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

by Alicia Cameron

  ‘Oh, how spiteful of her.’ Georgette recognised the name of one of the leaders of fashion, Mr Allison.

  ‘Oh, but it did not fadge, for Mr Allison grasped the reins and was most gallant and attentive the whole ride, and hardly spoke to Miss Graves at all.’

  Georgette laughed, ‘It serves her right.’

  Both ladies mounted by block (Georgette so as not to humiliate Julia) and she rode forward to Sir Justin, leaving the other two to their own devices. She did not think she could bear to see them ahead of her and watch their every caressing glance, so she broke into a canter. Sir Justin joined her and when she slowed, he said, ‘If I did not know you better, Miss Fortune, I would say you are doing some matchmaking on your friend’s account.

  She turned, and smiled. ‘Would you? I know you do not approve sir, but surely they might be allowed to work things out. One way or another.’

  ‘The trouble is, she’s just too beautiful,’ Sir Justin said, despairingly.

  ‘Yes, I noticed you noticing.’

  He looked troubled then saw that she was jesting. ‘I can quite see what Lucian saw in her, I just … Forgive me, it is improper to speak so.’

  The other two joined them and the atmosphere did not seem to be so very happy. Lord Onslow said, in a colourless voice, ‘I believe Miss White is fatigued. Shall we go back?’

  Sir Justin looked surprised, but good manners would have had him assent, if Georgette had not said, looking at the distressed face of Julia, ‘Oh, nonsense, I’ll go back with her, and you gentlemen finish your ride.’

  ‘If you are quite sure,’ said Lord Onslow at his most stiff. She saw the tell-tale vein in his neck twitch and felt for him. She was doing her best for them, why would he not, at least, try?

  Julia and she began to ride back, but Julia stopped before the stables and said, ‘Oh Georgette, can I trust you?’

  ‘I hope you can my dear Miss … Julia.’

  ‘I thought you had set your cap at Onslow, but after the way you rode off, I think perhaps…’

  ‘I was trying to help you? It seems you are both still inclined to one another, and I thought the ride might help.’

  ‘I shall not do it again. Horses twitch so, and I cannot concentrate. I wished to say so much to him, but he will not listen.’ She paused. ‘Can I tell you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Here was the answer she’d wanted for near two years, but now found herself reluctant. Why were they not married, and were they finished with one another? She realised that in all those Morning Posts she had missed both the betrothal announcement of Miss White and the Duke of Southwaite, and the announcement of the broken engagement. In fact, had the noble duke not married recently? ‘Miss Graves!’ she said aloud.

  ‘Ah, you have read of the duke’s marriage to that cat? I hope she runs him ragged. But that was after I broke it off. Because despite the rumours, Georgette, it was I who broke it off.’

  ‘I do not blame you!’ said Georgette, ‘is he not sixty?’

  ‘Past,’ said Julia gloomily.

  ‘But how did you become engaged to him?’

  ‘Well, you must know that several gentlemen had asked me to marry them in my first season…’ began Julia with a blush.

  ‘I knew you were the rage of town of course,’

  ‘But Mama was sure that a better offer would come along, so I refused them all. Then in my second season, it was very similar. I do not know why gentlemen are usually so very well disposed to me, but it is so.’ Julia blushed at this, but Georgette found this a little hard to believe. Julia continued, ‘I was proposed to several times, but Mama said that I should tell them I would consider them, and of course to be careful to adjure them to secrecy so that they might not all find out about one another before I could decide.’ Georgette did not much like the sound of Julia’s mother. ‘She only wanted the best situation for me.’

  ‘Of course!’ answered Georgette mendaciously. ‘And the duke?’

  ‘Lord Onslow and His Grace offered for me on the same evening. I told them both I must have time to decide. Lord Onslow did not like this much. I think he felt I played with him, but I did not. I liked him better than any other suitor.’ How could you not? thought Georgette. ‘But he is only a marquis, after all, said Mama, and the duke…’

  ‘Was a duke,’ said Georgette flatly.

