by Fanny Finch
And,
“Well of course you know she’s getting a large inheritance once she marries. And the daughter of a duke. I’m not saying they don’t also truly care for one another of course but, still… one has to consider things like that…”
It was enough to make Georgiana ill. She had hoped that once she finally had a suitor that the nasty things people said would die down.
Apparently, she had been greatly mistaken.
People finally had something new about her to discuss and oh, were they ever discussing it. Everybody had an opinion about her being courted by Mr. Tomlinson.
Many people seemed happy for her, and for that she was grateful. But for every person who was genuinely happy for her, there seemed to be another two who had some absurd theory as to why she was really being courted. Or why it had taken her so long to be courted.
Theories ranged from being touched in the head to having some kind of terminal illness to being unable to conceive a child. Georgiana did not even know how someone was to find out if they were barren before even attempting to create a child, but it seemed no logic could stop the determined gossipers.
And of course, there were all of the people who said that she was only being courted for her money and status. Mr. Tomlinson had a sizeable inheritance from his uncle but there were those who said it wasn’t going to be enough for him.
And those who said that now that he had money, of course he was going to want a title.
Georgiana was almost grateful that she was not in love with the man. She felt bad for him, of course. And she wanted the rumors to stop. But she could only imagine how upset she would be if it was someone she loved about whom they were speaking.
She could only imagine how much it would hurt if it was the captain about whom they were speaking. Captain Trentworth had never cared for titles. In fact, it seemed based on their last conversation that he despised them.
And he would never marry anyone for their money. That had been one of the things that Father had accused him of when she had begged Father to give his blessing.
If someone from a good family such as Mr. Tomlinson, who had been a part of society all his life, who had come into his inheritance fair and square… if he could be subject to such ridicule then she could only imagine the horrid things that everyone would say about Captain Trentworth.
It was a terrifying thought. And it made her grateful that while she did respect Mr. Tomlinson, she did not love him.
Georgiana did her best to ignore those things. She focused instead on the positives. On the fact that if things went well she could hold her head up high at parties again. That she would have her own household to run, which she did greatly enjoy doing.
She would get to have a proper estate in the country. She did love the country. And she would hopefully not be too old to have children. She did want a few.
A boy, yes, of course. And a girl. She had loved coaching Maria. It had reminded her of how much she wanted to be a mother.
She had long ago given up hope for that. Instead she had hoped only to possibly find a husband. And then to disappear from society with dignity.
Now she might very well get her dearest wish of a child or two. If she was to only have one, she hoped it would be a boy so that he might inherit. But she really did not care too much what kind of child it was—so long as it was one that she could love and raise and to whom she could be a proper mother.
No longer would she have to feel embarrassed at balls. She would be married and therefore did not have to dance. Maria missed dancing, Georgiana knew. She greatly enjoyed it.
In fact, if one came down at night, one could often find Maria and Edward dancing quietly, even without music, gazing into one another’s eyes like all those sappy couples from love stories.
But while she had nothing against dancing, Georgiana had never felt it was her favorite pastime. She was glad that she would no longer have to sit out a dance and feel as though it was a snub. Nor would she ever feel as though she had to dance or else risk looking more like a spinster than she already did.
Now, she could sit and chat with everyone and not feel a single obligation.
There were many pleasant things to look forward to, she told herself. So what if it did not come with love? There was security and happiness to be found. Romantic love was not everything.
It was a great deal, yes. But it was not everything.
Of course, when lying in bed at night, her heart told a different story. She could remember so well the way things had been with Captain Trentworth.
She still had his letters, although she refused to hurt herself further by taking them out and reading them. But it did not matter. She had them all memorized. She remembered everything.
How he had challenged her on her opinions. How he had rewritten sentences again and again because he was struggling with how to express his emotions. How he had made her laugh.
She longed for that once again. She longed for him, specifically. But if Mr. Tomlinson had been more like that, she might, perhaps, have made room for him in her heart.
But Mr. Tomlinson did not engage her in discussions on stories and word use in poetry, or the symbolism of a passage in a play. He did not challenge her views but instead simply complimented her for having them.
He could not make her laugh. And his words flowed so easily from his lips that she could quite clearly imagine him saying them to any woman. They sounded too practiced.
But the captain was not there. He had left her. He had made it clear where he stood. And Mr. Tomlinson was there. He was making an effort. He was actually there, in front of her. Showing his affection.
He was fighting for her.
And that was more than she could say for Captain Trentworth.
