‘But what brings you to town, Henry?’ Georgiana now enquired, having kissed him fondly on the cheek and brought forward the best chair for him to sit upon. Lumley immediately settled comfortably at Henry’s feet with the familiarity of long intimacy.
‘Oh, yes, Henry,’ cried Julia, excited at seeing a favourite cousin, and at pains to keep her seat like a grown-up young lady, ‘did you really come only to see us? Will you spend the whole week with us? Where do you stay?’
‘Pray don’t shout, Julia, and try to be more sedate,’ reprimanded Elizabeth. ‘Cousin Henry will think you a giddy goose with no manners if you jiggle about in that manner. But how long do you stay, Henry?’
Henry laughed aloud at his little cousin’s enthusiastic questions and shook his head. ‘I am sorry to say, I am only come for one or two nights, then I am to go up to Oxford to see a friend who wants some recommendations for a position at my firm. I shall call in again when I am finished there. But it has been such an age since I have seen you all! I especially wanted to see my little cousin. You must have grown a full foot since I last saw you, young lady!’
Julia giggled and then pulled her face into a serious countenance again, determined to show her cousin how much a young lady she was since he last saw them.
Henry, pleased to be once again in the company of those he esteemed most, and in particular the company of Georgiana, expiated for a few minutes on the details of his visit, and some details regarding his first year out of Oxford, practising the law. ‘It is very tiring, I must say, always going to this dinner and that, for these damned dinner lectures are so tedious after three or four of them in a week. Oh, I say, pardon me, Eliza, Aunt! You are not used to my language, and I daresay I have picked it up from my fellows at Oxford, who are quite heathen chaps, you know!’
Elizabeth made a little noise with her tongue. ‘Yes, yes, Henry, that is all very well, but no one calls me Eliza anymore. I prefer “Elizabeth”. “Eliza” is so common and vulgar!’ she remonstrated sharply.
‘Of course, if you wish it! But are you all at leisure tonight, after dinner? I’ve lodgings at White’s and it is no distance at all to come to you later.’
Such was the comfortable informality of the relationship between Henry and his uncle’s family, that even for Mrs Hall, it was impossible to be rude enough to refuse him an invitation for the evening. It was immediately decided that he would come to dinner and remain with them for the evening. Although Mrs Hall’s enthusiasm for the scheme was almost palpably reluctant, Georgiana was delighted with this arrangement, for she hoped very much to confide in her cousin regarding the week’s events, if they could but find some private moment together. Henry was, in her estimation, the only replacement for her father’s tender wisdom and guidance, which she had sorely missed in the last week. Although she was now reassured in her own mind that no further danger existed as to an offer from Captain Asher Brandt, she still longed for the relief of consultation and the unburdening of her soul to a kindred spirit.
Nine
At four o’clock, Georgiana was in the drawing room with Julia, her mother and Eliza having gone out for an hour or two. Julia was engrossed in making her shell pins, at the table. Georgiana sat by an open window, since the air today was oppressively warm, and even in her light, primrose-yellow sprigged muslin, she felt fatigued with heat. She gazed idly from the window, and wished herself at home in Loweston where there was at least a breeze, and the fresh air of the countryside to enchant her.
Suddenly, she spied a figure walking rapidly along the road below. He had no business in this street, surely! His object must be to call here! Her heart raced, and the blood rushed from her cheeks, leaving her as white as a bedsheet. ‘Julia, dear, would you please go find Gibby and tell her to keep you with her for a half hour? I am sorry dearest, but I do have my reasons,’ she added as Julia frowned.
‘But what about my shells? Shall I take them?’
‘There isn’t time. That is, no dear, they will still be here when you come down. Just give me a half hour alone, if you will, and then I promise I will help. Don’t you still need to make Henry’s box? We could do that later.’
Julia sighed and stood as a sharp knock sounded on the front door. ‘Whenever there is something going on, I am always sure to be sent from the room! I am almost a lady— it is very unfair!’ she complained but, in a moment, she had gone and Georgiana was just able to stand up, push a stray lock of hair from her face and take a deep breath, before Captain Brandt was shown into the room a second time.
