“How? By exposing him?” he asked. “They will hang him anyway and you will die too. This is the only way.”
She watched helplessly as he remounted his horse, and then he rode away, urging his horse into a gallop. Haskell passed her with a nod, and then they were gone and she was left by herself.
***
From a wooden box, two pistols were removed and inspected by both parties. They were loaded, the smell of gunpowder strong as it was poured down the barrels. A metal rod tamped the powder down, and then the small lead balls followed.
Would one of them lodge in his heart? Peter wondered. He heard again the music of the night before, and he felt again Georgiana’s lips on his, and he smiled, thinking if he was to die this day, it would be a good death.
He cared nothing for his country. It had done nothing for him and a spy selling secrets was no worse or better than a thief was to him. If he died this day, he did it for those he considered his own. And she was a part of that now.
His opponent threatened the place in the world he had been able to carve for himself, a place she had made possible. Without her, he would still be on the streets. He would still be hungry. Edward threatened her and Peter would do the only thing he knew to end any threat he had ever faced. He would meet it with violence.
It was a different kind of violence than he was used to. It was a violence attached to rules and an honorable code of conduct. But the end result was the same. Someone would die. He was handed a pistol and he inspected the barrel and nodded his satisfaction.
“Gentlemen, you will take twelve paces then turn and fire.”
Peter inhaled and with the pistol balanced in his right hand, and his back to his opponent, he felt time slow as his heart rate increased. Whole minutes seemed to live between each pace, and he heard clearly the gravel under each step he took. He heard the count of the tenth pace and he also heard what he had waited for, a slight alteration of the sound of the gravel under his opponent’s foot.
Peter leaned slightly left but not far enough. He heard the pistol shot and felt the searing hot path of the bullet as it entered his shoulder and made its way through his flesh and exited again. He stumbled slightly, faltered, and turned to see Edward’s horrified face. The seconds themselves seemed frozen.
Lord Fairchild had cheated. He had turned on the tenth pace and not the twelfth.
Peter smiled, for he had expected it. Edward knew that when Peter had chosen pistols as his weapon of choice, there would be less skill and more luck involved than with swords. It was a chance a man like Edward would be unwilling to take.
Now it was Peter’s turn to fire, and he raised the pistol, not hesitating. A cloud of smoke erupted in front of him, and he did not see his result, but he could be patient. He waited a moment for the slight breeze to lift the smoke aside, and then sighed with relief. A dark red stain grew on Edward’s chest right where his heart should be.
Edward crumpled to the ground, and his seconds and doctor rushed forward to help him. Peter looked at his shoulder, and then stepped forward and, dropping the pistol, walked toward his horse. Haskell helped Peter mount as he staggered, and handed him his reins. He saw Georgiana running into the clearing, and she paused to take in the scene. She saw Peter sitting on his horse, and he nodded at her. Then she turned to look in Edward’s direction, and ran forward. He urged his horse on and rode away from his triumph.
***
Georgiana did not remain in London after Edward’s death, but returned to Ravenstone, taking his body with her to be buried in the family plot there. On the trip home, she had sat stoically watching the countryside pass, wondering how she would be able to face Rupert.
When she arrived, it was Rupert who was the first to fly down the stairs and launch himself at her. He cried while she held him, feeling like a Judas and hating herself. Did he know the truth and was old enough to understand, he would condemn her for his father’s death as the rest of the world had. She picked him up in her arms, and carried him into the drawing room, sitting with him on her lap while he cried.
She was completely numb to the stares and whispers during the funeral service. Charles supported her, and she leaned on him heavily. She held Rupert’s small hand in hers, and cried because he stood so bravely next to his father’s grave, his small face solemn. She was only vaguely aware of the words spoken over the grave, and when her brother eventually led her away, she went.
The London newspapers had been filled with details of the duel and its outcome. The scandal was on everyone’s lips, and her portrait graced the front page. She was now infamous.
Her mother had refused her entrance into the house to say goodbye to Jane and Margaret. She was hated by society, but their hate was naught compared to her own self-loathing. The burden of guilt weighed heavily on her, and she could talk to no one about what had happened. Even Charles had not asked her to confide in him, and she had been relieved by it, for she could not involve him anymore in her sordid world.
An arrest warrant had been issued for the young Lieutenant but he had vanished. It was surmised that he had returned to the Continent. She had hoped to see Peter at Ravenstone but he was gone and she feared for him. Harry would not answer her questions and he avoided her after her return. She spent a quiet Christmas with Grace and Rupert, and the dark winter weather closed in on her as she spent long hours by herself.
She missed Nicholas despite her best efforts to put him out of her mind. She often found herself talking to the baby growing inside her. She told him stories about her childhood at Evansgate. It made the longing worse, but she could not seem to stop herself. She heard, in a letter from Charles, that Nicholas had been sent to the Americas. He had married Caroline first in a small ceremony in London, and then taken to the sea. Caroline had not gone with him.
