Elizabeth turned to see Jane’s eyes open. “You are awake? How do you feel?” She went to Jane’s side and touched her forehead. “You seem a little cooler.”
“Thirsty,” Jane whispered.
“Can you manage some broth, do you think?”
Jane nodded.
Elizabeth pulled the bell cord. When Martha arrived, Elizabeth asked if it would be possible to get broth for Jane. Martha smiled and said that she had already alerted Cook to the fact that broth would soon be required, and she would bring it up directly.
Chapter Eight
Summer 1811
After many days of travel, and a good deal of arguing between George and Mrs. Younge as to who was at fault for not knowing that the thirty thousand pounds was held in a trust, the travelers arrived in London. Georgiana spoke as little as possible, as it was clear that neither of them had any interest in anything she might say.
Apparently, Mrs. Younge owned a boarding house, and it was to this boarding house that they made their way. Georgiana had been to London before, of course, but she had never been to this part of Town.
A Mrs. Aldrich greeted the travelers at the boarding house. Evidently, Mrs. Aldrich had taken care of the lodgers during the months that Mrs. Younge was serving as Georgiana’s companion. Mrs. Aldrich and Mrs. Younge immediately got into a fight – an actual fight! – as there had been a misunderstanding as to how much Mrs. Aldrich was to be paid for her services. This misunderstanding apparently could only be resolved with a good deal of name-calling and hair-pulling. Georgiana was shocked speechless.
Once the fight was over and an irate Mrs. Aldrich had departed, Mrs. Younge took George and Georgiana up to thefourth floor of the boarding house and opened a door. “Your room,” she said tersely, and then bustled away.
Georgiana followed her husband into the room. It was small, about the size of one of the rooms at the inns they had stayed in. Georgiana put her little satchel of clothing on the bed and looked around her. In addition to the bed, there was a small desk and a chest of drawers, but no other furniture. There was a tiny window that let in a thin stream of sunlight.
“What are you waiting for?”
She turned to see George watching her with his now-usual sneer on his face. She tried not to look at the gap in his mouth where Brother had knocked out two front teeth. She knew George was furious that his good looks had been ruined.
“Waiting for?” she repeated, uncertainly.
“Waiting for?” he mimicked her, unkindly. “Are you waiting for a maid to come and unpack for you,Princess?”
He had taken to calling her Princess. She recalled her father using that pet name for her, and Brother had sometimes called her the Princess of Pemberley. When Papa and Brother had said it, it had sounded like an endearment. But when George said it, it sounded like an insult.
“No,” she whispered.
“Good, because there are no maids.”
She did not respond; instead she opened her satchel and put her small selection of clothing into a drawer.
“I have been thinking…” George said.
She turned to look at him.
“We should go to your relatives here in Town, the Matlocks.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated, mockingly. “To ask for money, of course!”
“No.” She shook her head.
“What do you mean, no?” He was suddenly furious. He was at her side in a moment, and shook her arm roughly.
“No. I will not ask my relatives for money.”
“You will do what I tell you!”
She made no answer.
