“You heard what I said downstairs.Now I wish to be left to my own life.”
He examined her face, reading every detail.“Very well, Georgiana.If it’s what you wish, go back to your books and to Helsington.You were at peace there.Go back.”
“Oh, I intend to.I’ll go back to Cambridge but not to how things were.”Nothing would ever be the same.“I am finished with being under someone’s control.I will sell Helsington.”
“You can’t!”
“Sell it?You forget–I own Helsington Cottage, notHis Grace.”
“How will you pay your servants, your green grocer?”He asked it calmly, but she thought he knew the answer.Helsington was large and well-appointed.Proceeds from its sale would keep her for a very long time, perhaps as long as she lived.She would find ways to supplement those proceeds.She might publish.A chill froze her bones at that.She wouldn’t think about it now.Their eyes held for a long time.He knew her plans as though she spoke them out loud.
“Will you take me then?”she asked.
“You’ll have the solitude and none of the comfort.Even the garden may not be possible.”
“I’ll manage.At least I’ll have my independence.Will you take me home then?”
“This is—” He meant to say “home,” but it wasn’t, of course.Cambridge was home, and she was determined to make her own way.
He nodded sadly, but even as he did, she saw his mind at work.She had no illusions that he would stop his interference for good.