  ‘I said that both gentlemen must wait and I told Mama I was inclined towards Onslow, but she pointed out all the privileges of position as a duchess, and I promise you I argued against her. It is not as though Onslow is poor. And she saw the point, but bade me delay another week.’ She sobbed. ‘I wrote to them both, but the duke came round to press his suit, and he kissed me most forcibly, and Onslow entered by the garden doors and caught us.’ Georgette saw much in this to ponder. She saw the mama’s hand in allowing the duke to be alone with her, and could see how Julia might feel pressured. It was impossible for her to imagine any woman being offered for by Lord Onslow, however, and not accepting in the second. ‘I wrote to Onslow afterwards, begging him to speak to me, but he would not. So what was I to do then but become engaged?’ Georgette was horrified at this conclusion, and it must have shown somehow. Julia blushed. ‘But I could not go through with it. I tried to speak to Onslow at a ball afterwards, to tell him that I had given up the betrothal because I could not stop thinking of him, but all he would say was that all was over, and that he wished me very happy.’

  ‘I see.’ Georgette was no longer sure of her task. Onslow still hungered for Julia, she was sure. But perhaps Faulkes was right and this hunger was not a healthy one. Julia’s principals or affections did not seem to Georgette to be very strong.

  ‘Will you help me dear Miss Fortune, dear Georgette?’

  Now she was caught. The gentlemen were returning, and they rode to the stables to beat them in. ‘I tried to help this morning,’ she finally said. ‘I do not know what I can do other.’

  ‘He would hardly talk to me. When I brought up our situation, he said there was none, and asked how I liked your horse.’

  ‘Perhaps it is best not to think of him, to merely try to enjoy the party?’ suggested Georgette.

  ‘Make him jealous, you mean?’ Georgette was shocked and Julia’s laugh tinkled. ‘Oh, I will not flirt with your precious Sir Justin. I see he has designs on you.’

  ‘You are mistaken,’ said Georgette grimly. ‘We are merely friends.’

  ‘Oh, then…’ but the gentlemen arrived in the stable and they all went back inside.

  Georgette missed breakfast altogether, being beset by servants telling her the little incidentals about the race, which was to be held at eleven of the clock, and seeing to it that the twins went back upstairs to finish at least some lessons before they would be allowed to watch the festivities. Leonora groaned, but Marguerite dragged her up. She heard George, who had been informed of the plans by Dickson, make loud declarations in the hall about the arrangements, while the various groups decided what to do in the interim. A walk for those of the young people who had nothing to do to prepare for the ride, some quiet sewing for the older ladies, and some of the gentlemen were taken to the ancient stables by Papa (as if the marshall had not enough to do this morning) which he was loudly declaring could once hold as much as a hundred and fifty beasts. As much of the old structure had crumbled, she supposed that the guests would be disappointed. She might go and check the refreshments table, but it was a fair walk, and she decided to nibble at an apple she swiped first. Thus she was found by Lord Onslow.

  She jumped, and dropped the apple which he stretched his hand and caught. ‘Breakfast?’ he laughed. ‘I thought I’d find you here.’ He paused and looked serious. ‘Miss White has given you her confidence?’ Georgette’s jaw moved, but she said nothing. ‘I see that she has. It seems to me that she has set to you to bring us into contact. Pray do not.’ He smiled ruefully at her troubled face. ‘I am blunt, I know.’

  Georgette said, quickly, ‘It is not that. You must be told that it was not s
he who put me to it, I assure you, my lord. I did so myself, since you both seemed a little — well — still occupied with each other, however you tried to hide it.’ He flushed and looked down. ‘And then when I last saw both of you in London … forgive me, but it seemed there may have been an understanding between you.’ She laughed nervously, ‘You see that I too, am too blunt.’

  ‘You noticed a great deal for one whom…’ he stopped. For one whom you do not remember, Georgette thought. But she was past worrying about betraying her own interest now, he was too caught up in Julia to notice, she surmised. He continued. ‘I suppose she told you I proposed to her?’

  Georgette sighed again, unable to speak.

  ‘I see she did,’ he said again. ‘Well, she preferred another, and that is all for me.’

  ‘She may not have preferred him…’ Georgette found herself pleading Julia’s case.

  ‘That makes it worse, not better. What kind of…?’ He stopped himself.

  ‘The kind who is very young and very influenced, as the world says she ought to be, by her parents,’ said Georgette gently.

