Page 107 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“It’s all in the sound of yer voice, miss. Leastwise, that’s what me pa used to say. He says you can even call’em meathead and they’ll come running if you use the right voice.”

Georgiana chuckled. “I have heard the same.”

“Now, you wash yerself, and then we’ll have yer nightrail on you, miss.”

Farley gathered up the discarded clothes while Georgiana washed. After drying herself, she held up her arms so Farley could slip her pristine white cotton nightrail over her head.

“There you go, miss,” Farley said.

“I mentioned to you that I want to learn how to dress myself,” Georgiana began. She paused when Farley tutted. Georgiana attempted to placate her. “I know such a skill is unnecessary as long as I have you—and I hope to have you until you retire—I pray you know that, Farley, dear.”

“Yes, miss.” Her maid’s voice sounded wooden.

Georgiana folded her hands and faced Farley. Ducking her head a little, she admitted, “I feel rather stupid that I do not know exactly how to dress myself. I suppose I could muddle through, but, Farley, there are millions and millions of women in the world who have to dress themselves. Am I any better than they are in this regard?”

“You are, miss,” Farley argued. “A lady’s gowns are more complicated than the baker’s wife’s dresses. How’ll you reach behind yer back, miss? To close yer stays?”

“How do you do it?”

Farley tightened her lips.

“Tomorrow, shall we start with me learning to put on my undergarments on my own?” Georgiana asked. “Then, you can show me how to close the laces on my stays without needing help.”

“It’ll take you longer to dress, miss,” Farley warned.

“Kindly wake me a little before times, and I will endeavor not to embarrass myself by taking much longer than normal to dress.”

Farley sighed. “Yes, miss.”

“Thank you,” Georgiana said. “I will sit up for little while and read a sermon before I sleep.”

“Yes, miss.”

Farley turned and lifted her robe from the end of the bed. She held the deep-blue garment up and Georgiana slipped her arms through it. She closed it herself and tied the belt around her waist.

“There,” Georgiana said, smiling widely.

“You’ve done tied yer belt in a knot, miss,” Farley said, nodding at her waist. “You’d best retie it in a bow before the knot tightens.”

“Oh,” Georgiana said, losing her smile. She tugged and manipulated the knot until the belt hung open. “I shall try this again.” After another two attempts, she had a bow with one loop and one extra-long end. “That will do.”

“Practice, miss,” Farley said, backing away. “It’s like tying a bow for yer bonnet.”

“I should have thought of that,” Georgiana said, nodding emphatically, undeterred by her own mistakes. “I will next time.”

“Yes, miss.”

“You may go, now. Sleep well, Farley dear.”

Her maid turned to go, muttering beneath her breath about not being able to sleep a wink tonight worrying about all this falderal. Georgiana let her grumble pass without remark.

I will learn to be more independent.

Georgiana chose to read on the chaise longue next to the window. She moved a branch of candles to the nearby table and settled to read a chapter from Mary Wollstonecroft’s A Vindication on the Rights of Women. It was not precisely a sermon, but elevation of her mind was Georgiana’s objective. After she finished her chapter, Georgiana closed the book with a quote from the essay occupying her mind. “…truth must be common to all.”

“Interesting,” she murmured. “I wonder if Mary has read this essay?”

She set the book down, rose, blew out the candles, and climbed into bed in the light of the one candle still lit where it rested on her bedside table. Georgiana cupped her hand around the flame and leaned over to blow it out. However, the sound of a horse on the gravel drive gave her pause. Her room faced the front of the house, and her window had been cracked a few inches, making it easy for her to hear.