Chapter Five #2
“I beg your pardon?” Georgiana dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
“Your husband. Was it accident or illness that took him?”
“He fell from scaffolding on one of his job sites. Hit his head in the fall. It was a sudden storm like today and it made for slippery conditions. He died instantly, though. That gives me peace.”
“What a shame.” Mrs. Honeycutt shook her head. “Mine lingered for three days after the stabbing. Cursing and raving the whole time, as expected.” She snorted. “Still, I gave him a decent burial. More than he deserved, truth be told.”
Cecily made a small choking sound.
Mrs. Honeycutt turned back to Georgina. “Now then, how long have you been working on great houses? Must have taken some doing, convincing the gentry to trust a woman.”
Georgiana glanced at James. “This is my first project without my husband. We shared the workload when he was alive, but our clients didn’t necessarily know that.”
“And my James hired a woman? Never thought I’d see the day,” Mrs. Honeycutt said, nodding toward James.
“She used a man’s name on the contract.” James spoke without malice. If anything, he sounded amused. “So what was a man to do? Anyway, she’s more than capable. From what I’ve seen so far, I’d have to say she’s extremely talented.”
“Thank you, Lord Ashford,” Georgiana said, her chest warming with gratitude. “I am appreciative of your openness to working together.”
Together.
He liked the sound of that.
“And what exactly needs fixing in this grand old place?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked, turning to Mrs. Fairfax. “Everything?”
“The roof will need to be repaired in some places and there’s water damage to the floors in some of the upstairs bedrooms and the ballroom,” Georgie said. “But it’s mostly cosmetic. The structure is solid.”
“We chose furnishings and wallpaper today,” James said. “For my bedchamber.”
Mrs. Honeycutt’s blue eyes twinkled. “I do hope you’re considering finding yourself a lady of the mansion.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re not getting any younger.”
A startled laugh escaped Miss Cecily, who quickly covered her mouth.
“I’ve no need for a wife,” James said. “I’m simply happy to return to my family’s home. That will be enough for a good life.”
“Ridiculous. Of course you need a wife,” Mrs. Honeycutt said.
“I’m not sure anyone would want me, given the scandal of my family.” It was the truth. Although their family’s estate and titles were returned, there was still stigma attached to the Ashford name. What woman would want to be his wife, given all it entailed?
“Any woman would be blessed to have you.” Mrs. Honeycutt stood, collecting the empty dishes with efficient movements. “And you might be surprised. The right woman could appear at any moment and she wouldn’t care one bit about the past. Not if she’s truly in love with you.”
He flushed, feeling the gazes of all three women upon him. “Shall I show you to your room? I imagine you’re tired.”
“Yes, I suppose I am tuckered out.” Mrs. Honeycutt gestured toward Georgiana and Cecily. “Where will these two sleep?”
“We can share the other room,” Georgiana said quickly. “Sisters are accustomed to sleeping together when necessary.”
“That’s very accommodating of you, Mrs. Fairfax,” Mrs. Honeycutt said. “Looking at you, I would have thought you’d be a right prig but you’re all right.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had a better compliment,” Georgiana said.
The women exchanged smiles.
Georgiana Fairfax was nothing if not surprising. She’d managed to win over Mrs. Honeycutt in the span of thirty minutes.
He wasn’t the only one charmed by the lovely architect.
*
Cecily and Mrs. Honeycutt were yawning by the end of their meal and left for bed, leaving James and Georgiana alone.
She mentioned that she had more samples to show him, this time for the drawing room.
Before he could stifle the impulse, he asked if she’d like to join him upstairs for a brandy while they looked through her suggestions.
“We can get the fire going in the study to keep out the chill.”
“Yes, why not? I’m not feeling tired enough to sleep,” Georgiana said. “I’m a night owl.”
“I am as well. All the years running the tavern ruined me for mornings.”
They went up the stairs and into the study.
While he lit the fire, Georgiana poured them each a brandy.
He brought two chairs and a coffee table close to the hearth.
They smelled of dust but it was better than sitting on the floor.
She took her portfolio from her desk and brought it over to the table.
She opened the swatch book. Beneath the flap of linen were layers of fabric samples, paper sketches, and watercolor renderings of color pairings.
She brushed her hand over a pale duck-egg blue silk damask.
“For the drawing room, you’d mentioned you’d like it to reflect the past. From what you’ve shared and what I’ve uncovered, I think I have a good idea of what to do. ”
He nodded. When they’d talked about the drawing room, he’d shared with her his memories of what it had once looked like and asked that she bring it back.
“This was the original tone of the wall panels. It faded, of course, but I had one section removed from behind the hearth where it was better preserved. Do you like it? Or would you rather have some other color?”
“No, it’s exactly as I remembered it.”
“I thought we might restore the palette with this.” She held out the fabric for him to inspect. “The blue and gold complement each other, don’t you think?”
She showed him two coordinating trims. One was a braided silk, the other a masculine linen binding. He stared at them longer than she expected.
“Which do you like?” James asked.
“The linen binding suits you, I think.”
