Lady Featherstone slightly squinted, as if attempting to peer into a future conversation with her viscount. Such a sum would severely curtail his gambling habits for a year at least, which would not put him in a cheerful frame of mind. However, Theodosia was right. They had no choice.
Lady Mendleton suddenly leapt up from her chair, sending the crumbs from a recently eaten biscuit flying in all directions. “Oh, I cannot even sit still. I must speak.”
The ladies all turned in her direction. Lady Mendleton smiled and said softly, “I have found my girl. Miss Georgiana Wilcox, Baron Manley’s daughter. Her lines are very good, as he is a cousin. At least I believe he is, though it is rather distant. The mother is not ideal, of course, she is the daughter of a local tradesman of some sort. Well, you know how those things happen—leave a young gentleman to his own devices… But no matter, the girl takes after her father, I am sure. I have written him, and he has written me, and she is everything I could wish for—pretty, well-mannered, modest, and so very grateful.”
“What luck, Louisa!” Lady Featherstone said. She was not particularly surprised that Louisa Stapleton had jumped in headfirst. She was a cheerful and impetuous sort of person.
“Luck, you say? Where is the investigation?” Lady Heathway cried, setting her cup down with a clatter. “Naturally, a father seeing a chance for his daughter will praise her to the skies. You do not have the first idea of what you get yourself into. She may take after the mother! She may be coarse.”
Lady Mendleton, well used to Lady Heathway’s habit of naysaying, ignored her warnings. She clapped her hands together. “The girl arrives on the fifteenth.”
“Goodness,” Lady Featherstone said, “that is only a fortnight from now. There is so much planning to be done. Louisa, what preparations have you made? Has a modiste been secured? Have the right balls and parties been accepted? I understand the queen is foregoing presentations this year on account of the poor king’s condition so you can at least strike that off your list, but will you have your own ball?”
Lady Mendleton slowly turned a pale pink and it was abundantly clear that nothing at all had been done. “I have thought of which room she might occupy,” she said softly. “And ordered some new wallpaper for it.”
Lady Featherstone sighed. Louisa was a darling, but not much of a planner.
Lady Heathway shook her head sadly and whispered, “Willy-nilly is what this is. I predict a disaster, just see if I am not right.”
“Nonsense, Penelope,” the duchess said. “Iam involved and I do not involve myself in disasters. Therefore, ladies, we must all pull together.”
The ladies nodded eagerly, Lady Mendleton herself perhaps the most enthusiastically.
*
Miss Georgiana Wilcox,daughter of Baron Manley, had always done just what she liked in her corner of England. She was perfectly aware that her upbringing was not as it should have been, and that her family’s fortunes had been in slow decline for the past three generations.
She had resigned herself to the idea that her mother, a rather silly creature whose primary activity was gossiping in the village, had been completely unequipped to supervise her education. Her dear father, though well-spoken and cultured, had not the funds to hire a governess or tutors. This circumstance had left her to teach herself in a rather haphazard fashion. She could vaguely play the pianoforte, but not in a manner that anybody would like to listen to—she did not read music and if she could not remember the proper key, she just chose one. The chosen key was invariably wrong, as she did not have a natural ear. She could sew, or at least look like she was sewing, though the results were a conglomeration of ragged stitches that came apart with remarkable ease. She was an excellent rider, though only astride, and that was perhaps her highest accomplishment. She had learned that way and there had been every intention of purchasing a sidesaddle when she was fully grown, but somehow it had never appeared. She supposed it did not signify as she only rode through her father’s extensive wood and took a carriage to the village. There were whispers of it, occasionally, but in a neighborhood so limited nobody was eager to break with the local baron over his daughter’s habits.
She adored reading, at least, and the house had a decent library. Of all the things that her father had sold off over the years, he would not sell his books. The books had given her whatever education she had acquired. Georgiana had done her best, though she often wondered if it had been good enough. She was well-aware that she ought to have read more history and philosophy and read less about horses and horse breeding.
For all that, she was not an unhappy person. Once she had been old enough to understand her circumstances, she resolved to make the best of it. She would never be dressed in finery and slay the gentlemen at an elegant ball during a London season. It seemed a bit of a shame, as the one thing her motherhadgiven her was a pile of wavy black hair that might look charming set off with a sparkling tiara. However, with no tiaras in sight, she would settle for marrying a dashing soldier who might turn up at the local assembly. At least, she hoped so, though she was not unaware that she could sometimes frighten even a soldier. She’d garnered a reputation of being exceedingly direct. Too direct, as some of the local matrons kindly hinted. As she was not particularly inclined to be less direct, she supposed she’d better find herself a gentleman who could stand up against it and who better than a soldier?
As was her habit, she’d taken her father’s horse for a morning ride. It was well that her father was in possession of a great deal of woodland, as her skirts rode up rather shockingly on either side of his saddle. Fortunately, the only creatures to view her ankles this fine morning were those that lived in the forest and were not prone to gossip.
Georgiana had just reined in Mischief at the stream that ran nearby the stables so the horse might get a drink before she took him in.
Though it might be her own habit to rise with the sun, it had never been her mother’s inclination. Lady Manley preferred something rather nearer to noon. Therefore, Georgiana was surprised to see her running down the lane toward the stables. She was also surprised to note that the lady had not paused to dress and was still in her bed gown.
“Where is Georgiana?” she shrieked into the air.
Matthew, one of the stable hands, came out to investigate. The boy did not look particularly alarmed, as all on the grounds were used to Lady Manley shrieking quite often.
Georgiana gently spurred Mischief, who seemed not very enthusiastic about leaving the vicinity of the stream, to discover what Lady Manley was shouting about this time.
“I am just coming, Mama,” Georgiana called.
Matthew tipped his cap to her and retreated gratefully into the stables. Georgiana trotted Mischief to her mother, who was fairly jumping on the lane.
“Has Marta set the kitchens on fire again?” Georgiana asked playfully.
“Not that I know of, but she might be doing it this minute to vex me,” Lady Manley said. She was a short woman and the rosy cheeks that had once defeated Lord Manley and convinced him to marry a tradesman’s daughter had long fled. The rosiness had been replaced by a rather dough-like countenance that spoke of too many cakes and biscuits. Georgiana would tower over the lady, even if she had not been on her horse, which was a constant source of aggravation, though nobody was clear why.
“That diabolical woman who poses as a servant is not why I’ve roused myself so early in the day,” Lady Manley said.
Georgiana could not imagine whathadroused the lady, but it was clear enough that it had not been a pleasant circumstance.
“Your father has been in receipt of a letter for two days while I have been kept completely in the dark! I found it while looking…well never mind where I was looking. The point is, I found it and demanded an explanation!”
