She delayed transfer of Helsington to Major Warrington, but he grew impatient.In three more days, she would have no choice but to leave.Georgiana’s head hurt from going over and over the list in front of her.She thought she had been ruthless about packing only what she needed, but she could see that the pile of finished boxes, neatly stacked in Helsington’s foyer, would not fit in the tiny house on Sheep Street.William the footman and her maid (the last of the servants, the only two who agreed to accept an extra month’s pay from the sale of the house) waited for her next order.
She went over the list again.Her notes and papers must go with her.The little sitting room and half the bedchamber would be lined with boxes, but they had to go with her.Novels and books on gardening could be left for the estate sale.She needed her classics and her Shakespeare, but the rest could stay.With Mrs.Potter’s help she weeded six boxes for the kitchen down to one.She wouldn’t be entertaining; she would cook only for herself.It wasn’t “one bowl, one spoon,” but it was simple enough.
“Shall we light the room, my lady?”
“No, William.Leave it dark.I’ll close it up.I’ll take tea above stairs.”
She pulled the doors closed and crossed the foyer where she said goodbye to Andrew the last day.Perhaps he will come.He has my notes.He must return them.What then?She had no answer for the mocking voice in her head.
She climbed the stair with a heavy tread, gracefully lifting her pearl gray gown.He was gone.He had left Cambridge without telling her, and he had taken pieces of her work with him.He had taken pieces of her soul.She told him it was finished, but he still had her work.
The dim hallway led to her private sitting room, bright with candlelight reflected on flower-covered walls and the ornate plaster ceiling and fading sun.With the clutter gone, the little workroom looked stark in the fading light.The world outside her window looked gray.She wondered how color could leach out of the world.Did rainy days dim all color, or had the world bled out all its color as my heart bled out all feeling?She let the curtains fall shut.
William brought tea she had prepared herself.There would be no need for such service in her tiny house.She would take tea made herself in her own little kitchen.That at least pleased her.She liked feeling competent at something.The ornate tea table wouldn’t come with her.It was built more for its dainty appearance than for comfort, and it had room enough for only one person.She drank her solitary tea and fought back self-doubt.
“He said he wanted to marry me!”The empty room didn’t answer.She sounded like a spoiled child to her own ears.He asked, but I refused him.
She vacillated, she demurred, and she refused him.She sent him away.She thought he would go back to Cambridge.Where is the blasted man?Where are my notes, my work?
She forced her attention away from fruitless regrets to her lists and began again.Fill the pantry.Put in firewood.Air the sheets.Two sets,she thought,should do it.Four boxes were unnecessary.Tag the kitchen table and four chairs.
A discrete knock broke the silence.
“Yes, William?”
“A message, my lady.”He handed her a heavy vellum packet.
Richard!What now?He had arranged her travel.She suspected he had arranged the estate agent who miraculously appeared on her doorstep the day after she announced her decision to her neighbors, an honest estate agent at that.
My dear Georgiana,
I trust that all is well with you.I have been informed that Colonel Warrington has acquired Helsington and that the transaction went more quickly than expected.I have arranged for a bank account to be set up in your name to manage the assets from the sale.They have been informed to deal directly with you.
I don’t wish to imply that I lack confidence in you, but you must know that if problems arise or you find you regret your decisions, you need only apply to me.Something can be arranged.
My damned interferingbrother just can’t stop arranging my life!With a twinge of guilt she realized she should be grateful for his help.Hesaved her awkwardness at the bank at least.
Her irritation didn’t dissipate.She had refused his offer to pay for servants and upkeep so she could stay at Helsington.She didn’t want his control any more than she wanted their father’s.She would do without his help.No man would manage her life.Still, his concern threatened to weaken her.She put the letter down.
She didn’t want any man, especially not one who tried to arrange her life.Why does independence have to be such a struggle?She just wished she was not so very alone.
Georgiana crumpled her latest list and restlessly paced to the window again.
Where is Andrew?she thought.Where is the damned man?The night didn’t answer.
