Chapter Twenty
Unsolicited advice is sometimes the best sort. Provided one is open enough to hear it.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 1 May 1817
It was a wonder how dreary England could be at times, even for one who had never been outside of it. She ought to have been accustomed to the resident gloom that pervaded her home and thought she had been.
But nothing could compare with the dreariness at present.
Georgie sat in the window seat of her room, staring out at the streets below, hair unbound and loose about her shoulders.
Tangled and knotted, surely. Yesterday had been a day of ranting and raging about her room, pulling at her hair, and knotting it with her agitation, and she hadn’t taken a brush to it since then.
The day before, she’d been almost herself and had even succeeded in descending the stairs for breakfast properly dressed. It had been close to luncheon and there was no breakfast to be had, but she’d done it.
She hadn’t managed since, though.
What would be the point?
Today was a meeting of the Spinsters. It was Writing Day, even, and here she sat. She was dressed, if her oldest, most faded, and most comfortable calico was considered being dressed, but that was all. Her feet were bare, and her toes cold, but no more than the rest of her.
She wasn’t going down; she’d decided on that hours ago. She couldn’t face them like this.
Not after what happened.
There would be questions and demands for explanation. There would be judgments and advice, pity and sympathy, and probably some exclamations of her own idiocy. Some would be on her side, but she could not account for all of them.
She couldn’t confess that she’d been wanting to end the Spinsters herself, and then had admitted a man into their company whose sole purpose had been that exact thing.
The shame was too much to bear.
Her mortification knew no ends.
But that had nothing to do with the Spinsters.
She’d loved him. She had given her heart to a man who had come to them under false pretenses. She could not trust anything about him, knowing now what had brought him to them. She should have trusted her first instincts and sent him away, saving herself this misery and heartache.
Love. What a foolish, pathetic notion that had been. A man worth loving would have been honest with her. He would have proceeded properly with courtship and paying proper addresses, not sneaking her away to steal moments alone.
You went willingly, her heart reminded her. You ran without any prodding.
She hissed and wrenched her gaze away from the window.
She knew she’d been a fool, that she’d been so overjoyed with the newfound sensations that she hadn’t managed a moment of sense. She ought to have seen what a mockery it was, what a waste of her heart and energy.
Except it hadn’t been anything of the sort.
It had been wonderful and delicious and heady, everything she had ever wanted love to be and more. He had been witty and charming and real, proper and perfect without being stodgy, and he had worshipped her.
He’d sparred with her better than either of her younger brothers had managed to, and with far more intellect, but he had worshipped her.
That ought to have been the first sign of trouble for her.
No one felt that way about Georgiana Allen. They never had. All his compliments and flirtations, all the looks and smiles and kisses…
She bit back a combination of a sigh and a whimper.
Those had all been part of his plan to seduce her away from the Spinsters. To make her forget herself and revert to the silly girl she had once been and take up once more the dreams she had long ago set aside.
He had made her feel things again.
Wish for things.
Hope.
A weak sob escaped Georgie, accompanying tears suddenly filling her eyes. She buried her face into her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs.
How could anything as blissful as the way she had felt only days ago result in the tearing apart of one’s very soul?
For this agony was nothing less than that.
Tony’s betrayal, however sharp, had been nothing compared to her own betrayal. She had betrayed herself in this, blinding herself to the reality of her situation, and his intentions. For a woman who prided herself on her good sense and judgment, she’d had none of it here.
There was a soft knock at her door, but as it was not mealtime, she did not acknowledge it. She’d only been taking trays the last few days, unable to bear her aunt’s tirade any longer.
She did not need to hear how disappointed her mother would be when she returned to England, or how she had given up the honor of the family by ending the engagement. It made no difference that there had been no formal announcement of its dissolution, she stated, the word would get out.
Georgie did not care.
If everything she had heard about herself was true, she could not be more disliked than she already was.
The knock sounded again, and again she ignored it.
She was not coming down. She was not seeing anyone.
The door opened without her consent, and she turned her head to glare at whoever dared enter without permission.
Izzy stood there, her brow furrowed, her wide eyes confused. “Georgie.”
