‘Oh!’ said Jocasta Fortune. ‘Georgie, you sly thing.’
‘Only I forgot to ask, didn’t I, my dearest one?’ the marquis said, turning to look down at her. He took Georgette’s hand, and she looked up at him, laughing.
‘I think you did!’ she replied, still gazing into his eyes.
‘Hrmmph!’ spluttered the baron.
‘I shall ask you now,’ Onslow said cheerfully and, turning to the confused Baron Fortune, said lightly, ‘with your permission, sir?’ The baron, shocked but beginning to be pleased, nodded. Silenced for once. Onslow’s eyes turned to the side, where Georgette still hung from his arm. ‘My dear Miss Fortune, love of my life, will you marry me?’
‘Oh,’ said Georgette laughing at him, ‘that would be lovely, my lord!’
Sir Justin Faulkes shouldered his way through the shocked throng and slapped his friend on the back. ‘You fool, what would you do without me?’
‘In all my life I can never thank you enough,’ said Onslow to him quietly.
When Georgette emerged from the arms of Lady Bailey, Faulkes saluted her hand in good form. ‘I wish you happy, my dear,’ he said with his most genuine smile.
‘And I you, my dear friend. Thank you for helping us see through the trees,’ whispered Georgette.
‘It is hardly the place to make a proposal, Marquis!’ said the stern voice of Viscountess Swanson, and while her two friends made similar noises, all was drowned in the general hails of congratulations and shock.
‘Who would have thought that Georgette of all people could have won the race? And against the favourite too!’ said the booming thoughts of Baron Fortune. This had the unhappy effect of turning attention to the two figures who had not rushed forward in congratulations. Colonel Bellamy, and the blushing Miss White. Bellamy looked stunned, and Miss White embarrassed and something more. She put a bland face on it, however, and moved forward.
‘My felicitations, my dearest,’ she said, and kissed Georgette’s cheek. She added in a lowered tone, for Georgette alone, ‘You are a different creature than I thought, Miss Fortune. While I was playing with the bow, you were playing a deeper game. Shall I surrender my coronet? You appear to have won.’
Georgette was stung, but would not be drawn. ‘I am sorry, Miss White. And though you won’t believe me, I wish you well.’
‘You wish me…!’ Julia White’s eyes flashed with contempt for a second, but she lifted her chin and moved off.
‘I knew she wouldn’t land Bellamy’s riches, whatever Lady Bailey’s suggestion,’ the baron continued to himself. Her Ladyship’s eyes rolled at Georgette’s in apology and Georgette inwardly grinned. ‘But Onslow’s rich, too. And a marquis to boot! And her only passably good looking…’
‘It has been a fortunate party for engagements has it not, Lord Fortune?’ said Maria Bailey, in an attempt to distract the baron’s devastating remarks.
‘You’re getting hitched too, ain’t you?’ said the baron, regarding her shrinking form.
‘Yes…’ said Maria, quelling under the baron’s gaze.
‘No business of mine. Good match of course, but I don’t think much of your bargain.’
‘Lord Bucknell is—’ said Maria Bailey, quietly but hotly confronting him. A hand touched her elbow gently and she thought she felt an amused tremor.
Her mother intervened. ‘Now, Maria—’
As Bucknell took his beloved’s hand, he was driven to smile again, a thing Leonora viewed with amazement. ‘Look, Marguerite! Lord Bucknell is smiling! Katerina says he never smiles.’
Oh dear, thought Georgette, was her family ever going to know how to behave? She exchanged that look again with Onslow and it effectively took away her embarrassment and demoted the remarks to the merely ludicrous.
‘My dear,’ he said in her ear, ‘I am going to enjoy your family so much.’
‘Are you? But it is not quite so amusing without you, Onslow,’ she whispered back. ‘How shall I bear it?’
‘I’ll invite the entire pack to come with us to London to see us married as soon as we can post the banns. And I shall not leave you until then.’
‘Really?’ Georgette said, beneath her breath. ‘I should not ask it of you, and I have much to do here before I leave.’
‘I shall stay until the end of the week then and you shall all join me a week later in London.’
‘I think I can manage that,’ sighed Georgette. ‘But you must think me so clinging, my lord.’
‘Lucian is my name, darling,’ he said, ‘and it is I who intends to cling.’
