Chapter 8 Consequences #2
“I hope it is for their amusement, too,” he said quietly, for Charlotte was still in the room and he had no wish for her to hear herself talked of in such a way.
“Perhaps. But you should know that what is nothing but a game to you is a matter of the utmost importance to them.”
“Important? How?”
“There is only one ambition held by a woman of gentility, and that is to marry well. Seeing you, and being the recipient of… your wit, shall we say, inspires them to hope for something more.”
“But I am betrothed!” he cried, stung. “I am not free.”
“Then perhaps you should restrain your… wit, Mr Chamberlain, in case it may be misunderstood.”
And so saying, she spun round in a swirl of silk skirts, and walked away, leaving him with the scent of her delicate perfume and a raging sense of injustice, to be so misunderstood.
***
Georgie counted the days. One, two, three…
not yet. Four, five… now? But that was Sunday, and there was no opportunity.
It was not until the sixth day, therefore, that she made her way to the study, prepared to change her own life and Jamie’s forever.
No… that had been accomplished by the brandy. This was merely… the next stage.
Naturally, when she was impatient to talk to Jamie alone, the study was filled with people.
Jamie’s father was there, for one, and the duke.
Mr Pyott, who usually worked in a corner of the library, when he worked at all, wandered in and out.
Mr Monk, the bailiff, was also there, with some crisis to discuss.
And with Mr Chamberlain painting away in the library next door, and the ladies of the household milling about him, the place almost had a carnival atmosphere.
Georgie worked quietly, ignoring the bustle round about her. Eventually, Mr Chamberlain laid down his brushes and took the ladies away with him, the duke went off for his afternoon nap, Mr Pyott and Mr Monk disappeared and only Jamie and his father remained.
Another hour passed by, as the two men discussed their plans for Jamie’s trip to Oxford, but eventually even the elder Mr Hammond left and Georgie seized her moment.
“Jamie…”
“Still here?” he said absently, straightening a pile of papers on his desk, and tidying away pens. “It is almost time to dress for dinner. I might go up early myself and—”
“We must talk.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“No.”
He sat down abruptly. “Ah. I am listening.”
She licked her lips, the words unexpectedly hard to find. “I am not sure quite how to put this.”
“The simplest way,” he said gently. “Is it… to do with the night of the brandy?”
She nodded, feeling tears pressing.
“Consequences?”
Again she nodded.
“Then we must marry, and soon,” he said.
“I am so sorry, Jamie,” she whispered.
He reached across the table to take her hand. “Mrs Hastings… Georgie, I should have wished to marry eventually anyway. It is happening a little earlier than I expected, that is all.”
“But you would have married from choice and not merely because we drank too much one night.”
“It does not follow that I am unhappy with the situation,” he said softly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It is worse for you, with a happy marriage to remember. The last thing you wanted was another husband, and one who cannot compare with the first.”
“Henry was no saint,” she said with asperity. “Far from it.”
“But you loved him.” That brought her close to tears again, and she could only nod miserably. “So,” he said briskly, “I had better go and see the parson about the banns. Or the bishop, for a licence? We need to move swiftly, I think.”
“Which will attract some comment,” she said. “There will be pressure to postpone the wedding until the spring, so it can be carried out with due celebration.”
“There will be comment regardless of how we contrive it, since we have given no sign of an attachment.”
“True, but the Merrington ladies will think it scandalous if I am married without acquiring a suitable wardrobe of clothes for my newly elevated station.”
“From the widow of a gentleman to the wife of a secretary,” he said, with a wry look. “Not much of an elevation.”
“Henry was barely a gentleman,” she said, although she could not help smiling.
“He lived on a tiny annuity from his mother, my dowry and the expectation of an inheritance from his aunt, that is all, and whatever he could scrounge from his friends. He called it borrowing, but I never knew him to pay any of it back. Occasionally he would have a big win at the races, but then he would buy ale for all his friends in the tap room, so there was no benefit to it.”
A footman came in just then to see to the fire, so they were obliged to pretend to be working for a while. As soon as he had gone, Georgie burst out, “Jamie… what will we have to live on?”
“A hundred — no, two hundred a year, with board and lodging provided,” he said at once. “The duke will double my salary if I marry. It seemed prudent to raise the subject with him, and he is agreeable to it.”
“You told him about us?” she said, startled.
“No, no! Nothing specific. Very hypothetical… if I should happen to want to marry in the future, that sort of thing. There are rooms on the top floor we can have, where my parents and I lived for many years.”
“I see. And we shall have my fifty a year, too, together with whatever rent I can make from the cottage.”
“That is excellent,” he said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “We shall be rich! Or at least, not destitute.”
“But how is it to be managed without questions being asked?” she said, frowning. “This will come as a great shock to everyone, and if we marry in a hurry, there is bound to be speculation.”
“Hmm. I shall need to think about that, but we need to talk properly, not snatching moments of privacy. Tomorrow is my father’s day for going into Brinchester, so I shall have to call at the cottage to tend the fire.
We will not be interrupted there. Come at about noon.
Do you know where it is? No? If you cross the river by the old bridge to the woods, but instead of turning to follow the river, walk straight on.
It is a good path, and within five minutes or so brings you to the lane where the cottage is.
And now, we had better go and dress for dinner. ”
“Should we try to sit together?” Georgie said. “It might make our marriage more credible if we show a preference for each other.”
“We can try,” he said.
But in the event, being last into the dining room, as usual, they had to take what chairs were unoccupied, and ended on opposite sides of the table, and after dinner, Jamie was drawn into whist by the duke, and there was no opportunity for any conversation with him.
They would perforce have to wait to begin their courtship.