She ought to have snapped at her, the way she wished to. She ought to have yelled or screamed, thrown a pillow, or said any number of things designed to hurt or offend.
But this was Izzy.
She could not.
“Izzy, please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking.
Her cousin’s brow cleared, and she came into the room, closing the door quickly.
“No,” Georgie protested, tears rising. “Please…”
“It’s no use protesting,” Izzy said lightly as she came to her, sitting opposite her in the window seat. “My cousin and best friend is in need, and I am going to sit here and be loving for as long as it takes.”
Georgie managed a watery smile at her. “As long as it takes? For what?”
Izzy shrugged, smiling. “For you to be happy once more.”
Oh. That.
She shook her head slowly. “I fear that will take a very long time, Izzy. Despondency is all I know.”
“Why?” Izzy cocked her head and placed a hand over hers. “Why so despondent? Because Tony’s gone?”
Georgie’s face crumpled and a sob broke free. “No. And yes.” She inhaled sharply. “Oh, Izzy, I don’t know what to believe. Do I listen to my heart, which may betray me, or my head, which seeks to know truth?”
“Ideally,” Izzy prodded gently, “I believe you listen to both.”
Somehow, Georgie laughed and shook her head. “I cannot listen to both. They are at war, and with good reason on each side. I must choose one or the other, and I’m not sure I can bear to.”
Izzy squeezed her hand tightly, seeming close to tears herself. “What happened, Georgie? You haven’t said a word about it except that you were no longer engaged, and you’ve hardly left your room. This isn’t like you. You always march forward with a purpose, your head held high.”
Georgie jerked her hand away from Izzy and sprang to her feet, shaking her head frantically. “No, that is not the woman I am. It is only the woman everybody thinks me to be. Does everybody seem to think that I have no heart? No real emotions of my own?”
Izzy sat in stunned silence, her hand slowly returning to her lap.
Georgie grabbed at her hair, tilting her head back as tears leaked from both eyes. “Do you think that I should not have loved a man so deeply that the loss of it makes the thought of living unbearable? That I am not capable of such passion? I have no sense of who I am anymore, no idea how to proceed, how to act, how to breathe…” She suddenly wrapped her arms around herself, moaning weakly. “I can’t breathe, Izzy.”
Her knees unexpectedly weakened, and she began to crumple, but Izzy was suddenly there to steady her. Together they sank to the ground, and Izzy held her close.
“Oh, sweet Georgie,” Izzy soothed, brushing her hair back gently. “Of course, you should be miserable for a time. I know what a fierce heart you are in possession of, and how much you love Tony.”
Even in her state, Georgie did not miss Izzy’s choice of words.
Love. Not loved.
Present. Not past.
Her heart keened, and she leaned against Izzy feebly.
“Why this misery, dear?” Izzy asked as she ran her fingers through Georgie’s hair. “Why did you break it off?”
Georgie stilled and slowly pushed herself off Izzy, staring at her in disbelief. “Why would you think that I am the one who cried off?”
Izzy frowned a little and began fiddling with her skirts. “I just… Well, Tony is a man of honor, and I cannot see him jilting anybody, least of all someone he loves as he does you.”
“Oh, but I would jilt him?” Georgie scoffed loudly and got to her feet. “I would cast aside a man so honorable and good purely because of my own pride and out of spite?”
Izzy’s eyes widened. “Georgie, don’t… I didn’t mean…”
“Is that what people will think?” she demanded, somehow suddenly beyond tears. “They will blame me, won’t they? They will sympathize with Tony, for who could bear to marry someone as heartless as me?”
“Georgie,” Izzy whimpered as she reached for her. “Come downstairs with me. Come see our friends and let us comfort you.”
Georgie shook her head and went to her bureau, fishing out stockings and quickly slipping them on. “No, I thank you,” she spat, tearing a hole in one stocking as she pulled it up. She shook her head, not particularly caring at this moment. “I don’t need comfort or pity. I need a walk. A very, very long walk.”