‘Enough of the whispered moments, Marquis!’ said the baron, putting his hand on Onslow’s shoulder. ‘We have some business to discuss!’ and he led Onslow out of the Hall and towards another room.
‘Settlements!’ said Katerina penetratingly.
The guests pretended to ignore this, and Colonel Bellamy came forward and grasped Georgette’s hand. Sir Justin Faulkes, regarding this, frowned.
‘Could you not have hinted to me, Miss Fortune?’ the colonel asked softly, and very sadly.
‘I did not know,’ she whispered back, a little shaken.
‘Well, you did say your heart was not your own. Was it always his?’
‘Yes. I’m very sorry, Colonel.’
He took a step back and bowed to her. ‘Why should you be? I have held a hope too close these three years and I could not expect you to understand.’
‘Oh, but I did understand you, Colonel. For I had held such hopes too.’
‘Just about another?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. Faulkes, who could see but not hear, thought this was quite enough, and led Georgette away. She saw Miss White talking in a bright and sparkling manner to the Bailey brothers, and turned back to Bellamy’s haunted eyes. ‘Miss White … I think she needs a friend, Colonel.’
He nodded at her, with kind eyes, and the party began to break up to dress for the feast.
At the board that evening, with the giant centrepiece on display, Georgette looked around at all the guests with a sigh. The feast had arrived, thanks to today’s market visit, Bellamy’s efforts, and of course, the eggs. Georgette could never forget the eggs. The Alderlys looked suitably bored and remote, the three viper-ish ladies suitably bilious, the couples, Paxton and Portia, Maria Bailey and her serious lord (who gave half smiles whenever he threw her a look) seemed happy, and Julia White and her swains seemed as usual. The Baileys and her sisters, Lady Sarah, Carswell and Faulkes seemed in spirits, too. Only Bellamy was a little removed, less skilled than Julia White at hiding his feelings. Onslow was by her side, but she was much too happy to look at him, though their toes touched beneath the board.
Her father commenced a speech, and though it made her cringe, the presence of Onslow kept her spirits up.
‘Ladies and gentlemen. The Earl and Countess of Alderly have graced us with their presence, and must leave us tomorrow.’ There was a general noise of false dismay at this, and Georgette indulged in a faint hope that all might go well until the baron continued, too fulsomely, ‘We dedicate their last meal in gratitude for their presence—’ Lady Bailey sighed, ‘—the outcome of which we shall announce in some months.’ The Alderlys looked vastly displeased at this broad hint, but the baron was oblivious. ‘Left Jocasta on the shelf, of course,’ he said to himself without diminution of his tone, ‘but we can’t help that. She’s young yet, and I can only hope she’s not such a dunce with attracting men as her sister Georgette. Two seasons, all that money spent, and nothing at all!’ he added. The guests looked taken aback. ‘Needn’t have bought all that if I knew I only had to have a house party for her to entrap a marquis!’ Georgette could not look at Onslow, but grasped his knee to fend off exploding. ‘That said, one of my daughters fired off, you see, and not badly at all. If it wasn’t for the more spectacular success of her sister, I’d be overwhelmed, I’m sure.’ He looked briefly at the Alderlys and seeing their expression, hurried along. Paxton, too, looked pained but Portia at h
is side was stoic. ‘Well, well, we shall say nothing on that head, nothing at all. There’s still time for my son to bring himself to the point, and then we might have a lady of fortune grace the castle.’ Georgette jumped, seeing her father look between Miss White and Lady Sarah with equal smiles. Lady Sarah gave a sardonic look at Georgette, while Julia White, especially heavenly tonight in the white figured gauze over a silver petticoat — a dress Georgette remembered — looked down.
Georgette felt sorry for her. Those unaccustomed to the baron’s unfiltered verbal offerings could be knocked out by one blow. Julia was made of strong stuff, however, and her head lifted again.
