“Yes, I believe that looking for the better chance was exactly how my grandmother found my grandfather.”
“Advice well given and well received.” The old woman seemed to glow a little, basking in what she obviously thought of as praise where Georgina had merely meant it as a vague sort of insult.
“No matter the cost?” Georgina was not going to dance around the thing.
Mirabelle Allencourt’s advice was also well given and well received.
“What cost? There was no cost to Elizabeth.”
“But perhaps there was a cost to my grandfather. I believe they were very different in natures.”
“Oh, that is just marriage. For heaven’s sake, you are not one of those silly things who moons about this world thinking it is all about love, are you?”
“And what about the cost to David?” Georgina had no intention of answering Beatrice’s question and had found her comment flying from her mouth unedited as a means of hurting the woman instead.
“David,” Beatrice said, quite simply; it was a statement, not a question.
Georgina saw something in the old woman’s eyes and wondered if it was regret. But surely a woman who had lived without a care for others would not relent now.
“He was in love with my grandmother, was he not?”
“He was. What a fool,” she said, and her voice seemed to be weakening.
For a moment, Georgina’s guilt almost trapped her as she wondered if her harsh line of questioning had been responsible for the sudden lack of energy in her opponent. It was as if somebody had pierced Beatrice and let the life and soul right out of her.
“And my grandmother loved him?”
“For a little while. But Lizzie was no fool, and I soon tutored her in the ways of the world. And the world does not turn on such flighty notions.”
“And so, what does it turn on, Lady Wighton?”
“It just turns. It turns and turns and turns,” she said, and her voice seemed suddenly thin and reedy, a pale imitation of the former hearty tone.
“Lady Wighton? Are you quite well?”
“I am not sure. I do not think I am Lady Wighton. Not yet, at any rate. Not until I catch him in my net and marry him.”
“Catch him in your net? But who are you to marry?” Georgina said and felt suddenly confused.
“That lovely young Earl. Of course, he is not so young, not really. Old enough to be my father.” Beatrice was now whispering, and her eyes had closed.
“What is your name?” Georgina said gently.
“Why are you here if you do not know my name, you silly girl?”
“I would just like you to remind me.”
“I am Beatrice Ellington.”
“You are not Beatrice Montgomery then? You are not Lady Wighton?”
“I have already told you, not yet. I have seen the better chance, even if I do not like him very much. But what has that to do with it? Lizzie thinks it is a good idea, and Lizzie and I are always in perfect symmetry. That is why Lizzie and I have always been the best of friends, and we always shall. I do not know who you are. I do not know why you are here. I do not think I like you very much.”
“In that case, I shall leave you until tomorrow, Miss Ellington,” Georgina said with a heavy heart when she realized that Beatrice was drifting in her mind, just as Lord Wighton had said she would.
She knew she would get nothing further from her that day, but at least she had met her now. At least she had a better idea of how to approach the woman, and when she met with her again, she would not waste any time.
“Yes, come back again sometime. How nice it has been to see you,” Beatrice said, and with her eyes still closed, she peeled back her lips and smiled garishly at Georgina.
Chapter 25
“How are you baring up in all of this, Sammy? I seem to be making little progress,” Georgina said and wandered further across the terrace beyond the morning room at Wighton Hall.
It was another fine summer’s day and already very warm. Georgina sat down on an ornate cast iron bench and was surprised when Emerson joined her. He sat at her side, foregoing the two matching seats opposite the bench.
There seemed to be a little freedom in their being in Cornwall. They were away from all they knew, and Georgina had none of the social fears she might have suffered had she been sitting on a bench with Emerson back at Winton House or even Calder Hall.
“I know that you have taken all the responsibility of this trip and these interviews with Beatrice entirely upon your own shoulders. But you must not do that. You must not feel as if the whole thing rests upon you.” He lifted his hand from his lap for a moment, and it seemed to hover uncertainly in mid-air.
Georgina held her breath for a moment, thinking that Emerson was about to lay a hand on her arm, or even take her hand in his. And it was not until then that she realized how much she longed for such a touch, such a simple thing.
She had remained vigilant to her thoughts of Emerson for many days, determined to put the search for the truth at the forefront of her mind. But there were times when the memory of their kiss inevitably came back to her, and as they sat side-by-side, as close as it was possible to be without touching, it came back to her again.
As suddenly as Emerson had raised his hand, he allowed it to drop down onto his lap once more. It was as if he had struggled briefly and then come to a conclusion, and Georgina could not help wishing that things were much simpler between them. Why should romance be so very difficult when their friendship was anything but?
