by Fanny Finch
“I wasn’t aware I had joined the army and was under orders,” Georgiana replied.
Edward did not bother to send her a response but instead made his way through the crowd in order to secure Miss Worthing for the dance before someone else did.
How could she not see that she was becoming popular? It was like watching the transformation of the swan into the princess in Swan Lake, only in extremely slow motion.
Every ball that they went to there were more people from the previous balls who were happy to see her. The older ladies that she had befriended had spoken to all of their children who were now befriending her. The men that she had danced with before had told their friends about her.
Word was spreading about her. Which was a good thing, Edward told himself. She ought to be popular. She ought to feel appreciated.
That was part of why Miss Hennings had said something, he was sure. Not only because she wanted to convince Edward to propose to her and saw Miss Worthing as a threat in that regard.
It was also because she was seeing Miss Worthing’s popularity with everyone climbing. She was finding Miss Worthing a threat not just in regards to one man but in regards to her entire social circle.
It showed, at least in Edward’s mind, the true cowardice of the young lady. To tear another person down in order to build someone else up showed just how little faith that person had in their own natural abilities to be liked and counted on based upon their own merits.
He stopped in front of Miss Worthing, who seemed surprised to see him.
“We haven’t had our dance yet for the evening,” he told her. “And I thought you might need a little respite. We need not talk at all during this dance if you prefer.”
Miss Worthing took his arm and let him lead her to the dance floor. “You don’t have to pretend to be cheerful for me, Miss Worthing, if you are still in distress. I know how hard it is to feign happiness when one is in distress.”
He had had to do that twice. Once when his mother had died, and again when his father had passed. Everyone had given their condolences. They had not expected him to be too cheerful.
But then when he tried to turn down ball and dinner invitations people acted surprised. They would tease him or chastise him when he was quiet or not engaging.
In short, he had been told that they respected his mourning. But then they had not truly done so in their actions. Nobody wanted to be around someone who was melancholy of spirit.
When people would behave in such a manner when it came to a person in mourning, then he was certain that people would have little patience for the hurt feelings of a woman bullied at a party.
Miss Worthing looked at him gratefully—but also, he imagined, a little guiltily.
She was probably upset that she was taking him away from the other women. And thinking that she would be bullied more because of it.
“Don’t worry,” he told her, leading her out onto the dance floor. “Our little dance is practically a tradition at this point, don’t you think?”
Miss Worthing’s lips quirked upwards at that and Edward felt a rush of warmth and triumph at having made her smile, even for the barest moment.
“Now,” he told her, “you don’t have to say anything. You can just dance.”
Some people might have thought that conversation would help someone get over such an awful event as being talked to as Miss Worthing had been. But Edward suspected that would be too much to ask of her in that moment. Asking her to listen and pay attention to something was more than she could handle.
So instead, they danced in silence.
It wasn’t an unpleasant silence. It was quite comfortable, actually. Dancing was a chance to converse. Nearly every moment that a man got with a lady was a chance for them to converse in order to get to know one another better.
The aim, of course, being to figure out if the person was someone you wanted to marry, of course.
But there was value, Edward thought, in being able to quietly share space with someone and have it not be awkward.
They moved through the dance, and as promised, he didn’t say anything. Occasionally one of the men or women from the other partners would include him in their conversation and he would speak to them briefly. But that was all.
It was as alone as Miss Worthing could get without disappearing into a corner again.
As the dance went on, she kept herself quiet. She seemed very lost in her own thoughts except for when her gaze darted around as if to see who was watching. Edward wished that there was something he could say to allay her fears and concerns.
The time of silence that the dance lasted for was actually quite nice. He appreciated it. He could enjoy the dance and focus on the movement of it without conversation distracting him.
Miss Worthing actually danced very well, he realized. He had known it objectively, of course. He had been the one with whom she had practiced and learned the new steps from his sister.
But now he got to witness how truly graceful she had become at it. She was energetic, but the energy was contained. Lovely. Every movement was planned and executed with perfection.
The previous times he had danced with her he had been engrossed in conversing with her. He had been trying to make her laugh or had been laughing at her in turn. This was entirely new to realize and pay attention to.
She did look rather lovely in her dress tonight as well. The pale pink of it brought out the natural color in her cheeks and contrasted well with her dark eyes and thick dark hair.