  ‘Yes, well, I am not here to discuss it; I did not mean to do so. Only to ask you not to play the game you are playing.’

  Georgette’s eyes filled. ‘Very well, you have my word. I am … sorry.’

  He moved forward and took her hands, disposing of the apple as he did so. ‘I am sorry, too. I knew you only meant my good and Julia’s. You are a kind person, Miss Fortune.’

  Georgette looked down at the hands on hers. This was an intimacy her brother seldom even offered her. How could these few days have made him feel he had the right to offer such attempt at comfort? These thoughts swirled in her head, she was trembling in her whole body. She pulled her hands away forcefully and moved past him towards the window and turned her back on him. ‘Believe me, it was not kindness that was my motive,’ she said in so low a voice that he could not be sure he’d heard her.

  He stood there for a moment frowning, wondering what she could have meant. He saw that he was dismissed, and he left her, with just a glance back at her lowered head as he did so.

  Chapter 9

  Georgette’s day was a hive of activity, and it was just as well. All her plans to save herself from Onslow were broken, and she was not at all sure if she had brought him more harm. She feared too, that she had at last given herself away. Only, she could not bear his touch, it was too much for her. He might put it down to the stress of the day, she could only fervently hope so.

  Watching the race, Georgette noticed that Miss White cheered on Sir Justin, Lord Bucknell, Frederick and James Bailey equally, but not Onslow or any of the married contenders. She also ignored The Honourable Mr Carswell altogether, even when he came third and she had to give him the pretend laurel wreath, which Georgette had hastily concocted from ivy for the placed riders. Mr Carswell, whose wreath was put on with so little ceremony, did not seem to mind in the least. He was not, Georgette noticed, an admirer of Miss White’s. He must be alone in the male company to feel so. As the eldest female of the house, Georgette had already given a wreath to Sir Justin, who came first, and Lady Bailey had done the honours to her brother George, who was second. Onslow had ridden ill, and Georgette could not look at him. Did he notice Julia’s gently flirtatious ways, or the glances she threw at her dear friend Georgette, as though they were involved in some conspiracy? Julia obviously thought they were. How on earth had she arrived in this situation?

  And had she betrayed herself totally to Onslow by tearing herself from his hands and turning so abruptly? Oh, she hoped and prayed not. Still days to go, and she thought of the awfulness that would be if he would ever guess her feelings. The friendship he was offering to her so naturally since he arrived had been wonderful and awful at the same time, but at times in their morning rides it had even felt peaceful. Georgette wondered if she could ride to her aunt’s cottage and finally confide some of this madness, but she could not. She could hear her Aunt Hester adjuring her to use her wiles (as though she had any) to bring this friendship to fruition. To get herself away from Papa and George and all their absurdities and leave off freezing in the wintertime in Castle Fortune. Her aunt, who loved Georgette in her lazy way, could never be brought to see the impossibility of such an alliance. The gulf was too enormous, in fortune and attractiveness. If Julia White had been his standard for beauty, if her flirtatious ways had won him, then Georgette knew herself to fall far from the mark. She was no longer invisible to him, it was true. But somehow this was worse.

  But these were just fleeting thoughts in her busy day. One of the serving girls from the village whom they had employed for the party had fairly thrown the flowers Georgette had cut after breakfast into bowls, and Dickson informed her that there was no point in him telling Mrs Firestone the housekeeper — unless she wanted a mutiny on her hands. So, Georgette marshalled the twins after the race and they arranged the flowers into the numerous bowls together, on the table of the Great Hall — Georgette issuing such instructions as she could to the girls, who had never arranged blooms before. The elegant Lady Bailey came in during this interlude, and taking in the situation at a glance, excused Georgette. She good-naturedly instructed the girls herself, to better effect. Georgette bent and kissed Her Ladyship’s perfumed cheek, feeling almost as though her mama was there. Could she confide in Lady Bailey? But no, Her Ladyship would be encouraging perhaps, but she would know the impossibility of the situation, and it would humiliate Georgette to have her feelings known. To be the object of pity …

  Lady Bailey said smilingly to her, before she left, ‘Tell Dickson to sit me beside your papa at dinner, my dear. It leaves Amethyst dreadfully exposed to Viscountess Swanson’s ire, but at least I might limit the damage from your poor papa’s unfortunate habit of speaking his mind aloud.’

