Chapter 3
30 th April 1815
What an awkward morning! They had attended Sunday services at the church in the nearby village, then walked back to Hemel Hill through the fields, a pretty stroll with the spring flowers displaying their bright colours and the sun peeking out for the first time after two days of hiding behind thick, gloomy clouds. The day before, a light rain had misted down, but not enough to sodden the ground, so it had been pleasant, and they had returned with their petticoats no worse for the wear.
Upon their return, the housekeeper had a repast of cold meats and cheeses served with their tea. Lord Bath, as was his wont, chewed quietly while the duke and Jane carried most of the conversation. When asked directly, the earl would set down his utensils and answer, but he seemed to have little to impart on whatever matter they chose to discuss. In truth, responding while trying to eat was, no doubt, a nuisance. If he spoke a great deal, he would not be able to finish his refreshments.
“I should see to Clarissa,” said Jane as she rose. “She will surely be wishing to eat again soon.”
Georgiana set her napkin beside her plate. “Will you be requiring my aid this afternoon?”
“No, I have little planned but a nap once the baby is asleep. She woke me several times during the night, and I imagine will do so again tonight. Lizzy said babies will eat more right before they grow, so perhaps we will notice her becoming taller in the next month or so.”
The duke chuckled. “Perhaps she will finally grow hair. Emme and Jules had tufts of dark hair when they were born, yet Clarissa seems to be bald.”
“Henry, stop it. She has hair. ’Tis just very fine and fair.” Jane’s laughing response made Georgiana smile. Her heart always lightened when she witnessed such felicity as her brother and Lizzy shared, and Jane seemed to possess a similar deep abiding love with her duke. In the years since her brother wed, Georgiana had become more like true sisters to the Montford ladies—she had begun calling Fitzwilliam’s wife Lizzy after all, and Lord and Lady Montford “Gran” and “Grandpapa.” The Montfords were her family as well, and their happiness was as important to Georgiana as her brother’s. They had welcomed her unreservedly since her first memories. Such feelings were to be expected.
With a twinkle in his eye, the duke darted after his wife when she departed the room, leaving Georgiana alone with Lord Bath. The gentleman’s mouth screwed into an unreadable expression.
“I believe I shall ride this afternoon,” she said. She could not say why she spoke, but she had waited until his eyes lifted from his plate to sign. Would he respond?
His eyebrows rose. “For the same reason as before?”
“I do not believe so, but I never know when one of those moments will creep up on me. I was hoping to enjoy the spring colour since the sun is high in the sky. Of late, we have had clouds more often than not. I am fatigued of the dreariness.”
He nodded, and she stood to make her way from the room, but a hand to her arm stopped her before she could reach the door. When had he risen from his own chair? She rubbed the place he touched. His hand was warm, and a current flooded where his palm had made contact with her elbow. Had he ever touched her bare skin before?
“I can show you where you will find some colour.”
Her chin hitched back. “You want to ride out with me? You never ride with me.” He avoided her more often than not.
With a shrug, he took a step back. “I simply know a place you might enjoy. If you do not want me to show you—”
She held out her hands. “Forgive me. I was taken aback by your offer. Yes, I would like to see whatever it is you believe I may take pleasure in.”
“Shall we meet in the hall when you are ready?”
“I need no more than a quarter-hour.”
He straightened. “A quarter-hour in the hall then.”
She attempted a slight smile as she departed, but the expression in his entrancing hazel eyes made her insides do an odd sort of dance.
Ambrose was pressing her gowns when she entered her dressing room, so in good time, Georgiana was changed into her habit and returned to the hall. Since the earl had sent word to the stable of their intention to ride, their horses were saddled and ready when they arrived. As he had before, Lord Bath helped her atop Persephone, then mounted his own horse. He pointed towards the lake, and she followed.
At the fork at the base of the hill, he veered into the grass and entered what appeared to be a deer path into the forest. They travelled uphill for a short time before descending the other side. Since the folly still stood above them and off to her right, they had not crossed the summit where the temple stood but rather one of the sides where the rise was not as steep. When they reached the valley, the wood thinned just a little and the floor became a carpet of rich, deep blue.
“Bluebells,” she breathed. Fitzwilliam had always taken her to a particular valley near Pemberley in April or early May to see the bluebells. She had resigned herself to missing the beauty of a bluebell wood this spring, but Lord Bath had somehow fulfilled what she would have been otherwise denied.
She pulled her horse to a stop and climbed down before the earl could help her. Near the edge, she stood with her palm pressed to her chest. “How did you know?” she said when she drew her hand away to speak to him.
