Karen Harbaugh (9 page)

Lucas snorted, but I ignored him. “That may be the problem,” I said thoughtfully. I replied to their questioning looks: “If I were to be ‘carried off,’ as you say, what will become of Mama?” Samantha looked blank. “She will be all alone, for she has no husband to depend on. There is only myself. And I mean to be a prop to her as long as she lacks that support.”

Lucas remarked, “But didn’t you say Sir Jeremy had asked her to wife?”

“Yes,” I replied, “but I also said she refused him.”

Samantha’s eyes widened, and I proceeded to explain the situation to her and some of Mama’s reasons for refusing Sir Jeremy. Not all of them, of course.

“Oh, how romantic! And how noble of your mother!” exclaimed Samantha.

I nodded glumly. “And how impractical,” I said. “It is clear to anyone looking at them that they are top over tails in love. Sir Jeremy knows that my grandfather was a merchant. If he does not mind, why should Mama?”

Lucas shrugged. “Female scruples,” he said.

“Well, I am a female, but I don’t have such scruples!” I pointed out.

Samantha raised her hands in a gesture of peace. “Now, Georgia, I do see you are right, for I would not have such scruples, either. But Lucas is right, too;

the Older Generation, you know,” she said wisely, “do not quite have the same notions as we do.” I reflected that this was true. There were any number of things Mama had said to me that did not make practical sense but were “what ladies do.”

“I wish there were something I could do to make her change her mind!” I said, frustrated. “I had had all sorts of plans when I first came home, and now they are all to pieces and I
cannot
think of any others! If I could think of some way to have them marry, I could go governessing in peace.” I caught Lord Ashcombe’s skeptical eye and amended tartly, “Or marry.”

“Perhaps”—Samantha sighed hopefully—”we can think of something by and by.” She exchanged a look with her brother that I could not read. Smiling kindly at me, she took my hand again. “Meanwhile, we shall have fun, shall we not? I am looking forward to my party, and to having you there, too! How nice it is to become friends!” she exclaimed.

My spirits could not help but lighten at her words, and I returned her press of hands and smiled at her and then at Lucas. Lucas looked seriously back at me for a moment, then grinned. When I glanced back at his sister, I thought I saw a little smile on her lips—but it was quickly gone.

* * * *

It was not long after this that Mama gave me another note, this time with a smile more smug than the last. We were sitting in the parlour with a small repast and, as was growing more usual lately, with Sir Jeremy. “From Lady Ashcombe, I see. Not another carriage ride, I presume?” Mama’s smile grew even more smug—if that were possible.

I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Oh, Mama, really! It was just a simple carriage ride with Lord Ashcombe and his sister, Samantha! We are growing to be good friends, I think. She is quite amiable.
That
was what the ride was all about; his lordship thought it might be a good thing if we were to become friends, primarily because poor Samantha was getting bored in London by herself. Her governess, Miss Jamieson, is away visiting her sick mother, so she doesn’t have much to occupy herself.”

Mama nodded wisely. “Ah, primarily for you to become friends with his sister. And secondarily?” she teased.

I blushed and sighed in exasperation. “Mother! Please!” I threw an agonized glance at Sir Jeremy, who only smiled benignly. Mama laughed. I knew there was no arguing with her.

I turned over the gilt-edged note and broke the seal. It was the invitation to Samantha’s party, as she had promised. I smiled. “Mama, look! Samantha has invited me to her party, just as she said she would. Do say I can go! It is to be an informal sort of thing, just to become comfortable around guests and learn how to go on.”

Mama threw a triumphant look at Sir Jeremy, who simply lifted his brows. Her glance seemed to contain a challenge, and I was sure it had to do with my receiving an invitation to Samantha’s party. I wondered if Sir Jeremy had approached Mama from the point of being a father to me; it seemed likely, if Mama’s challenging glance was any indication. I knew she took pride in the fact that she had raised me by herself, despite the difficulties in being a woman alone. I looked again at Sir Jeremy and was startled to see his eye slowly wink. An idea flashed suddenly in my mind.

“Of course you can go!” cried Mama. “I would not have you miss it for the world! We shall have to make you a new dress, of course. Now let us see . . .” She drifted off, thinking of colors, patterns, and fabrics.

I sighed soulfully. “Oh, Mama, I am so glad you approve! Lord Ashcombe will be there as well, you know. Do you not think he is so very handsome?”

