“Lottie, whatever are you doing?”
“Dusting the sconces. Surely you can see that?”
“Yes, but why? Has the duke’s army of housemaids taken the day off? All succumbed to influenza? Broken their legs?”
She laughed merrily. “There were cobwebs. I cannot abide cobwebs.”
“Well, I cannot abide seeing you up a ladder. Come down this instant, and leave the cobwebs to those paid to deal with them.”
“How dictatorial you are become, Lance Chamberlain. Why should I come down? Give me one good reason.”
“Because I want to make a proposal of marriage to you.” The words just slipped out, but he could not regret them. It resolved his difficulty, and got the necessary business of the offer out of the way.
She went pink. “Oh! Oh, Lance! But that is certainly a good reason to set aside my dusting for a while.”
Cautiously she descended the ladder, removing her apron and laying it and the duster on a side table. Then she followed him into the Blue Parlour, and sat demurely on a sofa, smoothing her skirts.
“I should have put on one of my best gowns if I had known,” she said. “Do I have cobwebs in my hair?”
“You look delightfully,” he said, amused, wondering if she would always have that power to make him laugh. It helped. Definitely it helped.
“No cobwebs?”
“Not one. Spiders, however— No, no, I am only teasing! No need to start screaming.”
“Are you truly going to propose?”
“If ever we stop talking about cobwebs, certainly.” How to say it? Quickly, he decided, to get over heavy ground with all possible speed. “Lottie, we have always been the best of friends, have we not? We get on so well, and… and I am so fond of you. I think… hope that you feel some affection for me, too, and if so… Lottie, will you marry me?”
As proposals went, it was sadly deficient, but the suddenness left him ill-prepared. The task of choosing words which were fitting for the occasion yet still true was daunting, and despitehours labouring over the problem, he had not reached a conclusion when the hour of declaration was upon him.
It did not matter. She went even pinker, her eyes shining. “Oh, yes! I should like that very much.”
And in that instant the bars of the cage closed around him. There was no turning back now.
27: A Walk In The Gardens
Georgie’s return to Staineybank attracted little attention. No one, it seemed, had noticed her anguish before she left for Oxford, or remarked upon her happiness now. Everyone expressed pleasure at her return, asked a few polite questions about Oxford and then moved on to topics of more immediate moment.
Such lack of interest suited her perfectly. There was no need to explain how Henry had betrayed her and made her unswerving devotion seem foolish. No need, either, to talk about the darkness that had fallen on her marriage and how a few words in a graveyard had restored it to the light. The moment when Jamie had walked away from her and then turned back would stay with her forever — from utter despair to untrammelled bliss in the shortest possible time. She had still not quite recovered her equanimity.
Only Jamie understood. Sometimes, at the dinner table or across the full width of the drawing room, she would catch his eye and there would be that little smile on his face, the smileof intimacy, of secrets shared… of love. And this time, it was a love felt in equal measure on both sides, not often expressed in words, for neither of them was vocal about such deep-seated feelings, but shown in little ways. The touch of a hand, a gift of flowers, a quiet word of pleasure after a meal. It was a happiness too deep for words.
However changed they were inwardly, around them, the life of Staineybank went on as before, and Georgie found ways of helping where she could. Sometimes she worked with Jamie on the duke’s diaries, and at other times she made herself useful with household chores.
One day, Charlotte asked her to accompany Hester on her daily walk. “She does not go far, but Dr Percival insists she must have fresh air and sunshine every day, if the weather is fit to be outside. Will you go with her, and make sure she sits in the sunshine for a while? She is a bit inclined to keep to her room unless forced out.”
Georgie had no intention of forcing Hester to do anything, but she found her willing enough to take the air. They made their way slowly towards the lake, but Hester had not the strength to reach the water, and was glad to rest on a bench in a sheltered corner of the shrubbery. It was a warm day without wind, but Hester swathed herself in a thick shawl and still shivered a little.
“Dr Percival must be pleased that you’re recovering so well,” Georgie ventured, when Hester seemed disinclined to speak. “He’s not bled you lately, I hear.”
“Oh, him! He has these strange new ideas. He would not have bled me at all except that I insisted. He tells me to get plenty of fresh air and sunshine, and to drink beef tea and red wine. I have no patience with it! Regular bleeding and sitting by a warm fire — that is the best regimen for invalids. Not that I am an invalid yet, I trust.”
“No, indeed, and you’ll soon be back on your feet, I’m sure,” Georgie said. “It’s just a lingering cold of some sort… isn’t it?”
Hester threw her an amused glance. “That is a new description for consumption.”
“Oh, no! Surely not! Dr Percival said—”
