Chapter 27 A Walk In The Gardens
Georgie’s return to Staineybank attracted little attention.
No one, it seemed, had noticed her anguish before she left for Oxford, or remarked upon her happiness now.
Everyone expressed pleasure at her return, asked a few polite questions about Oxford and then moved on to topics of more immediate moment.
Such lack of interest suited her perfectly.
There was no need to explain how Henry had betrayed her and made her unswerving devotion seem foolish.
No need, either, to talk about the darkness that had fallen on her marriage and how a few words in a graveyard had restored it to the light.
The moment when Jamie had walked away from her and then turned back would stay with her forever — from utter despair to untrammelled bliss in the shortest possible time.
She had still not quite recovered her equanimity.
Only Jamie understood. Sometimes, at the dinner table or across the full width of the drawing room, she would catch his eye and there would be that little smile on his face, the smile of intimacy, of secrets shared…
of love. And this time, it was a love felt in equal measure on both sides, not often expressed in words, for neither of them was vocal about such deep-seated feelings, but shown in little ways.
The touch of a hand, a gift of flowers, a quiet word of pleasure after a meal. It was a happiness too deep for words.
However changed they were inwardly, around them, the life of Staineybank went on as before, and Georgie found ways of helping where she could. Sometimes she worked with Jamie on the duke’s diaries, and at other times she made herself useful with household chores.
One day, Charlotte asked her to accompany Hester on her daily walk.
“She does not go far, but Dr Percival insists she must have fresh air and sunshine every day, if the weather is fit to be outside. Will you go with her, and make sure she sits in the sunshine for a while? She is a bit inclined to keep to her room unless forced out.”
Georgie had no intention of forcing Hester to do anything, but she found her willing enough to take the air.
They made their way slowly towards the lake, but Hester had not the strength to reach the water, and was glad to rest on a bench in a sheltered corner of the shrubbery.
It was a warm day without wind, but Hester swathed herself in a thick shawl and still shivered a little.
“Dr Percival must be pleased that you’re recovering so well,” Georgie ventured, when Hester seemed disinclined to speak. “He’s not bled you lately, I hear.”
“Oh, him! He has these strange new ideas. He would not have bled me at all except that I insisted. He tells me to get plenty of fresh air and sunshine, and to drink beef tea and red wine. I have no patience with it! Regular bleeding and sitting by a warm fire — that is the best regimen for invalids. Not that I am an invalid yet, I trust.”
“No, indeed, and you’ll soon be back on your feet, I’m sure,” Georgie said. “It’s just a lingering cold of some sort… isn’t it?”
Hester threw her an amused glance. “That is a new description for consumption.”
“Oh, no! Surely not! Dr Percival said—”
“Whatever he said,” Hester said crisply, “it is consumption. I am resigned to my fate.”
“Even if it is as you say, the disease isn’t invariably fatal, Hester.
If you follow Dr Percival’s advice—” But this brought only hollow laughter from Hester.
“Well, I can see your opinion of him isn’t high, so let’s say no more on the subject.
Let us speak of happier matters. Isn’t it exciting, this engagement between Charlotte and Mr Chamberlain? ”
Hester only grunted.
“Oh. You dislike the idea? But Charlotte is so happy!”
“Georgie, you are talking to one who chose spinsterhood a long time ago. Marriage is nothing but subservience to a man and decades of child-rearing, with the ever-present risk of dying in the endeavour. Most men are unworthy of such sacrifice, so no, I cannot celebrate any marriage that is founded on so little. The Merrington girls are all wild to submit themselves to a husband, and there is no need for it. Oh, I say nothing about those who truly fall in love, as you and James Hammond did, or Sophia and Mr Payne, but Charlotte is no more in love with Lance Chamberlain than he is with her.”
“Then why did she accept him? And why did he offer for her, if he’s not in love? Perhaps he’s one of those men who doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”
Hester threw her an amused glance. “There are people like that, it is true, and you and Mr Hammond are very much the restrained sort. But Charlotte is not, and I do not think Mr Chamberlain is, either. Besides, we know that he was pushed into it, for Mrs Merrington was cock-a-hoop about it.”
