Ginny slid from her chair to her knees and cupped Celia’s face. “I’m not going anywhere! Oh, dear. I’m not explaining this well at all.” Ginny nudged her ebbing confidence aside. If she had any inkling of what she was doing, things would progress much more smoothly, but this was a new endeavor. For all of them.
She made a mental note to definitely accept Brock’s offer to help.
“My goal is to teach you how to help yourselves if for some reason I’m not there.” She pulled both girls to her in a fierce hug. “It terrifies me to think ofanything happening to you.” The article on forced marriages she and Lorelei had seen in theGazettewhipped through her. She forced another deep breath and reached for the last of her arsenal. “Perhaps you would feel better knowing Lord Brockway has offered his assistance?”
The tension eased from their small bodies. Irene and Celia each leaned back, assessing her, then nodded.Something to scrutinize over later.How irksome, and admittedly curious, to have to bring in Brock’s name to sway them. What else was she to do but grasp the opportunity with both hands? One must select one’s skirmishes with care.
“What should we learn first, Mama?” Irene rarely smiled, and while she didn’t now, her eyes sparkled with curiosity. A definite sign of encouragement.
Relieved, Ginny gathered her skirts and climbed back up in her chair, taking care with her left wrist. “I know that giving such instructions to young ladies is highly irregular, but what I wish for the two of you is the ability to make… well, make more enlightened decisions, if you will. To follow your instincts. Does this mean I will not be there to guide you through etiquette lessons, discipline, and seasons eventually? Of course not. These safeguarding lessons will just be part of your curriculum.”
“You mean like geography and French?” Celia said.
“Exactly. Except different.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t say ‘huh,’ Celia.”
“Please proceed, Mama.”
Lord, this was difficult. Thank you, Irene. “What I should like to instill is… an awareness. Yes.An awareness.There may be times where you must trust your instincts and make hasty decisions to-to…” She dropped her chin to her chest. What a hash of this she was making.
“To hide?” Irene’s tone was thoughtful.
“Yes! Exactly. To hide. To run. To scr—”
“I like to hideandrun,” Celia said.
“Excellent. There are other things too,” Ginny said, warming to her topic. “It’s a delicate matter, between balancing etiquette and saving one’s life.”
Irene frowned.
Ginny squeezed her hand. “Don’t fret so, my darling. Saving your life is considerably more important than one’s ladylike manners.”
Celia beamed and clapped her hands. “Oh, this is splendid, Mama. No more compormint lessons.”
“Comportment,” Irene corrected her.
“Not quite, Celia.” Ginny smirked. “There is a time and place for all.”
“Celia, let Mother finish. You know she bumped her head, so it’s harder for her to explain,” the ever-prescient Irene chimed in.
Ginny darted a glance at Irene, surprised by her dry wit, only to let out a steady stream of breath. She hadn’t been jesting. Unshed tears glittered on Irene’s lashes, though her voice never wavered in pitch. She blinked, and Ginny snatched up her lace kerchief to dab at the tracks silently trailing down Irene’s cheeks, blatantly aware of how utterly precious she was. Her heart broke for her older daughter. “Thank you, Irene.”
Celia wriggled on her seat, straightening her back. “Sorry, Mama. What else?”
Ginny tapped her chin, trying desperately to come up withsomething.Anything helpful that would not terrify her girls. She cleared her throat. “Well, yelling for help. Or if someone takes your hand without your, uh, permission, you could thrash about. Make any attempt to get away.” She watched their expressions carefully.
Celia jumped to her feet and raised her pert nose in the air. “I would yell, ‘Unhand me, sirrah, or I shall scream.’”
Irene wrinkled her nose. “That certainly isn’t ladylike, is it?”
“That is sort of the point, my darling,” Ginny said.
Five
L
