“Yes, Mama,” Amelia nodded meekly.
Aunt Clarissa nodded too and then turned and marched to the door. She stopped, not looking back until one of the girls ran ahead and opened it for her. It was Georgia. She waited until shecould no longer hear her aunt's footsteps and then slammed the door shut. Amelia jumped, then giggled, hands to her mouth.
“I would not dare!” she whispered.
“I should not dare,” Georgia sighed, throwing herself into an armchair, “Aunt Clarissa would have me cast out in a moment.”
Amelia rushed to her, dropping to her knees before her cousin, taking her hands.
“Don't say such things, Georgie!” she gasped, using the pet name she'd always had for Georgia. “Mother is hard, yes, but that is just her way. She would never cast out her own sister's child.”
Georgia grimaced. “Of course not,” she lied, squeezing Amelia's warm fingers, “I am just being dramatic.”
Amelia pursed her lips. “I know it must be difficult, and I don't think that mother and father should remind you as often as they do of your... circumstances. But they have tried hard to find you a suitable husband. And they would not do that unless they wished you to be happy and settled in a home of your own, would they?”
There was bright innocence in Amelia's emerald eyes, which Georgia had no desire to quash.
Off their hands is how they would put it. No longer a drain on their household. How it must put a burr under Uncle Benjamin to pay out a dowry for me, though. Assuming he yet chooses to.
She did not know if any allowance had been made for a dowry. Elias' title, lands, and fortune were held in trust awaiting his return... Or the declaration of his death…
“I suppose they would not at that,” Georgia murmured, lost in that doleful thought for a moment.
“And I know that Lord Emsworth is somewhat...” Amelia tilted her head like a kitten, “setin his ways, but I am sure they would not marry you to a beast. I am sure he is a gentleman and will make an excellent husband.”
An excellent husband for a wife who believed herself to be owned by her husband. Lord Emsworth had expressed just such a view in Georgia’s hearing at their very first meeting. She kept such thoughts to herself, though, mindful of Amelia's innocence and protective of it. Sometimes she wished there was someone who wanted to protect her. Perhaps Lord Peter Halstead, Earl of Emsworth, for all his medieval notions, would turn out to be chivalrous.
And perhaps pigs might fly.
She rose, drawing Amelia up with her, and patted her cheek.
“Oh, Milly, you look lovely and will find your dance card filled within minutes of our arrival,” she breathed wistfully, rewarded with a bright, excited smile from her younger cousin.
“I do hope so! I do love dancing. Particularly at Almack's. It is so delightful a venue!”
Georgia would rather be exploring the city around it, as she had once been certain she would, in her past life. Silverton lay beyond Kensington, a veritable stone's throw from the city, but she was rarely allowed to venture that far.
Later, as Amelia obediently attended to her mother and father to show how well spent their money had been, Georgia retired to her own rooms.
Silverton Hall was vast, cold, and crowded with servants and dozens of chambers. But upon moving here from her brother's house, Georgia had been told that, regretfully, the only spare and ‘functional’ bedchamber was one adjoining the servants' wing; a separate building next to the stables. She suspected that her tiny bedroom had once been used as a storeroom.
She crossed the cobbled yard, nodding, smiling, and asking after the maid who was hurrying in the opposite direction. The girl's name was Elaine, and she was a relatively new addition to the staff. Georgia made it a point to know the names of all the staff and to show them kindness.
What Aunt Clarissa and Uncle Benjamin did not know was that the cook, Mrs. Pike, who took maternal care over all the staff inher purview, ensured extra helpings to Miss Georgia as a reward—though said extra helpings had become scarce in the past weeks with her wedding drawing nearer. Georgia opened the small door at one end of the servant's block and descended the narrow stone staircase to her room.
A window had been added high up on one wall, which showed the feet of anyone crossing the stable yard to or from the main house. Georgia would regularly stand on a chair to clean it, ensuring no barrier to daylight. She had rearranged her meager furniture so that the light fell across her bed in the morning.
She went to the stool before her bureau, an old and scarred veteran of the household cast aside by Uncle Benjamin in favor of a newer piece by a local carpenter. Reaching into the neck of her dress, she took out a small key and unlocked the bureau. Within was a neat pile of papers, bound together by string.
A new letter had arrived this morning. Post to Georgia was unusual enough that Uncle Benjamin might have insisted upon reading it. So, Georgia had collected it from Mr. Sobel, the butler, before the morning post had been sent up to the main house. She unfolded it to read its contents again.
Miss Roseton,
It is with the deepest regret that I must decline your request. While such an undertaking is possible and within the sphere of my skills, it would be time-consuming and, in all likelihood, an extremely lengthy operation. I must support both myself and my family, and could not undertake such work for thelimited budget that you described. I regret that I know of no other consulting investigators who would work foranything less than three shillings a week. If you believe a crime has been committed, I urge you to consider the services of the Bow Street Runners, who are an excellent organization for the pursuance of criminals and may consider pro-bono work where there is great need.
I wish you nothing but the best of luck in your endeavor
Mr. Aloysius Thorne,
