Chapter 15
3 rd August 1815
Georgiana peeled herself up from the mattress and glanced about her bedchamber. The sunlight peeking through the draperies was bright. What time was it? By the fogginess of her thoughts, she would have believed it to be early if not for the angle of the sunbeams upon the floor. She dragged herself up to stand and stepped to the clock on the mantel. Nine? She never slept so late!
“Good morning, miss. You certainly have been sleeping later than is your wont!”
She blinked at Ambrose for a moment. Her maid carried a tray laden with a pot of coffee and toast. Her head spun, and she swayed on her feet for a moment. After a hand to the mantel to steady herself, she belched and swallowed down whatever was rising in her throat. What was wrong with her?
Her foot tapped in a steady cadence. She had barely eaten dinner last night. Perhaps her stomach was protesting the lack of food. As a little girl, if she refused to eat a food she disliked, one of Georgiana’s governesses would send her to bed without her dinner. The result the next morning was always similar to this one—her stomach unsettled until she ate.
After a deep breath, she sat and slowly ate the toast, chewing thoroughly. The texture did not offend, nor did it make matters worse. Somehow, the toast did indeed settle the upset as it had when she was a girl. Well, that settled the matter once and for all. She should make a point of eating more at dinner tonight.
A welcome breeze flowed in from the open windows of her bedchamber, which beckoned her to come take in the prospect. At Charles’s appearance, striding across the lawn, she leaned against the edge of the window as he disappeared around the corner. She had played his game since that night she had confronted him. Why was that? Jane had said she should prove to Charles they could be together—that they could work together to build a life. Mayhap she should finally heed Jane’s advice. After all, she was no coward. She had only required some time to lick her wounds.
“I believe I should like to ride. I believe the fresh air would do me good. Pray, fetch my habit.”
Ambrose gave a quick bob of a curtsey. “Yes, of course, miss.”
Ambrose aided her to dress with her usual efficiency. As she was fastening the back of Georgiana’s gown, her maid caught her eye in the mirror.
“Word in the kitchen is that Lord Bath is riding out alone with his steward this morning.” He had not been walking towards the stables when she saw him. Of course, that did not mean he would not ride out. He could have been managing some other bit of estate business.
“What of His Grace?” asked Georgiana.
“Lady Clarissa was feverish last night—teething if you ask the housekeeper. His Grace wishes to remain with her and his wife today. I heard Miss Fletcher mention their plans to take a walk in the gardens around the house with all three little girls.”
“The duke has been quite solicitous lo his brother. He has also been busy between his own estate endeavours and those of Lord Bath. His respite is, I am sure, well deserved.”
“Yes, but Lord Bath will have a devil of a time of it today. From what I have learnt of the steward, he is a simple-minded and unpleasant little man.”
Georgiana allowed her maid to slip the riding coat over the underdress. “How so?”
“Well, I know the housekeeper has been learning to speak with her hands. She and the butler asked the earl’s valet to teach them. Some of the maids have joined in the lessons as well. The steward is the sole person below stairs who refuses. He has said Lord Bath is a dullard.”
Georgiana’s spine went rigid. “He believes Lord Bath an imbecile?”
“Oh, do not believe Lord Bath lacked anyone to defend him. The footmen pulled away the earl’s valet after one heated exchange. I thought Mr. Jennings would strike Mr. Pitt if he had been afforded the opportunity.”
She bit her lip as she once again tapped her foot. Was Charles riding out with the steward alone? What would that accomplish if he was? From what Ambrose claimed, Charles would manage little, or most likely, nothing at all. What could be his purpose?
As Charles neared the stable, his steward followed close behind. The man had been insistent two of the tenants required his presence, yet what could he do? The steward did not sign, and it was not as if Charles could hear these men’s complaints. Moreover, Henry wished to remain behind with Jane and Clarissa, who had been pestered by a fever, and Charles could not begrudge his brother’s need to ensure his family was well. Mrs. Grant, his housekeeper, had insisted the babe was teething, and despite the dangers of cutting teeth, they all hoped it to be true. Even teething was preferable to illness.
