Georgette and the Unrequited Love: Sisters of Castle Fortune Book 1

by Alicia Cameron

  ‘Anyway,’ said Jocasta, ‘that may be Papa’s scheme, but I’m not at all sure it is mine,’ she added, calmly. ‘Marriage shall be my own choice, Mama always said.’

  ‘It is. The gift of pressed flowers was very thoughtful,’ said Georgette, doubting that her sister understood the pressure Papa might apply in this matter, and wishing to give the conversation a turn. ‘Though I fear Lord Paxton should give his gifts first to Papa before you. Father may not approve.’

  ‘Yes, and I think someone ought to tell him that trinkets are just as romantic as words,’ Jocasta said naughtily.

  ‘Papa would certainly require a proposal before he would be allowed to present you with any such gift as jewellery,’ said Georgette, feeling aged, and more like Mama.

  She looked around at her sisters, thinking that she should have paid more attention. None of them were really close, the Fortune girls. They rattled around the great castle amusing themselves as they could and though they had run wild outside as youngsters, they were a disparate clan, not really trained to be a real family. Without Mama’s presence, the fulcrum had disappeared, and they had all scattered to the winds. This confiding tonight was an exception, caused by the seminal event of the party, and the unusual occasion of them working together to get the castle in order for the last week.

  Fourteen-year-old twin Leonora said, pulling away from Katerina and sitting up, her shockingly blond curls falling to her waist, ‘Tell us what the guests were like at dinner. Marguerite and I missed everything.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said milder twin Marguerite sleepily. ‘I was glad we did not have to eat with them, some of them looked quite cross.’

  ‘They were,’ said Katerina. ‘I wish I had been allowed to join you in the schoolroom. I have no idea why I am being made to dress so as to freeze, only to eat dinner.’

  ‘Which are the cross ones?’ continued Leonora, interested. Georgette thought that Katerina, sixteen, and Leonora were the most alike in nature. Both had determined natures and were very practical, traits they shared with the deceptively ethereal Jocasta. But whereas Leonora’s determination was pushed forward by her interest in the world, Katerina did not seem interested in very much, and kept herself separate. The hugs she gave to the twins at the moment were a matter of escaping the cold, rather than a display of affection. For the rest, Georgette knew that Portia was artistic, and possibly idealistic — separated like Georgette, by a dream-life escape from the realities of living here. Georgette’s escape was books. Portia’s were art and music. What Katerina did all day Georgette had very little idea. She read a bit, certainly. But even the sisters’ shared love of riding necessarily became a solitary affair, for there was only one mare in the stables they were permitted to ride.

  ‘The cross guests are,’ said Katerina, counting them off on her fingers, ‘The horrid viscountess something-or-other and her hatchet-faced friend, Mrs Hardy, whose black looks only come once the viscountess disapproves of something, and who just says, Yes, dear! or Certainly! to everything the viscountess says. Then there is Lady Bucknell, and her dreadful son who looks prematurely aged, and sterner than the vicar.’

  ‘I think,’ interjected Jocasta fairly, ‘that Lord Bucknell is just boring, not cross. He does not make unpleasant remarks.’

  ‘For he says nothing at all,’ said Katerina. ‘You interrupt! George is cross, of course, and Papa—’ she continued, counting them on her fingers.

  ‘Katerina!’ reproved Georgette, for it was a dreadful thing to be talking so of one’s own family, but she knew she was outnumbered. Leonora was drinking it all in avidly, while Marguerite looked gently on.

  ‘And the Earl and Countess of Alderly have faces so frozen and unchanging that it can only have been achieved by years of bad humour.’

  ‘At least Lady Sarah and Lord Paxton are very different from their parents,’ defended Jocasta.

  ‘But should you have to live with those icicles if you were to marry, Jocasta?’ asked Marguerite timidly. ‘I should be so afraid to. The earl patted my head when we were introduced, and I shook like a leaf.’

  ‘Oh, I have no fears in that direction,’ said Jocasta airily, ‘There is Paxton Park, and even at Alderly, I should be fine since I have had practise living with Papa and George.’

  ‘But rages are different to icy politeness,’ shuddered Portia with her quick sensibility.

  ‘Yes. Much easier to ignore, I should think,’ answered Jocasta, calmly.