  ‘I shall tell Dickson so. And tell him to put Frederick between the Viscountess and Lady Sarah. Though I expect he would rather be seated near Julia.’

  ‘So would all the gentlemen, even my husband,’ said Lady Bailey placidly, ‘but it is a good notion for my son Frederick to guard his sister. Your Jocasta has more spirit than to be cast down by the viscountess’ unfortunate remarks, but my Amethyst and Maria become lowered in spirits.’

  ‘Yes, and I understand Mrs Hardy is no kinder to the girls.’

  ‘No indeed!’ She sighed. ‘Lord Paxton is one who does not seem to be moved much by Miss White’s beauty, at least.’

  ‘No, he seems set on Jocasta. I admire his stability on that. For Miss White and she are much the same type, after all,’ mused Georgette confidentially.

  ‘Dear Jocasta is somewhat more straightforward, I should say.’ She looked around, ‘No Marguerite, the buds around the central rose must be trimmed to sit below, as mine are.’ Gentle Marguerite’s blond head nodded angelically, but Georgette spotted Leonora make a face, and frowned her down. But Lady Bailey knew them well enough.

  ‘I must just go and see about the cheese.’ Georgette excused herself.

  A trip to the kitchens to hear the complaints of Mrs Scroggins nearly ended Georgette’s patience. One morsel of cheese had been left out by the window and had indeed spoilt, but all the rest was safe and sound in the dairy, and Cook only wanted to give a poor kitchen maid the bad side of her tongue.

  Georgette had had enough. ‘Perhaps, Mrs Scroggins,’ she said in a low voice, so that the other servants did not hear, ‘you are not quite up to the task of running a castle kitchen, that you send for your mistress to bother her with such a trifle as this.’ Here, Georgette threw down the two inches of cheese, which the other servants might guess the significance of.

  Mrs Scroggins was beside herself and uttered low with contempt. ‘My mistress, is it? I see no mistress.’

  Georgette said, ‘Then who else might she be, if not I?’

  Mrs Scroggins folded her lips, ‘The baron shall hear of this.’

  ‘Be assured he shall,’ said Georgette, ‘and make no mistake, incompetence a
nd dramatics are two things he cannot stomach in a retainer. I’m sure Jessie,’ she continued, referring to the under-cook, ‘might manage if you find the tasks allotted you beyond you.’ She swept away, leaving the cook with an open mouth, but some fear in her eyes. Normally, she would have assuaged the cook’s feelings, but normally there were not so many things to be done. Jessie had heard her name, and as Georgette went past her, she thought she saw a gleam of determination there. Perhaps it would be better if Scroggins was indeed pensioned off.

  But upstairs, Georgette was somewhat ashamed of herself. The servants had been set the same impossible task as she by her papa, and they had a right to be as grumpy as she felt. She made a mental note to visit the kitchen sometime before dinner to apply some salve to the burn.

  Over dinner, Georgette thought guiltily that she had not given much thought to seating order since the house party had started. Her mama would have been disappointed. She gazed around, then concluded it was better now that she knew some of the personalities. They were seated male-female by convention of course, but beyond this people seemed to be sitting in the groups they arrived in. Mama would not have done that.

  She saw Lord Bucknell, now thirty-five and fast becoming as miserable as his mother, and she suddenly remembered him in the Cassie days, when he, too, had tried his steady best to woo her elder sister. Surely he had not been so far gone then? Could he be saved? She could sit him between Amethyst Bailey, whose idle chatter might keep him entertained if she were free of the dreadful eye of the viscountess, and Maria, whose shy disposition might salve his depression. She had noted last evening that when Bucknell’s arm had been jostled by one of the new serving girls from the village and he had lost his napkin, Maria Bailey had quietly retrieved it, seeing that the staff were otherwise engaged. She swiftly changed the dropped linen with that on own her lap, and handed the replacement to Bucknell silently. Bucknell’s dour face had not changed, but the slight hesitation with which he accepted made Georgette think he’d noticed the small kindness. They did not appear to speak again, but it would do Bucknell no harm to be placed between the Bailey girls. She only hoped his lack of expression or conversation would not make this too much of a trial for them.