‘Well, I understand that there is another coupling at Fortune Castle, and though it is of little interest to me, I suppose we must all wish Lord Bucknell and Miss Maria Bailey well, too. There, Georgette, I have done it,’ he said, turning to his eldest daughter. ‘You said I should, and so I have, but to compare the engagement of that quiet little mouse to a curmudgeon like Bucknell—’
Georgette’s eyes flew to His Lordship’s in terror at his reaction, but a sound like a snort emerged from Bucknell’s mouth and his mother said, ‘Bucknell!’ in high shock. Jocasta began to titter, and a wave of giggles took over the Fortune girls, then the Baileys, and finally even the other young people, even extending to the Bailey in-laws, the Uxtons, Sir John Uxton having to stuff a napkin in his mouth to preserve the dignity of a baronet. All that is, barring George Fortune, who had as little humour as his father. Even Bellamy, who had been the picture of quiet misery, let out a guffaw. The outraged gazes of their seniors, the Alderlys, the viscountess, Mrs Hardy and Lady Bucknell only served to make it worse, and Georgette signalled the staff to serve the dishes as a distraction before mayhem ensued.
The baron sat, confused, but soon was too interested in his meat to mind.
Epilogue
For only the second time in living memory all the unmarried Fortune sisters were gathered together alone in one room — Georgette’s.
It began with Katerina, and Georgette, who had expected her sisters’ enquiries that evening, was a trifle disappointed, but not surprised, at Kat’s lack of interest in the most astounding event of Georgette’s life: her engagement to Onslow.
‘Oh, Georgie!’ said her sister. ‘It worked! I gave Papa the muffler and he said I needn’t go to town next season. Portia goes in my place, with Jocasta, of course.’
Georgette doubted the muffler’s efficacy but frowned a little, wondering how that season would go. With Paxton’s visits no doubt frequent, would Jocasta’s spirits be able to recover? ‘How is Jocasta feeling, do you think?’
‘Lord, how should I know?’ Georgette sighed at her, and Katerina wearily continued, ‘Well, if our spying by the summerhouse those days is evidence, I must say she never seemed overly impressed with Paxton’s efforts.’
‘Ah, but you never know how her pride—’ they were interrupted by the entrance of the rest of her sisters in a pack, all trailing shawls or blankets against the summer chill. The twins took the bottom of the bed, after wrenching the blankets and coverlets from their tucked-in cosiness, letting Georgette’s feet chill, and stole a pillow to soften the iron bedstead.
‘Here!’ scolded Katerina, just having vacated the spot to help Portia with a quilt. The twins smiled the same seraphic smiles in unison. Jocasta flicked a shawl at them, but went to the head of the bed with Georgette and slipped in.
Portia and Katerina drew two chairs towards the bed and set them together and shared the quilt, feet on one side of the bed. ‘I told Lady Sarah and the Bailey sisters not to come, said we were having a family conference.’ Georgette forbore to say a word. ‘I don’t think you are expecting Miss White to appear,’ Katerina added, with unusual sarcasm.
‘Why ever not?’ asked Marguerite, ‘Is she horrid?’
Jocasta said, ‘No, dear. She was just after the marquis for herself.’
‘How—?’ began Georgette with wide eyes.
‘It was obvious!’ said Portia and Jocasta at once.
‘Oh! Good win, Georgie,’ said Leonora approvingly, ‘For you are not a patch on her in looks, you know.’
‘Thank you, my lion. Try not to maul me.’
‘Is not a marquis even better than Portia’s beau?’ asked Marguerite innocently. Then with a flush she said, ‘Oh, I am sorry, he used to be Jocasta’s.’ Her great blue eyes flew to her sister’s, which were cold.
Georgette gave Jocasta’s hand a little squeeze beneath the covers but Jocasta said dismissively, ‘I do not think I could bear to listen to another line of poetry!’
‘Quite right!’ approved Leonora. ‘It’s only Portia that likes such stuff.’
After a pause, where she looked conscious, Portia said, as though to divert the subject, and with some fellow feeling. ‘Are you very happy Georgette?’
‘I am.’ They smiled a look of understanding at each other, and Georgette instantly felt like a traitor to Jocasta. But Leonora’s practical tones diverted her.
‘Because he’s a marquis. Come to think of it, Georgette’s marquis even outranks any of the gentlemen that have married our sisters. And after Papa called her a dunce this long time.’
‘But Portia’s will be an earl someday,’ said Marguerite, as though remembering her lessons.
‘Georgie wins still! A marquis is above an earl, you know.!’ said the fierce little lion.