He frowned as he joined her on the ground. “What do you mean?”
“Every year, my brother has taken me to see the bluebells this time of year. Since I had no idea a bluebell wood was nearby, I thought I would not see them this spring. How did you know?”
He leaned against the tree behind him. “I did not know. I guessed you would enjoy the prospect. Do you not want to walk among them?”
“Then I would crush them and tarnish their beauty.”
While she took in the sight before her, her cheek prickled. “Why do you stare so?” She did not turn when she spoke but continued to soak in the view before her.
When she finally looked to him for a response, he shook his head. “No particular reason.”
“I do not believe you.” She made to cross her arms over her chest, but she could not do so if she was to talk to him. “You are an unusual man. You avoid my company as well as your brother’s and Jane’s and hide away who knows where, but when you join us, I feel your eyes on me more and more.”
“Did you know you were invited to help Jane as part of a matchmaking scheme?”
Her head hitched back. “You cannot be serious? I have been introduced to no one. Who was to be the gentleman?”
With his thumb, he pointed to his chest. “Mrs. Darcy and Jane thought you and I would suit, so they contrived to have you join us—to throw us together.”
She stepped away and knelt to run her palm along the tops of the blooms. As much as her heart screamed to deny what he was saying, Lizzy’s manner had been odd when she had told Georgiana their plans. Fitzwilliam had also kissed her forehead and told her to follow her heart. Had he been part of the scheme as well? He and Lizzy had said she could remain with them always, but had they changed their mind? She clenched her teeth as she stood and whirled around.
“So you are staring at me to decide whether I am handsome enough to tempt you? Or are you marvelling at being matched to someone so unfavourable as me, to someone who could have been irrevocably ruined if not for the fortuitous appearance of her brother?” While her hands moved, the words flowed from her lips, gaining in strength and volume as she continued. How dare they arrange her life without her knowledge or consent! And how dare he see fit to inform her of it!
His forehead had furrowed for a moment when she mentioned the situation with Wickham, but she had barely finished the last when he grasped her by the arms and shook his head. He then began signing so furiously, she could not keep up. She was still much better at speaking than reading what someone was saying.
Her hands waved before her. “I do not know what you are saying.”
After a guttural exhale, he clenched his hands and started again. “I had no plans to be matched! I had resigned myself to a life alone—to never marrying rather than cursing some lady to live with me for the rest of her life.” His movements were not relaxed, but tense and forceful. Was he angry…displeased?
“Cursing?” Something in her chest twisted painfully. He would think a lady cursed if she was married to him?
“Yes, cursed. Even if we suited, would you want to be married to a man who cannot hear—who cannot protect you? I can run an estate as long as I have someone to carry out my instructions or translate what I say to the tenants, but I can do very little without help. I am beholden to someone who can make up for what I lack. What kind of life could I provide a lady worthy of being pleased? I am veritably useless!”
Her eyes burned. “That is not true. You aided me in returning Persephone to the stable and me to my bedchamber without anyone being aware I had been crying, you are good company when you make the effort, and you brought me here, satisfying a need to cheer myself. Whether you require aid or not is not important. We all require aid at times. What matters is whether you would make a good companion and father. I have seen you with Emmeline and Juliana, and you dote upon them. They adore you. Your countenance when you held baby Clarissa the other night radiated with the love you have for her, and she is your brother’s child, not your own. A great many men would prefer not to be exposed to babies at all, yet you even appeared eager to have a moment with your niece. Your brother and Jane love you and want what is best for you. I know you assisted in the investigation to find Jane when she was abducted. You may not have gone inside when she was recovered, but you ensured your brother’s well-being and used your mind to great effect from what my brother said, so you are not useless! You have a giving heart and will do all in your power for those you love. Those are the qualities that matter, and if a lady discounts you because you cannot hear, she is a simpleton!”
“Most ladies would not care of those qualities,” he said in a broken manner.
“Then perhaps you are considering the wrong ladies.” She propped her hands on her hips and stalked off into the flowers. Minutes ago, she cared whether the blooms were crushed under her feet, and now, she only wished to escape Lord Bath’s recalcitrance.
When she reached what seemed to be the middle, she sat and squeezed her burning eyes shut. All this time, she had felt sorry for herself—for her reserve that made it difficult to speak to most people. Lord Bath had been different when she met him. He still possessed his hearing and laughed freely. He had bowed over her hand at the wedding and had done what he could to put her at ease. She had been flattered by his attentions. A part of her dwelled upon him for months after, but to find him thus? He was so altered.