“I know, and I thank you for your care,” Georgina said, bringing herself back to the present moment. “I just wish that things had progressed as we had hoped.”
“None of us could have foreseen the little illness that has waylaid Beatrice these last three days,” Emerson said encouragingly.
“Perhaps we could have foreseen it. Or perhaps I ought to have foreseen it after our first meeting.”
“What do you mean?”
“May God forgive me if I am wrong, but I do not believe for a moment that there is anything at all wrong with Beatrice Montgomery.”
“But you said yourself that her mind wandered.”
“No, that is not what I mean, Sammy. This extra little illness, this malady which has made it impossible for her to see me these last three days is something that I cannot quite trust. If only you had met with her too, although I would not wish it on you.” She paused for a moment and shuddered at the memory. “But if you had met her, you would have seen those eyes. You would have realized how perfectly plausible it is for an elderly lady, even one whose mind wanders from time to time, can contrive to make herself awkward and cause pain even now.”
“You think that she is toying with you? That she is making you wait for another interview?”
“I know that Aunt Belle’s words unsettled me, but there is something about Beatrice. There is something in those eyes that tells me she would stick at nothing, even to achieve very little more than her own way. And yes, I think she is toying with me. But I must admit that I think with a woman like that I should perhaps just be pleased that that is all she is doing. I truly believe that there is a very appalling black heart beating in that frail old chest, the sort of black heart that could do almost anything to anybody and not suffer a moment’s conscience.”
“I am quite prepared to believe it, and I have only seen her letters.” Emerson laughed. “But listen, you must not feel as if you are obliged to go and sit with her today. I know this is the first opportunity that has arisen in three days, but you need never set eyes on that woman again if she unsettles you so.” He spoke so genuinely that she knew he meant it.
Georgina knew without a doubt that he would have turned his back on his own quest there and then to spare her any discomfort. If he was never truly able to settle upon her in a romantic sense, Georgina realized that this was the sort of friendship that, once found, should never be relinquished.
“I would not dream of it, Sammy
. I think I am as keen to get to the bottom of things as you are.” She reached out a hand by instinct to smooth down his silvery brown hair.
Without even the hint of a summer’s breeze, still, that wonderful hair had managed somehow to disarrange itself. Georgina lost herself for a moment, hardly believing that she had done such a thing. And yet her hand remained as she savoured the feel of the smooth, thick hair against her fingers. Finally, knowing that she must, she withdrew her hand without any mention of it.
“Well, I shall seek out the Countess and ask her if I might have an audience with Beatrice this morning.” Georgina rose to her feet. “Wish me luck.”
When the Countess confirmed that Beatrice was, indeed, well enough to be visited, Georgina felt a familiar nervousness creeping up on her again.
She was pleased to have another opportunity to search for the truth but wished wholeheartedly that the thing was over and done with. She did not relish another moment in that dreadful woman’s company, and yet she knew she must bear it somehow.
Just as the Countess had done the first time, she entered the room first and quickly introduced Georgina.
“You need not explain who she is all over again, my dear. I might be ageing, but I have yet to lose my senses.” Beatrice’s voice was hearty in tone once again, and Georgina wondered if the old woman had any idea that her mind wandered from time to time.
Perhaps she did not know anything about it. Perhaps that was simply the way of things as a person got older. If it was, Georgina thought it a blessing and mercy.
“Good morning, Lady Montgomery,” Georgina said in a bright tone.
She was keen not to make any of the mistakes she had made in their first meeting and had fully decided to show no adverse emotion or any sign of weakness. She knew that if she did, the wizened little jackal in the bed would seize upon it immediately.
“Come closer then; do not make me crane my neck to see you,” Beatrice demanded, and Georgina walked boldly forward.
She noticed how the Countess backed out of the room again, seeming almost to slither out of harm’s way before gently closing the door behind her.
“Well, you have returned, have you?”
“Yes, and I do hope that you are feeling a little better, My Lady,” Georgina said without any hint of true feeling.
“I daresay it has pained you waiting these three days to see me again.” Beatrice narrowed her hawk-like eyes as the corners of her mouth turned up in amusement.
So, Georgina had been right; the old woman really had simply been toying with her, playing with her mind from afar. What a creature she was.
“Not at all, My Lady. I fully understand that you were not well enough to speak with me.”