“He doesn’t look very miserable about it,” Georgie said, amused. “He’s a grown man, in charge of his own destiny, and he’s never paid Charlotte any marked attentions, I’d have said, not such as anyone would be daily expecting the announcement. I was surprised to hear of it, I confess.”
“So was I,” Hester said. “I never expected him to submit so tamely, and I certainly never expected Charlotte to fall at his feet. I know he is very personable and so forth—”
“Those green eyes!” Georgie said, with a quick laugh.
“Yes, but one does not marry a man for his eyes! In my opinion, he is the very worst kind of man for a husband, very glib and plausible, but not reliable. He will be whispering to Charlotte how much he loves her, and meanwhile behind the scenes doing just as he pleases.”
Georgie shivered. She knew exactly what that felt like! Every day she thanked God for bringing her Jamie, however unconventionally, for he would never betray her as Henry had done.
“The worst of it is that now we shall have to find a housekeeper for Staineybank. Charlotte has been a wonderful help, especially while I have been so ill. You would think, would you not, that with so many ladies in the house, there would be no shortage of hands to help supervise the servants, but no. Lily, bless her, has always been overwhelmed by the size of the place, Rowena has never been interested and Cora Merrington is not at all dependable. I encouraged her to concentrate on the flowers at an early stage. As for the younger ones… well, you have been helpful, true, but the others have no idea.”
“Staineybank is so large,” Georgie said. “I have never had more than two servants in my life.”
“Exactly so! But Charlotte is such a quick learner that I never had to show her a thing twice, and she is careful with money, too. Keeps the household accounts beautifully. She takes after her brother in that respect, and not her mother, fortunately. It has been a great relief to me while I have been ill to leave everything to Charlotte. And now…” She sighed.
“A housekeeper, who will have to be trained up, no doubt, for there is no one amongst the maids suitable. It is very worrying.”
“It is your own fault for running Staineybank so smoothly for all these years,” Georgie said, smiling at the older woman. “Now you are indispensable.”
“Yes, I should have taken thought for my replacement earlier,” Hester said sadly. “And now if Charlotte leaves… I do not know how we will go on.”
“We will manage,” Georgie said.
“We will have to,” Hester said grimly.
***
For two days, Charlotte went about with such a glow of happiness of her face that Lance, too, felt a degree of happiness.
Lily was surely right to speak of the satisfaction to be obtained by doing one’s duty.
Lance had behaved as he ought, as a gentleman ought, and Charlotte’s delight was his reward.
On the third day, they met by arrangement at the breakfast table, amidst her sisters and mother, as well as the Paynes. Charlotte had told him of her brother’s estate in Norfolk and their Norwich house, and in return Lance mentioned his family’s house in Mount Street.
“It is of a good size,” he said. “Nothing like the duke’s house, but there will be plenty of room for us.”
“But we will not live there, surely?” she said, dropping her toast in surprise. “Not in London.”
“It is my home, where I live whenever my services are not required elsewhere,” he said.
“I am committed here for some time — two or three years, perhaps, but after that I shall return to town. London is the very best place for a portraitist to live, for all my wealthiest potential patrons either live there themselves, or pass through frequently. The house is my father’s, but the rest of the family is so seldom in town that it is understood that Mount Street is mine.
We shall be very comfortable there, I assure you. ”
“You live there all year?”
“Certainly, although I generally try to be out of town for the hottest months.”
“And where do you go then?” she said, her forehead wrinkling.
“Anywhere I can contrive a commission, but failing that, to my father’s estate in Surrey.”
“Surrey! London and Surrey! But… I should never see my sisters, or watch little Caroline grow up! I should be so far from Mama and Richard and dear Staineybank!”
Mrs Merrington set down her coffee cup. “My dear Charlotte, a wife must go where her husband is.”
“But he could be here if he wishes, the duke has said so. A studio in Brinchester for his painting, and we could have a little apartment at Staineybank, just as Georgie and Mr Hammond have. Would that not be convenient, Lance?”