Harriette entered with a breakfast tray but stopped when she saw Georgina standing by the window. “My lady?”
“Good morning, Harriette.”
The maid set the tray on a table. “The papers have come from London.”
A stack of papers took up half of the tray. For years Georgina and Harriette had read every bit of those papers, analyzing everyone mentioned to find the most advantageous connections. It had gotten her nowhere. “I’ve a different plan this morning.”
Harriette’s eyes widened as she stopped, one hand extended toward the top paper. “A different plan?”
Georgina reached under her pillow and pulled out the large Bible she’d snuck to the library to get in the dark hours before the sun rose. “Yes. A different plan.”
“You want me to read you the Bible?”
Georgina didn’t blame Harriette for her confusion. Church and everything in it had never been Georgina’s favorite subject.
“No.” Georgina dropped the book onto the writing desk, where she’d already arranged two straight-back chairs. “I want you to help me read it.”
The ribbon draped from the book at the place she’d chosen to start reading. She’d flipped through everything this morning, not trying to read anything, but simply getting a feel for the pages, the weight of the book, the idea of reading it.
Harriette’s thin arms wrapped around Georgina as she flipped the book open at the ribbon.
“James?” Harriette asked, looking over Georgina’s shoulder at the book.
Georgina wiped her suddenly sweaty palms down her skirts. “It seems to be a short book.”
“James it is, then.”
The two women sat, hunching over the book in a way they hadn’t in a long time. For years after Harriette joined her, Georgina had continued to try to learn to read. Once they’d begun to plan her marriage, though, those efforts had fallen by the wayside.
Harriette helped Georgina arrange the ribbons, blocking off as many words as possible.
Georgina took a deep breath, but Harriette’s hand on her arm stopped her from looking at the book.
“Should we . . . I don’t know, pray first?” Harriette had never seemed to think much of God either. That she looked as unsure of their morning plans as Georgina did gave her a bit of confidence.
“Why not?” Georgina asked. But the why not proved to be that neither one of them knew what to say. The bishop’s prayers always seemed long and elaborate. Georgina couldn’t think of anything other than, “Please help me read this. And please don’t hate me.”
So she left it at that and bent over the book.
Thirty minutes later, Georgina pushed the book aside. Her head was beginning to pulse with pain, and she didn’t want it to get bad enough to send her to bed. She wasn’t ready to abandon the book though. “You’ll have to read for a while, Harriette.”
So the maid read. More than once they stopped to discuss what a passage could possibly mean. Several times Harriette offered to find someone to help them, but Georgina refused.
“All of my life,” she said, “I’ve been listening to people talk about what God means, what the Bible says. I think I always thought of Him as their God when they said those things because they didn’t match what I had experienced.”
Georgina ran a hand over the page in front of her. They’d finished James and flipped to 1 John. “I think, if this is going to mean anything, He’s going to have to become my God. If He wants me to . . . to change, then He’s going to have to speak to me himself.”
Harriette looked at the book. She reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers around Georgina’s before she continued reading.
There was something fascinating about the rhythm of writing, at least when someone else was doing it. Dip the quill, write a line, dip the quill, write a line. The quiet scritch of Miranda’s quill against paper broke the silence of the morning, accompanied only by Georgina’s unsteady breathing. Envy at the easy way Miranda wrote her thoughts threatened to send Georgina retreating back to her room. Miranda was a constant letter writer, maintaining correspondence with numerous friends and family members. She’d never understood why Georgina didn’t do the same.
Perhaps it was time to explain. What did she really have to lose? Colin was gone. She’d hoped he would return, that he’d simply been going to the village to get something for Ryland or Miranda, but after two days passed, she’d admitted the truth.
She’d lost him. Regardless of that breathtaking kiss in the library, he’d refused to be with her if she refused to be herself.
Not that she blamed him. The more she thought about what she’d become, what she’d tried to become, the less she liked it herself. The more she and Harriette had read, and they had read a lot in the past two days, the more she realized how wrong her thinking had been.
Even if Georgina returned to London, she’d never see the Season the same way again. Her calculated hunt for a husband was dead. Even the idea left her feeling hollow and tired.
Georgina cleared her throat.
Miranda jerked her head up and looked at Georgina with surprise. “Oh, good. You’re feeling better.”
Georgina and Harriette had spent so much time in her room reading the past few days that the household had come to the conclusion that she was sick. She hadn’t corrected them.
“May I talk to you?” Georgina shifted her weight from foot to foot. Nothing was going to make this any easier.
After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Miranda waved Georgina into the room and moved toward the little grouping of chairs near the window.
Georgina stopped two steps from the chairs. She wanted to maintain a ready escape path in case this conversation went poorly. “I can’t read.”
“You can’t what?”
“Read. Or write. I’ve never been able to.”
“Never been . . . I don’t . . .”