“Is that so?” Beatrice, seeming annoyed by the idea that her little game had not affected her opponent turned her head away and stared out of the window.
Georgina resisted the temptation to feel pity for her again, almost giving into the idea that it must be an awful thing for a once-strong woman to have nothing left at her disposal than to play silly little games of the mind from the confines of her bed. How frail it must have made her feel and how much she must have seen her influence in the world diminishing.
Still, of all people, Georgina felt sure that Beatrice did not deserve her pity.
“But here we are together again, Lady Wighton. Would you not prefer to spend these few minutes together in conversation?”
“It is not conversation, my dear, it is questioning.” Beatrice’s head turned so slowly to regard her once again that she reminded Georgina of an old tortoise, her old head and craped neck peeping out from the bedclothes just as a tortoise’s might from its shell.
“Perhaps you would prefer me not to ask any questions, My Lady.” Georgina was beginning to lose patience before she had even begun. If the old woman were going to play games with her, then Georgina would play a few of her own. “Perhaps you would rather I left you in peace again.”
Georgina knew it was a risk, given that the old woman was very likely a shrewd judge of character. Nobody who manipulated the world as she had could be anything but. However, it was a risk that Georgina was prepared to take. She decided there and then that if it came to nothing, if the old woman simply agreed and dismissed her from her presence, she would instead turn her attention to the Earl himself and question him until she discovered everything she could about that family.
When the old woman had not spoken for some moments, Georgina inclined her head graciously and then turned to head back to the door.
“Where are you going?” Beatrice barked. “Come back over here.”
“Tell me, My Lady, did you always maintain contact with my grandmother?”
“It is true that we were not often in each other’s company anymore after we married. How could we be? I was in Cornwall with my new husband as Lizzie was in Hertfordshire with hers.”
“Did you write?”
“Of course we did, we did not abandon one another altogether.”
“Because your friendship was so important.”
“Yes. Neither one of us had a true friend again to speak of. Acquaintances, yes, but all so plain and vapid. All conforming to society and doing just as they ought.”
“Is that not what you yourself did?”
“It is quite possible to appear to conform without actually conforming. My dear, what a dull life you must lead with your saintly little morals.”
“I would not describe myself as a saint, My Lady,” Georgina said, although she knew that she must hurriedly change the subject. She did not want to open up her character for assassination, for she felt sure that Beatrice would waste the rest of the interview trying to upend and insult her. “You must have missed Elizabeth.”
“I did. And she missed me.” Georgina could have sighed in relief that the old woman had been returned to the original path so quickly. “But we were there for each other when truly needed, believe me.”
“Really?” Georgina raised her eyebrows hoping for something further.
“Children get in the way, of course.” Beatrice wafted a frail hand back-and-forth as if to swat away a cluster of invisible children.
“Hard work, I daresay.” Georgina nodded. “But then you each only had one child, did you not?”
“Quite so. I was not as fortunate as Lizzie in that I could not produce an heir to this estate as she was able to do at Ashdown.”
“But the current Earl is very attentive, is he not?”
“Oscar is a milk sop. He is weak, limp. He is his uncle’s nephew.”
“You did not think highly of your husband then?”
“One does not have to think highly of one’s husband. Dear, dear, there is that silly romantic streak again. You would do well to banish that from your soul.” Beatrice stared at her with open disdain.
“But if a person banishes such a thing, do they have any soul left?”
“Oh dear, you think me soulless.” Beatrice began to cackle. “Just like Esme did.”
“Esme?” Georgina asked and, when Beatrice did not respond, she went on. “Was Esme your daughter?”
“Yes. Another one with foolish romantic notions. They say that the apple does not fall very far from the tree, and it is true, it does not. Unfortunately for my daughter, she was the apple who was the product of my husband’s tree, not mine. She was like him, weak and tortured. She believed in love, the silly girl.”
“And your husband had believed in the same?”
“Yes, and I was very glad of it in the beginning.”
“Because you loved him too?” Georgina said and realized that she sounded hopeful.
“No, I did not love him.” Beatrice almost spat the words, her lined face contorting into something quite repugnant. “But it made it very much easier for me in securing my own position.”
Georgina shuddered as she was once again brought up hard against the fact that Beatrice did not have a feeling bone in her body.
“You look shocked, my d
ear. And yet you should not, for loveless transactions take place all the time, even in the wonderful society that you inhabit. Surely you do not think that people always marry for love?” She cackled, and the callousness of it angered Georgina.
A Damsel for the Mysterious Duke Page 20