‘Papa was not a gamester, Eliza, and you know as well as I, how much Mama likes to give dinners and evening parties and invite those who move above us in society — it is very unfair of Mama to make out that Papa did not care for our future. I know he did, and if he was ever at the tables, it was only with his friends, to be convivial and agreeable to others. No, it is Mama who put a great deal of pressure on Papa to live beyond our means, and now we must pay dearly for it.’
Eliza shrugged. ‘Colonel Walker has a different view of things, and perhaps he knew Papa better than you, Georgie, even though you think Papa was without fault! I pity you when you discover the truth, and your idol tumbles from his pedestal!’
‘I do not fear it,’ her sister rejoined calmly, ‘because I know Papa’s character, and he would not have forsaken his family to throw our little fortune away at the tables. It was Mama’s doing; he was always trying to please her, and to make her happy. He was over-generous; his nature was to give! I do not mind having almost nothing to live on, although it is humbling to rely so much upon our relatives, Eliza, but it distresses me to have these rumours about Papa go about our acquaintance!’
Those rumours were perpetuated in part by Mrs Hall herself, who, forced to endure the humiliation of retrenchment, took great comfort in complaints of her husband’s overspending to her friends; their sympathy was a palliative to her wounded pride, and went some way toward making her more easy in her new life, a life without the full complement of servants, fine dresses, and lavish dinners to which she had become accustomed. Mollified by the sympathy of her friends, she was able to carry on at Loweston without her husband, and with the promise of her brother-in-law not to turn them all out until Henry married, or until one of her own girls was to marry well.
As these thoughts passed through Georgiana’s mind, the drawing room door opened and Elizabeth and Mrs Hall entered the room. Like Georgiana, they were both dressed in formal attire, Elizabeth in white muslin like her sister, and Mrs Hall in lilac silk, the fabric worn, but not unbecoming or out of style. Elizabeth went to the window, ostensibly to look for the carriage, but Georgiana noticed her surreptitiously admiring her reflection in the darkened window glass, and smiled to herself.
Mrs Hall was a not unhandsome woman, of moderate height and a still admirable figure for all her forty something years. Her hair was dark, like that of her daughters, but speckled disagreeably, she often complained, with grey. Now she held her gloves in her hand, and sitting herself on the sofa beside Georgiana, proceeded to draw them on, and at the same time, addressed her second youngest daughter.
‘My dear, Julia has asked you to run and say goodnight before the carriage comes around, but mind, do not be too long, for Lady Young abhors lateness and it is quite my object to become something with her, you know. And, pray, do not bring that wretched cane tonight, if you would be so kind as to have some consideration for your mother’s poor nerves! I am quite put out by the sight of the thing, and you shall not need it tonight, for there is to be as much playing at cards and sitting down for you both, as walking about, and I shall certainly get dear Colonel Walker to take your arm from the first, so there shall be no problem with stumbling, or falling upon the stairs. Did you put on your topaz? Ah, now I see it. Your collar quite covers it, I think. You are in good looks tonight, Georgiana, but stay, put away that lace and let your fine topaz be seen to advantage; the collar hides your neckline, which is very fine when you have it bare.’
To all this, Georgiana listened, quietly amused, still holding her cane. She held it up for the servant, and at once Gibson stepped over and took it from her hand. ‘Place it in the corner please Gibby. I shall take it later when I go up to bed.’
Gibson curtsied and did as bid, not minding the familiar form of her surname, for she had been with the Hall family since she was a girl, and had great respect for Miss Georgiana.
Mrs Hall, collecting that she had received no reply to her treatise, leaned forward, and fussing a little with the lace collar, removed it seconds later, discarding it upon the table at her side with a sigh of satisfaction.
Georgiana, bemusedly permitting the change, and not much used to giving satisfaction to her remaining parent, raised her brows. ‘Mama, I think the neckline on this dress much too low, do not you think, to have it bare? I would not have Lady Young think me immodest.’