Georgina had no idea how long they would have stayed there, Miranda gaping like a fish and Georgina biting her lip and shifting her weight, praying—yes, praying—that the sweat rolling down her back wasn’t visible through her dress. The stalemate was broken by Ryland’s sudden entrance.
“Darling, I—Oh.” He looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t read.” Georgina blinked in surprise. That had been considerably easier to say the second time.
“Hmmm.” Ryland leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Well, that explains a great deal.”
Miranda looked at her husband. “What?”
“Harriette, I assume, does your correspondence, then?” Ryland guided Georgina to a chair before settling into one himself. Miranda continued to look stunned, her gaze flitting from one face to another.
“Yes.” Georgina looked at her hands, clasped in her lap, wishing the chair would swallow her and remove her from Ryland’s steady contemplation. Had she really thought she wanted to marry this man? He’d have unnerved her in a matter of days. How did Miranda stand it?
“If you ever want a job, I’ll recommend you both to the War Office without qualm. I had no idea.”
Miranda sprang to life. “You’ll do no such thing. My sister isn’t going to wallow through the muddy fields of France plucking secrets from the air.” She stuck her nose in the air. “White is much too visible.”
A laugh sputtered against Georgina’s lips.
Ryland scoffed. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t waste her in a muddy field. She is much too skilled at working a ballroom. I’d place her directly in Napoleon’s court. He’d never know what hit him.”
Georgina let the laugh roll free, looking from Ryland to Miranda and not finding a modicum of censure in their eyes. A considerable amount of curiosity, but not a lick of disdain.
It was true what she and Harriette had read in Philippians that morning, that there was much to be gained when she let go of everything and trusted in the Lord. One could even gain back a family.
Chapter 32
Colin’s first stop wa
s the only place he felt reasonably certain he would be welcome. Hugh Carson had been delighted to see him again, full of thanks that was topped only by Alastair’s exuberant gratitude. Either the man had never actually wanted Colin to take the job or Hugh was working out so well all disappointment had been forgiven.
It didn’t matter much to Colin which was true. He was simply thankful that he hadn’t taken the position. Now that he was here, he knew it wouldn’t have been right.
While his lungs welcomed the sting of salted air drifting off the River Clyde and the idea of investing his time and energy into a single thing was still appealing, he soon discovered that Ryland was right. Colin had changed. He didn’t want this life anymore.
He took a deep breath, easing a bit of the tightness in his chest. While he didn’t want a life of shipping and constant travel, he was definitely going to have to spend more time at the coast. The crisp air felt wonderful.
“You know,” Alastair said from the open doorway to the shipping office, “Erika is at home still. We’d love to have you for dinner while you’re in town.”
Colin tried and failed to recall a clear mental image of Erika’s red hair and blue eyes, but he couldn’t. The only visions he had were blond-haired, green-eyed, and capable of ripping his heart to shreds. “That’s very gracious, sir. I’m not sure of my plans yet.”
It was still possible his father would run him out of town before sunset.
Alastair clapped Colin on the shoulder. “Let me know. The invitation is open.”
“Thank you, sir.” Colin nodded and waved before hailing a hack to take him across town.
It didn’t take as long as he would have liked.
He had the driver drop him off a few streets away. He wasn’t quite ready to face them yet, to find out just what awaited him.
Not that anyone was waiting for him. He hadn’t sent word, wanting to maintain the option to change his mind.
Glasgow was bustling, crawling with people patronizing the businesses he remembered as well as several new establishments. By and large, though, the city looked as he remembered it.
So did the large house just off the center of town.
The same could not be said for the woman darting out of the house with a scream. Colin braced himself, not sure what to expect. Was she in danger? Was someone chasing her?
And then she was upon him, throwing herself into his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her red-gold curls smothered him, but he didn’t care. It had been so long. Too long.
He felt a drop hit his cheek and trail down into his cravat. No doubt it was a tear but it was impossible to say whose it was, because Colin’s eyes were wet and his sister’s teary hiccups filled his ear. He tightened his arms and shifted until he could look over her shoulder at the older version of his sister standing in the doorway.
His mother wasn’t bothering to hide the tears streaming down her own cheeks, but she came no farther than the doorway.
Time had found his mother, just as it had found the town and himself. She was recognizable, easily identified as the woman who’d raised and loved him, but now, seeing her through the eyes of a grown man, he saw the burden she carried. In part because of him.
The missing years crashed down on him like a wave in a storm. His sister finally released his neck but only moved her clasp to his hand to drag him down the walkway and into the house.
Colin went willingly, too numb to resist her, even if he’d wanted to. He had missed so much. The letters had not been enough.
Mother smiled through the tears as she reached her hands up to cup his cheeks. “My boy. I knew you would come home. You needed only to have the idea planted in your head.”
What was she saying? Colin’s eyes narrowed as his brain wiped away his emotional stupor. “You told Alastair to write the letter.”
His mother shrugged, and in that moment Colin saw himself in her. He remembered all the times he’d seen his mother nudge his father in a particular direction, using tactics Colin himself now employed. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that his family hadn’t been in as much danger as he thought all those years ago. Mother probably had a small fortune tucked away in an old teapot somewhere.
