ChapterFour
Edwina Potter—the vicar’s widow, grandmother of a University fellow, and Georgiana’s one true friend in Cambridge—lived in a whitewashed home with a sturdy slate roof and deep blue shutters lying cheek by jowl with similar houses on Peas Hill.It shared a wall with its neighbor to the south.Window boxes sprouted with a glorious display of late summer flowers, and curtained windows welcomed visitors from all ranks and circumstances.
Georgiana approached Mrs.Potter’s door slowly, impeded by a sharp wind.She pulled her pelisse around her, lowered her head, and held her bonnet firmly in place.Near her destination, two pairs of gentlemen’s boots, festooned in the first stare of fashion, came to a halt at her feet.Two faces, one hard and cruel, the other slack-jawed and dandified, looked at her with derision.Both wore the robes of Cambridge students.
“I beg your pardon.”She tried to pass.
“Well, you should beg our pardon.”The hard-faced one said.Neither moved.“Cambridge streets aren’t a place for a woman alone.”
Insolent puppies!Georgiana regretted her decision to leave Eunice at home.She left her coach at the end of the street so she wouldn’t inconvenience the residents or her coachman.He could maneuver down such a narrow lane only with great difficulty.She believed she could walk the four or five doors to Mrs.Potter’s house with ease.She had been wrong.
“Move.Now!Out of my way!”She projected her best thundering aristocratic outrage.The bullies were immune to it.
The dandy looked amused.“Well, now, why should we give way to your lot?Perhaps you should make yourself more agreeable.Don’t you think so, Murchison?”He looked to his companion for confirmation.
A cruel smile grew on the other’s face.“A woman on our streets.Yes, she could be agreeable.Indeed, my friend Harrison, she could.”
Neither gave way, and Georgiana knew better than to try to move past them in the confines of the narrow lane.She turned to call for her coachman, but a figure in black blocked her view.His cape billowed in the wind, and his scarred and battered face formed a mask of wrath.
“Andrew,” she whispered.He looked past her.
“Let the lady pass.”His voice fractured their smug smiles.
Harrison moved enough to permit her to pass.Georgiana heard Mrs.Potter’s door open just feet from where she stood, but she stayed riveted to the spot, her eyes filled with Andrew Mallet.
She fled his house a week ago believing he was ill, yet here he stood like an avenging angel.Should he be out like this?His movements looked ungraceful and slow.Is he well?
The thunderous expression of her tormentor alarmed her.
“Do be careful, Mallet,” Murchison growled.“The entire town knows that this one doesn’t know her place.She approached Lawrence Watterson.‘For assistance in translation,’ she said!She may be a duke’s daughter, but she can’t approach a University Fellow unpunished.Watterson dined out on that story for a month.”
Harrison snickered.“Of course, gentlemen wouldn’t want all women banned from the lanes of Cambridge.”
“Gentlemen wouldn’t accost a lady on a public street.You two are barely men.”Fire burned deep in Andrew’s black eyes.
A look of fear flashed across Murchison’s face, quickly replaced by resentment and cunning.
“You wouldn’t want your reputation tarnished by such a relationship, Mallet,” he whined.“People respected your father.You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong idea about the son.Notif you wish to be a part of things in Cambridge.”
In one quick movement, Murchison found his arm bent behind his back.He yelped in pain when the silver-tipped walking stick pressed into the back of his skull.
“You will walk away now, and I will pretend I didn’t hear your pathetic attempt at a threat.If you don’t, I won’t waste words with empty threats.My next assault will be swift and direct.”
They were gone in an instant.Georgiana felt the very breath leave her body.She regretted rescue almost as much as she hated dependence, but she thought he was magnificent.
“It is young Mr.Mallet!Andrew!How delightful!”Mrs.Potter, blue eyes flashing beneath snowy white hair and elaborately beribboned lace cap, beamed at him.Her energy hid her years.Georgiana wasn’t sure how much the old woman had witnessed.She expected Andrew to turn on his heels.
Instead, he smiled past her at Mrs.Potter.“Mrs.Potter?Can it be?You haven’t changed in fifteen years.”He relaxed against his staff.
Georgiana glanced from one to the other, filled with curiosity.She wondered how Mrs.Potter knew him, but then remembered that Andrew had spent his boyhood in this place.
“Scamp!I don’t remember you being such a liar as a boy.”The old woman’s face glowed.“It is good to see you.You have been gone far too long.”
Georgiana felt like an intruder who couldn’t formulate a clear sentence.Good manners bade her keep quiet, but she longed to ask about his health.She ought to thank him for his help.She wanted to berate him for his previous behavior.Above all, she yearned for an opportunity to seek his help.
A withered hand touched her arm.“Lady Georgiana Hayden, let me make you known to Mr.Andrew Mallet.He is newly returned from the wars, our very own war hero!”
“Mr.Mallet.Good day to you.I owe you a debt of gratitude.”Georgiana wrapped both arms around her waist as if to protect herself and waited for the inevitable rebuff.None came.No welcome materialized in the deep black eyes either.
