by Abigail Agar
Especially when he thought she might be guilty.
The fact that Inspector Brock thought she might actually have something to do with this whole ordeal was unsettling. Shouldn’t he have trusted her by now?
Georgiana was a blend of pride and disillusionment. She was so bothered by the fact that he didn’t trust her and all she wanted was to prove herself to him.
No one had ever made her want to prove herself.
In the past, whenever there had been gentlemen with whom she might have an interest, Georgiana had been the one to make the decisions. It had been those men who had needed to prove themselves to her.
So, why was it that now, she was wanting to impress a man?
As she sat alone in her room, considering these things, she wished that she had handled everything differently.
It bothered her. It bothered her that he could even suspect someone from her family, although she knew that it was true. It had to be someone from her family. So why was it bothering her so much that he suspected them?
As she thought about that question, Georgiana realised that it was less to do with her family and more to do with herself.
Even she had been the one to urge him to look at her family. And she was certainly feeling suspicious about her brother.
William had just been so distracted lately and he had been…strange. Since learning about his affections for Rachel, Georgiana had been uncomfortable.
How had she not known about it? How was it that she had never been aware that he liked her or that things had come to such a point between them that he was offering her gifts?
Georgiana wondered if she knew anything about William at all. And, if not him, what about the rest of her family? Was she, likewise, oblivious to their exploits?
But if it was someone from her family, if one of them was guilty, what if inspector Brock thought that poorly of her because of it? What if it coloured his opinion of her, affected his judgments towards her?
All of those thoughts bothered her greatly. She didn’t know how to communicate those feelings, but she needed to be rid of them.
If, indeed, it was someone from her family as she believed, she would have to set aside what she wanted for the sake of learning the truth.
Georgiana sighed, not wanting to think about it anymore. Why did all of this have to be over taking her thoughts?
She knew why. It was less to do with the mystery, a mystery that was growing steadily less interesting, then it was about her own thoughts and confusion.
She was more determined than ever to learn what it was that Inspector Brock might want to see from her.
How could she make him trust her? Did she even want that? It sounded terribly unpleasant to have to chase down someone’s good opinion. And, although she cared for him very much, it also sounded exhausting to try and get him to like her when she was really just trying to move on and live her life.
Except that she was doing no such thing. Since when had she been trying to live her life and move on?
No. Georgiana had certainly been putting more effort into trying to see all of this through and getting the good opinion of the Inspector than she had trying to move on with her life.
But as she was thinking through all of this, Georgiana was startled by the sound of someone outside her door. The person did not knock right away, and she began to wonder whether or not it might be a maid.
But then, a throat cleared.
She knew, then, that it was her mother.
“Mother? Are you out there?” she asked, moving to open the door.
It swung open and her mother looked at her with startled eyes.
“Oh, yes, hello dear,” she said.
“Why are you being so quiet out here?” Georgiana asked.
“I wanted to…to think through what I wished to say,” her mother said. “I know that it is a difficult subject when we speak about the Baron of Ayre and whether or not you will marry him,” she said.
Georgiana’s heart sunk, knowing that they would be speaking about him. She had no desire to think about him at all. Ever since her last visit with the Baron of Ayre, Georgiana had been trying to tell herself that things would be better, that she would come out with the truth that she did not want to be courted by him and she would like to move on.
Yet, that had been more difficult to say and do than she had anticipated. After all, how was she meant to explain everything to her mother when her mother wanted to see her married off and she could not explain why?
“Yes, it is difficult,” she confessed, realising the jumble of her thoughts.
“Well, that is why I wanted to come and see you at once. So that we might get it all out in the open,” her mother said.
“You mean my feelings? You want me to share them with you?” Georgiana asked.
“Indeed. I thought it best that we discuss these matters that we might understand one another. After all, I know that you are my darling girl and you want to do things the right way, but I am anxious for you. I am frightened that you may miss what is certainly important,” she said.
