by Anne Herries
‘Did I?’ Georgie tried to remember, but could only think of the pain throbbing in her shoulder. It hurt so much and she felt so ill, her mind confused. ‘I am sorry. I cannot think…’
‘You must not try for now,’ Jenny said and smiled at her tenderly. ‘You have been very ill, my love. It is more than a week now since Richard brought you back to us.’
‘What happened to me?’ Georgie stared at her. She sensed that she did know this kind lady, and she smiled a little tentatively. ‘I feel so strange…my mind is full of mists…’
‘You will remember soon,’ Jenny soothed, smoothing back her damp hair. ‘That wicked man Monsieur Thierry stole you from the garden of a friend’s house. He planned to make you marry him, but Richard and Edward found you—and he will never harm you again. You need not fret, for he is dead. You are safe with me, Georgie, for I love you and will take good care of you.’
‘What happened to him—the man who kidnapped me?’
‘Richard killed him. He shot you, tried to kill you—so Richard killed him.’
‘Richard…’ Georgie sighed. A face came into her mind. It was a stern, harsh face and she remembered that it was Richard’s face. He had been angry with her, but she did not know why. ‘I wish he had not killed anyone for my sake. It is a sin to take the life of another…’ Her eyelids fluttered and she fell back into a deep sleep.
Richard looked towards the bed from the doorway. He had visited her every day, spending hours at her side until the doctor told them that she would live. Since then he had left Georgie to the care of the women, but he still visited regularly to see how she progressed.
‘Oh, Richard,’ Jenny said, realising he was there. ‘I did not know you had come in. Georgie was conscious for a little, though she did not truly remember anything that happened to her. I am sure it will come back to her a little at a time.’
‘Yes, I am certain it will,’ he agreed, but his expression did not lighten. His eyes held a distant expression, remote and cold. ‘What she says is the truth. It is a sin to take life.’
‘But you did what you had to do,’ Jenny said. She did not like to see that look in her brother’s eyes, because she had hoped that he was learning to put the past behind him, to forget whatever it was that haunted him. ‘You could not be certain that he would not shoot her again. Besides, he abducted her and then tried to kill her. He deserved to die.’
‘Perhaps,’ Richard said, a pulse flicking at his temple. ‘However, it is not my right to take life. I should have done better to wound him and hand him over to Rawlings.’
‘So that he could be tortured and hung?’ Jenny said, because she knew that her brother had been stung by Georgie’s words. ‘I dare say he would have chosen the clean death you gave him if he could. You should not castigate yourself for doing what you did, Richard. Georgie will not once she is herself again, I promise you.’
‘What Georgie thinks is only a part of it,’ he said. ‘In the course of my work I have done many things. It isn’t the first time I have killed with one shot. You know nothing about the work I do…the things I have done.’
‘In the line of duty,’ Jenny reminded him. ‘I know you, my dearest. You are a good man, a decent man. You would not stoop to murder.’
He smiled oddly. ‘There is a fine line between these things, Jenny. When I shot Thierry I was angry. My aim was true. I meant to kill him because of what he had done to her. Does that make me a murderer? I am not sure.’
‘Georgie will not think so once she understands.’
‘I am sure you will explain it to her so that she believes me a hero,’ Richard said, a grim smile in his eyes. ‘I have been called to London, Jenny. An attempt to murder the Regent was thwarted yesterday. They have the man in custody and he has given names, places and dates. Rawlings wants me to make certain of a few more of the traitors, but it looks as if we have it all sewn up. With Thierry gone there will be no more grand designs for creating chaos here. We still have the problem of Bonaparte. Even without Thierry’s support he is managing to raise a strong army; he has control of Paris and much of France…’
‘So there will be a war?’
‘Yes, I am certain of it.’ Richard’s gaze went to the bed once more. ‘I would not leave if I were not certain she was better.’
‘It may be for the best,’ Jenny told him. ‘If she is uncertain in her mind, she will need time to think about what happened. When will you return?’