‘Nonsense, child, you are far too modest, and it is time you put a little of your beauty on display. Lady Osbourne’s daughters will be attending tonight and you must not look dowdy beside them! Besides,’ she continued in a sly tone, ‘you never know if there may not be a young man present tonight who may overlook certain— weaknesses— if he could but observe your beauty, and the becoming line of your dress. No, you shall present a picture as you are, but here, let me fix your hair a little.’ She leaned forward again now to tug at Georgiana’s hair, and Georgiana pulled back, not sure whether to be amused or affronted.
‘Why Mama! All this fuss! You have never worried about my collar or my hair before! And I do not intend to compete with Esme or Lilly Osbourne at all. No, indeed,’ she observed with a smile, ‘they are far above me in looks, grace, and accomplishments, and if any young man who might deign to overlook my limp, wishes to engage me in conversation when he has two, or even ten, real beauties from which to choose, then I shall attribute it not to an absent collar or tolerable face, but to my superior dancing skills,’ she finished with a twinkle in her dark eyes.
Her mother made a little exasperated noise. ‘Pray do not use that word limp,’ she bit sharply. ‘You know I prefer you to call it your “indisposition”. But you vex me on purpose, Georgiana,’ she added bitterly. ‘You care not for your mother’s feelings at all, I think!
‘Mama!’
‘I do not prevent you from dancing, indeed, I cannot, for you too often go entirely your own way and pay no heed to my feelings, I am sure! But I wish you tonight particularly, to conduct yourself with a little more decorum than you are wont to do, on these occasions.’ Mrs Hall paused, a speculative look in her eye. ‘This evening, it is my particular wish that you are seated with me and your aunt. You know I find myself quite lonely at social events, now that your poor, dear father is gone.’ Here, she affectedly lifted a hand to her mouth and paused a moment in feigned solemnity. ‘It does me good to have one daughter, or both of you, beside me, to prevent me from melancholy. Besides, I am feeling tired, and if you are present, it will alleviate the need to make small talk with Mrs Selby who does nothing but rant about her husband’s gouty attacks. Other people’s illnesses quite exhaust me, I declare. It is quite inconsiderate to regale one’s friends and acquaintances with accounts of illness and malady! If you both sit with me, it will prevent her from coming over.’
Georgiana could not sustain the accusation of being unkind to her mother’s feelings. But she discerned also her mother’s desire, hidden as it was, to prevent her from dancing at all this evening.
Mrs Hall was ever conscious of the vast disapproving stares her daughter drew as she gaily limped through a dance set on the arm of a forbearing partner, but she would have blushed angrily if she knew just how frequently she herself was the subject for talk in many a drawing room after some dance or house party. Many a lady or gentlemen had been scandalised at the sight of a young women limping about the dancefloor; unable to register horror in public, they would do so in the privacy of their drawing rooms. It was not the proper thing at all, to cause embarrassment and unease in others, by displaying one’s weaknesses in the public sphere! Those with physical limitations should not enter good society, if they were to spare the feelings and sensibilities of others. Such a gross ignorance of proper social graces must be due to the weakness of the mother, and the absence of the father, the lack of male wisdom to guide the behaviour of the weaker sex!
To most of these private comments, Mrs Hall was not personally privy, but she could full well guess from the shocked glances of people, at the topic of conversation in private draw
ing rooms across the town after an assembly, and she bitterly remonstrated with her daughter, of the embarrassment it gave her to be forced to subject herself to such pity and censure, because of Georgiana’s selfishness.
Georgiana was unable to find herself much moved by these admonitions, since she cared not what others thought of her. Determined to dance whenever she could get a partner, she paid little heed to her mother’s pained looks and cross admonitions either before a dance, during, or after its conclusion, nor to the disapproving looks of others. She was sorry to see her mama made uncomfortable, but she refused to stay at home like an invalid, just to gratify the desires of a society which had uniformly rejected her!
