Reputation

by Lex Croucher

  She was surprised upon arrival to find that the Walters’ house was beautiful – tasteful and well-kept, not too large or small, with a flourishing garden full of an array of sticky, sweet scents. It looked quite old, but had clearly been well cared for over the years. Being even farther out of town than the Burtons, Mrs Walters had ample land, and had made it look very agreeable indeed.

  After her admittance to the house, she waited nervously in a cool, neat parlour while a friendly-faced maid went to announce her arrival. A man appeared from upstairs, looking in and giving her a brief nod before exiting holding a large leather bag, and Georgiana realised with trepidation that he must have been the doctor. Eventually she heard slow footsteps on the stairs, and Mrs Walters entered the room with Betty – who looked pale, but fortunately quite a bit more alive than Georgiana had feared – on her arm. A small scruffy-haired dog followed close at their heels, looking up anxiously from Georgiana to its mistresses and then back again.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Ellers. Let’s go into the garden.’ Betty sounded monstrously tired, but there was more surety in her voice than Georgiana had ever heard before. ‘It’s all right, Grandmama.’

  She took Georgiana’s arm instead and together they walked slowly out into the back garden, where they sat down surrounded by a multitude of roses of every variety and colour. They were silent for a minute as they listened to the sound of birdsong and sleepy bees bumbling about them, until Georgiana could bear it no longer.

  ‘You look well, Betty – as well as can be expected, I mean,’ she said, the words tumbling out of her. ‘Here – I brought you some lace that Mrs Burton was saving for me, and some dog roses and honeysuckle from the garden, and cordial – only, I’m not sure what gift you give to say “I’m sorry I poisoned you”. I really am so dreadfully sorry, though, Betty. It was an accident. Well . . . it wasn’t an accident, of course, but my part in it was accidental. Frances put something in your drink, and I had no idea she would go so far – I mean, I should have thought, I should have known, but I just . . . didn’t.’ She ran out of air.

  Betty considered her thoughtfully. ‘It was dreadful, you know. I have never felt quite so – disconnected, from my own body,’ she said gravely, and Georgiana nodded, wincing. ‘Once I was done feeling faint and sick I got quite high-spirited – by the time they had brought the carriage around, apparently I thought I was a real fairy, a nymph, and the Salisburys – the lovely couple who were helping me – had to catch me, because I was dashing about the place saying that I was “spreading my magic”.’ Georgiana nodded again, attempting to keep a straight face at this last. ‘I was violently ill by the time I got home. I actually vomited on Grandmama’s Dandie Dinmont terrier.’

  Georgiana worried she might laugh, and hurt Betty’s feelings; to her relief, Betty did first.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Betty. I know it’s not funny really,’ Georgiana said, attempting to compose herself.

  ‘No, no,’ said Betty mildly, ‘it really is quite funny. As soon as I’d done it, the poor thing took one look and turned around and vomited, too, all over the rug.’

  They both giggled weakly, but then Georgiana’s expression became serious again.

  ‘I forgot to meet you, Betty. I forgot what I had promised you, and then instead of giving you the apology you deserved, I was terrible to you. I know you are always inclined towards forgiveness, but my behaviour was truly unforgivable, and nobody would think badly of you if you never spoke to me again. If you’ll let me, though, Betty, I want to make it up to you.’

  Betty sighed, and then leaned over and patted her hand.

  ‘I cannot say all is forgotten, for it isn’t – but even in remembering it, I can’t find the strength today to feel vexed. Perhaps you are lucky I didn’t sleep a wink, but I think I can give you another chance. And besides – nobody has ever brought me dog roses before.’

  Georgiana felt a little of the weight leave her chest; Betty’s kindness was a balm, even if she knew she did not deserve it.

  ‘Thank you, Betty. Truly. I’m sorry about Frances – she has behaved so poorly, although I cannot pretend the fault is entirely hers. I behaved just as badly as she. God, I wish I could turn back the clock and decide to stay home from that wretched party. It was a nightmare from start to finish.’