“And what is that?” Georgiana asked.
“Marriage to a good man. Now, if the Baron of Ayre is not the one that you want, we must find you someone who would make you happy,” her mother said.
It was difficult to tell her mother all of this. Georgiana shifted, uncomfortably.
She took a deep breath, trying to find the words. She was not sure how to say it in such a way that her mother would understand.
“I do not think I could ever love the Baron of Ayre. I know that, once upon a time, I believed that he would make for a fine husband. However, things have changed for me, Mother. I no longer believe he could make me happy,” Georgiana said.
“I do not understand that. How could things have changed so quickly?” her mother asked.
“They…they just have,” Georgiana said.
“But why? Why do you not like him?” she asked, pushing for more.
Why not? Why did she not like the Baron?
Georgiana knew why. But could she tell her mother? What her mother really understand that there was such a deep affection that she had for someone she was so angry at?
“Mother, I wish I had an answer for you, but I do not. It is just that my feelings and opinions of what makes for a good man have shifted rather dynamically,” she said.
“And what do you now see as the makings of a good man? What sort of gentleman would you be interested in?” her mother asked.
“I suppose…someone who thinks deeply and critically. Someone who is not caught up by the whims of society or the needs of pride and longing for a status that means nothing in the end,” Georgiana said.
“Ha! Well, it will be rather difficult for you to find a decent man here, then,” her mother said, laughing to herself.
“Yes, I was thinking much the same,” Georgiana said.
“And you need someone who will look after you, someone who will take care of your family and put your needs first,” her mother said.
“I believe that there are good, quality men who will do just that,” Georgiana said.
“But I mean that you will need a man who is wealthy in order to see those things through. Wealthy, but still likable. It is a hard thing to find,” her mother said.
“I suspect that it is. And I would prefer a good man over a wealthy one,” Georgiana said.
“Oh, dear heavens, you are going to struggle, my girl,” her mother said.
“Why must it be a struggle? Surely there must be good men out there who are wonderful and kind and true. There have to be, right? Do you really believe that it is hopeless?” Georgiana asked.
“Not hopeless, just unlikely,” her mother said.
Georgiana sighed, disappointed. She had hoped that her mother would be more understanding than this.
But she ought not to have expected that. Her mother was hardly the sort of woman who gave her any kind of real consideration. Everything was about whether or not she co
uld get what she wanted. The wealth that she wanted.
Her mother sat on the bed and picked at a small stain on the cuff of her dress. It looked as though she had spilt honey on it.
“Do you believe there is a man out there who might make you happy? You know, you cannot possibly refuse one man unless there is someone else,” her mother said.
“Why not?” Georgiana asked.
Her mother sighed and looked away, as if lost in a dream.
“A girl must marry. It is something we cannot control. It is expected of us and we are meant to make it our first priority,” her mother said, as though she hated the fact.
“But we should always seek someone we wish to be with first,” she continued. “If we cannot find someone we wish to be with, that is when we make exceptions. So, my dear, if there is no one you like, then you must accept the proposal of the Baron. But, if you love another, you ought to ensure that he lives up to the ideals which move you.”
“I am so glad to hear you say that, Mother,” Georgiana expressed.
“Oh? Does that mean that there is, indeed, a man for whom you have an affection?” she asked.
This time, it was Georgiana who sighed. She clung to the memory of Inspector Brock asking her questions, trying to discern her levels of honesty and whether or not he could trust her.
She thought about the hurt of that. How she would always live her life wondering if he might think poorly of her and she would never be free to think otherwise if they did have a life together.
Then again, he may not even want that. It was possible he had no care in the world for her. But she cared for him. Too much. The feelings that she had were feelings that bothered her greatly.
And yet, she could not pretend they didn’t exist.
“Mother, there is. I have found someone, someone I care for a great deal,” Georgiana said.
Her mother stared in wide-eyed astonishment, a smile alight upon her lips.
