ChapterFourteen
It sang.One of Georgiana’s translations seemed to sing to her when she read it out loud.She rewrote the lines of the mountain lyric one final time early the following day.The musical flow of the lyric delighted her.
Her best work lay on the paper; she could do no more.She should be satisfied.She wasn’t.Odd restlessness, the unexpected agitation she had begun to feel in Andrew’s absence, overcame her.
She put the poem away and began reorganizing some of her older work boxes.When she repacked the same one twice, she put a fluttering hand to her hair and bit her lip.Notone box needed her attention.The steady tick of the ormolu clock sounded louder in her silent house than it deserved.She couldn’t concentrate a moment longer.
Georgiana wandered to the window and looked out at the wide expanse of lawn as if she might find purpose in the green fields and the gold reflections of the sun.
It was early afternoon of a day too fine for the dark thoughts that crowded in on her.Andrew hadn’t fled from her eleven years ago after all.That knowledge had proven to be cold comfort.He hadn’t stayed either.Now he came, but only for brief interludes, and then he left her to work alone.
Georgiana sympathized with the boy Andrew had been.Only a heartless woman could blame him for running from her family’s long reach and iron grip.She could find no sympathy, however, for the way he and Richard had neatly arranged her life without her consent.They gave her no choice.That, in the end, she couldn’t forget.
He proposed marriage when he found her tumbling from his bed; she ought to have accepted.Her behavior had been unforgivable, but she would be damned before she let him think she trapped him into marriage.After his revelations about Richard, she’d be damned before she would let a man order her life for her again.
Georgiana shook her head against the gathering shadows in her mind and focused on the sun.A walk might settle her nerves, or at least shed light on the dark recesses of her thoughts.
An hour later, a deep blue cloak billowed behind Georgiana’s long figure while she strode along the Cam.She found it oddly pleasurable to walk thus along the river without conveyance; she couldn’t have done it a year ago.Mr.Peabody’s odd regime worked.She had more energy every week.She would live to finish her work at least.That gave her some comfort.
John Footman, who followed at a discrete distance, struggled to keep up.She hiked almost as far as Cambridge, on the river path, detouring occasionally over fences and through fields.
The sight of the spires of Cambridge sobered her, however, and she turned back.No welcome waited for her there.Briefly, Andrew had welcomed her into his home, but now that door had closed.She wondered if other doors were closed.Edwina Potter continued to visit, but she was the only one.
“My goodness, Lady Georgiana.I am surprised to see you, dear!”Molly Harding, one of the few Cambridge wives that had once welcomed Georgiana’s futile attempts to join their circle, came puffing toward her.“I thought to walk as far as the bend in the river.The harebells are still so colorful there this time of year.Isn’t it glorious?”She bobbed a belated acknowledgment of the younger woman’s rank.
“Good day to you, Mrs.Harding.It is a most excellent day, and you are quite correct about the bend in the river.The banks there are lush with foliage.I had to skirt the undergrowth.”
Georgiana tried to leave, but the older woman moved to keep step with her.
“May I say you look well, dear.I haven’t seen you in three months, and you have positively bloomed in the meantime.”
“Ah, well, you can attribute that to modern science, Mrs.Harding.Mr.Peabody, the physician who keeps premises over by Magdalene, prescribed a regime to strengthen my blood, to enormously beneficial effect.”She increased her speed as if to demonstrate how robust she had become.
Molly Harding breathed heavily, but she kept pace.
“I’ve missed you at the Cambridge Wives’ Tea.Mrs.Potter expressed great disappointment when you didn’t return.”
“You are very kind.I believe Mrs.Clarke and her ilk made it quite clear my presence was unnecessary.”
“Abigail Clark?She can be, well, that is, perhaps it is for the best with what has happened and all.”
“And what would that be, Mrs.Harding?”Georgiana asked.
“Mr.Mallet has been quite ill.I understand that, dear.Mrs.Potter, who knew him as a boy, has been quite adamant that we are to be grateful for your assistance.One can understand he might be grateful.It is just that?—”
“Abigail Clarke and the others disagree?”
The older woman’s discomfort showed on her face, but she blundered on.“Itwasn’tproper, you must know.People do talk.Even someone of elevated rank as yourself can–”
“Make herself untouchable?”
“You needn’t assume everyone thinks that way.Oh my.I am an old lady, am I not?”Molly’s face turned a vivid shade of red.“How does your work go on, dear?I know when last we spoke you were seeking a man—a sponsor, I believe—to vet your work.
How is it possible she keeps getting redder?
“Tutor, Mrs.Harding.Someone to assist with my research and to help me flesh out the work.”
“And so it appears you have.How does Mr.Mallet get on, dear?Old Mr.Mallet was such a good man.Well-loved in Cambridge.I understand the son is?—”