‘Yes, but the Alderlys were so grand that they seemed to outrank him somehow,’ said Katerina. ‘I don’t envy you, Portia — living with them.’
Portia made a noise in her throat, ‘I do not think— ‘
Georgette heard Jocasta snort quietly beside her.
‘Georgette’s marquis is not stuffy, then. I wonder who the rest of us will marry?’ asked Marguerite.
Her twin piped in. ‘Jocasta, you must get a duke at least to beat Georgie…’
‘I suppose I shall,’ she seemed reflective. ‘But all the dukes I know are ancient.’
‘Happiness should be the point of marriage,’ said Marguerite. ‘Is it not so, Georgie?’
Georgette thought of her sister Mary and Mr Fredericks the music teacher in their two rooms eating potato soup, and wondered. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘as to that, there are practicalities too.’
‘Well, I shall put off traipsing around balls, looking for a husband and being polite to boring people for another year at least. And as soon as the guests have left, I shall put down my hair again.’
‘You are sixteen now, my love, and not a child.’
‘It takes too long.’
‘Oh well, no one but the Baileys and Ludlows come here anyway, so no one will see you!’ surrendered Georgette, too tired to argue. She was secretly amused at her sisters, who had lived up to their self-interest by failing to fawn on her on this, her miraculous day. Even Portia’s engagement was old news now, and though they had individually asked her how it happened, when her answers were poetical (it was destined in the stars!) no one asked more. We are not close, Georgette reflected again. Perhaps it came from the desire to avoid Papa at all costs. They were easier to track if in a pack. But she cared for them, these sisters of hers, with all their quirks. And, in her own invisible way, she had been doing her best to help them be more comfortable, whether it was drawing Papa’s wrath towards herself, or buying and sending Portia drawing paper from town, or taking up her mother’s tasks as far as she was able. About to leave them, Georgette thought these efforts too little. But soon she might be in a position to help in other ways.
‘I think I shall enjoy traipsing around balls looking around for a husband when it is my turn,’ sighed pretty Marguerite. ‘It seems very far off though. Three years!’
‘It really does…’ said Leonora.
Georgette was surprised at the fierce twin’s voice of longing. ‘Does it bother you much, Lion? Do you look forward to “traipsing around looking for a husband” too? I shouldn’t have thought it of you.’
‘Oh, I shan’t have
to look.’ Georgette wondered if this was Leonora’s extreme confidence in her burgeoning beauty, but she thought not. She seemed to place little value on it. No, Leonora had an object in mind, and on a less happy evening, wondering what that could be might have curled Georgette’s hair. Because Leonora’s projects were ruthlessly entered into. ‘But I am impatient to get started,’ she said. ‘Would Dickson teach me estate affairs, do you think, Georgette?’ Now Georgette’s hair was starting to curl. Whatever was her frightening sister about?
‘I shouldn’t think he knows more than the household. You need Mr Leven for such things: the estate manager, you know.’
‘The fusty old man in that horrible waistcoat?’ said Katerina. ‘He smells of snuff.’
‘Mmm thanks!’ said Leonora sincerely. ‘When does he come, Georgie?’
‘Well, quarter days to be sure. And whenever Papa sends for him.’ She was getting more than a trifle worried at the calculating look in Leonora’s eye.
‘Oh, Georgie! Won’t next season be such fun! You in London again. And both of us engaged?’ uttered Portia with her dreamy expression.
‘Yes,’ Georgette squeezed Jocasta’s hands beneath the sheets. It was no use saying that Jocasta’s heart was unaffected — her pride was, and possibly her confidence too. The hand shook when Portia mentioned her engagement. Georgette would take very good care of Jocasta when she was in town. Jocasta could get coldly angry too, and in that mood, Georgette did not quite know what headstrong thing she might do.
Next season, unbelievably, Georgette would be a marchioness, but she realised that she still had the antics of the wild sisters of Fortune Castle to deal with, one by one.
Now, as she lay in bed, finally alone, she didn’t need her sisters’ benediction to feel joyously happy.
Earlier that night, after dinner, Georgette and Onslow had found the secret way to the battlements, where a navy blue starry night shone upon them, and she was at last in his arms.
‘I am much too happy, Lucian!’ she sighed.
Georgette and the Unrequited Love: Sisters of Castle Fortune Book 1 Page 23