‘It depends how much work Rawlings has for me.’
‘But surely you’ve done all they asked of you? That terrible man is dead. You’ve done your part, Richard. They have no right to demand more of you.’ Jenny sensed that her brother was hurting inside. She went to him, reaching out to touch his hand. ‘I believe Georgie loves you.’
‘It would be better for her if she did not,’ Richard said. ‘She must forget me, Jenny. Thierry may be dead, but I still have dangerous work to do—work that may take my life.’
‘Please, Richard, do not speak to me like this,’ Jenny begged. ‘You are my brother and you have done more than your duty. Why do you not give up this life and retire to your estates?’
‘While that madman Bonaparte remains at large, free to rampage all over Europe again, I cannot refuse my services,’ Richard said and frowned. ‘It may be a few days, perhaps longer. Tell her I shall return when I can if she asks for me.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Jenny assured him. ‘But she will wonder what was so important that you could not stay to make sure she was truly better.’
‘You know I would come if she needed me. She has you and Edward. I shall return as soon as I am able.’
‘You should think of yourself. Georgie deserves to be spoiled and loved, Richard. If you care for her, you should ask her to marry you.’
‘I cannot,’ Richard said. ‘You should not encourage her to think of it. If I return from the war…perhaps then.’ He shook his head. ‘There are many others who could give her a better life, Jenny. I carry too much baggage with me. She should choose someone nearer her own age, and I am sure she will once I am gone. You should tell her to look for a more suitable husband.’
‘Well, I certainly shall not tell her anything of the sort,’ Jenny said, giving him an indignant look. ‘I do not know what is wrong with you, Richard! I would swear you love her.’
‘It is because I love her,’ Richard said. ‘I want Georgie to be happy, and I would not see her a widow before she has been a wife.’
‘Well, I think you are a fool,’ his sister told him frankly. ‘Georgie loves you, I am sure of it. She would make you an excellent wife, and surely you must wish to marry one day? You cannot wish to live alone all your life?’
‘I may have to,’ Richard said harshly. ‘I simply wish to give her time to think. Is that so very terrible?’
‘No, but it is foolish,’ Jenny said. ‘We have had a dozen or more gentlemen calling to see how she does. I dare say some of them are fortune hunters, but some seem genuine. If you do not make certain of her, you may lose her.’
‘Better that than she should regret her choice later,’ Richard said. ‘She hardly knows me. She did not even recall my name until you told her. If she truly loved me, I do not think she could have forgot me that easily. I dare say she will meet someone and fall in love—and perhaps that would be for the best….’
Jenny watched as he went to the bed, looking down at Georgie for a moment or two before bending to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. She stirred in her sleep and smiled, but did not wake. Richard watched her for a moment longer before turning away.
Leaving his sister’s house, Richard mounted his horse and rode away without a backward glance. Georgie had been hurt by his decision not to ask her to be his wife, but it seemed that her feelings for him were not as strong as he had feared. He had thought his refusal to marry her might break her heart, but she had forgotten him so easily that he was sure her infatuation had been merely the fancy of a young girl.
Geo
rgie was many years younger than he, and it was another reason he had held back. As enticing and beautiful as she was, he knew her to be innocent. It would have been wrong of him to take advantage of that innocence. She would soon recover from any disappointment and fall in love again.
Whether he would recover so easily was another matter. However, his life was not his own for the foreseeable future. He had his duty to his King and country, and if he died in the coming war there would be few to mourn him. At least he would not leave a grieving widow behind him.
Georgie stirred and stretched, her eyelids flickering before she finally opened her eyes and looked about her. She was in her bedroom in Bath—the house that Jenny had taken for their visit. So where had that other room been? The one that was so bare and neglected? Had it all been a dream? The events of that night were a blur in her mind, but as she moved and realised that her shoulder was beginning to feel less sore, she understood that it had been real. She had not been able to remember it properly at first, but Jenny had told her little things and it had come back to her piece by piece.