Mama swung around to stare at me, startled out of her sartorial dreams by my sudden switch of direction. I dropped my gaze shyly, but not before I caught Sir Jeremy’s quizzical look from beneath my lashes. “Why, why, yes, I believe he is. Do you like him, then, Georgia?” Her voice sounded breathless, tentative.

“Oh, Mama!” I fluttered, and shyly turned my face away from her. As I turned, I briefly glanced at Sir Jeremy’s face and saw that it had become very, very still; but there was that bright, mischievous look in his eyes, and his shoulders shook oh, so very slightly. I felt like laughing, too, and my efforts not to made me flush brightly—and very opportunely. “So kind!” I continued in a breathless voice. “So fine in his sensibilities! So quick in understanding!”

“Oh, my dear! My dear, dear, girl!” exclaimed Mama. “It is more than I had hoped for! Has he said—? Has he indicated—?” She had flown out of her chair to embrace me in a flurry of perfume and silk.

“Oh, please, Mama!” I glanced again at Sir Jeremy. Mama caught this and waved a hand at him.

“Perhaps you have another engagement, Jeremy?” she said. This was not what I wanted. I shot a look of entreaty at him.

“None that I can think of,” Sir Jeremy said obligingly.

Mama pursed her lips, trying to think of a way to dismiss him politely, but I said: “It is quite all right if Sir Jeremy stays, Mama. Truly. Why he is—
almost—
like a father to me. I do not mind if we confide in him.” I smiled sweetly at him. His lips twitched upward briefly, but he managed to keep the rest of his face composed.

“I am honored,” he said gravely.

Mama looked a bit confused. “But if you do not mind Sir Jeremy’s presence, why did you hesitate, love?”

I gave her a reproachful look. “Such a delicate subject,” I murmured. “I hesitate to say what Lord Ashcombe’s actions might—might
entail.”
I subsided in maidenly modesty.

Mama looked from me to Sir Jeremy and back again. An expression of dawning horror came over her face. “Oh, my dear girl! Never say that Lord Ashcombe—that he has tried to, to take advantage of you! Was
that
why you wished Sir Jeremy to stay?”

I jerked and sat up straight on my chair. That Sir Jeremy met my indignant eyes with a wide grin over Mama’s head and
definitely
shaking shoulders did nothing to abate my affronted sensibilities. “Of course not!” I exclaimed scornfully. Her face grew puzzled at my tone of voice, but I recovered and said with what I hoped was a lovelorn sigh, “He is so gentlemanly, Mama! And he introduced me to his
sister
! How could you think—! He could not be so common, Mama!”

She sighed with relief and said hastily: “No, no, my dear! I see I was sadly mistaken. Of course he would not compromise you! He is an exceptional young man, I know. But”—she looked at me tentatively—”have you any, ah, indications where his affections may, ah, lie?”

“I believe I will be introduced to Lady Ashcombe, his mother,” I said, knowing that Samantha would do so at the party. If Mama wished to think that Lucas was going to do so, I would not disabuse her of this idea.

She smiled tremulously at me and dabbed at a tear with her hand. I gave her a handkerchief I had in my pocket. “Oh, Georgia, my dear daughter! I am so happy! How wonderfu—”

“Alas!” I sighed, interrupting her. “It is all for naught, however!” I looked sadly at the ceiling, clasping my hands in my lap. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Sir Jeremy’s eyebrows quirk up. He leaned back on his chair with a little smile and crossed his legs: the better to enjoy the show, I thought. I felt slightly put out.

“Why, whatever can you mean?” said Mama, startled.

“Whatever his intentions, or anyone else’s, dear Mama, I cannot marry! Surely you must see that!” I clasped her hands in mine and looked at her lovingly. Mama looked thoroughly bewildered.

“Why, Mama, how can you think I would desert you, alone in the world, when you have devoted your love and constant energies to my welfare? Did you think you brought me up to be a selfish, thoughtless daughter? Why do you think I have studied long and hard at Miss Angstead’s school? I mean to be a support and prop to you, Mama!” I said this with all the sincerity I could muster—which was considerable, for indeed, I had always thought of this as the natural way I would live my life.

