Papa was not alone in missing her, however. She met Onslow on horseback, Thunder at walking pace, while his master held a conversation with Sir Justin and Lord Paxton, on whose arm Jocasta was treading prettily beside him. She had seen Paxton’s parents, the Earl and Lady Alderly, go past in the coach, and Georgette really had no idea whether they approved of the projected match or not, for their faces were completely expressionless at all times. Whether this was a feature of their high breeding she had no idea, but found it slightly unnerving. Lord Paxton bore the name of one of his father’s lesser titles, a mere Irish barony. Georgette considered that the Alderlys’ presence here must indicate some kind of approbation at least. Not a brilliant match, perhaps, but the Alderlys had no need of wealth, and the earl was very strict on good birth. Moreover, he had known Baron Fortune for a very long time. There could not be a much longer lineage than the Fortunes’ she supposed, though they were nearly as poor as church mice.
The coach in front had contained Viscoutness Swanson, well known gossip and sourpuss, and her black-haired friend Mrs Hardy, who were old connections of her papa, who in turn had been friendly with the deceased viscount. In the same carriage, sitting opposite, were the Bucknells, her ancient Ladyship and her thirty-five year old son Lord Bucknell, who seemed to have grown rather more like his mother in face than in those days when he had shown interest in her sister, Cassie. Grave lines were etched there, though they became him rather more than they did his mother.
‘I see you have passed the Coach of Jollity,’ Onslow remarked as he came towards her and Sir Justin.
‘Yes indeed, the Viscountess told me that I was not properly attired for riding,’ Georgette had merely added a blue pelisse to her breakfast ensemble, so as not to delay her ride.
‘You are not alone!’ said Onslow, taking her reins as she got down from Bessie. ‘She has already told Amethyst Bailey that she is much too forward, to which her brother Frederick replied that he would be the judge of his sister’s behaviour and not she!’
‘I missed much it seems,’ said Georgette glancing up at him. She was surprised, since Frederick did little but give brotherly insults to Amethyst usually, and turned to view the Bailey party, which also contained Miss White on the arm of her brother George.
Onslow’s eyes followed hers, seeing Miss White laugh up at the tall athletic figure of George Fortune, and he said in a low voice, as though he could not stop himself from asking, ‘Do you think your brother is intent on a bride?’
She thought aloud, ‘He may be, though he cannot afford one as yet. His wife would be bound to live at the Castle and after only one night here, I do not think anyone of this party would wish to be billeted here for long.’ She had understood his intent too well and the little acid aside had escaped her. It was aimed at Onslow, but she blushed, not knowing how to alter it, for Sir Justin arrived, and reached up to Onslow for Bessie’s reins. She had not looked at Lord Onslow, but had felt his shock at being too well understood, as though it were a blow.
Sir Justin said, as they turned towards the castle walk once more, ‘I see you take up my words, Miss Fortune. I hope they did not offend you.’
‘No,’ laughed Georgette, ‘only relieved me. I am glad you can brave the castle so easily. For those not reared here, or served as a soldier, it must be a trial.’
‘I did not mean—’ began Sir Justin, apologetically.
But Lord Onslow interrupted. ‘What on earth is it like in winter?’
‘More mice plus icicles on the coverlets. But we Fortunes are a hardy lot!’
‘Oh, the mice only require one to keep one’s shoes by the bed to throw and terrify them,’ remarked Onslow.
‘Exactly!’ answered Georgette promptly. ‘I just hope all our guests could feel this way. Miss White mentioned them to me already.’
‘Did she?’ asked Sir Justin, appalled.
‘Well, the noise of them at least,’ said Georgette. ‘I told her it was a ghost!’
‘Did you not terrify her?’ said Sir Justin.
‘Oh, she knew I was in jest.’
‘You and she being such dear friends,’ ventured Onslow.
‘Indeed!’ replied Georgette, blandly.
‘Does she know your brother well?’ asked Onslow once more, trying for casualness.
‘I do not know, I have not been in London for a year.’
‘Have you not?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Lucian!’ cried Sir Justin at this less than gentlemanly prying.