Her heart would follow her head in time. She just needed to give herself some patience. Until then, she’d let logic rule the day as it ought to have been doing for years now. Mr. Tomlinson was the one courting her. And so Mr. Tomlinson was the one that she needed to be thinking about.
Chapter 21
Georgiana went downstairs to breakfast a few weeks after the whole debacle with Captain Trentworth to find that there was a letter already waiting for her.
“It was dropped off first thing this morning,” the servant informed her. “By a messenger from Mr. Tomlinson.”
Georgiana opened the letter and read that it was an invitation for herself, Mrs. Weston, and Julia to accompany Mr. Tomlinson on an outing for the day.
She showed it to Julia and her mother, who both accepted. Mrs. Weston had a knowing look in her eye. “I suggest you dress your best, my dear,” she told Georgiana.
Georgiana felt nerves start to turn her stomach upside-down. She responded to the invitation letting Mr. Tomlinson know that they would be delighted to accompany him. She then went upstairs to change into her best.
Julia helped her out. “You’re shaking,” she noted as she helped Georgiana pick out a frock.
“Your mother said that I ought to wear my best for a reason,” Georgiana replied. “I can think of only one reason why she should say that. And I do not know if I am prepared.”
Julia frowned, turning Georgiana so that she might lace her up. “Why would you not be prepared? If you and my mother are right and he is proposing, then is it not what you were planning on this entire time?
“I admit that only a few weeks is a little short. But it is understandable when one is your age. Mr. Tomlinson is probably eager to help you end your status and also, possibly, to help with getting you pregnant as soon as possible. The older a lady gets the more dangerous the pregnancy, you know.”
“Yes, it is quite logical given my age,” Georgiana replied. “It is not that it is too soon. I knew that this would be coming. And yet now that it is here I find myself wanting to be sick.”
“Please don’t, or if you do, warn me so that I might get you a basin.”
“This is not a laughing matter, Julia.”
“Well one of us
must make it so. Or else you will work your nerves into such a state that you will not even be able to leave the house.”
Georgiana smiled at her. “You are always making things lighthearted and I do not think you get nearly enough credit for why.”
“There is enough seriousness in the world already,” Julia replied. “I must do what I can to provide the sunshine.”
She then took Georgiana’s hands in hers. “But, my dear. Wanting to be sick in a basin is not the proper reaction that one should have when realizing that one’s suitor might be proposing today.”
Georgiana looked off to the side. “I apologize. I feel as though I am still failing in some way.”
“You are not failing,” Julia said firmly. “You cannot control what your heart feels. And you are bearing yourself with dignity.
“Many a girl in your predicament would be allowing Mr. Tomlinson to court them out of spite. Or to make Captain Trentworth jealous.
“But you did not even encourage him until you knew there was no hope with the captain. And you are allowing him to court you out of logic and necessity. I see nothing to apologize for in that.
“You are bearing up with grace, when many other ladies would be weeping and wailing still. You did not kick up a fuss. You did not make a scandal of anything. I think that you are to be commended for how well you are handling this.”
“And yet, it still does not sit right with me.”
Julia sighed, and drew Georgiana to the bed so that she might sit down.
“My mother has spoken to me often about how she came to marry my father. She was not in love with him at the time, you see, although they did get on.
“They grew to love one another in time. And I thought, growing up, that what she was trying to tell me was that it was all right if a marriage did not start out in love. That love would come.
“And she was saying that, at least in part. But that was not all of what she was saying. She was also telling me that when she married him, although she did not love him, she felt happy with her decision.
“She was all right with not being in love with him. She was glad to be getting married. She looked forward to it. There was no doubt in her mind about it.
“And so, if I am to wed, she told me, it is all right if I do not love my husband. But I must not go into it if I am anything other than happy with my decision.
“I think that is what you ought to think about now. It is all right that you do not love Mr. Tomlinson. But you should be going into this with pride and happiness.
“You should be glad that you are going to be proposed to. You should not be feeling ill about it. I know that men often like to laugh at the idea of a woman’s intuition.
“But I believe that intuition exists. I think that your body when it is making you feel ill in such a manner is trying to tell you something. I think that you know, whether you like it or not, that Mr. Tomlinson is not the right man for you.
“And one must think not just of one’s self but of the other party as well. Is it truly fair to Mr. Tomlinson to marry a woman who does not love him?”
“But in the case of your parents was it not so?”
“Yes, but my father did not love my mother either. He found her rather pretty and he appreciated her wit. And he knew that he wanted to marry and have children. That was what he truly wanted—a child. And since he found my mother tolerable enough and he needed to secure a marriage, he proposed.