“Georgie, no,” Izzy pleaded, coming over to her. “It’s raining, and you don’t want…”
“I do want!” Georgie cried, slapping her hands away and reaching for her boots. “I do want. Did that never occur to anybody? I do want, and I want many, many things. And right now, I do not want to be reminded that I am still a spinster and going to remain a spinster until I can convince some other poor man to offer for me, or until I am dead in the ground.” She frantically tied the laces of her boots. “All I want is to go for a walk in the rain!”
Izzy sank back onto the bed, nodding. “All right, Georgie,” she whispered.
Georgie moved to the door in quick strides, then chanced a glance back at her poor, sweet cousin. “I’m sorry.”
She saw Izzy nod, but couldn’t stay. She moved down the corridor quickly, calling for a coat, bonnet, and umbrella as she plaited her hair.
She would not look respectable to anyone looking, and she knew that she was pale and drawn, but the dreariness of the day and dismal downpour would make any woman so.
Not that anyone would care.
Georgiana Allen did not need to look well.
Her coat and bonnet were given her, and she donned them quickly, not bothering to tie the ribbons. She held her hand out for the umbrella, and marched out the door, without calling for any sort of servant.
She was old enough to be a spinster to everyone. She was old enough, therefore, to go unaccompanied wherever she liked.
The rain pounded on her umbrella, and she was grateful for the noise. It kept her from having to heed her own thoughts, or to let them form words that would open her wounds continually.
She did not care to have her own company just now. The solitude found in the sound of the rain, the cool breeze as it rushed passed her, and the increasing dampness of her skirts were all the sensations she needed. These were real, these she could feel without pain, comprehend without struggle.
There was nothing to think of or decipher.
Nothing.
Hyde Park was empty but for the occasional hurrying person, but Georgie took her time with her pace, slowing now that she was free to do so. The lanes were clear, the streams of water flowing into the sodden grass, the gurgling sounds almost lost in the symphony of raindrops. Her footsteps added an odd cadence to the sounds about her; slow, steady, an echo of her heart as it pounded within her.
She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill her lungs, then released it in a heavy sigh, feeling some of the weight she’d been carrying release with it.
She would manage to find her usual spirit and wit again. She would be able to smile without pain. She would be able to laugh again.
But it wouldn’t be the same.
It couldn’t.
“Georgiana Allen?”
Oh, Lord have mercy on her soul, she couldn’t bear it…
Georgie shook her head, picking up her pace and lowering her head.
“Georgie! I know it is you, girl, and if you do not stop this instant, I will call your name louder until the entire street can hear it!”
She knew that voice. How did she know that voice?
She stopped and turned towards the sound of it, her brow furrowing.
A carriage was stopped in the lane, it’s occupant staring fixedly at her through the lowered window, her singularly blue eyes rather bright against the grey of the day.
Miranda Sterling.
“Oh, damn,” Georgie muttered with a rough exhale.
There was no way she could avoid this confrontation, and it was destined to be ruthless.
For all of Tony’s generous kindness, his stepmother did not feel the same compunction if it did not suit the circumstance.
She rather expected this to be such a circumstance.
Still, she managed to smile a little and force her feet to move in the direction of the carriage.
“Wise notion, my dear,” Miranda praised when Georgie was close enough. “Now get out of that dreadful rain and into this carriage before you catch your death.”
“What?” Georgie squawked, tilting her umbrella away from the coach. “Mrs. Sterling…”
Her brow knitted darkly. “You know better than to call me that, Georgie, dear. It is Miranda.”
“Yes, madam, I know, but…” Georgie stammered, twisting the umbrella in her hold anxiously.
“But nothing,” Miranda insisted firmly. “I am offering my carriage, and it would be terribly rude of you to refuse me.”
Georgie was willing to risk rudeness if it would save her the trouble of facing Tony’s staunchest supporter.
Miranda opened the carriage door, nearly hitting Georgie with it. “Get. In.”
She almost refused, her indignation rising again, but she was so very tired of being indignant. She closed the umbrella and climbed into the carriage, averting her gaze from that of her companion.
“Wise notion, Georgie,” Miranda muttered again, tapping the ceiling of the coach, which suddenly lurched forward.