‘Oh, do not worry, sir, I am honoured by His Lordship’s frankness.’ She turned to look up at Lord Onslow. ‘It is quite simple. Papa has a deal of daughters to establish in the world. I had two seasons and—’ she rouged, because she was in Sir Justin’s presence. ‘I did not take, as the saying goes. That is all.’
Sir Justin made a sound, but was duty-bound to stay silent as his friend said, ‘That, my dear Miss Fortune, I find hard to believe.’
‘Very gallant, sir.’ She had a pain in her heart. ‘True, however. You yourself—’ but this frank reference to their teasing conversation about his forgetting her might be felt as a wound in this present context, so she silenced herself, aware that her pain was making her lose her usual deftness with other people’s feelings.
‘Do not believe Miss Fortune’s account, Lucian, I fear it is modesty. It was not at all easy to claim Miss Georgette Fortune’s hand at a ball, I assure you, for it was too much sought after.’
‘And modest too.’
Georgette laughed. ‘No indeed.’ She wished to change the subject, but was too shaken to think quickly, so there was a slight pause.
‘Your brother has mentioned Miss White to you?’ Onslow still had this on his mind, then. His rival.
‘No, but we do not converse a great deal. Did you not see them together during the season?’
‘I do not know what Miss White may do with her time,’ the marquis said, with a hint of the hauteur he could adopt in London.
Then why ask, thought Georgette. But she knew the answer.
‘Don’t think George Fortune is favoured more than any other,’ said Faulkes, ‘She is now on Frederick Bailey’s arm and was with his brother James and even Lord Bucknell before that. It is rumoured that The Duke of Annandale himself is predisposed to Miss White. The others are merely her flirts.’
It was a harsh word, and Sir Justin had always seemed to Georgette a kind man. Glancing his way, it was obvious he regretted it. She moved her eyes to Onslow, who had his stone face on again, hard and impenetrable, supposedly. But Georgette only saw it as the face of pure pain. She was even more decided to know what Sir Justin knew. She said, ‘Oh look, Lord Onslow. Amethyst Bailey is quite alone and dejected. Do offer her your arm. She has fallen behind Lady Sarah, who can be a little too encouraging sometimes. It is meant for the best, but she has a knack of wounding. Yes, that colour suits you Georgette, she once said to me, why on earth have you not worn such colours before! And I felt I had been shabby all season.’
Onslow smiled, and bowed to her with a raised eyebrow at her order, but dismounted and went forward obediently. Soon he had timid Amethyst Bailey by the arm, while he led Thunder by the other, which caused the girl to blush and smile shyly at him. “Do not refine too much upon his smile, Amethyst,” Georgette thought, suddenly realising what she might have done, “He is in love with another.”
Sir Justin called her attention back to himself. He led her mare and made a friendly remark up at her. ‘She is a fine beast.’
Georgette laughed. ‘Not really! She is rather old and broke by now, but I love her dearly.’
Bessie obliged by nibbling at Sir Justin’s ear, and he gave a great laugh, ‘I can see why!’
Georgette relaxed. She had always liked being with Sir Justin. He was a kind man with what her sister Mary had called a ‘noble brow’ and a fine head of reddish-brown hair set over a handsome face. Grey eyes had not won over pale blue, however, nor
his more delicate features over the rather more definite lines of Onslow’s face. His beauty was more refined, and she would have learnt to appreciate it, perhaps, in the faces of their children, but that had not been possible. Her heart had been caught by a strong jaw, pale blue eyes, blond curls, and a nose that had been broken at some time in the past.
‘You know that I have been out of town for some time, Sir Justin. May I ask you something?’
‘Anything.’
‘I quite thought … that is, it … seemed apparent that Lord Onslow and Miss Julia White would make a match of it.’
‘Ah,’ said Sir Justin. ‘Then you do not know about the Duke of Southwaite?’
‘The Duke of S—’ said Georgette, ‘He must be sixty if he’s a day? What has he to say to anything?’
‘Miss White became engaged to him.’
‘No!’ Georgette was genuinely shocked.
