The foyer was grand with its marble staircase, and she removed her gloves as she briefly glanced at the portraits that, like Ravenstone, led up the stairs. She was only vaguely aware of the butler who followed behind her, protesting her intrusion.
“Where is the drawing room?” she asked, ignoring the servant’s deep scowl as he passed her, and tried to block her way.
“Madam, if you will leave your card, I will inform Sir Edward that you have called, but I insist you leave at once for he does not receive callers at this hour.”
“Does he not?” she said lightly. “I assure you Sir Edward will see me now were you but to give him my name.”
“I am quite certain he will not,” he said, his face tight and disapproving.
“But you have not yet learned my name,” she said, and deciding she had played with the poor man long enough said. “I am Lady Georgiana Fairchild, his wife.”
“But you could not be for she is—,” he stopped, suddenly unsure.
“Paralyzed?” she asked. “Yes, I was, but have been miraculously restored to my feet. I assure you I am she, for had you but noticed the livery of my men you would realize your mistake on your own.”
His face paled at his error, and he drew himself up and stepped aside. His consternation was quickly hidden behind his stoic mask, and she admired his self-control.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Fairchild. We had not been informed of your arrival today.”
“I wanted to surprise my husband, so I did not send ahead. You will have to forgive me,” she said. “I will wait in the drawing room while my room is prepared. My maid awaits your direction outside, and I would appreciate my horse and carriage being accommodated in the stables.”
“Of course, m’lady,” he said. “This way, please.”
He showed her into a marvelously decorated drawing room of scarlet with gold-framed mirrors. The furniture was ornate, the silks rich and the carpets soft. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and she marveled at the demonstration of wealth. Where had Edward found the money to pay for it all?
She feared seeing the rest of the house, and cursed herself for not having come to London sooner. Her nausea returned suddenly, and she strolled to the window to stifle it, looking out at the passing traffic of fashionable carriages. Gentlemen in fine coats and hats walked along the sidewalks. She unfastened her bonnet and drew it from her head. She placed her hand on her stomach as fear suddenly raised itself, and she tried to push it away.
She had come to London to seduce her husband, a decision she had made in the carriage on her way to the city. It was the only solution. And God help her, for she would need it. She had no idea how to go about seducing a man who did not favor women. Perhaps if she dressed as George, she would be more likely to succeed. She laughed to herself, which felt slightly hysterical, and she raised her hand to her mouth to suppress any sound.
What was she to do? If Edward discovered she was with child, he would annul their marriage. Her mother would disown her, and deny her any contact with Jane and Margaret. She did not want to think about what it would do to Charles. Her only hope was to find her way to Edward’s bed and quickly. She was already almost two months gone.
“Oh, Nicholas,” she sighed, placing her hand and forehead against the cool glass of the window. She hated herself for thinking of him. She had tried so hard to put him completely out of her mind. The memory of their last meeting was still so fresh that she felt again the anger she had felt that night. She had sworn to herself no man would ever hurt her again. She would forget him. It would take time, but she would forget him.
She wanted to see Jane and Margaret and contemplated leaving her husband’s house to do just that. She forced herself to remain, however, knowing she must first see Edward. She must play the devoted wife, eager to see her husband.
A figure emerged below, exiting the house from the servants’ door on the ground floor. It was a gentleman dressed in a fine coat and she mistook him for a moment as Edward. It was not until he ascended the stairs to the sidewalk and glanced back at her that she recognized Mr. Madden. He tipped his hat to her and smiled before engaging his walking stick and sauntering away. She really did need to do something about that man.
The drawing room door opened and she straightened from the window and turned to see Edward enter the room.
“Georgiana,” he said, smiling, and holding his hands out to her. “I can scarce believe such a miracle has occurred, but am forced to since I see the evidence before me.”
She took his hands in hers, and he kissed her cheek.
She smiled. “I am quite restored.”
“It is the clean country air that has performed such a cure on you, no doubt. I had it in mind only this morning to come and see you, only to discover you here.”
“I hope it is a welcome surprise.”
“Indeed,” he beamed. “We must introduce London to you again, now that you are able to be in its society.”
This was the part she dreaded. She had no wish to become again a part of the circle that Edward cultivated.
“But first we must clothe you,” he said, and holding her hands up he studied her dress and hair. “You cannot be seen about like this, I fear, but it is easily remedied. I shall send for the dressmaker and you shall have to wear a wig until your hair grows again.”
She wanted to protest, saying she liked her hair short but restrained herself.
“I have engagements to see to this afternoon, and dinner tonight at Lord Cravens. I fear we must wait until you are better outfitted for you to accompany me.”
“Of course,” she said. “I will call on my mother this afternoon.”
“Excellent. I am sure she will be as eager to see you as I am.”