“Honestly? You never told me! Oh, this is delightful, my darling. Who is he? Why did you not tell me before?” she asked.
“I-I did not think you would approve. And, to be honest with you, Mother, I am quite angry with him. It is so complicated,” she confessed.
“Well, who is it? The Viscount Morris?” she asked.
“No, certainly not,” Georgiana said, laughing. She would never have an interest in the Viscount.
“Then who?” her mother urged.
Georgiana took a deep breath. Despite the anger that she had been feeling towards that infernal detective, she couldn’t help smiling.
“Inspector Brock,” she said.
It began with the furrowing of the brow. Slowly, her mother’s face changed. It’s look normal at her nose, but then the quivering of the lip.
Her mother was furious.
“Mothe—”
“How dare you speak to me?” she asked in a cold, shaking voice.
“Mother, it is not so bad. I cannot help it. He is a good man, honestly,” she said.
“A good man? You think that he is a good man? What sort of man might that be, Georgiana? One who questions your family? One who deems their motives to be wicked? How dare you see anything good in Inspector Brock? Do you think nothing of us?” she asked.
“I love you, Mother. I love our whole family. He cannot help that he is doing his job,” she said, understanding the irony that she would defend him for questioning them when she was so angry that he had questioned her before.
“I cannot believe you would be so foolish as to care for a man like that,” her mother said.
Georgiana took a step away from her mother, looking out the window. Once more, she tried to find the words. As she stared out the window, she finally managed to speak.
“I understand that you are angry at me. Just as I was angry at him. I know that he has had to question us as it is his duty for his work, but we shall push through it, Mother. I know that we can get past all of this. Our family can. We are able to overcome the differences between ourselves and the Inspector,” she said.
“Ha! Differences? You mean the fact that he would see us all arrested if given the chance,” her mother spat.
“It is not like that, Mother,” she said.
“Do not fool yourself, Georgiana. It is exactly like that,” she said.
With that, her mother stormed out of the door, slamming it behind herself.
Georgiana collapsed on the bed, disappointed in herself and discouraged by what had happened. She felt awful. Her mother was so angry and she knew that she had made a mistake, but it did not change the love that she was beginning to feel for Inspector Brock.
Was it really love? Did she truly love him?
Georgiana was not sure if she could call it that, but that was certainly how it felt. It felt to her that something new and wonderful as welling up from inside of her.
Perhaps, perhaps it was a betrayal after all. But anything else would have been a betrayal of her heart.
Could she deny herself in this way? Or was she simply doing the best she could?
Chapter 32
Hard at work, Hamish and John were trying to finish up some paperwork after questioning a suspect in a robbery.
They had been busy all morning and Hamish was glad for something to preoccupy him.
The morning had begun with waking up just to smack his head on the headboard of his bed, before he stubbed his toe on the dresser, before he bit into a meat pie that was still boiling hot on the inside before he came to work to learn that there was a shortage of paper just as a new case was brought, before he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.
It was, Hamish thought, quite the representation of how his life had been going of late and how frustrated he was to continue trying to figure things out.
“Are you doing all right, Inspector Brock?” John asked, using the formal title as he always did when they were in the office.
“I am perfectly well,” Hamish grunted in reply.
He sensed John’s discomfort at the answer.
Hamish try to ignore it. He knew that he was even more brooding than usual, but he didn’t want John to talk about it. He didn’t want John to even notice, although it was too late for that.
“I do not wish to talk about it, all right?” he said, hoping that John would drop the entire issue.
But John was not one to let go when he believed his friends to be upset. Hamish knew that, although he wished that it were not so, that John would simply ignore matters.
“I understand that you are upset, but surely you don’t mind talking to me about it just now. Honestly, there is much going on around us. I would like to think that you know I am here for you,” he said.
“Of course, I know that. You are always such a good friend to me and I would never even begin to question whether or not you would do me justice in our friendship. However, you must also recognise that I am…that there are things I do not wish to speak about,” Hamish said.