  ‘I think I should add Frederick Bailey to the cross ones,’ added Katerina.

  ‘He’s only cross with you, Katerina. He’s quite polite to the rest of the world,’ said Georgette.

  ‘Why is Frederick cross?’ asked Marguerite.

  ‘I was on his horse when it broke its leg,’ Katerina reminisced. ‘But it was the fault of a rabbit hole, not mine. And I was only fourteen. Lord and Lady Bailey understood completely. It was only Fredrick who fumed.’

  ‘I should fume if you broke Bessie’s leg,’ said Leonora with spirit.

  ‘It was not me but the rabbit hole, I told you.’

  Leonora let it go. ‘Which of them were sociable at dinner, then? Paxton’s friends?’

  ‘Mr Carswell is very shy, I think, although when alone with the gentlemen he seems to talk a great deal. He almost jumped when Amethyst asked him to pass a dish at dinner.’ Katerina was relating all this without much interest, but Georgette was intrigued by the detail of her recall.

  ‘The Marquis of Onslow was next to me, and he was very witty and charming,’ said Jocasta. ‘That is his reputation, you know. Miss Julia White is recently returned to town, she was saying, having lived abroad for a year.’ Georgette sighed. So that was why there was no report of her in Mrs Fairfield’s letters from London. ‘She was much admired by Frederick Bailey, George and all the gentlemen, I think. She talks very well,’ Jocasta added generously, if rather flatly. Georgette smiled inwardly, knowing that this mild approbation was given only because Miss White had not paid much attention to Lord Paxton.

  Georgette had, of course, shaken at the mention of the marquis, unbelievably now beneath her own roof, only a few doors down the corridor. But she had better seek her resilience. This was only the first day.

  ‘The Baileys are as ever. I hadn’t seen Elizabeth since she married, but she is still as sweet, and her husband, Sir John Caldwell, seems good natured.’

  ‘Thank goodness for the Baileys. It would be most uncomfortable if there were not some people we knew here,’ said Portia.

  ‘Well, everyone knows Onslow in town, of course,’ said Jocasta. ‘Every mama seeks him for her daughter. His rank and wealth are known, but he is so desperately handsome that the foolish daughters redouble their efforts.’

  ‘Then didn’t Papa bring you to his notice in the season, Jocasta?’

  ‘I did dance with him, but Papa told me, in front of Lady Sefton, not to hold out hope as the marquis had just been “singed in love”. I almost died of embarrassment.’

  ‘What on earth did Lady Sefton say?’ asked Georgette, suddenly fascinated.

  ‘Oh, she pretended not to hear, for which I was profoundly grateful,’ said Jocasta. ‘You forgot Lady Sarah Alderly, Katerina,’ she added.

  ‘Lady Sarah is very handsome, and very nice, I think.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Georgette, ‘I knew her in London, for she, Miss White and I were presented the same year.’

  ‘Really? Sometimes I forget you had two seasons, Georgie, for you have always been here, I feel.’ Jocasta said this without rancour, but Georgette swallowed hard.

  ‘And then Cassie and even Susan got married and you did not. Come to think of it, Miss White is so admired that it is difficult to see how she remains single — or Lady Sarah,’ added Leonora.

  ‘That is because you do not understand society,’ patronised Jocasta, looking down at her sister. ‘Being a beauty with a handsome inheritance of her own, Miss White has many suitors to choose from. Similarly, no doubt, because of her rank a
nd appearance, Lady Sarah will have had many offers — but an earl’s daughter can afford to be discerning and take her time. Unlike we Fortune sisters who are no better than adventuresses, our portions are so small. All but Georgette succeeded in getting married in the time allotted by Papa.’

  ‘Did you not receive even one offer in two seasons, Georgette?’ asked Portia, with unwarranted incredulity, Georgette felt.

  ‘I enjoyed myself very much,’ said Georgette lightly.

  ‘But that is not the point of a season,’ said Leonora.

  ‘Georgie likes it at home,’ said the softer hearted Marguerite.

  ‘Go to bed all of you,’ sighed Georgette. ‘We have another busy day tomorrow.’

  Katerina and the twins got up from the floor and put on the shawls they had brought with them, and Portia got up from the bed.