‘But yes. After Onslow found them together.’ He looked aghast. ‘That last, I should not have said. The rest is known to the world. Please forget—’
‘I will. But is she still to be married?’ An awful hope arose in her, and it shamed her, making her hate herself. Even knowing that he still loved Miss White, she was hoping for an opening.
‘No. It ended. I should not say more.’
‘Was it a dreadful scandal? Poor Julia.’
‘Not so dreadful. Worse shame for the duke, I think. The world saw many reasons that Miss White might have cried off, and blamed her parents for the engagement. Not least of the reasons being the duke’s known liaisons.’
‘Will not then Lord Onslow forgive her?’
‘I know more on this subject than I can say. But it seemed to all the world that Miss White would marry Lucian, even after a rocky start to their intimacy.’
‘She led him a dance, I know,’ said Georgette, more frankly than she should. ‘But I’m sure it was all her youth and vivacity.’
‘Perhaps. But I for one do not want him to travel that road once more. Actually, I was distressed to see that Miss White was a guest.’
‘You are very frank.’
‘I should not be, I know. But our acquaintance … did we not say we would stay friends, at least, Miss Fortune?’ He smiled. ‘I have always trusted you.’
‘Thank you. I welcome your confidence,’ She smiled down at him, and found his old smile just a little too intimate. She changed the subject. ‘But perhaps the rift between Lord Onslow and Miss White might be repaired?’
‘Indeed, I hope not.’
‘You are very severe.’
‘I cannot say why. But I hope you know me well enough to think I have good reason.’
‘I do. I just do not know whether I agree with you.’
‘I am sorry. Perhaps Miss White is a dear friend of yours.’
‘Obviously not, or I would not have had to seek your information. I do think she has a tendre for Lord Onslow, at least.’
Faulkes looked grave. ‘Let us talk of other things. What has your father planned for today?’ he asked.
“Absolutely nothing!” she thought. Father had seldom planned in his life. Georgette’s foot slipped on a wet bank, and Sir Justin’s arm steadied her. She did feel a frisson, and it confused her a little. Was it just an awareness of his interest, or more than that? She said. ‘I believe there is some archery arranged, with a thought of a competition at the end of the week.’
‘Yes, Paxton and Fortune were talking about horse races for the men who have brought their own mounts.’
Georgette touched Bessie’s nose. ‘I am glad there are no female horse races. Poor Bessie might sit down in the middle of the course.’
‘I understand you will mount Miss White on her tomorrow, while you ride your brother’s, Falcon. I will look forward to seeing you seated on a decent horse.’
‘It may be a disaster.’
‘Ah, no, Miss Fortune, I knew you for a horsewoman from our first ride.’ And Georgette thought she heard him add, in a low voice, ‘It only adds to your charms.’
Lord Bucknell sat in the coach, his face set and his heart frozen. He was inured to his mother’s complaints on the entire world, but this time he heard her grievances on their accommodation with some accord. This dashed draughty pile of stones, venerable as it may be, was not to his taste at all. He liked his creature comforts, since those were the only comforts afforded him in this life. He had not visited Castle Fortune before, even five years ago when he had hopes that Cassandra Fortune would be his wife. There had been no proposal, he had held off — not only because of his mother’s advice against it, as that dame so firmly believed — but because he only ever acted when he had given all aspects of a situation serious consideration. This serious consideration resulted in another, less hesitant, gentleman offering before he did. Over the years since, he reflected that his reasons for choosing Cassandra had been slight. Her loud, direct personality was so unlike his own that it had shaken him with admiration. How could she care so little for what she did or said? He, who had been a resentfully obedient son to a shrew of a mother, envied her: even more after hearing Baron Fortune’s remarks to her, all of which she challenged immediately. She had been, like all the Fortune girls, attractive in appearance, and he had thought she would be the very wife to brave such a mother as he had. The sadness when she had become engaged was as much for the brief vision of freedom that this marriage had suggested, as for the loss of Cassandra herself.
Lady Bucknell was chattering now, taking apart the sense of dress of the younger members of the party, and their manners and appearance, with the added vitriol of her companions, the horrible Mrs Hardy (an encroaching nobody whose position in society was only assured by her closeness to a viscountess) and the viscountess herself, overdressed in silks for a carriage ride, whose remarks were as sharp as her nose, an appendage Lord Bucknell disapproved of.