He bowed to her and left the room. She returned to the window, watching him leave the house and walk in the same direction that Mr. Madden had taken. Bedding her husband was going to be more difficult than she had expected. She turned back to the furniture of the drawing room. Every room in the house was probably as lavishly decorated, and she felt a headache settle behind her eyes. She would visit the girls and forget for a while about where Edward had found the money to suit his tastes.
***
The girls’ demeanor had changed since their return to London. Jane sat demurely on the settee across from Georgiana, her hands folded in her lap, her posture straight and ladylike. Georgiana wanted desperately to reach out to her, and hold her close, but Jane had avoided her and settled next to her mother on the settee. Only Margaret, when seeing her enter, had forgotten herself and given her a hug, ignoring Lady Wyndham’s admonishment.
“Georgy, you can walk,” Margaret said, excited.
Jane only gave her a short curtsy and then ignored her. She wished her mother were not present, for Georgiana was sure Jane would be herself again but for her stiff presence.
“I am having their new governess teach them to be young ladies,” Lady Wyndham said. “I have for too long neglected their education, I fear.”
So the new governess was to blame for the sudden change in them.
“How are you, Jane?” Georgiana asked, wanting to scream at the absurdity of being forced to be so distant.
“Well, thank you,” Jane said, her eyes lowered at the carpet.
“Will you not look at me?” she asked, but Jane ignored the plea.
Margaret scowled at her sister and drew closer to Georgiana. “She will not play with me either.”
“Young ladies do not play,” her mother said. “It is time, Margaret, that you follow your sister’s good example and acquire the pursuits of a young lady.”
“I hate the pianoforte,” she said angrily. “I will not play it.”
“They are still so young,” Georgiana said. “Can the adult world not wait a few years yet?”
“You failed to distinguish yourself in the accomplishments of a young lady for I was not vigilant. I do not aim to repeat my mistake.”
“They are but five.”
“It is never too early to begin.”
“Miss Fogerty hits us if we do not sit properly,” Margaret said. “Mama does not stop her.”
Georgiana scowled at her mother. “Is that necessary?”
“It most certainly is,” she said. “Miss Fogerty comes highly recommended and I am lucky to have engaged her as a nursery governess. The girls have made remarkable progress. She sees to their elocution, their poise and their manners for I refuse to be exposed again to the ridicule of those around me.”
Her mother was punishing her through her own children and she was enjoying it.
“An education should concern itself with literature and history.”
“They are too young for that now. There will be time later. I much prefer they learn proper etiquette first. Jane is making excellent progress, but I fear Margaret is a slow learner. Miss Fogerty shall endeavor to help the poor child.”
Her mother picked up a small bell next to her and rang it. The butler arrived. “Have Miss Fogerty remove the children.”
“As you wish, madam.”
Margaret put her arms around Georgiana’s waist.
“Georgy, I want to stay with you,” she cried. “I don’t like it here. I want to go back to Ravenstone.”
“Margaret, you will stop this instant?” her mother said. “I forbid this behavior.”
“No!” Margaret yelled at her as Miss Fogerty entered the room.
Georgiana pulled her arms loose, and taking the child’s face between her hands said, “Margaret, darling, I will come up to see you in a moment, I promise. I will be in London for a while and will come see you every day. Right now you must go with Miss Fogerty.”
Margaret shook her head and cried, but left the room with Jane. Georgiana sat staring at the door that closed behind them, her heartbeat fast and irregular as she tried to calm herself. Margaret’s tears had torn at her self-control but it was Jane’s refusal to even look at her that frightened Georgiana. Margaret’s spirit was intact despite this new environment, but Jane was so changed.
“You mean to break them as you failed to break me.”
“I can always count on your need for the dramatic,” her mother said, and rose from her seat to move to the window. “I only wish to see them successful in society. A distinction you have failed to achieve.”
“When do you expect Charles home?”
“He often takes his supper at the club,” she said. “Had you but given us some notice to expect you, I am sure we could have accommodated you more favorably.”
“I will wait for him.”
“You should return to your husband.”
Georgiana ignored her and left the drawing room, making her way up the stairs to the nursery. She paused outside the door and listened to the sounds within. Miss Fogerty was berating Margaret for her lack of self-control. She heard the unmistakable sound of a stick on flesh. She opened the door quickly, and Miss Fogerty turned in surprise. Margaret sat crying. Her hand, held in the governess’s, had deep red welts across the palm.
“Could I have a word, Miss Fogerty,” Georgiana asked evenly.
“I am in the middle of lessons,” the woman said, dismissing her and turned back to Margaret. She raised the stick in the air, but before she could bring it down, Georgiana had grabbed it from her. The woman’s surprise this time was followed by anger, and her eyes blazed as she said, “What do you think you are doing?”
“Strange. I was about to ask you the same question,” Georgiana said, stifling her urge to hit the woman with the stick. “Now, if you will kindly step out into the hall for a moment.”
Miss Fogerty seemed to consider the request as a suggestion, and crossed her arms. “I will not,” she said. “I have complete authority here given to me by Lady Wyndham.”