  ‘She is . . . She is a bit of a rotter sometimes, isn’t she?’ Betty said, and the fact that it was such a struggle to find a bad word to say about somebody who had literally poisoned her caused Georgiana to feel a forceful rush of affection towards her.

  ‘Well . . . so am I,’ Georgiana said ruefully.

  Betty smiled. ‘What was it that made the rest of the evening so dreadful for you, if you don’t mind my asking?’

  Georgiana was going to deflect again, for this hardly felt the right time or place to talk about herself; but something about Betty’s kind eyes, or their peaceful setting – or perhaps the newly acquired knowledge that Betty and her grandmother weren’t going to run to the constable and have her charged for attempted murder – put her so much at ease that she found herself telling Betty the whole story.

  To her credit, Betty gasped at all the right moments – particularly when Georgiana got to the part where she and Thomas had kissed, although she rushed quickly through it in the retelling so as not to shock Betty back into her sickbed. She was intentionally vague about what she thought had transpired between Frances and Jeremiah, and she stalled a little when she reached her own encounter with him in the orangery.

  ‘I don’t imagine there’s a soul at that party who would believe me, but I went in there looking for Cecily, I didn’t arrange to meet him or anything. He was so drunk, Betty, so . . . Well . . . let’s just say that whatever he’d taken didn’t quite have the same effect on him as it had on you. He wouldn’t let me leave.’ Her hand went to her wrist, though it bore no marks. ‘He kissed me, and he tried . . . I think he would have done far more, had we not been interrupted.’

  She felt a hardness in her throat, a solid mass that threatened to choke her; but still, she did not cry.

  ‘Oh, Georgiana, I’m so sorry. He is beastly. Simply beastly,’ Betty said, aghast. ‘If I were – well, if I were a man – I’d run him through!’

  Georgiana laughed shakily. ‘Would you really, Betty?’

  ‘Well . . . no, I suppose I wouldn’t, as I don’t much fancy prison. Grandmama says they only let you wash once a month, and without any soap at all! But gosh, I’d certainly give him a good talking-to.’

  ‘I do believe you would,’ said Georgiana, smiling.

  It felt cruel to think that she liked Betty because there was no pressure in her company – no urgent need to impress – but then again, perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing to be so at ease. Perhaps it was a sign that one was in the presence of a true friend.

  ‘To be frank, Betty, I am at a loss as to what I’m supposed to do now.’

  ‘I think – if I may be so bold as to offer a little advice – I think honesty is the best policy, Miss Ellers. Tell Mr Hawksley what really happened – tell him how you feel. Only you can decide how to proceed with your friendship with Miss Campbell, although I must say, if I have a vote, I would prefer her to be in prison without any soap or any friends.’ This came out of her in a rush, but then she paused and seemed to reconsider. ‘Or, perhaps, no, that is too unkind – she may have one or two friends, of the criminal sort – I imagine one must make friends for life during incarceration, so that could be quite agreeable for her—’

  ‘You’re right, of course, Betty,’ interrupted Georgiana, before this got out of hand. ‘I must put things right. I only hope . . . I hope I haven’t ruined all of my friendships here beyond repair.’

  Betty patted her hand where it lay on the bench, and smiled.

  ‘Well, whatever happens – you have me, Georgiana. I may not be quite as much fun as the rest, but I am rather good at cards, and so far there has been no need to call a doctor to any of my games of loo.’

  It was a
lmost lunchtime by the time Georgiana returned to the Burtons’; the previously clear sky had clouded over considerably, and it had begun to drizzle. She was hunched over to escape the rain as she rushed for the front door.

  Before she could open it, somebody else did.

  Frances was standing in the doorway, immaculately dressed, seemingly midway through saying her goodbyes; she turned to smile benignly at Georgiana, who simply looked confused in response.

  ‘Frances? Are you . . . ? I was out, but if you want to talk—’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, George, I’ve been having a wonderful chat all morning. I’m all talked out. I’ll let you catch up.’

  She nodded her head in farewell, still sporting the same unnervingly calm smile, and then walked back down the garden path at a leisurely pace. Her carriage pulled up to receive her with impeccable timing.

