Chapter 24 Oxford
To Georgie, the journey to Oxford had turned into a nightmare.
Not only was Jamie distant towards her, but now she had managed to quarrel with Mr Hammond, too.
The second day of travel was spent in almost total silence, no one able to summon the energy for even the most desultory conversation.
She stared listlessly out of the window, the passing countryside barely discernible through the mud-streaked windows, while Jamie pretended to read and his father pretended to sleep.
Almost before she was ready, the fields and small villages gave way to close-packed houses, as the duke’s carriage rolled into the rain-washed streets of Oxford and drew up outside the Brannons’ comfortable house on Holywell Street.
No sooner had they all rushed indoors under the shelter of umbrellas than there was consternation, for Mr Hammond Senior had not been expected and there was no room prepared for him, nor, since some of the Brannons’ children were staying, was there a spare room to be had.
It took several minutes of anguished discussion, while everyone stood in the modest hall dripping everywhere, before a satisfactory arrangement could be devised, which seemed to involve the shuffling of half the family from one room to another.
The loud voices were making Georgie’s head ache abominably.
One of the daughters — or perhaps she was a daughter-in-law, Georgie was too confused to say — rescued her and led her away up the stairs.
“Your room at least will not change, for the newly married couple must always have the best bedroom. There! Do you like it? I expect it is not what you are used to, after Staineybank, but it is the best we have. The window overlooks the garden, you see, so it will be very quiet. What do you think? You are very pale. Are you exhausted? I shall send up— Ah, here is Margaret now with your hot water. We dine at six, so you have time to rest for an hour or so.”
“This is lovely,” Georgie said, as soon as her guide paused for breath. “We’ll be very comfortable here, I’m sure.”
“Do you think so? Do you need more pillows? We are a little short of them just now, but I am sure we can find an extra one or two, if you wish. Or blankets… goodness, only two blankets on the bed, but then you have Mr Hammond to keep you warm.” She tittered, helping Georgie unfasten her pelisse and getting in a muddle with the buttons.
“Oh, what a pretty gown! I suppose you have to dress in style at Staineybank. Oh, here is your luggage. In here, Rupert! Oh, there you are, Mama! Is it all settled? May I help move everyone?”
She whisked out of the door, her voice echoing around the landing and then diminishing, until the only sounds were the heavy steps of the footmen labouring up the stairs with bags and boxes.
Georgie rubbed her temples tiredly. After the silence of the journey, so many voices and unfamiliar faces crowding around her was almost unbearable.
Or perhaps it was just her disordered senses that found it so.
She looked at the large double bed and shivered.
If things were otherwise, she would be happy to be here, but this… this was pure torture.
At least there was a folding screen in one corner of the room, so Jamie would be able to undress without embarrassment.
The thought made her smile — such a sweet man!
So shy and gentle, and yet so implacable now that the reason for their marriage had gone.
The thought brought her close to tears, so she retreated to the window, but the view brought no relief, obscured as it was by the steady downpour.
Jamie arrived not long after. “What a to-do!” he said crossly. “I told Father there might be a problem, but he never listens to me. Are you well, Georgie? You look quite done in.”
“Just a bit tired, that’s all. Does everyone have to move around to squeeze in your father?”
“Joe Ingleton arrived in time to suggest Father share with him, which will answer very well. It will only be a pallet on the floor, but it serves him right for turning up unexpectedly. Oh — we have the best room, I think. How… how comfortable it looks.” But he could not quite meet her eye.
“Do you want to come down for a cup of tea? Or shall I send some up for you?”
“That would be kind. I think I’ll just have a lie down. I’ve been so jolted about, I don’t think I’m up to company just yet.”
An hour’s solitude, aided by a pot of tea, refreshed Georgie well enough that she felt she could do justice to her dinner.
Dressing was a little awkward, but Jamie disappeared behind the screen and she rushed her own toilette so that she would not be lingering over her stockings when he emerged.
Henry had always loved to watch her put her stockings on…
and take them off, too, and Jamie had shown signs of being the same way. But not anymore.