“As you wish,” Georgiana smiled. Winking at Margaret, she said, “You leave me little choice.”
She grabbed the woman’s left wrist, and applied enough pressure to easily twist her arm up and behind her back, and propel her quickly through the door while the governess cried out in pain. Georgiana closed the door to the schoolroom and slammed the woman up against the opposite wall, her arm still twisted up behind her. With the woman howling louder now, Georgiana drew her arm up further to almost breaking point.
“Now,” Georgiana said. “I do believe I asked you nicely but you refused to be reasonable. I will make this brief, but clear. If you ever touch either girl again, or in any way hurt them or make their lives miserable, I will pay you another visit and it shall not go so well for you. Do you understand me?”
Miss Fogerty nodded and Georgiana released her as suddenly as she had grabbed her.
“You are quite mad,” the governess said, recoiling from her, her eyes wide with fear.
“You judge very well and should remember it well,” Georgiana said. “It may prove quite harmful to you if you forget. Now I will take the girls for a walk in the gardens and you can use the time to recover yourself.”
She opened the door and Margaret flew into her arms, but it took her a moment to coax Jane to go with them. The girl followed reluctantly behind.
When Charles had still not arrived home after a silent dinner with her mother, she was forced to return to Edward’s house without seeing her brother. She said goodbye to the girls before she departed, and gave Miss Fogerty one last smile.
Edward was not home. She decided to take advantage of his absence and slipped into his study without being seen. She found no account books, no bills and no papers to speak of, only a few personal letters from a lover, and invitations. She was unsure of what she hoped to find, knowing only that she hoped to find some useful information.
In her bedroom, she changed into her nightdress and climbed between the sheets. She tried to remain awake listening for Edward’s return, but her eyes closed after a while and she drifted off to sleep.
***
Charles lifted his head from the papers in front of him and frowned. He listened to his clerk addressing a gentleman, his voice insistent. An argument ensued as they approached the door, then it opened suddenly.
“I am sorry, Sir Charles, I tried to inform the gentleman you wished not to be disturbed, but he would not have it.”
“That’s quite all right, Mr. Ellis. I’ll deal with him.”
The clerk left, closing the door, and Charles turned his attention to the man standing before him. He was of average height and build, but for the extra weight he seemed to carry about his middle, making his fine black waistcoat bulge. On his head, he wore a powered wig, which was unusual for the time as most now preferred their own hair. There were however a few gentlemen who did still wear wigs, having lost their own locks with time. This gentleman, however, seemed too young for such an occurrence to have befallen him already.
His skin was smooth but for the dark mustache above his lip and he wore a monocle at his left eye. The young man removed his hat and gloves and set them on the empty chair, leaning his walking stick against it. His clothes were well cut, of a rich fabric, and his cravat perfectly starched and tied.
“You are a hard man to find, Sir Charles,” he said, his voice accented. “I have left my card on several occasions with your man out there for you are never here or at your residence, it would seem.”
“I am a busy man, Mr.—”
“Mr. George Hughes,” he said. “Of the Hughes of Boston, Massachusetts.”
That would explain the strange accent, Charles thought. He watched as the young gentleman studied the books on his shelf, his hands behind his back.
“What exactly can I do for you, Mr. Hughes?” he asked impatiently.
“You can recommend me to your club at Whites, and to your bank. I believe you are with Hoare’s Bank on Fleet Street.”
Charles’s annoyance shifted to concern, for the young man was certainly deranged.
“And why would I do that, Mr. Hughes? I do not know you at all.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, and shifted his gaze from the books
helf and the piles of paper on the floor to Charles. “I beg your pardon. I had thought you would have made the connection.”
“What connection, sir?”
“Hughes was the name your great aunt, twice removed, took from her second husband, after her first husband lost his life to illness in the Americas. We are, I suppose, distant cousins, a few times removed.”
Charles shifted in his chair, leaning back. “I see. And on this basis alone, I am to open all doors to you in London?”
“That would be most kind indeed. The English are quite elitist when it comes to these matters.”
The young man finally settled himself in a chair and offered a satisfied smile.
“No,” Charles said and watched the smile slide off the gentleman’s face.
“No?” he said. “But why not?”
“Because, good sir, to recommend a fellow, one should at least have direct knowledge of a man’s character. Since I have only but clapped eyes on you myself in the last few moments, I cannot know if you possess any honor at all, and will therefore not jeopardize my own good name and standing for a total stranger. We English elitists are rather peculiar that way.”
“Bother.”
“Quite.”
“But you would do so then for, say, a close family member you knew well?”
“If the person had honor to recommend him, indeed I would.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Hughes smiled. “It is settled then.”
Charles frowned at him, wondering if he was going to be forced to call the police and have the deranged young fellow removed. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, Charles, really,” he said and removed his wig, and ripped the mustache from his upper lip. “It’s me, Georgiana.”
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 14