  This exchange only left Georgiana more confused, and she hurried inside the house, hanging up her hat and taking off her gloves.

  ‘Mrs Burton, I—’

  She heard a throat being cleared; when she turned around to see who it belonged to, she almost dropped her gloves in shock.

  Mrs Burton was visible through the open doorway, hovering awkwardly by the dining table. The figures sitting opposite her, rigid in their seats and staring at Georgiana over two cups of untouched tea, were none other than her parents.

  ‘But you’re . . . What are you doing here?’ Georgiana said, feeling for a moment as if she had fallen out of time.

  She had absolutely no idea why they were here; she hadn’t even thought of them for weeks, and they made absolutely no sense to her now, sitting at the same table she had breakfasted at every morning for the past three months.

  ‘Your parents were on their way to London, Georgiana, to arrange some of their affairs . . . well, and I had written to them, you see,’ Mrs Burton said, twisting a napkin tightly in her hands. ‘To ask them to visit you, as I knew you were missing them – and so they thought to stop in on the way, and – and here they are.’

  Mr Ellers, dressed all in brown and with a neat moustache to match, looked thunderous. Mrs Ellers, who looked almost exactly as Georgiana suspected she would herself in twenty-five years, had a few more grey hairs salting her tightly pinned hair and wore a very pinched expression. If the sea air had indeed done her good, there was certainly no evidence of an improved temperament on her pale face.

  ‘Here we are indeed,’ said her father, through clenched teeth.

  ‘I don’t understand. Frances was here? And you—’

  ‘I would hold my tongue if I were you,’ said Mrs Ellers sharply.

  Georgiana flinched so hard she moved almost a foot backwards.

  ‘Sit down.’

  She did, with a sinking feeling in her stomach so strong that it threatened to pull her directly through the floorboards.

  ‘Your friend Miss Campbell has just informed us of your absolutely reprehensible behaviour. She told us that you have been engaging in . . . engaging in . . .’ Her father was so furious that it seemed to be a struggle to get each word out.

  ‘Engaging in what?’ Georgiana asked in a voice barely above a whisper, her mind accelerating rapidly as she tried to keep up.

  It was true that she had been engaging in plenty of things that her family would not approve of lately, but she could not believe that Frances would make the trip to her house to make idle chit-chat with her parents about her drinking habits. After all, it was usually Frances handing her the bottles.

  ‘You have been engaging in . . . intercourse, Georgiana!’ her mother cried, grimacing away from the word as she spoke.

  Georgiana was so shocked that she was speechless for a moment. Of all the things she might have expected her mother to say to her after so much time apart, shouting the word ‘intercourse’ at her had not been one of them. She had never seen her parents display so much emotion in all her life. She threw a panicked look at Mrs Burton, but her aunt wouldn’t meet her eye.

  ‘I most certainly have not!’ Georgiana said indignantly, her anger rising to match her mother’s.

  ‘Miss Campbell seemed quite distraught, in two minds about whether or not to say anything, but frankly, thank God she did,’ said her father, slamming his hand down on the table so that the teacups rattled nervously. ‘You are out of control, Georgiana. And it ends now.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Georgiana said, looking beseechingly between them. ‘What is it exactly that I’m supposed to have done?’

  ‘Miss Campbell said that you’ve been off cavorting with a man,’ Mrs Burton said quietly. ‘Lying to us, Georgiana, lying to me, about the chaperones at events, about where you have been – pretending you are with the Campbells, when really you’re off with that Woodley girl and her friend—’

  Georgiana’s heart broke a little, hearing the betrayal in her aunt’s voice.

  ‘Mrs Burton, please, I can assure you—’

  ‘No! Not another word,’ her mother snapped. ‘Miss Campbell was to be engaged, she said, to a Mr Russell – honestly, how could you do such a thing to a girl you claim as your friend? She said you had been flirting with him, behaving most inappropriately, and then you two had . . . Good God, Georgiana! We shall all be ruined.’

  Georgiana was still trying to make sense of this – flirting, with Jeremiah? Sleeping with Jeremiah? What could have possessed Frances to fabricate such a thing?