Edward dared to say, at least in his own mind, that she was beautiful. She had been pretty enough when she had first come to stay with them. But now with help from his sister in learning how to do up her hair and wear dresses that flattered her in color and fit, it brought out all that had originally been hidden.
It was no wonder that she never needed to sit down at these dances. What man in his right mind would let the evening pass without asking for a dance with her?
Edward felt an irrational pang of jealousy at the thought of someone else dancing with Miss Worthing. That someone else thought of her as beautiful and sought to do something about that thought.
But why should he be jealous?
It was nothing more than concern over the girl. That was all. There were many rakes out there and in some ways Miss Worthing was still naïve about how low some people would stoop.
He was in charge of her. He had promised her father that he would take care of her. That he would guide her and keep her safe. That was all. He was merely upholding that promise.
After spending so much time with the girl, was it not natural that he develop a strong affection for her?
He should be counting his blessings that she was such a pleasant girl and he had not instead found himself with a great dislike for her.
Miss Worthing did seem to raise herself up in spirit as the dance went on. He performed a few steps with an extra flourish, which earned him a wider smile. Color returned to her cheeks and warmth returned to her eyes.
By the time the dance ended, he thought that he could see new resolution in her eyes.
“There you are,” he told her, as they bowed and curtsied to signal the end of the dance. “It is good to have you back in your natural spirits, Miss Worthing.”
Miss Worthing smiled at him, blushing a little. She did blush rather easily, he had noticed. It felt as though everything he said was bringing color to her cheeks. The poor girl was not at all used to people paying her attention.
“I am glad to see you think so, my lord,” she replied.
“Off you go then,” he told her, ignoring the stab of odd jealousy in his gut. “I suspect that far more enticing suitors than myself await you.”
Miss Worthing curtsied again, smiling at his jest, and allowed another young man to come up and ask her for the next dance.
Edward wished that he could continue to dance with her. He had been so entranced by her movements and by watching her face that the dance had seemed to last sca
rcely ten minutes.
But asking a woman to dance a second time was a huge sign of favoritism. Especially at a ball such as this when there were plenty of women sitting down who deserved a turn on the dance floor.
To play favorites in such a way was to play with fire. Many people would take it as a sign of a proposal coming soon. Of course, the idea of proposing to Miss Worthing was absurd. It was only that he wanted to spend more time with her.
He paused. That…that thought did not sound quite right in his head.
Before he could examine it further, another young gentleman of his acquaintance was approaching him with three young ladies in tow.
Edward sighed. No doubt one of the ladies or all three wanted to dance with him and had impressed upon his acquaintance to make them known to one another.
As he gave himself over to the attentions of the three ladies, he could not help but keep an eye out for Miss Worthing.
She seemed to be enjoying herself more after that dance with him. She was moving with more energy and conversing easily with her partner as she usually did.
Why then did his stomach feel so oddly hollow?
“My lord,” said one of the ladies, and he turned back to show her he was listening to her ramble about place settings and some not-so-subtle hints about what a lovely hostess she would make when she was married.
He would pursue the odd thought that had been in his head later. When he was safely back at home and away from all of this…rabble.
Chapter 11
Maria had never been so grateful for Miss Reginald to tell her it was time for them to depart.
They bid goodbye to everyone and climbed into the carriage.
“Thank the Lord,” Lord Reginald muttered. “I feel as though I cannot even breathe.”
Other than his one remark it was an oddly silent carriage ride. Maria was wrapped up in her own thoughts, but so it seemed were Lord Reginald and his sister as well.
They pulled up to the house and Lord Reginald hurried out. It was as if he wanted to put as much space between himself and the ladies as possible.
Be honest with yourself, Maria thought. He wants to put space between himself and you.
He must know, then. He had to know, after that dance.
That kind, lovely dance he had given her. No talking, no obligations. She could give herself over to the movement and the music. It was just what she needed. She’d been struggling still even after their little walk and talk.
And it had been surprisingly comfortable. She had not felt at all awkward despite not speaking a word the entire time. It was as if they were simply able to exist in one another’s space and that was enough.
He had made her smile a few times. She had known that he was doing it on purpose. Making himself look a bit of a fool in order to get her to laugh. It was sweet of him and only made her love him more.
All of her emotions must have been laid out in her face and her eyes for him to see. How could he not know after so much time? How could he possibly be unaware?