She remembered smearing her face with that awful old rouge. Her ruse had worked, for Thierry had bent over her to see her more clearly and she’d smelled the wine on his breath, guessing that he had been drinking heavily and might be a little fuddled in his thinking. It had given her the courage to throw the wine in his face and make her bid for escape, but he had followed and he had fired after her, hitting her in the back of her shoulder. The doctor had since told her that she was lucky, because it had not been as deep a wound as it might have been. She had been ill because she had taken a fever, which had been severe and caused all her friends a lot of worry.
Seeing all the vases of flowers set about her room, Georgie smiled because Jenny was always telling her about various people who had sent her gifts of flowers and fruit, many of them calling to see how she went on. None of the flowers had come from Richard.
She remembered Jenny telling her that Richard had killed the Frenchman. Somewhere at the back of her mind she recalled hearing one shot after she fell. Richard must have been afraid that Thierry would shoot again, and he had made sure of his own aim. She shuddered, because it was unpleasant to think that a man had died because of her—even though he was a wicked man and deserved his fate. However, Richard had shot him on the spur of the moment and she could not have expected him to do less.
But why wasn’t he here with her? Everyone else seemed to care how she was, but Richard had gone away, leaving her to the care of his sister and her family. He had put his work first and she found that hard to bear. But, of course, she was only a troublesome girl to Richard. He had rescued her more than once and he had promised to be her friend, but he did not love her as she loved him. He did not wish to marry her. She meant so little to him that he had gone away while she was still desperately ill.
Her eyes stung, but she blinked hard, refusing to weep. She had always known that Richard’s work was important to him, but surely she was important too?
If he truly cared for her, he would not have left her when she was so ill. But he only wished to be her friend. The humiliating memory of the day she had thrown herself at him came flooding back, bringing such a sharp stinging pain that was worse than all the physical agony she had endured. Richard did not love her. He had made that very plain.
She had to forget him, to move on with her life. Perhaps one day she would find someone else to love, but for the moment she felt as if her heart had been torn in two.
She had sat about in the house too long, Georgie thought, feeling restless. She was much better now, but she had not ventured further than the garden despite Jenny’s encouragement. However, the glorious weather made her feel that she would like to go out somewhere. She was at the window musing whether or not she felt strong enough to walk to the lending library when Jenny entered behind her.
‘Would you like to come with me to the Pump Room this morning, my love?’ Jenny asked. ‘It will be my last visit, because we are to go home tomorrow.’
‘Your visit has been spoiled,’ Georgie said, looking at her regretfully. ‘You have done hardly anything you wanted to do, Jenny—and it is all my fault.’
‘How could it be your fault?’ Jenny demanded. ‘You did not ask to be abducted by that wicked man, dearest. Caring for you was more important to me than visiting, though, as you know, friends have continued to call here and I have been to one or two small affairs. It is you that has missed out on all the treats I planned for you.’
‘Well, I think I shall walk to the Pump Room with you this morning,’ Georgie said, smiling at her. ‘I shall wear the new gown we ordered before I was hurt. At least I have lots of new clothes to wear, Jenny—and I dare say you will entertain at home.’
‘Yes, certainly, once we return—at least until Edward goes away.’
Georgie saw the anxious look in her eyes. ‘He has not said when he will rejoin his regiment yet?’
‘Not yet, but I am sure it cannot be long,’ Jenny said. ‘Everyone is talking of the war as inevitable and I know Edward will rejoin once he thinks us settled at home again.’
‘Then we must make the most of the little time left to us,’ Georgie said. ‘Perhaps we could postpone our return for a day or so?’
‘Well, I suppose we might prolong it by two days,’ Jenny said, looking pleased. ‘If you are sure you wish to, my love?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Georgie said. ‘I am feeling so much better now. I am not sure I should wish to dance, but I would not mind attending the theatre or going for a drive somewhere.’
‘Edward will take us driving this afternoon,’ Jenny said. ‘We shall go to the theatre tomorrow evening and go home the following day. Yes, I should like that—and now, I’ll ring for your pelisse and then we will walk to the baths.’