  ‘Mr Russell?’ Georgiana turned to her aunt again. ‘Mrs Burton, please, I will admit that I have been keeping company you would not entirely approve of – and it is true that I have been to some . . . some parties, some outings that were not entirely appropriate, but I have never looked at Mr Russell that way in my life, and I—’

  ‘Don’t deny it, Georgiana,’ said Mr Ellers gravely. ‘Miss Campbell said you disappeared off with him at some cottage. There were no chaperones, she said, her parents away, she thought your aunt knew. She says you made it quite clear to her that you had gone upstairs and done something unspeakable with him.’

  ‘In the cottage? That was Frances, Father. It was Frances! Why she wouldn’t want that generally known is perfectly clear to me, but why she would instead claim that it was I—’

  ‘She said she tried to help you, even to forgive you, but you are beyond forgiveness, Georgiana,’ said her mother, shaking her head. ‘After all she has done for you, she says she saw you kissing this Mr Russell again last night.’

  ‘Georgiana, she said you tried to hurt Miss Walters,’ Mrs Burton said sadly. ‘That you slipped something into her drink, just to be cruel.’

  Her mother was saying something else, but Georgiana could not hear her, a strange ringing in her ears obscuring all. A lot of things were suddenly falling into place. Of course. Of course. Frances had been the one to interrupt them. She had seen what Jeremiah had done to her in the orangery. She had seen his fumbling hands, seen them pressed together in that close, hot darkness and had come to her own conclusions. As furious as Georgiana was, she understood, and she was also distantly impressed; she could not have calculated such perfectly executed revenge herself in a thousand years of trying.

  ‘I do not blame my sister,’ Mrs Ellers was saying stiffly. ‘I could never have imagined that you had this in you, Georgiana, or I would have taken great pains to keep you out of trouble. I can only hope that it is not too late. Pack your things at once – I’m sure the Order of St Lucy will take you, until we decide what to do next.’

  The Order of St Lucy sounded suspiciously like a convent. That fact cut cleanly through all the noise in Georgiana’s head.

  ‘No,’ she said quietly.

  Her father was shaking his head.

  ‘It’s already decided.’

  ‘No. No! I won’t, Father. I won’t go. I am guilty of poor judgement, I am guilty of lying – I have lied to you, Aunt, and I am dreadfully sorry for it, you did not deserve it – but I am not guilty of the rest. I have not been out fornicating. I did not poison Betty Walters. Even Betty
herself does not believe that! I have just come from speaking with her now, and she has shown me every kindness. And I will not be sent away – I will not go!’

  ‘Perhaps . . .’ Mrs Burton said to her sister, her voice clouded with tears. ‘Perhaps it might be best to give her a chance to—’

  ‘No,’ said Mrs Ellers, getting to her feet. ‘Your reputation is in tatters, Georgiana. And ours will be, too. We must act for the good of all involved. What will we do with you now? How can we hope for any sort of match? Who would possibly have you?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know!’ shouted Georgiana recklessly, getting up to match her mother in stature and anger. ‘You didn’t seem particularly interested in having me before, so why should that matter now? You can’t ignore me when I’m good and quiet and do everything you say without complaint, yet try to play at parenting now when I’m finally living my own life. If you’re just trying to get a return on your investment, why don’t you take me down to the docks and sell me to a passing pirate? I’m sure they have at least five thousand a year, even if it is in stolen goods!’

  ‘This is not a laughing matter, Georgiana,’ said Mr Ellers, rising so that they were all standing around the table. ‘You will come with us now, without fuss, and we will – Where do you think you’re going?’

  But Georgiana was already gone. It was clear that nothing she could say would convince them, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to anymore. Her only regret was the look on Mrs Burton’s face as she fled; she was the only one there who was owed an apology, and the truth.

  She needed to move quickly, but of course she could not call for the carriage; she thought frantically about where to go, and her mind flew to Betty’s house, even knowing that it must be at least eight miles across country. Betty knew the truth, and could help clear her name. Betty would offer her refuge. Even if Mrs Burton directed her parents there at once, they would have to listen, with Betty by her side; and then perhaps they would begin to understand.