His manner was awkward and strained. He greeted her, bowed, sat without being asked, then realising his faux pas, stood once again. Georgiana, penetrating the motive which likely accounted for his visit, and berating herself for her complacency in thinking him rebuffed, was anxious, but irritation and humiliation quickly took anxiety’s place. She indicated he ought to sit, and then waited silently for him to come to the point.
After a moment, he stood again, and strode to the window. The twisted side of his face, where the skin was alternately pink and white, mottled over his forehead and cheek, seemed to quiver. She repressed the urge to feel sorry for him.
‘I trust I find you in health? And your family, also?’
She kept her countenance neutral. ‘Thank you, we are all very well, Captain.’
A slight pause left the room silent. Then he began again. ‘Miss Hall, I must confess, I have been too long from society to know how to go about social business with any finesse. Perhaps it is not in my nature. Frankly, have come here— I have come here to offer for your hand.’ He stopped, then began again. ‘I am not a man of great delicacy or tact in such matters; perhaps my circumstances have made me more of an oaf than ever. But I fervently wish you to know, that I cannot think of any but you as my future wife.’
Georgiana bit back an immediate response in which she was inclined to mention the three women before her, whom he had evidently also thought of as the only women who could fill that role, and waited for him to continue.
He seemed encouraged by her silence and came forward a little. ‘I find that you are suited, more eminently suited, than any woman I have yet met with, to fulfil the role of my companion at Thornleigh, and I hope that you will not disappoint me, for much rests on your reply. Indeed, my whole happiness rests on your reply.’
There was such an air of assurance in his features, such an air of composure born of his confidence in her future acceptance, that her eyes watered with an anger born of humiliation. That she could see, in her future, the possibility of spinsterhood, of having no husband at all, and no way in which to raise her station in life, was a truth all women must face, but that he would take advantage of this imbalance of power in such an odious manner, of the weakness she must endure, not only from being born a woman, but from having the added disadvantage of a misformed limb, this was despicable in her eyes. That he assumed she would eagerly consent to a union, simply to grasp at an opportunity to better herself, to avoid spinsterhood, was a humiliation indeed!
However, she held her head proud, raised two fine brows, and said coldly, ‘I am much obliged to you Sir, for your sentiments, but I find myself quite puzzled. If your “whole happiness” relies upon my acceptance or refusal, that power over you I have never sought to gain. We have scarcely had an acquaintance which would support such a power; we have met merely three times, and I am quite astonished that you could now feel that your happiness depends upon me.’
To his credit, Captain Brandt looked disconcerted, and his damaged side turned pinker. ‘And yet, I am satisfied, on so short an acquaintance, that you are the only woman who can answer my needs. I am not a dishonest man, and I cannot prevaricate. I have not the social graces to speak prettily to a woman in the manner of fashionable men-about-town.’
Here, he paused, grimacing in that way that Georgiana had come to recognise as acute internal discomfort, and she restrained herself again from giving him her immediate refusal.
He continued
. ‘The benefits to yourself, were you to accept, are numerous. I am a man of means; money is not a difficulty. I would ensure that you are comfortable, and your mother and sisters also, were you to accept my offer. You would want for nothing at Thornleigh. I would be your devoted husband. I am able to offer you freedom to visit your family, and even remove to London each season, should you wish it. In short, Miss Hall— Georgiana— I have it in my power to offer you much more than you have now, and although it is awkwardly offered, my offer is not without sincere esteem for your good nature and steady character.’
Georgiana took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed, and went to stand at the window. ‘And what of my— indisposition, Sir?’ She could not help asking, for she had to hear from his own mouth, what she had been secretly loathe to believe from her friends.
‘Your indisposition does not signify with me. Your ability to fulfil the role of Mistress of Thornleigh is unaffected by your limp. I require— but nay, what I require shall be laid out later, when I have received your acceptance. For now, I vow I shall make your life as easy as I can if you will but agree to be my wife. But I see that you wish to speak. I beg your pardon, for I am making a confounded dog’s dinner of this business, and I shall now await your response.’