Georgie nodded in acceptance, feeling rather conspicuous as she was dripping wet in this pristine carriage. She knew Miranda was looking at her, but she couldn’t bear to think on it. She couldn’t raise her eyes enough to see above the rich color of Miranda’s skirts.
And, oddly enough, a dozing bloodhound on the floor.
“Rufus adores carriage rides in the rain,” Miranda said lightly, reaching down to pet him. “And he’s a wonderful companion and confidante. I tell him all my secrets, and he’s never shared a one of them.”
Georgie was inclined to believe her, and was instantly tempted to scratch the dog at her feet.
But she couldn’t. Tony would scratch the dog. Pat his head. Take him on the hunt.
Not her.
“Georgie, look at me.”
Miranda’s words echoed her thoughts too perfectly, and Georgie was unable to refuse yet again.
She looked up and, to her astonishment, found Miranda smiling softly at her.
How could she do that? Knowing what Georgie had said and done, she could smile at her?
“You don’t look well, dear,” Miranda said gently. “And it isn’t the rain, I can see that.”
Georgie shook her head, her throat working on a swallow. “I’m not well, Miranda. I’m not well at all.” She bit back a cry and looked out of the window, covering her mouth to stifle her tears.
Miranda tutted softly and handed her a handkerchief. “Oh, pet, don’t hide your tears. Let them out, for goodness sake! They’ll drown you if you hold it in.”
A watery chuckle escaped Georgie and she dabbed at her cheeks and eyes. “I’ve been drowning for days, I’m quite used to the sensation.”
“Yes, I wondered if you might be.” Miranda sighed and leaned over, taking Georgie’s hand. “It will be all right. No matter what happens.”
Georgie looked back at her, dubious amidst her tears. “You can say that to me? You who are Tony’s stepmother?”
Miranda smirked. “Darling, I may be his stepmother, but I am my own woman. And I am your friend. For your own merits, not because of him. I care about you both, and this mess of things affects us all. I refuse to take sides.”
“Thank you,” Georgie whispered, her chin quivering.
Miranda winked and nodded, sitting back against the sheepskin behind her. “Not that I know what the pair of you fought about to begin with. Tony’s refused to say anything about it, and if he’s said anything to Rufus, he’s not sharing that with me.”
Georgie couldn’t smile at that, not even the light quip. “How is Tony?” she asked in a shaking tone.
“Distressed,” Miranda replied on a sigh, smiling sadly. “I haven’t seen him smile in days, but he’s not come around for some time. Says he needs to think things over, make other arrangements… I think he might be considering giving up the house in Essex after all.”
Georgie closed her eyes, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach. Not Hazelwood Park. He’d spoken of it with such eagerness, describing every detail he could recall, though he’d only seen it once. Georgie had begun to imagine it herself, picturing the tranquil setting in the beautiful countryside, seeing herself accompanying him on visits to the tenants, proving herself to be an accomplished and able wife.
But she wouldn’t be mistress of such a house or have those tenants to tend to.
He could, though. He could still have that future.
“He should keep it,” Georgie rasped, her throat burning. She forced her eyes open and looked at Miranda with an attempt at a smile. “He should.”
“I said the same thing.” Miranda returned her weak smile and shrugged. “He said he didn’t want it without you.”
Georgie clamped down on her bottom lip hard. She forced back a tide of emotions and exhaled slowly. “What will he do?”
Miranda made a soft noise of derision. “Probably take up his commission once more. There were many who asked him to remain, and they would be only too happy to give it back.”
That was exactly what Georgie had feared the response would be. Tony had been a good officer, a stalwart soldier, and he would do well to return to an occupation he was so well suited for. But the thought of him in such danger struck ice in her heart.
“Do you love him, Georgie?” Miranda asked pointedly as the carriage jolted around a curve. “After whatever has passed?”
Georgie whimpered and dropped her head, looking at her bare hands, still wrinkled from the rain, clenching at each other.
Rufus whined and sat up, shifting over to lay his head in Georgie’s lap, his soft eyes peering up at her.
She reached out to stroke his head, the weight of him in her lap soothing, giving her strength.