“Where is Jaim—” He cleared his throat. “Where is Father?” Colin couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted his family whole, he wanted to put the past where it belonged. He’d been so adamant about Georgina sharing herself with her family, but he hadn’t realized he’d done the same thing, pretending he didn’t need these people, that the tenuous connection they maintained was enough.
“I’m here.”
The rough voice drew Colin’s attention. His father looked much as he had in Colin’s drawing room, but with an extra air of wariness about him. Had the old man done as much thinking as Colin had since their visit?
Their family had never been like the Hawthornes—close-knit, affectionate, sharing—but they had loved in their own quiet, respectful way. Colin was realizing there were good things to both. If Georgina had been raised in a more practical family, would she have felt free to share her struggles? If Colin had been in a closer family, would they have been able to talk things out before now?
Speculating wouldn’t change anything, so Colin shoved the thoughts aside. The important thing was that this was his family, and he wasn’t going to let them suffer anymore.
Father straightened his shoulders. “You didn’t take the job.”
Colin shook his head. “No.”
Jaime McCrae took a step into the room and then stopped, looking unsure of how to proceed. When he’d left London, he and Colin had opened the door to reconciliation—someday—but the old man probably thought Colin was here to slam that door shut again.
Colin stepped forward and pulled a sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket. He’d stopped in London for them—had almost decided to stay there, but God wouldn’t let him rest. These papers had driven too much of a wedge between him and his father. Even as he left London to head for Scotland, he hadn’t known what he intended to do when he got here, but now he did. And he knew it was right.
“Here.” He shoved the papers toward his father.
The air of wariness grew as the old seaman stepped forward. He’d spent enough years in business that it took him little more than a glance to realize what the papers were. Colin hoped his father took them for the peace offering they were meant to be. He’d had a week’s worth of traveling to think about things. He’d spent miles of road in prayer and he’d come to one conclusion.
Ryland was right.
Colin didn’t need Celestial Shipping. For his entire adulthood, the business had been the thing that stood between him and his father. Colin would be forever grateful that he’d been there that day to save the business, but now he knew his relationship with his father was so much more important.
“You’ve signed over your share.” His father’s eyes widened, looking dumbfounded as he read the papers.
“Yes.” Part of him wanted to make a comment cautioning his father not to gamble away any more of it. But the truth was, if a five-year separation from his son hadn’t taught him that lesson, an admonishment from that son wouldn’t do it either.
Besides, somewhere between Kent and Glasgow, Colin had realized something. He’d forgiven his father.
“I’m sorry.” The sentence tumbled from both men’s lips at the same time.
His mother’s laughter filled the room as she wrapped an arm around each man. “Yes, yes, we’re all dismal, fallible creatures, but we’re family, yes?”
Colin grinned at his mother and then his father. “Yes.”
“Then we have a party! Your sister’s stepping out in society this year, you know. It’s about time her big brother came to scare away the no-good ruffians.”
“You go ahead, Teagan.” Father looked from the papers to Colin again. “We’ll be along shortly.”
Mother looked as if she wanted to protest, but she and Bronwyn went farther into the house, both throwing s
miles over their shoulders as they went.
Colin faced his father, waiting for him to speak, knowing the next move had to come from him.
“I’m proud of you.” The gruff voice was almost a whisper. “You’ve become a better man than I ever will be, and that’s as it should be. Each generation should stand taller than the last. My only regret is that I had so little to do with it.”
Colin slung his arm around his father’s shoulder, wondering when they’d gotten to be the same height. His father had always seemed so much larger in Colin’s memory. He couldn’t stomach the idea of the strong man breaking himself for the sake of his son, so Colin steered them both in the direction his mother had gone.
“I don’t regret my years in London, Da. And nothing can change what happened. I think I understand what drove you to it, if not the particulars. A good friend recently reminded me that all the answers are in the Bible, and I think this is definitely a case of God using an evil to create good.”
“So we move on, then?”
Colin nodded. “We move on. Tell me what you’ve decided to do with the Caribbean routes.”
Georgina blinked, trying to bring the world into focus. In his typical fashion, Griffith had tried to fix Georgina’s problem for her as soon as he’d learned of it. That his solution was a pair of spectacles that made everything blurrier was beside the point.
She was wearing the spectacles to make him happy. Eventually she would tell him that they were useless, but for now, she’d wear them as a symbol that her family loved her even though she was strange.
“I think the t-tulips were an inspired choice. Very unique.” Lavinia ran a finger along the soft petals of one of the nearby flower arrangements.
“Thank you for coming early to help with the final touches.” Georgina linked an arm with her friend. One of the first things she’d done when they returned to London was add a few names to the guest list for her ball. Lavinia and her aunt were at the top of the new list, and Lavinia had even agreed to come over early to help calm Georgina’s nerves.
An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2) Page 33