He would believe the rumors because he needed to. It would be easier for him that way. She had known from the moment they had become lovers that one day she would have to let him go. She had not expected it to hurt as much as it did, and she had not expected the longing for him to be so deep. As her belly grew, she thanked God for giving her a part of him she could love forever.
Dark days were followed by even darker nights and she kept to herself, not wanting any company but her own. The only person to call on her was Major Price and he was the last person she wanted to see, so she sent him away with an excuse.
The weather turned bitterly cold and Ravenstone did not seem to need her as the staff and, in particular Grace, saw to the daily needs of the estate. She was thankful, because getting out of bed had seemed to require all her energy, and some days she did not even bother with that much. She wrote letters to Jane and Margaret and trusted Charles to make sure they received them. She could do no more but miss them.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Grace asked as she entered the library with a candle one afternoon in late January.
Georgiana smiled at her. “Aye, so it is. I had not noticed. I was watching the sunset. Did you see it?”
“No,” Grace said as she lit the candles in the room then turned to the fireplace. “I have been busy in the kitchen. Rupert has been in a temper, and Cook has left refusing to finish cooking supper.”
“Left?” Georgiana asked.
“Your hopes are misplaced. She only went so far as her room.”
“Oh,” Georgiana said, disappointed. “Rupert’s temper has grown since his father’s death.”
“And your indulgence of it has made it all the more so. What that child needs is for you to put a stop to his offending behavior. You are mistaken in blaming yourself for Edward’s death. Take Rupert in hand before his character is decided.”
Grace sounded angry. She was never angry. Georgiana had only ever known her to be sweet-tempered.
“Grace, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know I have not been of much help of late.”
“Do venture beyond this,” Grace snapped and turned from making the fire to face her. “I have watched you for wee
ks now dwell in such a pitiable state as to render my patience naught. Ravenstone needs you, Georgiana, to be the strong and independent woman you were when first I arrived here.”
Georgiana felt tears rise, and could not seem to stop them from slipping down her cheeks.
“Oh, dear,” Grace said, and rose from her kneeling position to sit next to her at the window seat, and embrace her. “I was too harsh. Forgive me.”
Georgiana pulled away from her, and wiped the tears from her cheeks and shook her head. “No, you have it right. Grace, I have been a most determined annoyance. ”
“It was not your fault,” Grace said, and handed her a handkerchief.
“Was it not?” she said sadly.
“I propose that if men are foolish enough shoot one another for honor, then they are deserving of the consequences.”
“I am a pariah not of my own choosing, and it rankles.”
“I find it greatly surprising that you find this of importance. A very wise young woman once told me that the only thing to recommend society was its inconsistency. Consider that another scandal will soon require their attention and you will be forgotten again.”
“Bastards,” she said and laughed.
“Now I must insist your first order of business is Rupert.”
“What do you recommend?”
“I have reason to believe that Rupert is in need of a serious quarrel that you must triumph from. He needs you to assure him that he is still a child, and not master of this house. In my opinion the poor child is so frightened at the thought he has to be the adult now because you have shown such weakness of late.”
“I can do that.”
“Good,” Grace said and pulled her up from the window seat. “He is at this moment in the stables, I believe, telling Mr. Campbell what an idiot he is for refusing to ready his pony. He is planning to ride the estate as you used to do and make sure all is well.”
“God love him,” Georgiana said and walked from the room.
“She fetched her coat and wrapped it around herself as she walked slowly around the house to the stables. It was a cold day and the previous day’s snow, which had melted, was now frozen again to ice. The cold wind made the temperature all the worse.
She walked into the stables just as Rupert delivered a good solid kick at Mr. Campbell’s shin.
“Rupert,” she said, taking him by surprise and he turned to face her, his small face furious. “What are you doing?”
“I want my pony saddled, and that fat idiot refuses to do as he is told.”
Rupert swung back to Mr. Campbell who was standing his ground against the boy.
“You are dismissed,” Rupert yelled. “Take your things and leave at once.”
“Mr. Campbell is not going anywhere, and you shall apologize at once for having so ill used him.”
Rupert turned to her and, imitating the icy voice his father had used, he said, “I am the master of this house now, and they shall all do as I say.”
“You are a seven-year-old boy whom I will give a good hiding to if you don’t apologize this instant.”
He glared at her, his small face turning red with fury. “I will not.”
She grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him closer then applied her hand to his backside. She continued until he began to cry. Then she put him back on his feet.
“Now apologize to Mr. Campbell,” she said insistently.
He continued to cry, his small face lowered to the ground.
“Rupert,” she warned.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Campbell,” he said between hiccups.
“For what?” she prompted.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said sadly.
“And?”
“I won’t do it again.”
She apologized to Mr. Campbell herself, and then left the stable, holding on to Rupert’s hand. In the drawing room, she sat down next to him and waited for him to stop crying. She had done him the greatest injustice in allowing herself to give in to her own guilt. He had needed her the last few weeks, and she had abandoned him.