The effect of his proposal and his complete lack of propriety, his referral to her as some kind of employee to fulfil a role, affected her for some moments, and she struggled internally. And yet, combined with a genuine compassion for his position, and the desperation which she felt he must have endured, to make such a proposition, a rising empathy for him overcame her own pride.
She turned to the window again for some moments while he waited in silence, determined to temper her refusal with at least some compassion, then finally turned and met his eyes. ‘Captain Brandt. I am honoured by your attentions, while at the same time, I find I must refuse them. I am extremely sorry, Sir, to cause any pain or inconvenience to yourself. But I am not for sale,’ she added coldly.
‘Not for sale? I beg your pardon? Under what misapprehension do you labour? As surely as you are not for sale, Miss Hall, I am just as surely not buying a horse!’ His face was ashen.
‘If I am not being “purchased” Sir, then explain to me why you have come to London solely to secure my hand? Is it true that you have a niece over whom you can only retain guardianship if you marry? I must suppose that this is the requirement of which you speak. I am not a governess, nor a nanny, Sir! I cannot marry into such an arrangement, either for my own sake, nor for the child’s.’
He had the look of astonishment at her words, and the grace to look abashed. ‘What you have heard is true. I have a niece, the daughter of my dead brother. She is everything to me. Her grandmother dictates that I must marry in order to retain her at Thornleigh. Rose is the one living memory of my brother. I cannot bear to lose her. But I do not seek to “purchase” a wife as you so crudely stated the fact. I may not have the graces and fashionable ways of other men, but my admiration is sincere.’
‘Do you deny, then,’ she rejoined coldly, ‘that I have been suggested to you as a woman who has so little chance of receiving an offer, that I would jump at the chance to accept your own? Do you suppose that my having a limp means that I am without the hope of procuring a husband in any other way than to be sold off? That my only hope of marriage is to become an unpaid nanny to the niece of a man they call a “beast”?’
Her anger at being so humiliated, barely held in check, glowed from her eyes. Her voice was quiet yet full of feeling. ‘Yes, Sir, I have been apprised of the rejections you have already received. Do you think I have so little pride that I would accept the first man to offer for me, a man whom other women have rejected, and not for love or even for mutual respect, but because you can find no other woman who will accept you because of your disfigurement? I might be a cripple, Sir, but I still have my pride!’
He changed colour several times during the course of her speech and remained silent for a moment. He read the anger, wholly irrepressible, which showed still in her glittering eyes, and finally gave her a curt bow. ‘I see,’ he replied coldly. ‘I am sorry if I have given offence by my offer. I would not wish you to bear the humiliation and degradation of looking at my face on a daily basis.’
‘You deliberately misunderstand me, Sir!’
‘I collect I understand you entirely! Good day, Miss Hall!’
He strode from the room, leaving her gaping at his departure, the door swaying on its hinges in his wake.
~~*~~
Mrs Hall was informed by the servants, on her return, that Captain Brandt had called, and had been in the drawing room with Georgiana alone. The hopes and wishes of that lady however, remained as ungratified as they ever were, on hearing of Georgiana’s refusal. ‘I shall consider myself the most ill-used mother that ever lived, if you insist on refusing him, my girl!’
Georgiana on the other hand, was calmly implacable. ‘He has made me an offer, and I refused him. That is all there is to it, Mama. I am sorry to anger you, but I cannot accept him. It is impossible. My feelings, in every respect, cry against a union, especially since he can hardly have any real regard for me.’
‘But,’ wailed Mrs Hall, inconsolable, ‘it would be such a convenient, such a suitable connection!’
‘Why?’ snapped Georgiana, forgetting herself. ‘Because he is ugly and I am a cripple?’
Her mother rang the bell violently for Gibby. ‘Oh, where is Fanny? I must see my sister, or I shall go insensible with it all! Gibbons, Gibbons! Fetch my sister St. George here at once! And Georgiana, go to your room, as I cannot look upon you just now!’