“B-but, my dear, you can’t—you cannot think I wanted you to be an
old maid\”

I spread my hands and shrugged my shoulders. “What does it matter to me if I remain a spinster? Nothing. The thought of a child abandoning her parent in loneliness while enjoying the fruits of marriage is abhorrent to me, I assure you, Mama. I know I have been impertinent and not always the ideal daughter to you,” I said humbly, “but never let it be said I have dishonored my mother or my father!”

Mama stared at me aghast. She tottered backward from me, groping for a chair, and was tenderly escorted by Sir Jeremy to a settee. He sat next to her and patted her hands. “Now, now, Celia, is this so surprising?” he murmured. “You have told me— often and often—what a good and wonderful daughter Georgia is, and so she is showing herself to be! Her sentiments do her—and you—credit. Why should she not stay at your side, caring for you?”

She turned, looking blindly at him. “But, Jeremy, she is so lovely, and so young! Not marry! Why, it would be a cruel waste, she would never know—”

“What you and I would have had?” cut in Sir Jeremy, looking at her with warm tenderness in his eyes. Mama became still and gazed at him with an arrested expression.

She tore her eyes away. “Y— No! That is not what I mean!” She turned to me. “Listen, darling. Do you not think it would be a wonderful thing to have a family, and children?”

I pretended to ponder this. “I don’t know,” I said. “We do well enough, you and I, don’t we? And with Sir Jeremy visiting, of course, we are almost a family, I imagine.” I smiled at him in a friendly manner. “Besides, if I were to have children, there would be less time for me to care for you, Mama!”

“Perhaps ... perhaps you don’t really care for Lord Ashcombe?” asked Mama, grasping at straws.

I made my chin tremble, my eyes downcast, and I hugged my arms as if protecting myself from the sorrows of the world. “I ... will get over it, Mama. Truly. And think: If I were to succumb to my... my affections for him, how could I live with the fact that you would have no one to comfort and succor you in times of need?”

“Oh, Georgia, you needn’t think of me! I have friends!”

I looked at her kindly, but steadily, in the eye. “But that is not the same as family,” I said. “And I am the only family you have.” I went over to where she was sitting with Sir Jeremy and patted her hand. “I can manage, Mama,” I said with a tremulous sigh. “Lord Ashcombe will understand that his attentions cannot deter me from what I know is my true course in life. Perhaps ... perhaps we can remain friends. It is what I hope.”

Mama, frozen in Sir Jeremy’s protecting arms, stared at me as if I were a cockatrice. I smiled lovingly, if sadly, at both of them before I rose to leave the room. I opened the door and turned once more to them, saying: “I know where my duty lies, dear Mama; you cannot dissuade me, for I know how unselfishly you will try to convince me otherwise.” I stepped out of the sitting room, closing the door. I leaned against the doorjamb, waiting.

A sudden wail erupted from the room I had just left. “Oh, Jeremy, Jeremy! This was not what I wanted at all! What have I done?”

I let loose a sigh of relief, grinning, then curtsied to a cheering—and imaginary—audience. Ah, success!

Chapter Five

Mama watched me warily for two weeks. I think the change in my demeanor had made her suspicious. While I had always been attentive to her, on the day she handed me the invitation to Samantha’s party, my manner was certainly touched with a martyr-like air and my concern for her was almost cloying. I had reverted back to my own cheerful ways almost immediately, however, for I was sure it would serve no purpose for me to remain a Tragedy Jill. First, such a drastic change from my own nature would certainly be unconvincing, and second, it was a tiresome act to keep up.

I found it a wise decision. My apparent unchanged personality, accented by a few kindly services for Mama and an occasional sad and abstracted mien/apparently convinced her as nothing else would have that I was firm in my conviction that my destiny was to become a lovelorn but devoted spinster, supporting my beloved mother in her declining years.

That I had found two friends in the interim between plans did nothing to dissipate my glee. After years in school with the only result being a well-educated mind and no friends at all, I now had a well-educated mind and friends who could accept that in me. If I wished, I could discuss the classics and even Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s works when I was with Lucas. His own interests were more practical in matter, however; his father had died of an apoplexy when Lucas was nineteen, leaving him with three different properties to manage. Of course, Lucas’s solicitors and agents did the daily supervision, and Lucas need not have involved himself at all. But he took an interest in farming and in the mills on his properties and actively sought to do as much as he could with them.

“Thing is,” he said one day while he, Samantha, and I set out on an al fresco luncheon, “it’s deuced difficult to get what improvements I want done in both the mills and the estates—not quite of age, you see.”