“But Mr. Tomlinson cares for you. He has been impressed by you since the moment of your meeting. I think that, for one person to give a lot and not to receive as much in return…
“I think that it would be uncomfortable for you both. That he would feel unfulfilled and not understand why for some time. That when it did come time and he understood, that it would hurt him.
“And that you all the while would feel shame, for not loving him as he loved you. That you would feel guilty and be doing what you could to make up for it. And that is not a fair situation to put you in.
“It would breed unhappiness in you both. Because neither of you would be getting from the other what you truly needed.
“If Mr. Tomlinson simply needed a wife then I think it would all be more balanced and you would be able to respect one another. But when there is a lack of balance… that worries me.
“And I do not want you to be unhappy. That is the last thing that I want for you. You are like a sister to me. If the idea of him proposing makes you unhappy then I don’t think that you should do it.”
Georgiana looked at herself in the mirror. She thought that she looked rather nice. But she no longer looked like she was eighteen. She was six and twenty and she looked it.
Maybe it would make her unhappy. But would it make her any unhappier than being a spinster would? Was it not the fair price that she had to pay for retaining her place in society?
There was a soft knock at the door. One of the maidservants stuck her head in. “My apologies, Miss, but your mother sent me to inform you that Mr. Tomlinson’s carriage has arrived.”
“Thank you,” Julia replied automatically.
She looked back at Georgiana. “We have to go on this outing now. And it will be quite lovely I am sure. You don’t have to follow my advice, of course. But I hope that you will think on it. I only want what is best for you.”
“And you think that a life alone as a spinster is what is best for me?”
“Compared to a life where your husband grows to resent you for not loving him and you are unhappy and feeling guilty and ashamed all your life? Yes. I think that is what is best for you.”
Georgiana sighed. “You never were one to mince your words, Julia.”
“I like to think that people appreciate me for it,” Julia replied. “But the carriage is here, so I’m afraid we don’t have much time to ruminate on it.
“Whatever you decide, I will support you. You will hear no complaints from me or chastisements once you have made your choice.”
“Thank you.” Georgiana took one last look at herself in the mirror, making sure that her hair and all were in place. “Let us depart, then.”
Mr. Tomlinson and Mrs. Weston were waiting for them when they descended the stairs into the foyer.
“You look delightful,” Mr. Tomlinson told her. He seemed to truly think so, smiling at her with a happy gleam in his eyes.
Georgiana felt her stomach twist in guilt. This was a man who seemed to think she was a delight. Who smiled dazedly at her, as though he wanted nothing more in the world than to stare at her.
She would have thought that marrying him would be a kindness to him. She would be giving him what he wanted, after all.
But was Julia right? Would it, in actuality, be unfair to him?
They got into the carriage, Georgiana’s thoughts swirling about her head like a summer storm. She had to do the smart thing and say yes should he propose. But she also had to do the right thing. Could it be that the smart thing and the right thing were, in fact, two different things in this case?
“I hope that you will enjoy this,” Mr. Tomlinson said as the carriage went into motion. “It is the most charming little spot, you can see for miles. I was walking there the other day and thought that it would be the most perfect spot for a picnic. And I know that you ladies do not get nearly so much fresh air as you would like.”
Mrs. Weston thanked him for his thoughtfulness. “I’ve been continuously told that the air will do me good. Let us hope that my doctors are to be believed, then.”
“But madam, surely you believe your doctors?”
“I believe that they think they know better than anyone else,” Mrs. Weston sniffed.
Georgiana glanced at Julia, who had to stifle a smile. Mrs. Weston had her opinions, and they were strong ones. When the doctors came to visit there was usually quite a row.
As they rode the carriage up, it was mostly Mr. Tomlinson and Julia who kept the conversation going. Georgiana found she could not bring herself to speak.
Fortunately, that was not so unusual. She generally kept quiet while Julia took over the conversation. And Mr. Tomlinson was always happy to talk.
At least this way, Mr. Tomlinson did not need to know that her silence was from her frayed nerves.
The spot that he had chosen for them was rather lovely. The grass was soft and inviting, the sun was bright but not unbearable, and the air was clear and sweet.
“I declare that there is nothing so marvelous as the English countryside!” Julia announced as they set themselves up. “No wonder people are always waxing poetic about it in books.”
“If you start waxing poetic about dead leaves,” Georgiana said, “I shall have to draw the line.”