‘This was a good idea,’ Georgie told her companion after they had been walking for a few minutes. ‘It is so refreshing to be out of the house again, and it is such a lovely day.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Jenny replied. ‘Are you sure you feel well enough to continue, dearest?’
‘Yes, I feel perfectly well,’ Georgie said. Her shoulder was still a little sore, but she thought it nothing to complain of; the searing pain had gone and she felt a return of her strength in the sunshine. ‘Besides, it is not so very far…’ She did not notice the young lad following close behind her and was shocked when he suddenly seized her parasol and made off with it down the street. ‘Oh! He stole my parasol…’
‘How very annoying…’ Jenny began, but even as she did so a gentleman grabbed the fleeing urchin, holding him by the scruff of the neck by one hand and relieving him of the parasol with the other. He gave him a sharp tap with the parasol and then let the youth go. ‘Did you see that, dearest? The gentleman has retrieved your parasol for you.’
The gentleman in question was coming towards them. He removed his hat, making Georgie an elegant leg. ‘Your property, Miss Bridges. I let the rogue go for I dare say he was desperate to attempt such a thing in broad daylight and does not need more punishment.’
‘Oh, no, it does not matter. I have my parasol back,’ Georgie said and smiled. He was a tall gentleman, his hair fair and wavy, his eyes blue. She thought him handsome, but was not sure she knew him. ‘You seem to know my name, sir, but I fear that I do not recall yours.’
‘We have not been introduced,’ he told her, his eyes bright with amusement. ‘I saw you briefly one evening at a party. It was my intention to ask you for a dance later, but unfortunately you had left.’
‘Not by my own wish,’ Georgie said, her smile dimming. ‘I do not know if you have heard the rumours?’
‘I believe there was some tale of abduction and of your being hurt before your family rescued you?’ His eyes were soft and concerned. ‘If that is true, I must offer you my sympathy, Miss Bridges. I am Captain Philip Lowe, at your service… Lady Maddison, you will vouch for me, I believe?’
‘Yes, of course, sir,’ Jenny said, givin
g him a warm smile. ‘Georgie, my dear, this gentleman is a friend of my husband’s. They served together some years ago.’
‘I had that honour,’ Captain Lowe told her. ‘I was hoping to call on Edward this afternoon to pay my respects. I would have come before, but I was called home for a few days. My grandmother was ill, but I am pleased to say she made a full recovery.’
‘I am glad of that, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘We dine at home this evening—perhaps you would give us the pleasure of your company?’
‘I should like that very well,’ he replied. ‘But I must not delay you. I dare say you are on your way to an appointment.’
‘We merely visit the Pump Room,’ Jenny told him. ‘This is Georgie’s first day out after her illness.’
‘Then I shall hope it is a happy one. Lady Maddison, Miss Bridges. I shall see you this evening.’
He nodded and walked on past. Jenny watched him for a moment, her expression a mixture of thought and apprehension.
‘You are thinking that he wishes to speak to Edward about rejoining the regiment?’ Georgie asked.
‘Yes, I am sure it will be spoken of this evening,’ Jenny said and sighed. ‘But it cannot be helped, Georgie. I know Edward means to go and I cannot say anything to stop him.’
‘I suppose not,’ Georgie said. ‘It is a pity that more was not done to make sure that Bonaparte remained a prisoner on Elba!’
‘Yes,’ Jenny agreed and gave a rueful laugh. ‘I think we ladies would run things much better if only we had the chance—do you not agree, dearest?’
‘Certainly I do,’ Georgie said. Her eye was caught by a bonnet in the window of a milliner nearby. ‘That would suit you, Jenny. Why do you not buy it?’
‘I have so many bonnets,’ Jenny said. ‘But you are right, that shade of cherry red is very becoming to me. Shall we go in and see if it looks as well on as off? And you might like to buy something, my love. You have not had nearly as much chance to purchase new trifles as you should.’