“I am ever so sorry, Lady Fairchild, to wake you but Lady Wyndham required that you should be awakened so you may start your day. She said how it was important to rise early and to remind you of such.”
She sat up and accepted the cup of tea, sipping it slowly as she studied the room. Bare of paintings, the drapes were worn and tattered where they should have been mended. She studied the maid as she moved about the room. She appeared no more than seventeen. It was unusual to have a lady’s maid so young. The position, which paid good wages, was sought after. It required confidence and skill to dress the mistress’s hair and maintain her extensive wardrobe.
“What is your name?” Georgiana asked.
“Oh forgive me, Lady Fairchild. I am Harriet,” she said and bobbed a quick curtsy. She continued to run around the room, putting water in the basin and making sure the fire was burning warmly in the cold room.
“Shall I bring your breakfast?”
“No, I will have it downstairs.”
“But I was told you were to have it in your room.”
“And now I’m telling you I will have it downstairs.”
Harriet hesitated and Georgiana knew she was dreading the next part of her job. She stood uncertainly beside the bed, her face pinched.
“Don’t worry, Harriet,” Georgiana said. “We shall manage together.”
It took two hours to wash and dress as Georgiana guided Harriet how best to go about taking care of a cripple. She was still dressed in her wedding gown, which had to be removed first. She tried to dress Georgiana’s hair but was unable to do much with the short style. Harriet was nervous and kept dropping pins and brushes, apologizing many times over. No reassurances helped.
A footman carried her down stairs to a sad-looking breakfast room in need of a rug. She ate breakfast with her mother who refused to acknowledge her presence. Sir Edward and Charles arrived shortly from their morning ride, smelling like grass, fresh air, and horses. Georgiana envied them.
Edward expressed no surprise at her presence and Charles knew better than to say anything.
“You could ride,” Sir Edward said, taking a bite of his eggs.
“Do you read minds?” she asked, surprised by his comment.
He smiled. “I’ll have a special saddle made so you can have some exercise.”
“That is out of the question,” her mother said. “It’s far too dangerous.”
“Is it?” he asked frowning. “How?”
“She could be killed.”
“I imagine, dear madam, so could you on any God given day just riding in a carriage. It happens all the time.”
“My sole consideration is for my daughter.”
“Excellent, for my sole consideration is for my wife.” Sir Edward smiled but his expression was stern as he spoke to her mother. “My life, good madam, is in London, and Georgiana is to remain here. I wish to make her as independent as possible, and her comfort and well-being in my absence are my priority. She is, of course, capable of making her own decisions.”
They both turned to Georgiana to find her smiling. “I want to ride again.”
“There, it is settled,” Sir Edward beamed.
“Whatever happened to Armageddon?” Charles asked, referring to Georgiana’s beloved stallion.
“Your father shot that devil after the accident,” her mother said. “He should never have consented to her having him in the first place.”
“Shot him,” Charles said, incredulous, “but he was worth a small fortune. Georgiana, you had great success breeding him and selling his foals. With Father’s love of money, I would have thought shooting that horse was out of the question.”
“You bred horses, Georgiana?” Sir Edward asked.
“She is the best judge of horseflesh,” Charles smiled, proud of her. “They would come from far and wide to Clarence Hall to buy Father’s stock, only it was Georgiana who actually bred them. She has a good eye.”
“Then you must see what can be done about those nags out in the stable,” Sir Edward said, pleased.
“I think I am going to much enjoy being married to you,” Georgiana sighed.
Sir Edward laughed. “I am happy to hear it, for I intend you to work hard and build me a fortune.”
“Work?” her mother said. “I will not have it. Surely, you see she is not capable of doing anything. I myself intend to visit often and run this house for it is in need of a strong guiding hand. You may put your mind at ease on that account.”
Sir Edward leaned back in his seat and studied her mother, making her squirm slightly under his scrutiny. “Georgiana will run this house.”
Her mother snorted at the idea. “I think not. It was made quite plain to me with her hysterics yesterday that my daughter’s weakness is not only of body, but also of mind. The stress of responsibility will send her into a complete breakdown. No. I will remain to do my duty before returning to London.”
Sir Edward stood suddenly, pushing his chair back, and leaned across the table. His face was so close to her mother’s that, finding herself suddenly confronted, Lady Wyndham took a fright and leaned back, pinned against her chair as he glared at her.
His voice was soft and controlled as he said, “Madam, mark my words well for I shall not repeat them. Georgiana is the new mistress of this house and she will run it and anything else I deem necessary. You are here under her roof and will do as she bids you. Is that clear?”
Lady Wyndham glared back at him, but eventually lowered her eyes and nodded.
Sir Edward straightened and smiled. “Excellent. Then we understand each other. Now you must excuse me for I must go see my son. May I bring Rupert to meet you in the drawing room after breakfast, Georgiana?”
She nodded and watched him leave the room. His character was usually amiable but she had twice now been witness to a different side of him, first at the duel and now here at the breakfast table. Underneath his calm exterior hid a completely different man and she wondered at him.
“Well, I never,” her mother said. “I shall not stand for such treatment.”