Georgiana sighed and retreated to her room.
Ten
‘Oh, Henry, how I wish you had arrived but a week previous, and I would have been able to consult you over this matter. It grieves me deeply, to think that the Captain believes his face is the reason for my refusal. And now, Mama is scolding me severely by the hour, for ruining the family’s chances of living well! But Henry, I cannot enter into marriage where there is not love! I cannot!’
‘My dear Georgie, of course you cannot! You did entirely the correct thing, you must know it! You must be directed by your own heart, my dear cousin! And it matters not what reason he attributes to your refusal, for such a marriage can never take place and any good come of it. You must take comfort in knowing that you have done right, for it would be wrong to marry a man who sees you as merely a convenient way to proceed with his life. It would make you very unhappy over time. You must not pay heed to my aunt.’
They had found, after dinner, a quiet retreat in the study, on the pretence of searching for a particular poetry book, and Georgiana had unburdened the events of the last week from her breast.
‘And the child! It is heart-breaking, Henry! His niece, the only memory of his brother! And yet, to expect that I would not only marry him, but to stand in place of a mother! It grieves me Henry, to think of it all! It is surely not evil to want a mother for the child? But his manner of going about it! I cannot approve of his manner! He was dreadfully wrong to use me so!’
‘The child cannot be your concern. He used you badly, he imposed upon you cruelly. If he wants a wife, he must do as we all do, and court a lady openly, if any will have him!’ he added feelingly.
Georgiana warmed to her cousin for taking her part so decidedly. ‘Yes, I beleive you are right, Henry. But it vexes me so that he is under the apprehension that I rejected him because of his face! I am afraid I did not make my reason for refusing him quite clear! But I suppose it is of little consequence now.’
‘No, I suppose not. But cheer yourself up, Georgie. He is to leave London tomorrow, you say, and then you will forget all this nonsense. Now, what time shall I call for you all in the morning? Will you all go with me to eat ices in Berkeley Square? I’ll treat you all! We shall make a merry a party of it! Depend on it, you shall soon forget the odious Captain Brandt!’
~~*~~
Henry’s prediction t
hat Georgiana would forget Captain Brandt was profoundly mistaken, for she replayed the dreadful scene over in her mind many times before daybreak the next day. While she was alternately vexed and humiliated, when these feelings died away little, she could not also help but own that she admired his style of asking; he had made no theatre of his feelings, feigning emotions which could not be real, and using all his powers of pleasing as was the custom of other men. But even while she acknowledged such reluctant admiration, it was too soon overcome by considerations of a more passionate nature, and vexation and humiliation became the rule.
By ten o’clock the next day she was ready to walk out with her sisters and Henry, but she was pale and wan from lack of sleep. The Osbourne girls, a note having been sent the previous evening inviting them to join the party, arrived promptly, and were introduced to cousin Henry. Civilities dispensed with early, the party set off for Berkeley Square in easy familiarity, Esme and Georgiana having been induced to take one arm each alongside a jovial Henry.
Georgiana was quiet, her mind quite overcome with alternate indignation at being proposed to in such a way, and anxiety that Captain Brandt should think her refusal, even in part, based on a repugnance for his looks. Henry glanced once or twice at his cousin but out of a delicacy for which Georgiana was grateful, did not attempt to bring up the subject again. He took special pains to be agreeable to Esme, and seemed enchanted with her ethereal fair hair and blue eyes. Georgiana had decided, minutes after noting this, that she would as soon as possible forewarn her cousin that Miss Esme Osbourne was the object of another’s interest. As fond as she was of her cousin, she knew Henry’s character to be fickle, and not at all likely to settle upon a woman for some time, and she did not want Esme to be injured by him. He was in possession of charming manners, but charm could hide caprice, and perhaps Esme Osbourne was too inexperienced to read his attentions as mere flirtation.
Beauty and the Beast of Thornleigh Page 8