Now, she said quietly, a little hurt but loathe to reveal it, ‘Of course, Mama, I will sit with you, and so will Eliza, I am sure, for I do care for your feelings. I should not wish you to be uncomfortable or to talk to Mrs Selby if you do not desire it. But if I am asked to dance, I hope you will release me to stand up once or twice, for you know I find playing at cards to be exceedingly dreary! Besides, I must move a little; you must recollect that Doctor Kingsmith says it is not good for me to sit in one attitude for long periods.’
Elizabeth, who had overheard her name, and having completed with satisfaction the private admiration of her form in the reflections of the window, turned and came over to the sofa. ‘I told you not to call me Eliza, Georgie. Elizabeth. It is Elizabeth!’ she said in her rather sharp, pecking way. Then, relenting a little, she said placatingly, ‘I will sit with you also Mama, if you wish it. But you make me feel quite the old maid if you think only Georgie capable of attracting male attention. Why, I may not be three and twenty, but I am just as pretty as her, and I have not her indisposition! My neckline will do just as well as hers, I think, to admire!’
Mrs Hall inclined her head. ‘Of course, my dearest, you are certainly just as pretty as your sister! I always find there is something handsome about a mature woman of seven or eight and twenty, that a younger woman cannot answer, in looks. Now Georgiana, go upstairs and wish your sister goodnight, and do make haste, for Fanny’s carriage is to come at any minute!’
Georgiana rose, glad to remove herself from her sister’s smug glances, and walked across the room, her awkward gait so familiar a sight to her family that no eyebrows were raised as they would be at an assembly. She took the stairs, her hand firmly upon the railing, and went in search of her younger sister, whom she found in her room, sprawled on the bed, with Lumley, their English spaniel, fondly at the feet of his mistress.
Georgiana knocked briefly and upon entering, went to sit at the end of the bed. She stroked Lumley’s fine silky head absently. Her sister was sitting upon her bed in her night gown, busy with arranging some leaves upon a parchment, choosing first one then another, none of which seemed to suit the critical eye of the artist. So engrossed was the young lady, that she did not immediately look up.
Georgiana watched for a moment. ‘That is very pretty, dearest. I do like those colours. Mama said I must hurry, so I cannot be long; the carriage is to come immediately. What shall you amuse yourself with while we are gone to enjoy ourselves? How are your leaf drawings coming along?’
‘Tolerably, I suppose.’ Her sister, frowning in concentration, looked up, her face breaking into a smile. ‘Oh, you do look pretty, Georgie! See, I told you to use that shell pin! It makes you look mysterious, like a sea nymph! It is very handsome! I am becoming marvellously good at making them, am I not?’
Georgiana smiled warmly. ‘It certainly is handsome, and thank you for gifting it to me! I am honoured to wear it. Now, how shall you set those leaves? Which colours shall you choose?’
The younger girl, for she was but fourteen years old, shrugged her shoulders. ‘I shan’t draw these, but I am arranging them to go onto a box, which Henry said he would varnish for me when we return to Loweston. It is to be a present for Henry, although he does not know it yet! Do not you think that such a droll idea? He will varnish the box that is to be his own present and not understand it at all! Won’t he be diverted! But Georgie, I do so wish I could go out with you all! Eliza says I may come out next season, if we have the money for it, but what if we do not? Will I ever get to dance and wear fine dresses and be in society?’
‘Perhaps next season, if Aunt Fanny is as generous to Mama and ourselves as she has been this season. But you mustn’t hope for it, Julia, dear. In any case, you should wait a year. You are yet too young be out! And you know you are to come with us to Mrs Penforth’s next week, for it is just their family and ours; you can wear your best gown for that! Pray, do not be so cast down, or I shall feel guilty for going out!’ added Georgiana. ‘And Aunt Fanny said she would invite us to Northstead once we are all home again. I am sure you will get your dancing and fine dresses there! You can stand up with me!’ She tapped her feet about in a mock dance and Julia giggled.
‘Oh, I do hope so, Georgie. But I hear Mama calling! I suppose the carriage is arrived. Will you come to me when you get home and tell me everything?’