Yet, the problem remained that he had no one to translate what would be said by the tenant or his steward, Mr. Pitt. He peered at the man out of the corner of his eye. Upon his inheriting Bathwick, the steward had claimed a willingness to work with Charles and to continue in his position. The problem was the situation, as it was, was untenable. Despite Henry joining their meetings, the steward had not made an attempt at so much as a “yes” or a “no” without speaking it aloud and requiring Henry to translate. His steward had no intention of learning to communicate and, aside from the occasional note, conveyed whatever was necessary through Henry, who could not and should not have to give up his own concerns to ensure Charles was well.
A week ago, Charles had even demanded additional information on certain business, yet the answers were not handwritten. Mr. Pitt had come to Charles to speak of what he knew. Without Henry remaining at Bathwick indefinitely, the situation was impossible unless Mr. Pitt changed or was replaced. The latter was the preferable option at the moment.
Upon arriving at the stable, his horse, along with that of the steward, had been saddled, but a third horse stood waiting—the horse he had designated for Georgiana’s use. He paused for a moment and stared at the mare, her white blaze striking against her dark, dappled grey coat. The mare was perfect for Georgiana, a good size with an excellent disposition and smooth gait. He had selected her for Georgie before they had even reached Bathwick.
He startled when the lady herself strode into the stable.
“I heard you were to visit tenants,” she said, “but I thought you would have departed by now.”
“No, Mr. Pitt insisted I should return to the house and read a letter first.” One that held no great importance, particularly in comparison to the visits they were to make this morning.
“Ambrose said you were riding out alone with him.”
“Mr. Pitt insisted the matter could not be delayed.”
“And I assume also cannot wait for your brother to come as well?”
“So it would seem.”
She chewed on her cheek. “I can accompany you.”
Her? They were keeping their distance from each other, were they not?
“Last I heard, Mr. Pitt could not communicate with you. Has something changed I am not aware of?” Her eyes and the slight tilt of her head held the hint of a challenge. He either accepted her company and aid, or he allowed his steward to waste his time.
With an exhale, he allowed his shoulders to fall. “No, naught has changed.”
“Then you require someone to translate. I am here to ride. Should you have no desire to solve the matter, I can ride the paths through the hills as I had planned.” Her eyebrows lifted.
What choice did he have? Jane had mentioned Georgie had asked to return to Pemberley, yet his new sister had persuaded her to remain for the time being. His sister had also said the Darcys could not arrange for Miss Darcy’s journey until her brother returned from town and could come for her. Her brother would not have her travel on her own, and Charles could not blame him. What if something happened?
“Well, do we not have tenants to visit?”
He scrubbed his hand across his forehead before bending forward and offering her a boost into her saddle. Had she suppressed a smile as she placed her foot into his laced hands?
While she awaited him and his steward, she steered her mare into some grass outside the stable and rode in large circles. As much as he had been seeking solitude away from her, he required someone’s aid. He found himself trusting Mr. Pitt less and less since their arrival at Bathwick. Despite their current predicament, Georgie would never lie to him. That much was certain.
Charles had been acutely aware of her proximity for the entirety of the time they spent together since the inn. Dinners had been interminable. A place deep down pressed him to whisk her away and ignore what was likely best for her. Even now, the urge to retreat to some secluded spot with her was ever-present. He needed her to return home. Her continued presence only made the yearning to keep her with him forever more difficult to ignore.
With a sigh, he brought his horse outside and lifted himself into the saddle. Once the steward was atop his own mount, the man led the way to the east portion of the estate.
They moved at a steady pace but not with such haste that Georgiana could not keep up, and when they reached the small but well-tended cottage in a clearing near the river, the steward led the group in dismounting.
The tenant, a Harold Grigg, emerged from the small stable at the edge of the wood and strode over. His mouth moved as did that of his steward, so Charles looked to Georgiana. She was signing what both men were saying, pointing at them to indicate who was speaking.