“Are you feeling better now?” she asked, after he stopped crying.
He nodded his small head, and she wiped his nose with her handkerchief.
“Where did you want to go?” she asked him.
“To see the shepherd,” he said recovering his voice.
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“Are you trying to take care of the estate?”
He nodded and said softly, “I can do it. I can take care of you now.”
“Oh, Rupert,” she said and wanted to cry again. She took a deep breath then said, “I must apologize to you.”
He lifted his head to look at her and asked, “Why?”
“I have been so sad of late, and allowed myself to cry a good deal. I did not think you noticed but you did, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“My behavior frightened you?”
Again, he nodded, and small tears flowed again.
“You must be terribly sad about your father.”
His cries grew even louder, and he threw himself into her arms. She held him as he clung to her.
“All you must do is be a boy, and allow those adults around you to know what is best. You cannot go kicking the servants. That must stop, or you and I will have another quarrel.”
“No,” he said quickly, looking at her, frightened.
“Rupert, quarrelling isn’t always bad,” she said, soothing him. “You and I will do much of it, because we are both strong, but I will still love you.”
“Even when you are angry with me?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “I get angry with you because I love you. I don’t want you to grow up to be a bad person.”
“I won’t,” he said, shaking his head vigorously.
“Good,” she said. “And to help in this new direction of yours, you must apologize to Cook.”
“Right now,” he whined.
“Yes, right now.”
He climbed down from her lap reluctantly, and walked slowly toward the door as if on his way to the gallows. At the door, he paused and turned to her.
“Will you be here when I come back?”
“Yes,” she said and smiled. “Why don’t we eat supper in the kitchen later, and then read a book?”
He smiled. “Can James come?”
“Yes.”
“And Mud?”
“And Mud too.”
“I’ll go get them,” he said, happy again.
“After you speak to Cook.”
He sighed. “Yes, Georgy.”
Then he closed the door and she heard him skipping down the hallway. She shook her head, and then stood up and left for the kitchen to help Grace with the cooking.
“What can I do?” she asked as Grace cleaned some carrots by the sink.
“You can fetch me some potatoes. I am making chicken soup.”
She did her errand then sat at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes when Cook returned.
Harry arrived with the chicken that was to go in the pot, and Cook took it from him. He gave Georgiana a quick nod then left again.
***
The next day it was Harry who brought Bella out to her.
“Where is he?” she asked Harry.
Harry shrugged and turned his back to her again.
“Will you at least tell me if he is well?”
He ignored her and she let him go.
She was dressed in a new riding habit she had made before she left London. She was six months pregnant now and her stomach had a distinguished bump.
“Good girl,” she said rubbing Bella’s nose, and taking the reins she pulled herself up into the saddle.
Grace came running out of the house. “You aren’t going riding in your condition, are you?”
“Since I am already sitting on the horse, it would appear so,” she said and smiled. “Don’t worry, Grace, I will be careful.”
“Dear Lord, what have I done
? I should have left you to your self-pity. What can be so urgent, it cannot wait?”
“I received word that Mr. Madden will be collecting the rents today.”
“Do be careful.”
Georgiana smiled, turning Bella down the driveway she urged her into a trot.
“Don’t worry, Grace,” she called back and waved to her.
“Slow down.”
She rode through the woods to the shepherd’s hut first. He seemed to have the lambing well in hand and reassured her he had all the supplies and help he needed. She admired the new lambs and stayed to pet them for a while, before remounting with the shepherd’s help. Haskell arrived on horseback to inform her Mr. Madden had arrived, and the two of them rode toward the crafters’ cottages. He was exiting a cottage when she arrived, and she pulled Bella up in front of him. He seemed surprised to see her but quickly feigned disinterest.
“Mr. Madden,” she said. “We meet again at last.”
“I have been occupied on estate business,” he said, excusing his refusal to pay her a visit as she had requested him.
“It is about estate business that I have sought you out,” she smiled. “I have decided Ravenstone no longer requires your services.”
His face lost its cultivated look of boredom, and was replaced by anger. “You cannot do that.”
The family whose rent he had just collected came to the door of the cottage to watch the confrontation. The mother carried in her arms a baby and three more children circled around her. Her husband stood slightly behind her and she nodded to the man in greeting before turning back to Mr. Madden.
“Mr. Madden, I not only can dismiss you, but have already done so. You are obliged to hand over any rent you have collected this day.”
“I most certainly will not,” he said, and placing his hat on his head, he turned to make his way down the path to his horse.
Haskell pulled his horse in front of him and Madden came to an abrupt stop.
“I do not think you want Haskell to get off his horse, Mr. Madden.”
He turned back to her, his face red with anger. “You have no right to do this. It was you who murdered him and I know why.”
She was aware that they had attracted the attention of the rest of the crafters and that they stood a little way off, watching.
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 21