To make matters worse, a part of her still experienced that rattling of her nerves when he was around, but even so, she could speak to him more than most men. Why had he felt the need to ruin it? Did he truly believe himself useless? The questions kept turning in her mind as the first warm tear fell to her cheek. Gah! She was crying again. She had wanted a modicum of cheer this afternoon, not to be mired down in gloom.
In the end, a prevailing question remained: was she more hurt by her family’s scheme or at Lord Bath’s opinion of himself? Both made her chest ache and a rock lodge in her throat.
At some point, she lifted her head from her hands and turned. The earl was gone. He had not waited to show her the way back, not that she required it of him. She could manage on her own. He had not accompanied her on any of her rides since he found her crying by the stream. Why would today be any different?
Once again, her handkerchief was sodden, and she could have wrung the tears from the fabric, but she did not bother. She hauled herself to her feet and returned to Persephone. As she sat atop the tall mare, she glanced about her. The glen was so beautiful, yet it now held a memory she wished she could forget.
The stablemaster looked at her askance when she returned her horse, but she ignored his gawping to return to the great house. He had no need to know what had occurred. Her mount was uninjured, as was she. What had occurred between her and Lord Bath was none of his concern. She merely needed solitude to regain her equanimity. Her mind would remain unsettled for the time being, but that could not be helped. No one could expect her to disregard what had occurred so quickly.
She entered through the same door Lord Bath had shown her a couple of weeks before and crept up the stairs, but after three turns, she sighed and sat down on the floor, letting her tears flow. He knew the passages better than she did, and now she was hopelessly lost. Would nothing good come of this day?
“Miss?”
Georgiana turned her head at the young maid’s voice. How long had she been in such an attitude? Her mind had been so occupied, she had no way of knowing.
“I was trying to find my bedchamber.”
“Through the servants’ passages?” The set of the girl’s brow, along with her tone, made her seem doubtful.
Georgiana climbed to her feet. “I did not want Her Grace to know I had been crying. I would also appreciate it if you would not say anything.”
The maid straightened and shook her head. “No, miss, not a word. I promise. Now, let’s get you back to your rooms.”
As it turned out, Georgiana had not gone far enough. Two doors down, and the girl took her through to the other side through the guest rooms as Lord Bath had done before. “The servants’ passages on each side do not connect. Unless you take the correct staircase below stairs, you have to pass through the guest rooms.”
“Where is the other staircase?”
“Near the kitchen. If you were trying to sneak up, you would not have reached that staircase without happening upon someone.”
That explained why the earl had taken her this way. When she reached her bedchamber, the maid opened the door for her to enter.
“I thank you.”
“Anytime, miss. My name is Claire should you have need of me.”
Ambrose took one look at her as the door closed and left to fetch the cool water and rags she would need to reduce the swelling. In the meantime, Georgiana sat at the escritoire and took the pen from the holder.
30 th April Hemel Hill
Dear Fitzwilliam and Lizzy,
I have become aware of a scheme involving the matching of Lord Bath to myself. You have always expressed to me that I am welcome at Pemberley for the rest of my days. Why would you change your mind without speaking to me of it? What have I done to fall into disfavour because I cannot think of it myself?
I am so confused and hurt. Moreover, Lord Bath is a boorish man who holds so much pity in his heart for himself, he has no room to love anyone and would never trust that someone could love him in return. The belief that we suit makes me doubt how well you know me at all. Why would you match me to such a disagreeable man?
How could you do this to me?
The pen dropped from her hands while she read over the words upon the page. She choked back a sob, crumpled the paper, and threw it into the fireplace, the flames consuming it and leaving nothing to remain.
She could not send that to her brother and his wife. Regardless of what Lord Bath said, they surely wanted nothing more than to see her happy. They had spoken of Georgiana’s concerns over courtship and her belief that she would remain unwed. Lizzy had pried out of her the wish for children and to be loved, but she had never met a gentleman to whom she could say more than a few polite words. Did such a man even exist?
The examples of felicity she had before her were stout sorts of love that could endure even the worst of trials. How was she to find such a connexion to someone? The entire possibility seemed beyond her reach.
The mistake Lizzy made was in choosing Lord Bath as a part of her scheme. Yes, she could speak more than the bare necessities to him, but until the gentleman came to value himself and what he could offer to anyone in the form of friendship or love, he could not be much of anything to anyone—a sad state indeed!