  ‘I know,’ said Jocasta, giggling. ‘I think I’ll stay here tonight, Georgie, it is much too cold to go back to my room.’

  Georgette, with a crick in her arm, sighed heavily and tried to sleep. Dinner had been difficult, and a late arrival had caused her even more consternation.

  It was handsome and charming Sir Justin Faulkes, the other gentleman in Paxton and Onslow’s set, who had, two years ago, wished Georgette to be his wife. Her bad luck multiplied, and she shook at the thought.

  If Papa ever found out that she had refused the famously wealthy baronet, he would most likely drown her in the river.

  By the time Georgette returned to her post beside Papa, the Earl of Alderly’s carriage had arrived and the stiff figure of the earl, Lord Paxton’s papa, was handing down his wife and daughter from the carriage. These ladies seemed to be addressing remarks to him, as Georgette could see by her casual glance out of the casement window. She was about to nudge Papa to warn him of their progress towards the door when Lord Alderly turned back to the carriage to hand down another lady. Georgette’s head was running on chipped ewers, and wondering if this was the last of their visitors, when she was suddenly riveted by the small foot on the top step of the carriage. She knew those kid boots, dyed scarlet to match a velvet pelisse she had much admired on the chillier days of the season. And there she was, in the Alderly party, chatting as they moved to the castle doors. Miss Julia White.

  So that is why he has come, thought Georgette. She looked over her shoulder as Onslow talked with his friends Paxton and her brother George, her sixth sense of him finding him immediately in the small throng of chatting guests, most of whom were complaining about the journey. Some of the ladies were sitting, while the gentlemen milled around, taking a glass of wine from the footman moving between them. This practise was a hint of the relaxed atmosphere that Georgette hoped would compensate for the lack of grand touches at this party.

  She had to turn back to greet the Alderlys. She knew Lady Sarah Alderly fairly well, and she supposed she might have expected that Miss White would arrive as Miss Alderly’s friend, if she had known the Alderlys were coming at all, that is. As she was accepting Lady Sarah’s pretty declarations of friendship, Julia White paused under the great arch of the Hall, framed to perfection, and dropped her red velvet reticule. ‘Oh,’ she said in her soft, but somehow penetrating voice, ‘How silly!’ Both a footman and Georgette’s brother George bent to retrieve it, and Georgette had the leisure to look Lord Onslow’s way.

  She had been quite wrong. The stunned look on the marquis’ face let her know that Julia White was more of a surprise to him than to her. He looked wounded for a second. But then she saw hope too, and she knew he was still lost. He turned his shoulder deliberately, to reply to his friend Paxton. Unfortunately, Paxton too, like every man in the room, was looking at the vision of innocence and beauty in the doorway, and didn’t heed Onslow.

  Miss White walked forward at last to greet Georgette’s father, who patted her hand in a way he had done to no other. Georgette tried not to sigh. It needed only this… ‘Georgette, my dear!’ said Miss White to her, as though they had been intimate. ‘I hope you are pleased to see me.’

  ‘Very, eh, Julia!’ lied Georgette. She saw Miss White search the room for him and find him with her eyes, and knew why she had come.

  The pain that etched through Georgette’s body was sharp. She could not continue so.

  In that moment, she made a decision. Let them do it. Let them come together, and she, Georgette, would further it. Anything to end the sliver of hope she carried in her heart or the murderous rage that sometimes shook her when watching their games. If she had read the announcement of engagement that she scoured the papers for, she thought that by now this searing pain might not be coursing through her. It would have been like those military surgeons who cauterised a wound on the battlefield, she, the soldier, would have screamed as the surgeon did so — and then survived. Well, she would perform her own surgery. Miss White and Lord Onslow would be engaged to be married before they left Fortune Castle.

  Georgette, at dinner, had watched as the principals had looked at each other, only when they thought themselves safe from the other’s regard.

  She had been accosted by the tall slender figure of Sir Justin, who had taken her aside at the tea table after dinner and said, in his gentle, slightly amused voice, ‘I hope you do not think it wrong of me to come, Miss Fortune? I accompany my friend, Lord Onslow. I hesitated when he bade me come, but without disclosing our history, I could not refuse. I hope you do not think me here to — importune you?’