“’Tis John Morris who lives upstream. He dams the river and prevents the water from flowing downstream. I have argued with him that the river feeds all of the tenant farms on this part of the estate, but he insists it is for him to use as he pleases since it flows through his parcel of land first.”
Charles’s chin hitched back. This was the dispute the steward insisted he needed to sort? Had Mr. Pitt even made an attempt to rectify the situation? “What has been done thus far?” asked Charles.
The steward and the tenant were astonished when Georgiana voiced the question; that much was obvious. His man shrugged, then his mouth moved up and down more than once, as though he had difficulty speaking.
“So, what you are saying is that you have done nothing?” asked Georgiana, her hands mirroring what she spoke. “Is it not your job to be tasked with such matters in the absence of the master?” She turned to Harold Grigg. “How long has this been happening?”
“Nigh on six months, miss.”
“And you have let this continue while Lord Bath was recovering with his brother’s family?”
The tenant’s eyebrows lifted while Mr. Pitt became red in the face and his chest puffed as he became more animated. “I have no need to answer to a woman.” Charles could only gape at the words as Georgie signed them.
“I may be a woman, but I am not ignorant of a steward’s duties. I have ridden out with my brother and his own man on a number of occasions while being of aid to Pemberley’s tenants. As I see it, you have ignored a situation, for whatever reason, for Lord Bath to manage upon his return. Now, I want to know why, and how many other frivolous squabbles you have left unattended for your master to repair?”
Charles bit his lips together to keep from letting one side curve at Georgiana’s chastisement of the man. He had never seen her so vehement or forthright. Her eyes flashed and her countenance brooked no opposition. She was a sight to behold.
“I need not answer to you,” the steward replied.
Before the man could stride away, Charles grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. He pointed to Georgiana before he began to sign. “She speaks for me. Whatever questions she has, you will answer or you will lose your position without reference.” Thankfully, Georgiana showed no hesitation and appeared to translate without delay.
The man’s eyes flared, and he stood at an angle where Mr. Pitt’s vehemence could be witnessed while Georgie translated. “I shall answer to no woman. You should just let me run the estate, since you are of no use. The former Lord Bath let me do as I see fit. Now, I am to answer to a man who is addled in the mind.” Georgie’s hands trembled as she signed the last.
“ Pack your belongings and leave Bathwick ,” Charles said aloud. While he would have preferred not to speak before those he did not know well, no doubt should exist that it was he who was releasing the man and not Georgie. He would not have the former steward’s wrath turned upon her.
Mr. Pitt’s chest puffed out and his complexion turned an almost purple shade before he stormed to his horse. At least the man had not seen fit to argue further.
As soon as Mr. Pitt rode away, Georgiana returned her attention to the tenant. “Forgive us the interruption. Lord Bath is very interested in your concerns and would like to address your problem as soon as may be.”
The tenant looked to him, so he nodded. Then, with Georgiana’s insight and aid, he questioned the man further so he would best know how to solve the dilemma. They assured Mr. Grigg that they would settle the dispute as soon as possible, and he bowed, grasping Charles’s hands as he did so.
“They had said our new master had lost his wits, sir, but I did not want to believe it. The former Lord Bath was hardly here, and you were coming to live on the estate, from what was said at the great house. And thank goodness for you, miss. I fear if left to Mr. Pitt, I would be in dire straits. If not for the abundance of rain this summer, my sheep would not have survived! ’Tis how I have kept them with water to drink.”
“Mr. Grigg,” said Georgiana. “I assure you, Lord Bath is as capable of managing his lands now as before he lost his hearing. Naught has changed but his ability to hear. His mind is as quick as it ever was. We shall come by after visiting Mr. Morris and let you know what happens. Would this be acceptable?”
The man nodded and bowed. “Yes, miss. Quite.”
When they moved along to John Morris’s plot, the man blustered and complained. His cattle required more water than Mr. Grigg’s sheep, which was a ridiculous explanation. The river was not about to run dry! Finally, under threat of removal, Mr. Morris agreed to dismantle the barrier that had been keeping the full current of water from travelling downstream.