“I’m afraid I do,” Georgie whispered in answer to Miranda’s question.
“Why afraid?” came the response. “Dear girl, if you love him, and he loves you…”
“Does he?” she interrupted. “I cannot be so sure.”
There was silence for a long moment, even from Rufus.
Miranda shifted in her seat, leaning forward once more. “Georgie, of course he loves you still.”
“Did he really love me at all?” Georgie wondered aloud. “I’ve never been in love before, and I’ve never had a man in love with me before. I don’t know how to feel, or anything about it. What can I trust? What can I believe? I’m afraid of all of it.” She shook her head, surprised to still find more tears at her disposal. “I’m even more afraid that my fear has made me act rashly in the face of something true and honest.”
“Ah,” Miranda murmured with understanding. “If that is the case, why would Tony let you go? You cannot tell me this is all on your part.”
Georgie nodded, still petting Rufus absently. “I overreacted and seem to be doing a lot of it lately. I did not let him explain, and I don’t think I would have believed it if I had. I lashed out at him, and he returned the favor. Just this morning I screamed at Izzy, my cousin and best friend, who was only trying to help. I am apparently not in control of my own emotions, Miranda, and Tony is quite right to be rid of me. I can now see what everyone else has known all along… I am not fit to be any man’s wife.”
Suddenly, Miranda plucked Georgie’s hand from Rufus’s head and squeezed it tightly. “If I hear anything so disgustingly self-pitying from your lips again, Georgie Allen, I’ll ship you off to Bristol in a trunk on a mail coach.”
Georgie hiccupped softly, smiling again.
“You are not unhinged, you are in pain.” Miranda gave her a pitying smile. “Your heart is broken, dear, and that is not madness. Marriage is not a union of two perfect people who will never offend and upset each other. It is made up of two very imperfect people who have chosen to live their lives together, and if there is love in the union, it is all the more precious. If you marry Tony, your problems will not vanish. Indeed, I rather think he will give you more problems than you deserve.”
Georgie laughed in surprise but nodded.
“But even with love, Georgie,” Miranda continued, “marriage is difficult, and you will argue, and cry, and scream. But you will also laugh, and dance, and love… You cannot run from every trial in a marriage. You stand and face it together.”
The tightness in her chest began to ease a little, and she managed to give Miranda a wry smile. “Did you give this speech to Tony?”
Miranda chuckled and released Georgie’s hand with a pat. “Of course. And I won’t tell you how he responded, your ears may never recover.”
Georgie giggled easily at that, the tightness easing further still. So, she was not the only one behaving out of sorts. There was comfort in that.
She looked at Miranda with interest as an errant thought occurred to her. “When did you know that you loved your husband, Miranda? After you married him, I know, but when?”
Miranda’s brows rose, and then a soft smile crossed her lips. “When I lost our second child. I’d already lost the first, and then we lost the second, and it became apparent that I might not be able to bear him another child, despite both of our wishes.” Her throat worked, and her eyes turned misty. “He held me in his arms and told me that if it wasn’t meant to be, he would still be the most contented of men. So long as he had me, he needn’t wish for anything else. I did not fully comprehend the character of the man I had married until then, but I loved him fiercely from that moment on.”
Such an intimate response was not what Georgie had expected, yet she could not regret asking. “He sounds like a remarkable man.”
“He was,” Miranda replied with a smile. “And I love him still, though we are separated now. He will always be the man of my dreams, and having had that love, I do not feel the need to seek out any other. He is still mine, and I am still his. And that is enough.”
Georgie could not speak for a long moment, the emotions surging through her too raw for words. Could she ever find such a love for herself?
Had she found it and lost it?
Had any of it been real?
Miranda cleared her throat sharply. “So. You pet Rufus for as long as it takes to make you feel better, and I’ll take you home when you do. You marry whomever you like, whether it be my Tony or not. I will always be your friend, dear. On that you can depend.”
Georgie smiled warmly at her, sure she did not deserve such kindness.
She wanted to hope that this woman might yet be her mother-in-law.
But hope had wounded her before. She could not allow it to do so again.