dirt.
Lady Hernescroft looked ahead. In a year, Georgia would seek another husband, but this time he must be more suitable. An older man with necessary sternness.
Georgia drained the last of the water. “Last night, everything was as usual, delightfully so. I was at Lady Walgrave’s ball. I was Lady May. Beaufort flirted with me, as did Ludlow. Sellerby composed a rhyme in adoration of my shoe buckles. Now I have nothing.” She looked up. “How can that be?”
Lady Hernescroft had never been a doting mother, but that piteous question touched her heart. She embraced her daughter, kissing her unkempt hair.
“Your life has undergone a great change, Georgia, but you are not left with nothing. You have your widow’s jointure, your own fine qualities, and above all, your family. Trust in your family. We will take care of you. We will keep you safe.”
Chapter 1
September 29, 1764
Herne, Worcestershire
Dear Lizzie,
Your letters have been a great comfort to me, and I can only beg you to forgive me for not replying. It seems I’ve slept through summer, hardly noticing the passing days, or even the blooming and fading of the flowers. I think I sank for a time into the grave with poor Dickon.
Something has awoken me now, however, perhaps simply that it’s Michaelmas Day, when country servants consider whether they wish to stay in their employment or seek some other place.
I would certainly seek some other place if I could.
When I returned to Herne, I half expected to return to the schoolroom bedchamber I shared with Winnie. Instead, I’m installed in a handsome set of rooms, but in all other ways I could be sixteen again! I have no more say in the running of Herne than I did at sixteen, when I so recently was accustomed to managing three houses.
I have no money! In truth, I do, for I have myportion back, but it’s returned to my father and he doles out a few guineas a month. I wasn’t aware a portion could be returned, but I suppose anything is possible if all parties agree to it. The new Earl of Maybury was eager to shed the commitment to pay my jointure of two thousand for perhaps sixty years, even at the cost of twelve thousand now.
You will understand how bitter it is to have a pittance in my pocket. Father pays my bills, but I’m sure he feels entitled to question my purchases, and as all this is done through his clerk of accounts, you will appreciate how it galls me.
Thus far I’ve only purchased mourning clothes and a few essentials, but now I’m awakened, I’m tempted to order something outrageous. What do you think it should be?
A jewel-encrusted prayer book? A gold-plated chamber pot? I can see you laughing and shaking your head, and it makes me smile and cry at the same time. I would order a carriage now and race to see you, but I know you expect a new treasure at any time, so I’ll restrain myself. I’d inflict myself on Babs except that she and Harringay are in France.
Ah, Versailles! Will I ever see Versailles again?
Yes, of course I will, you say, as soon as my year’s over and I choose a new husband. I also hear your usual scathing comment on the French court, you country mouse.
May I beg an invitation to your country haven for Christmas, my dearest friend? Mother strongly recommended that I stay at Herne for my six months, and given the ridiculous stories circulating about me—Vance, Lizzie! Who could ever imagine me in his bed? When he killed my Dickon! My only desire is to run the foul wretch through with his own sword!
But by Christmas all fires of scandals will haveburned to ash, and I’m resolved to shed Herne along with my blacks. I have distinct memories of this place in winter. Huge chambers and marble floors in many rooms. What insanity to build in such a style in England.
Your Jacobean manor house is much better suited, and Dickon and I so enjoyed the one Christmas we spent at Brookhaven. I will
Lady Hernescroft looked ahead. In a year, Georgia would seek another husband, but this time he must be more suitable. An older man with necessary sternness.
Georgia drained the last of the water. “Last night, everything was as usual, delightfully so. I was at Lady Walgrave’s ball. I was Lady May. Beaufort flirted with me, as did Ludlow. Sellerby composed a rhyme in adoration of my shoe buckles. Now I have nothing.” She looked up. “How can that be?”
Lady Hernescroft had never been a doting mother, but that piteous question touched her heart. She embraced her daughter, kissing her unkempt hair.
“Your life has undergone a great change, Georgia, but you are not left with nothing. You have your widow’s jointure, your own fine qualities, and above all, your family. Trust in your family. We will take care of you. We will keep you safe.”
Chapter 1
September 29, 1764
Herne, Worcestershire
Dear Lizzie,
Your letters have been a great comfort to me, and I can only beg you to forgive me for not replying. It seems I’ve slept through summer, hardly noticing the passing days, or even the blooming and fading of the flowers. I think I sank for a time into the grave with poor Dickon.
Something has awoken me now, however, perhaps simply that it’s Michaelmas Day, when country servants consider whether they wish to stay in their employment or seek some other place.
I would certainly seek some other place if I could.
When I returned to Herne, I half expected to return to the schoolroom bedchamber I shared with Winnie. Instead, I’m installed in a handsome set of rooms, but in all other ways I could be sixteen again! I have no more say in the running of Herne than I did at sixteen, when I so recently was accustomed to managing three houses.
I have no money! In truth, I do, for I have myportion back, but it’s returned to my father and he doles out a few guineas a month. I wasn’t aware a portion could be returned, but I suppose anything is possible if all parties agree to it. The new Earl of Maybury was eager to shed the commitment to pay my jointure of two thousand for perhaps sixty years, even at the cost of twelve thousand now.
You will understand how bitter it is to have a pittance in my pocket. Father pays my bills, but I’m sure he feels entitled to question my purchases, and as all this is done through his clerk of accounts, you will appreciate how it galls me.
Thus far I’ve only purchased mourning clothes and a few essentials, but now I’m awakened, I’m tempted to order something outrageous. What do you think it should be?
A jewel-encrusted prayer book? A gold-plated chamber pot? I can see you laughing and shaking your head, and it makes me smile and cry at the same time. I would order a carriage now and race to see you, but I know you expect a new treasure at any time, so I’ll restrain myself. I’d inflict myself on Babs except that she and Harringay are in France.
Ah, Versailles! Will I ever see Versailles again?
Yes, of course I will, you say, as soon as my year’s over and I choose a new husband. I also hear your usual scathing comment on the French court, you country mouse.
May I beg an invitation to your country haven for Christmas, my dearest friend? Mother strongly recommended that I stay at Herne for my six months, and given the ridiculous stories circulating about me—Vance, Lizzie! Who could ever imagine me in his bed? When he killed my Dickon! My only desire is to run the foul wretch through with his own sword!
But by Christmas all fires of scandals will haveburned to ash, and I’m resolved to shed Herne along with my blacks. I have distinct memories of this place in winter. Huge chambers and marble floors in many rooms. What insanity to build in such a style in England.
Your Jacobean manor house is much better suited, and Dickon and I so enjoyed the one Christmas we spent at Brookhaven. I will
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