“Oh do be quiet, Mama,” Charles said. “He was quite right to put you in your place for you failed to recognize it.”
She stood and, squaring her shoulders, exited the room, her head high.
“We won’t see her again for a while.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Georgiana smiled.
“You know, I think your marriage to Edward may just be a good one. I liked him well enough before, but taking the dragon by the tail and making it behave is really extraordinary, isn’t it?”
“So you are not angry with me anymore about marrying him?”
“I was never really angry with you, just concerned for your happiness.”
“I am as happy as I can possibly be,” she said.
“What a strange way of putting it but I suppose it is true,” he sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair and pushing his plate away.
He leaned back in his chair, his mud-spattered riding boots stretched out in front of him. He studied the room, shaking his head at the lack of adornments or even some basic furniture pieces like a sideboard. “It’s a wonder there are beds for us to sleep in still.”
She noticed that he had not eaten much and yet she knew Charles to have a good appetite. The eggs on his plate were not cooked enough and the bread was burnt and hard.
She sighed. “There is much to be done here.”
“Will you really manage?” he asked.
“You are a good brother, Charles, to worry so. What really concerns you?”
“Why are you to live here and he in London?”
She shrugged, not wanting to admit she had never been consulted on the matter.
“It’s not really a real marriage, is it? He wants someone to take care of Rupert.”
“Yes, of course.”
She sounded a lot less concerned than she felt. She frowned at her half-cooked eggs, not being so quick to accept her own explanation. Her new husband
had not asked her if she was willing to remain behind at Ravenstone while he returned to London.
Perhaps he was, after all, like most men and required only that she obey him and not concern herself with matters beyond her capacity. She was not against the idea of his being in London while she remained: far from it. She liked the arrangement. It promised her a degree of freedom she had not expected.
What she hated was that once again she was at the mercy of a man’s decisions. Sadly, too, her country life meant she would have less opportunity to see Jane and Margaret and this alone caused her enough distress that she felt again her tears running down her face. She wiped her face quickly but Charles came to console her, kneeling at her side. His kindness was her undoing, and a sob escaped.
“There, there,” he said kindly. “I’m sure once Edward gets to know you better he will come to love you and never want to leave your side. These things take time.”
Georgina laughed at the idea that her brother thought her emotional reaction concerned her feelings for Edward. Only her laughter sounded like more hysterical sobbing, and she allowed her brother to continue under the misapprehension.
***
Rupert was seven years old and glared from behind his father’s leg at her with great hatred as she sat on the settee, trying her best to smile at him. Having pulled her fragile emotions together and washed her face, it was a relief to meet Rupert, who immediately managed to divert her. The minute he had arrived in the drawing room, he had thrown his wooden block at her, hitting her in the face with the toy.
Sir Edward had been mortified and angry, giving Rupert a quick smack on his bottom and making him apologize. It did not help relations. Rupert hated her now even more because his beloved Papa had turned on him. His dark hair was long and shabby, unkempt with knots, and his breeches were torn at the knees.
“It’s a wonder I found him at all,” Sir Edward explained. “His nanny said he has taken to hiding and no one can find him except that he comes in when hungry. He loves the garden and knows every good place in it to burrow into. I had to drag him out of the hedgerow by his feet. You would have thought I was trying to murder him by the noises he was making. I expect he is nervous about meeting you.”
“It’s quite alright, Sir Edward. I have often wanted to hit someone with a wooden block for much lesser offenses. I admire his aim and strength,” she said rubbing the spot on her forehead where his missile had found its mark.
“You had better call me Edward,” he smiled and moved to sit down next to her, causing Rupert to scurry behind a chair where he sat mumbling to himself and sticking his head out once in a while to send her a searing look.
“Sir Edward—I mean Edward,” she smiled, correcting herself. “Do you mean what you said this morning?”
“I said a good many things. Which exactly are you referring to?”
“The part in which I will have control of the estate.”
“I do, very much so,” he said seriously. “You must build me an empire with riches beyond my wildest dreams.”
She laughed. “Are you ever serious?”
“Sometimes,” he smiled. “I hope I wasn’t too serious with your mother this morning. I despise arguing and find that with some it is easier to simply establish boundaries early so I don’t have to constantly struggle with them.”
“She will recover,” Georgiana said.
They sat listening to Rupert mumble, and Edward shrugged at her when she raised an eyebrow in question of what it all meant. He removed a loose thread from his expensive puce velvet coat.
“You wear beautiful clothes,” she remarked.
“Yes. I am afraid it is a weakness of mine,” he frowned. “I feel I must apologize for the state of this house; it is in even worse condition than when I was here last. I have no talent for its maintenance and no patience for it. Thus I will give you free reign over the entire estate.”
“You trust me to run it all?”
He nodded.
“You have noticed I am a female,” she said. “According to popular belief, women are hardly capable of thought and yet you want me to run the estate?”
He laughed. “I admit it is an unusual idea, but then you can hardly do worse than I have. I am afraid that I spend all my money on my London house and my debts. As you know, I married you so I would not have to sell this place, as my debts, I am afraid, are high and it has come to the point that I was threatened with debtors’ prison.”