  Georgette had smiled, looking again at his kind, delicately handsome face, a little embarrassed. ‘I am convinced you have thought better of that notion, Sir Justin. It was a year past. I do not think of it and neither do you, I’m sure. I hope you enjoy your stay at Castle Fortune.’

  His grey eyes crinkled, and he looked fully and frankly into hers. ‘I cannot say that I do not think of the only proposal I have made in thirty-five years. And would you forgive me if I say I do not think of you, Miss Fortune?’ Georgette blushed. There could be no mistaking his meaning. He smiled in a less intense manner. ‘Let us at least be friends, my dear Miss Fortune, on this occasion. We were that, were we not, until I spoilt it all by my presumption?’

  Georgette had touched his arm impulsively, looking into his eyes. ‘Never that! Indeed, I was honoured. And perhaps I may have encouraged, without intention, those … those … feelings…’

  ‘Pray do not my dear. Friends?’ he asked, with his customary smile.

  There was something so open, warm and without heat in his look that she allowed herself to relax. ‘Indeed, sir, I am honoured that you count me so.’

  ‘Ah, well. A year may salve a wounded heart.’ He touched his breast, rather too affectedly, and adopted a brave expression.

  She believed that he teased her, and she laughed. He extended his arm for her hand in a familiar fashion, and walked her to a vacant seat. It was a marked attention, and several people noticed. Her father, regarding her across the room said, to himself, but audibly, ‘I suppose that’s a dud like all the others. Why cannot the girl secure an offer?’ Several guests were stunned by this, but enough of the company knew the baron’s behaviour well enough to do no more than hide a smirk. Georgette was glad that Onslow’s back was to her and she could not divine his expression.

  Lady Bailey, humiliated for Georgette’s sake, distracted her father.

  ‘Shall you give your guests a tour of the castle tomorrow morning, my lord?’

  ‘People can poke about as they like,’ boomed His Lordship. ‘I don’t care!’ Jocasta looked across at Georgette, with dread in her eyes. They were all more than usually aware of the awful state of many of the rooms, turned into lumber rooms recently by filling some up with the broken furniture and ancient rubbish of a five-hundred-year-old home.

  Georgette, already embarrassed by her father’s earlier remark, was finally pushed into her sense of the ridiculous. She looked at Sir Justin, in case he understood, but he was still flushed by her father’s remark, and obviously worried that she was offended. She
was, of course, but couldn’t he see? The sheer awfulness of the things Papa said, quite audibly, were so exquisitely ridiculous. Or else one would simply die a thousand deaths.

  When Mama was alive, Georgette had a confidant in this - they had only to look at each other to giggle. The others took Papa’s words in their various ways. George ignored them royally. Georgette could quite see George in his later life, being just the same as Papa. Jocasta got cross, Portia flushed and sulked, and Katerina merely shook her head in disgust, when she noticed at all. Georgette missed her older sister Cassie’s reaction to Papa’s audible thoughts. Cassie used to repeat them back to him, loudly, asking, ‘What do you mean by it, sir? It is not paternal to call your daughter a cart-horse in company!’ Cassie’s voice was louder than them all, and so one could be assured that those of the company who had not heard her father’s insult, would be kept fully informed.

  ‘Keep your peace, miss,’ would reply her father. ‘I won’t be spoken to in this way.’ And then he would add, to himself, ‘Don’t know where she gets that dashed annoying voice from. Her mama was so soft spoken…’ And so it would make it worse. Georgette had not forborne to laugh so hard internally at the ridiculousness of all this that she’d frequently had to leave the room to laugh aloud.

  They were all somewhat inured to it at home of course, but in company it could be extremely embarrassing. Mama could never believe it was intentional cruelty on His Lordship’s part, but Georgette judged that the self-serving turn of his thoughts spoke, quite literally, for themselves. She loved her papa, wished to oblige him, but even filial affection could not make her marry a sincere man who must be hurt eventually when she could not give her heart fully, however much of a settlement he might make upon her father.

  This visit would be her cure, she vowed. She would see Onslow engaged to his flighty beloved (whom he was as much a prisoner of as Georgette was of him) and finally be done with her unhealthy obsession with a man who hardly knew she existed.

  Chapter 6