Chapter Ten #2
As the last of their guests exited the house, Philip felt a sense of relief. They’d done it. They’d married with the ton none the wiser as to why. He’d turned to compliment Georgina on being discreet when his housekeeper strode into the room.
“My lady, do you wish to meet the staff now?”
Amid the bustle of the wedding breakfast, he’d forgotten that formality. “I’m sure my wife would like to rest a bit after such a busy morning.”
Georgina turned toward him. “Actually, I was hoping to walk in the gardens. They seem so well laid out. I know there is little in bloom right now, but it’s such a lovely day.”
He and Mrs. Newman stared at her.
“Is that not proper?” She looked at the housekeeper and then back at him. He didn’t know what to say.
Mrs. Newman answered instead. “My lady, it’s your wedding day. You may do whatever you like.”
“That is very generous of you, Mrs. Newman. I’d like very much for my husband to escort me through the gardens. That should give you plenty of time to assemble the staff. After I meet them all, perhaps a tour of the house?”
“Of course, my lady. An excellent plan.”
Mrs. Newman left to fulfill her duties, and Georgina took his arm. “Shall we? Oh, did you have other plans?”
Surprised by her energy, he took a moment to answer.
“No, I don’t. This way.” There were doors to the gardens from the dining room, the study, and the ballroom.
He led her past the staff cleaning away the remains of the celebration and out onto the terrace.
He stopped for a moment once they were outside.
“You’re correct. It’s a perfect day.” He hadn’t even noticed that it had stopped raining during the ceremony.
“Do you hear them?”
He didn’t have to guess what she spoke of. “Yes, I hear the birds.”
She smiled excitedly. “There are so many here. Let us go into the garden.”
Before he could take a step, she’d slipped her hand from his arm and started across the terrace. By the time he walked after her, she was down the two steps and onto a path.
“Look, it’s a house sparrow. He’s being quite vocal. I wonder if there’s another male nearby.”
He caught up to her in time to watch her spin to the right and disappear behind a tall hedge. Was this what she considered a “walk in the garden”?
As he passed under an arch that would be full of flowering rose of Sharon soon enough, he came to a stop. Georgina was crouched down off the path looking at a bush a few feet away, not moving at all.
He observed her, still surprised at how she could be so still at times.
Since he’d met her, she was usually moving, not in an obvious way all the time, but something—her hands, her knee, her head, her fingers.
But occasionally, like right now, she was absolutely still.
Her tight bun of dark brown hair now had wisps of strands escaping, softly grazing the back of her long neck.
When had that happened? Even at breakfast he’d noticed how perfectly her hair remained.
It must be from the light breeze or her rushed walk.
“Georgina?”
She started, whipping her head around, only to lose her balance and fall back on her behind.
Immediately, he rushed to her, but she held her finger over her lips before pointing to the bush.
He wished to help her up, not find some bird, but as she didn’t seem inclined to rise, he looked to where she pointed.
There was a very small bird, probably a wren, as they were everywhere.
It sat in what appeared to be a very haphazard nest that looked as if it couldn’t hold the bird aloft, yet somehow did.
Other than that, there was nothing of real interest.
He turned back to her and offered his hand to help her rise.
She took it, and as he pulled her up, she fell against him.
He wrapped his arm around her to keep them both upright, immediately noticing how thin she was, her small breasts pressing against his chest. He’d have Mrs. Newman discover what Georgina’s favorite dishes were and have them made regularly. “Are you well?”
She lifted her head from his shoulder to gaze at him. “I am. Did you see it?” Her amber eyes almost glowed with excitement, and a flowery scent filled his nostrils.
“The bird in the poorly made nest? Yes.”
“No, husband. The egg the mother wren was sitting on.”
“There was an egg?” She must have the eyesight of a hawk to have seen anything like that.
“Yes. There will be baby wrens soon. From the structure of the nest, I’d say she is a new mother. If she laid more than five eggs, the chances of all of them hatching are not good, but she’s obviously trying very hard to be a good mother.”
He was about to ask what she knew of good mothers but held his tongue. Reluctantly, he stepped back from her, still holding her arm to be sure she had her balance. He needn’t have worried, for in the next moment she’d spun from his grasp and continued down the path.
There were over four acres of garden to walk through—not that he’d paid much attention to the grounds while he was a boy. As a man, he’d rarely been home, even after inheriting. This was as good a time as any to review the gardens to see if any improvements were needed.
Now, having a task for himself in addition to walking with his wife, he strode forward. But upon entering the next part of the garden—where a large fountain, as well as dozens of rosebushes that he vaguely remembered his mother requesting, dominated the area—he didn’t find his wife.
Quickly, he moved on to another area, but still there was no sign of Georgina.
How could she move so quickly? Picking up his pace, he moved through three more sections of the garden before he caught a glimpse of the green skirts of her dress disappearing into the old, conical dovecote.
It hadn’t been used since he was a young boy, and he doubted very much that it was safe.
He hadn’t just married to immediately lose his wife.
With true worry, an emotion he’d rarely experienced, filling him, he ran toward the building.
As soon as he stepped inside, he halted.
The beams he remembered from childhood were still intact.
However, the webbing above Georgina’s head contained a spider almost the size of his palm, and it was climbing toward her.
He purposefully kept his voice calm. “Georgina, come here.”
She spun around to face him. “This is beautiful. Can we truly set it up for doves again?”
“Yes, now come here.” The spider was crawling closer. Its web was now caught in her hair.
She frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Come here and I will tell you.” He wasn’t sure what kind of spider it was, but it was large.
The stubborn woman shook her head, causing the web to pull, agitating the insect. “Why can you not tell me right here?”
The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her, but if the spider was dangerous, she could be hurt.
He pointed above her. “There is a spider above your head. If you walk toward me, you might—”
Georgina looked up, the spider now no more than a foot from her nose. Instead of screaming, she smiled and carefully moved the webbing from her hair. “Oh dear, I disturbed this cardinal’s web.” She finally stepped back a bit to study the spider, who had stopped as if looking at her.
He remained absolutely still. “We don’t have those birds here.”
Her soft laughter echoed in the empty building. “I know that. But this is a cardinal spider, named so after Cardinal Wolsey. Do you know who that is?”