After stopping back by Mr. Grigg’s cottage, they returned to the stable and handed off their mounts to the grooms. Georgiana enquired of the steward, who was reported to have returned not long after he had parted from them.
After a genuine smile aimed at him, Georgie carried a lightness to her she had not possessed when they had first met that morning in the stables. She almost danced on her toes with a slight spring, even turning and biting her lip just so at him while she walked backward from time to time. His heartbeat quickened at the happiness etched upon her countenance. She had not appeared so free since coming to Bathwick. That was his fault, of course. He had been hard-pressed to resist her before, but as she was, his hands itched to hold her to him—to make her his once again.
Upon entering the house, Georgiana informed Mrs. Grant of the steward’s release. The housekeeper glanced to him for confirmation, and at his nod, hurried off to inform the butler so they could oversee the man’s removal. He would require a new steward, and soon, but perhaps, if he could find one that would work with him instead of fighting him at every turn, he could manage without aid.
Georgie removed her bonnet and coat and handed them to a maid, glancing back at him through her lashes with another one of those smiles that made the blood course through his veins. She had not been as animated when they had first met in the stable, but with each encounter of the day, her confidence had grown and her mood had lifted. He did not need words to understand what was before him.
After handing his coat to the footman, he was helpless not to follow her to the library, where she turned to him with a wide smile.
“What has made you so pleased with yourself?”
“I do not know if I am pleased with myself as much as I am simply happy. Despite all that has occurred between us, we spent the day together—working together for the benefit of your tenants. From what I have heard of Mr. Pitt, I cannot care for the man, so I am also relieved he will not remain. You deserve better than he was willing to give.” She shook her head. “I do not know if I could muster the will to confront a man again as I just did, but I must admit to—”
The words died on her tongue since he claimed her mouth, his arms wrapping around her and holding her to him tightly. He could no longer resist the picture she presented—carefree and revelling in her success. As he pulled her against him, she did not make an effort to withdraw but clung to him as he walked them into his study, kicking the door closed behind him.
He turned her around and pressed her against the hard wooden panel, one of his hands wandering up her side to cradle her delicate throat. His lips tasted the soft flesh under her jawline before nipping her chin and taking her mouth in another passionate kiss.
Before today, he would have never thought an assertive lady would have appealed to him so, but to watch Georgie defend him as she had—to see her exert herself for him had been his undoing. Her satisfaction at being of aid to him only increased his ardour.
His palm found the soft, plump mound of her breast and he kneaded. God, he was desperate to touch her—to make her as consumed with him as he was with her at that moment. His fingers found the buttons at the back of her gown, but before he could release a single fastening, he was being pushed away. He glanced down to where her palms were flush to his chest.
She shook her head. “As much as I love you, I want more than you desire to give me. I thought I could accept the part of yourself you originally offered and be satisfied, but I was wrong. If you are not willing to put aside your fears and spend your life with me, then I shall not continue to press you, but I shall not allow more than a friendly association. I can only take so much heartbreak.”
Her small hands cradled his cheeks, drawing his attention from where it had fallen to his feet back to her face. “Whether you accept it or not, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. I want to be with you as you are. I do not care if you can hear, or if you can protect me. Should we require it, we can hire those who will ensure our safety. You are no less in my eyes and in my heart. I want none but you. You only need choose to accept me since I am not perfect either—no one is.”
“I disagree. I believe you are all that is lovely and good.”
“Then your feelings for me have made you blind.” One side of her lips curved as she toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat. “Charles, we do need to talk as we once did. If only we had a field of poppies. We seemed to do so well there.”
She kissed his cheek, though she pulled away before he could reciprocate the gesture. The moment she departed, he slumped onto the sofa and scrubbed his face with his hand. He was a despicable human being. He should not have touched her in the first place—should not have even flirted with the idea of marrying her. She deserved the world, and all he could give her was Bathwick. She deserved more.