Georgiana leaned forward and kissed her sister tenderly on the forehead. ‘And wake you up? I think Mama would have something to say about that! Well, alright, then,’ she held up her hand, laughing at the expression on her sister’s face, ‘if Mama is gone to bed, and I can get here unseen. I might even bring you some cake,’ she added, indulgently. Julia’s eyes lit happily, and Georgiana slipped off the end of the bed. ‘No waiting up, mind, and you must go straight to sleep again after the cake!’
Blowing her sister a kiss, she let herself out and readied herself for another dull evening, all her ideas of dancing defeated in the face of her promise to defend her mama from Mrs Selkirk.
Two
Although Georgiana preferred the peace and quiet of home and a novel, to that of a large company, the sight of happy, lively faces, all making their various ways through the front door, made an agreeable start to the evening, she reflected, as they alighted from their aunt’s carriage. She thanked her aunt in her heart for the kindness of the carriage, which meant they had not had to walk.
Mrs Fanny St. George was that sort of woman whose good nature and willingness to be of service took warm pleasure in indulging the generous inclinations of her heart and purse. This she did by sending one of her own carriages to the Hall family, whenever it was needed, for her sister and nieces. It is often remarked that a kind-hearted widow with no children is always a benefit to others. Harbouring in her bosom all the keen filial affection a rich, widowed relative can inspire, Mrs Hall had increased her visits to her sister after poor Mr St. George had passed away, and had always been sure to write a great many affectionate letters when they were not together. She had reaped the benefits of her efforts, in little presents over the years, and now that Mr Hall was no more, in her sister’s sponsoring them for the season.
Georgiana knew that her aunt had pressed Mrs Hall to stay in Grosvenor Street, at her own town residence, her nieces being such favourites with her, but Mrs Hall, preferring privately to act as mistress of her own apartments, and resenting that she must rely upon her sister so heavily, she was fain to be reminded of this dependence every day of the season by sharing an apartment. She did not suffer well the idea of being forced to acquiesce to her sister over domestic cares such as whether to have fish or beef for dinner, or when they would go out and come in. She would not give up her independence if she could help it, even while she could allow her sister to pay for the said fish and beef. She very much desired her own apartment.
Mrs Hall had taken great care not to appear openly against the proposition of the season at her sister’s residence, but in the fond letters which passed between them, before plans had been made firm, she so often mentioned to her sister that she would not wish to spoil Fanny’s peace with the comings and goings of three lively girls, and hinted so heavily at the need for herself to have quiet and rest, and as little conversation at home as might refresh her for the evening entertainments, that Fanny quickly divined her
sister’s preference and promptly undertook to engage an apartment for them near her own residence, rather than have them stay with her. Mrs Hall only smiled complacently to herself, as she read this suggestion and immediately wrote back to her sister declaring it a vastly clever idea and one that would suit them both eminently. Thus, the Halls were established in a nearby town house for the duration of their three-month stay and were to have Mrs St. George’s carriage, servants, and beneficence.
Now Fanny herself, dressed in a fine puce silk, advanced toward them with open arms. ‘Ah, sister, girls,’ she cried, kissing all three of them as fondly as if she had not seen them just yesterday at dinner, ‘here you all are at last! Eliza and Georgie, you are looking both very well tonight but then, do I not always say that? I am a silly old doting aunt I dare say, and you must think me very annoying sometimes!’
‘Oh, Aunt Fanny,’ said Georgiana taking her aunt’s hand fondly, ‘you must know that is not true at all! But how thick the crowd is! I thought this was a private party? Lady Young must know a great many people I think!’
‘Why yes, my dear, indeed she does, and all her dinners are just the same, you know! A great many dozens are here tonight I believe. Quite a crush!’ she added happily. ‘Even though it is to be just cards and some music of course. What is an evening party without music? Miss Young is to sing, I believe. But Colonel Walker will take your arm, my dear, for I see you have not your cane with you, and you shall not be tripped up by anyone.’
‘Oh, Aunt, I was not thinking so much of that, for you know it does not signify with me! But there are Miss Young, and Lady Young and Sir Thomas. We should pay our respects. Mama?’
Beauty and the Beast of Thornleigh Page 2