Oh, what an endless desert of misery stretched before him. None of the company at the castle interested him. Certainly, the coach occupants repulsed him. He was a man who spent a great deal of time alone, except when his mama demanded he do his duty and accompany her to social occasions. Those he could escape after a time. However, here he would be forced to face society for all of every day. It made his stomach, which suffered from a disorder, even more bilious. He must endure it.
‘It is as well,’ sneered the viscountess, ‘that Miss Georgette Fortune no longer appears in town. Her appearance is vastly altered.’
‘Yes,’ joined in her chorus, ‘she is indeed. She must be twenty-one at least, and with all of those younger sisters, and in such a restricted neighbourhood, she can hardly expect to make an eligible match.’
‘No, indeed!’ said his mother with relish. ‘And her papa letting the younger two join us at dinner! The baron has very obvious intentions.’
‘And why, pray, should the baron not introduce his daughters in his own home?’ said the viscountess waspishly, turning the tide suddenly. Bucknell remembered being told that Lord Fortune was one of her intimates from her youth. Could this woman have ever been young, he thought.
‘Oh, no reason at all,’ said his mother, placating. ‘The baron, upon reflection, is simply—’
The viscountess cut her off, ‘He is introducing his daughters to the world gradually, so that they will learn their manners and become accustomed to society before their come-out.’
‘It is very natural,’ said the dependable Mrs Hardy, with a smug look at his flushed mama.
The viscountess became confiding again. ‘But their manners! Mind, ladies, we have many strictures to make on their lax manners.’
‘They have lost their mother, after all,’ said Lady Bucknell, ‘It is our duty.’
‘Our Christian duty,’ reprised Mrs Hardy.
‘Starting with Miss Bailey’s idle chatter. We shall curb that before we leave,’ said the viscountess. ‘She shall not foist it upon polite society any longer. Was there ever such an empty rattle?’
‘Is she not Miss Georgett
e Fortune’s age? Twenty-one and still not married?’ his mother said.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Hardy, ‘she must be.’
‘The next will be Amethyst Bailey’s fourth season!’ said the viscountess, disgustedly. ‘Her parents should adjure her to stay at home, but I suppose they will want her to keep her sister company on her first season.’
‘Miss Maria Bailey?’ said Mrs Hardy. ‘She is nothing at all! I vow I forget what she looks like already.’
The ladies tittered unpleasantly. ‘And her mama described her to me as pretty!’ his mother added.
‘Pretty?’ the ladies made a sound that should not be described as a laugh.
Lord Bucknell’s face was as stern as ever. His habitual forbidding demeanour allowed him to avoid having to smile or agree with the poison that these females shared. The air was dark with it. Even though he was inured to this by the daily dose of his mama, when he left the carriage the dark fog came with him and he retired with a headache.
The rest of the day passed in a dream. During the archery, Julia White feigned a lack of experience, but soon showed herself mistress of the arrow. She was aided by the young James Bailey. They were joined as tutors by George Fortune himself, and Georgette frowned. Would her brother scupper her plans? Jocasta acquitted herself well, as did Lady Sarah Alderly and her sister Katerina, but the young twins joined in with more hilarity than success. Portia and Amethyst Bailey sat it out, claiming the right to be spectators only, while Julia rolled forward in great success. All four of her tutors took loud credit for this. ‘Well done, Miss White, you flexed the thumb, just as I told you!’ ‘A firm grip! You did well!’ ‘Letting go at just the right time, well played!’
Mr Carswell, a shy young man, whom Georgette had danced with at many balls in London, had tried to give Georgette advice, but much more quietly. He had no hint of a chin whatsoever, and so his Adam’s apple seemed much more prominent as a result. ‘Look at the target, not the arrow, my mama says, and the old girl usually trounces the lot.’
Georgette smiled at him and stuck out her tongue in concentration. The arrow missed the target entirely. Sir Justin, also behind her, said heartily, ‘Never mind, Miss Fortune. Just straighten the arm.’
Georgette and the Unrequited Love: Sisters of Castle Fortune Book 1 Page 7