Dinner was a great trial to Georgie. She had never had much education, beyond the basics of Sunday school and whatever scrabbling amount of knowledge she had picked up from those around her.
Not for her the pleasure of losing herself in a book, for she was always happier with a needle in her hand.
Oxford might be a university town, but very little of that learning had filtered down to a girl more concerned with keeping the chickens happy and making a small joint of meat stretch to three meals.
Now she found herself surrounded by people who did nothing but read books, by the sound of it.
They talked glibly of Prussia and the Peninsula, abolition and astronomy, and a thousand other things.
And the people! Someone mentioned the Caesars, and at least she had heard of them, for they were in the Bible.
But most of the names were unknown to her, and sometimes one or other of the guests would lapse into…
what language was it? Latin, perhaps. Or Greek.
At one point, Jamie cried out, “No Hebrew, if you please!” and they all laughed.
The ladies lingered on at the dining table, even taking port with the gentlemen, but as soon as they withdrew, Georgie made an excuse and retreated to the bedroom, her head pounding.
She scrambled into her nightgown, climbed into the big bed and turned her face to the wall, tears moistening the pillow, as she lay waiting for Jamie to join her.
Perhaps she even dozed for a while, for it seemed that very soon afterwards there were soft footsteps entering the room, the light of a wavering candle casting a soft glow over the room, then dimming as it was hidden behind the screen.
She listened as he undressed, then the candle emerged again.
A moment later, the bed swayed as he sat on the edge of it, the candle was blown out, and then he climbed in beside her and lay still.
For a long, long time she lay motionless, listening to his soft breathing until it slowed and she could be sure he was asleep. Only then did she close her own eyes and sleep too.
***
Georgie woke with a start, as if something had touched her. She opened her eyes to see Jamie’s face on the pillow beside her, his eyes shining as he gazed at her, his whole face glowing. One hand hung in the air, as if… had he stroked her face? Or her hair, perhaps? Was that what had woken her?
His smile faded into wariness, and the hand dropped. “Good morning.”
She could say nothing. Her heart wrenched within her, for that glowing look, the brilliance of his eyes — that was just how Henry had looked at her. What did it mean? What could it possibly mean?
Nothing, she supposed, for immediately he rolled onto his back, his eyes closed.
“The rain has stopped and the sun is shining. A better day than yesterday. Do you have any plans for the day? Father and I will be involved in discussions with Joe Ingleton all day, and I doubt you would find that very interesting.”
His voice was flat, as if he cared nothing for her plans but felt obliged to ask.
“If the roads are dry enough, I’ll walk over to see my friends,” she said.
“Good. Very good. They will be happy to see you.”
“And I to see them.”
There was a long silence, then he turned his head to face her again. “Are you feeling better? You were very quiet last night, and you went to bed so early that—”
“I was tired… a headache… besides,” she added mischievously, “I couldn’t understand what everyone was talking about. It was incomprehensible to me.”
He grinned, so that she had an unexpected glimpse of the old Jamie. “And to me too, most of it. They are very deep, these Oxford people, and I am just a simple secretary. It would be easier if they would speak in plain English.”
That made her laugh, and for a moment she almost felt they were back to their former intimacy. But then his face changed again, and he sat up.
“Better get moving. We have a lot to get through today.”
And he was out of bed and whisking behind the screen again, leaving her feeling oddly bereft. She could hear him moving about, she knew he was only a few feet away from her, but it might as well be a hundred miles, for it was too far for her to reach.
***
Georgie left the academics to their discussions, and, the rain having ceased and left the pavements merely damp, donned her stoutest boots and went to visit her friends.
The last quarter of a mile left the pavements behind, and necessitated some careful avoidance of the copious mud, but she arrived in tolerable order, and spent a delightful morning, being fed wine and cakes, catching up on all the news and meeting her tenants.
Her mood much improved, so that she might almost call herself cheerful, she set out to return to the Brannons’ house. Her steps took her past the Angel Inn, where she was surprised to be hailed by loud male voices.
“Georgie! Georgie Hastings, as I live and breathe!”
On benches outside the inn, positioned to catch the sun, sat a row of men with tankards, two of them smiling and waving to her.