’

  ‘I will find them.’ He looked at the small fingers wrestling with the pin and said, ‘You must dress your hair.’<
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  She blinked, bobbed an obedient curtsy and said, embarrassed, ‘Yes. I must be so untidy.’

  ‘No. It is just—’ his face was immobile and severe. ‘You are always neat as a pin.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. Bucknell passed her by and she said, ‘Thank you.’

  He inclined his head, at his stiffest, and went swiftly on his way.

  The brothers Bailey were astonished at their mother’s news but sworn to secrecy. ‘Well, why tell us then, Mama?’ asked James with some humour. ‘We might never have noticed until the announcement.’

  ‘That is precisely why I had to tell you. Gentlemen notice nothing!’ said their mother, disposing a handsome bracelet around her wrist with difficulty.

  Frederick Bailey came forward to help her. ‘Point of fact,’ he said ruminatively, ‘couldn’t help noticing Paxton’s rum behaviour last evening. Made a real performance out of turning piano pages.’ He looked up, meeting his mother’s eye. ‘But she’s only fifteen Mama!’

  ‘Nearly sixteen. Plenty of others have become engaged and even married at such an age — and Portia is older in mind than many twenty-year-olds. That is not my concern.’

  ‘Oh, good gracious!’ said James, her most sensitive son, ‘Jocasta! She has to sit beside them at dinner.’

  ‘Precisely! I have spoken to Georgette, and it seems that Jocasta rejected Paxton, before he became engaged.’

  ‘After the musical evening, she would be too proud not to. What a fix! Trapped here with him without escape for the next few days!’ said Frederick with sympathy, ‘Poor child!’

  ‘Well, she shall not be alone! No one else knows, except perhaps George and the girls. Do not tell your sisters either, for Maria lets her face show all her thoughts and Amethyst will get so nervous her mouth will run.’