No, he had realized when he saw her during the dance. When he looked into her eyes and saw her breathless gratitude. He had to have realized then.
Now he was desperately trying to put space between them.
She could not blame him.
Miss Reginald guided her out of the carriage. What surprised her was that she then accompanied Maria to her bedroom and rang for tea to be brought up there with some biscuits.
“My brother told me that you have had a difficult night,” she said, sitting down on the bed. “Go on, change into your nightshift. Then we shall have some tea and talk about it.”
Miss Reginald changed as well while Maria did. It felt odd to see the other woman in just her nightgown. Miss Reginald always seemed so poised and put together. For her to be wearing such casual clothing with her hair done only in a braid…it was odd, but not unpleasantly so.
It was how one might be with a sister, Maria thought. Casual and intimate.
“Now,” Miss Reginald said. “We have our tea. We have our sweets. We are comfortable. Tell me what happened.”
Maria looked at her. “Do you promise me that you shall not tell your brother?”
“I certainly shall not tell him. It is an easy promise. What is said between two close friends is sacred.”
Maria was still nervous. What if Miss Reginald thought her ungrateful and thought she had designs upon her brother? What if she was upset with her?
But she couldn’t keep the whole story to herself.
And so she told her everything. Including that it was Miss Hennings.
“Please, do not do anything to her. I hate that I am sharing her name, only it is that I must tell someone or I shall burst.”
“It is perfectly all right,” Miss Reginald soothed her.
She drew Maria in and laid Maria’s head on her shoulder, stroking her hair.
It was so similar to how Mother had treated her that Maria couldn’t help it. She began to cry.
“Oh, my dear girl!” Miss Reginald got the food and drink out of the way. “It’s all right, darling. You just cry it out.”
“I promise I make no presumptions,” Maria said through her tears. “I did not mean to have feelings for him. And I know that it is not my place to have them. It is only my embarrassment at people knowing.”
“It is rather humiliating,” Miss Reginald agreed, “when everyone knows how you feel and can say what they like about it. Even though their opinions ultimately do not matter, it still stings.
“But you must remember that, Miss Worthing. The only opinion that matters in this is my brother’s, if he is aware of your feelings. Nobody else’s opinion does. People will always gossip and say what they like. It is only up to you what you can do about it.”
She stroked Maria’s hair for another few moments, then pressed the tea back into Maria’s hands. “Drink up.”
“You would make a very good mother,” Maria confessed.
“I hope that I shall have the chance one day,” Miss Reginald replied.
There was another pause, and then she added, “Whether you and my brother ever come to an understanding or not, I hope that you will call me Georgiana from now on.”
Maria nearly spilled her tea. “Do you mean that? You are not saying it simply because I am upset?”
“No, dear girl. I’m saying it because I want you to know that you have someone always in your corner.”
“I would like it very much then if you would call me Maria.”
“It is a lovely name, I shall be happy to call you by it.”
They drank and ate in silence for a little while. As with Lord Reginald, it was a comfortable silence.
“He does not know,” Georgiana said at last. “My brother is an intelligent and educated man. But he can sometimes be dreadfully unobservant.
“Furthermore, I suspect that your feelings are not so transparent as you fear. I believe that Miss Hennings made a guess, and found in speaking to you that her guess was correct.”
“I am sorry to have proven her right then,” Maria said.
Georgiana smiled at her. “That is what it is important to learn. You must act as though it does not affect you.”
“It would be easier if I had more wit.”
“That will come with time.”
But Maria knew that Lord Reginald was a witty man. A clever one as well.
If he truly did not know of her feelings, and Georgiana really did not mind…and he was a man of honor and family name and wealth. She could not do better than him.
And it would please her father greatly to be married to the son of his childhood best friend, would it not?
Perhaps if she made an effort to be clever and witty like everyone else. If she showed that she could navigate the world of society as well as any other lady who’d been born to it. Perhaps then she might have a chance at winning over Lord Reginald.
She looked at Georgiana. “You would not object,” she said slowly, “if we w
ere to become sisters?”
Georgiana smiled at her. It was one of the warmest smiles that Maria had ever seen from her, despite how small it still was. “I feel as though you are my sister already.
“It is not my place to take sides or judge whom my brother chooses to marry. But if I were to pick someone…if I am plain, then yes. I should like it to be you.
“But that is up to him. I will not sway him one way or another on the subject.”