“How strange this all is. I’m flooded with memories.”
She hesitated, unsure what to say. “I can imagine being back here after all these years brings forth a myriad emotions.”
“Indeed it does. My mother chose every furnishing and decor herself when they first married,” James said. “After she died, my father kept everything the same.”
“How old were you when she passed?”
“She died giving birth to Sophia. I was only two. Sadly, I have no memories of her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sophia looks exactly like her,” James said, gesturing toward the oil painting of his mother hanging on the wall.
“She was beautiful.”
“My sister is too,” James said. “My brother and I are hoping to convince her to have a Season next year, like Cecily. Perhaps they will become friends.”
“That would be most welcome.”
“What did you hear about my family before you arrived here?” James asked.
“Only what was reported in the newspaper and gossip, of course. It was Cecily’s idea to approach you about the restoration. She’d heard that the younger of the Ashford brothers wanted to bring the family home back from ruin.”
“It was resourceful of you both.”
“No one knows what happened to you and your siblings after you left here and before your return. I have to confess to being curious.”
“Yes, well, it’s a sad tale. Are you sure you want to know?” James asked.
“I do.”
“Fine. But then you have to tell me more about your own sad tale.”
She smiled. “Whatever you wish to ask, I shall answer.”
“When Papa was hanged and our home and assets taken by the government, we were sent up north to live with a distant cousin. She was our only living relative on either side of the family. Baron Langston and his wife, Eugenia, were not exactly thrilled to have three children to take care of. They already had two of their own. We were not taken into the fold. Instead, we were treated as free labor. Sebastian was assigned to the gardening staff. I to the stables. Sophia, at age eight, became a scullery maid.”
“That’s awful. There’s a place in hell for the Langstons, I suspect.”
“Yes, I believe so. It would have been bad enough to be treated as servants but it was worse than that. My brother and I were often whipped for minor infractions or ones made up by their children. They hated us from the moment we arrived and made an art form out of finding ways to get us into trouble. Sophia was denied food and sent to bed hungry more nights than any child should have to endure.”
“How did you get away?”
“Sebastian and I joined the military, hoping to provide a way out for our sister. We lied about our ages and enlisted when we were still in our teens. Sadly, we had to leave Sophia behind. She was only twelve.”
Georgiana’s mouth dropped open. “So that means you joined up when you were fourteen? Lord Ashford, it’s unspeakable what they did to you.”
“Sebastian and I are tough and lucky. We managed to stay alive through the Peninsular campaigns. When we returned to England after the Battle of Waterloo, we weren’t sure how we were going to survive. As luck would have it, I’m a good poker player. I won the tavern in a game.”
She flinched, as if he’d smacked her. “You won the tavern in a poker game?”
“Yes. Your gossip sources didn’t mention that part?”
“No.” Her jaw set and she suddenly seemed very interested in the contents of her glass.
“Does that make you think less of me?” James asked. Was it as he’d feared?
She lifted her gaze to his. “My family lost everything because of my father’s gambling. I cannot help but think of that when you tell me such a thing.”
“This may make no difference to you, but I would like to mention that a man in my situation had little going for him, other than his skill at card games. Like you, I found success in a less than morally ideal way. Just as you have.”
“You mean pretending to be a man?”
“That’s right. I mean no offense or even judgment but no matter how you look at it—you lied to me. Tricked me into signing a contract.”
She nodded, before taking a sip of her drink. “As you say, those of us without many choices are often forced into doing something they never thought they would, just to survive.”
“I have to admit, however, hearing you speak about your father and what his gambling did to your family, gives me pause. The man who I won the tavern from didn’t have a family.
I suppose that’s how I convinced myself it was my right to take it, as I won it fairly.
Anyway, my gambling days are behind me. I left the tavern and the cards in Brighton.
I no longer need them. You, on the other hand, are still fighting to make a life for you and your sister.
Perhaps we can agree that sometimes the morally messy choice is the only one we have. ”
“I want only to give Cecily a chance.”
“I understand. I feel the same way about my own sister.” He glanced toward the fire, thinking he should throw another log into the flames, but didn’t. “Where’s your mother now?”
“She’s staying with a friend in London.”
He could tell by her tone that there was more to the story. “What is she like?” James asked.
Georgiana sighed, looking down at her glass.
“There’s no way to say the truth and remain kind.
Simply put, Mother’s selfish and helpless, but doesn’t know it.
Cecily and I find her challenging in every way.
She has not adapted well to her change in circumstance since my father’s death.
She’s staying with a friend in London now, but I fear it won’t last. She has a way of alienating those who are doing their best to help her. ”
“She sounds difficult.”
“Since I was young, I’ve taken care of her, emotionally, and now financially. If I’d not found Robert, I don’t know what would have become of us. He was the perfect husband for me.”
“You loved him very much?”
“I did.”
The idea that she’d loved her husband bothered him. Which was ridiculous. Firstly, the poor man was dead. Secondly, why should he care about Mrs. Fairfax’s love life? It was none of his concern.
None whatsoever.
Then why did it make his stomach feel so odd?