“Surely not,” she said, pretending shock. Charles had informed her of it already.
“Indeed,” he sighed and leaned back against the settee. “My gambling debts are quite high.”
“Then give up gambling,” she said simply.
“Give up gambling?” he said, smiling. “I think not. It is highly entertaining and on occasion, I manage to win great sums. How else is a gentleman to entertain himself at social gatherings?”
“Flirting with beautiful young women, perhaps,” Georgiana suggested.
“I find them all so tedious, nothing in their heads but how much every man in the room is worth.”
“Dancing, then.”
“Again, tedious. Vapid creatures, who step on one’s feet and take the shine off them.”
“Dear me, I wonder that you have not completely expired from so much tediousness.”
He mistook her criticism as a joke and laughed, clapping his hands, the movement peculiarly feminine for such strong hands.
“I must congratulate you, dear, on possessing wit, a rare quality indeed amongst the accomplished females of our world.”
“You are being unfair in your judgment of the fair sex, Edward,” she chided. “Women are not allowed to be smarter than men as it makes men look bad, and since men really are not all that smart to begin with, it is indeed a low standard.”
He stared at her for a second, and she feared she had gone too far. She bit her lip, wishing she could take that last remark back, but then, he smiled.
“Perhaps.”
Unfortunately, his smile did not reach his eyes, and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise as her instincts warned her of danger. She realized she knew little about her new husband and she could not afford to have a man who held power over her be offended by her remarks. He stood suddenly and excused himself, leaving her alone in the room with Rupert. Seeing his chance to escape, the boy ran for the door and slammed it behind him. Not a good start.
10
In the late afternoon, Georgiana found herself in the study, seated behind a great wooden desk with the household ledger open in front of her. It was a mess. Missing entries abounded, and those that had been entered did not add up. She had sat over the figures for hours while her mother explained the various entries and how they should have been done. Then they called in the staff.
“You must dismiss her immediately with no pay and no references,” her mother insisted, looking at the housekeeper who paled at the words. Mrs. Bristow was a woman of about forty who stood in front of Georgiana, neatly dressed in a simple black, inexpensive fabric with no adornment. Her hair was pulled back in a severe knot and her hands were strong and work-roughened. Despite the threat to her livelihood, she remained controlled, her eyes steady on her mistress.
The cook stood next to Mrs. Bristow with the opposite appearance. A large disheveled woman about the same age, with a filthy apron, unkempt hair, and dirty hands, she was looking pleased.
“I said to Mr. Madden as he should dismiss her ages ago, madam, but he would keep her on,” the cook said, addressing Lady Wyndham with an ingratiating smile, and ignoring Georgiana as she had since arriving in the study.
Georgiana could have told the cook not to bother, but her mother soon made it clear. “You are to be dismissed as well, for your cooking skills are nonexistent, not to mention that your appearance is unacceptable.” This evaluation was one Georgiana could agree on, but the cook seemed not at all concerned at the words and simply kept her silence.
“Mrs. Brist
ow, who keeps these books?” Georgiana asked before the cook could begin another sentence.
Mrs. Bristow lowered her eyes for a second before recovering. “Mr. Madden, m’lady.”
“Is it not part of your duties as the housekeeper to keep the household accounts?”
“It is, m’lady. However, Mr. Madden insisted that he would keep them.”
“He is the steward, I take it?” It was not unusual for a steward to keep the household accounts.
She studied the rest of the staff. The butler, Mr. Elton, stood perfectly still, his white -gloved hands at his side. His wrinkled face expressionless, his right eye a milky white, he should have been retired a long time ago, living comfortably off a good pension.
The young footman stood beside the butler as if ready to catch him should he collapse. Dixon was his name, she remembered, and he was Mr. Elton’s grandson. His livery was threadbare, but clean and mended. He should have received a new uniform once a year, but it appeared he had made do for several years with the one he wore. Tall and lean, with well-muscled arms, he kept his red hair neatly tied in back. She knew him best, as it was he who had carried her around all day.
Campbell, the groom, stood next to him. He looked short next to Dixon but he was all muscle. His thick neck supported a smooth, bald head, his face hard as a statue’s, his eyebrows heavy and in one long line. He seemed a complete foil to Dixon.
Anna and Elizabeth, both housemaids, stood behind the housekeeper. Georgiana knew that they had only been hired temporarily, that when Lord Fairchild was not in residence, Mrs. Bristow managed the house by herself. They were both quite young and kept still, eyes downcast, as if invisible. Harriet was the only lady’s maid. Fortunately, her mother had brought her own maid and Charles and Sir Edward had their own valets.
“Have you no stable boys, Mr. Campbell?” she asked.
“No, m’lady. I manage well enough.”
“How many horses are currently in the stable?”
“Fourteen, m’lady.”
“I see,” she said, only she didn’t. She knew that eight of those horses would return to London where they had come from, and that one horse belonged to her brother and the other to Sir Edward. That meant there were exactly four coach horses that would remain, and that, she agreed, one man could manage. She also knew how much work it required to keep a stable, having spent most of her childhood in one.
Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 14