Whoever Miss Wilcox was, he was in no danger of being overcome. He would do what he could for his mother’s sake, but he was in no way prepared to throw himself into the project. He was far too busy and lately it had been one thing after another. His valet, who’d been with him for years, had taken himself off to America to do he knew not what—something about land and cows. His new valet, Marcus, had not quite got the hang of things yet. A chimney on the east wing had begun to crumble and needed repair, and a shelf in the wine cellar had collapsed, taking with it some of the house’s best wine.
Those were all the sort of minor annoyances that took up one’s time and he did not have extra time to give away. Miss Wilcox would have to shift for herself—the queen had need of him.
Chapter Two
Lord Manley pacedbehind the desk in his library while Georgiana patiently waited for him to speak. Lady Manley had carried on for days, each new idea sending her into a frenzy. She was offended that she would not go to Town and that the countess wanted only Georgiana. She decried the idea that she was to be thrown over as a mother, though prior to this moment she had never been interested in the state. She named Lady Mendleton a terrible snob and claimed she was only ignored because her father had been in trade. That one might well be true but was rather beside the point.
A woman had arrived some days ago, sent from Lady Mendleton to take Georgiana’s measurements. There were to be various gowns and day dresses made and, alarmingly, a riding habit. Georgiana took this to mean that it was assumed she was accustomed to a sidesaddle. She was not certain what she ought to do about that, but there was hardly time to think of it between her mother’s various hysterics.
The idea of new clothes, in particular, sent Lady Manley into fits. She took to walking down memory lane and recalling all the fine dresses she deserved but never had. The poor seamstress had done the fitting with alacrity, furiously writing down measurements and making samples in muslin. She had firmly declined the baron’s offer to spend the night.
Doctor Wade had finally been called to Manley Hall and Lady Manley had been dosed with her oft-received and very favored calming draught—a mixture of lavender water, apple wine, and a good helping of laudanum. It’d had a good effect and the lady had been taken down from high dudgeon to merely querulous.
“Father,” Georgiana said, “do sit down and rest. It has been a…distressing time.”
The baron did finally sit down. “And will be again, as soon as that draught wears off. But you will be out of range soon enough, my dear, and I am happy for it.”
Georgiana nodded and thought if she would miss anything about this house, it was only her father. He was a kind and sensible man.
“Well then,” her father said, “we ought to talk about Town. Though, I have not been since I was a young man and much will have changed.”
“Tell me what you remember, though,” Georgiana said. In truth, she did not know what to expect. Certainly, it would be different, though she could not say how.
“What I remember most, I suppose, is that things in Town are a little more…boxed in. More formal, that is. There will be a lot of rules on how one is expected to conduct oneself.”
“What sort of rules?”
“Hmm, I cannot be entirely certain, things do change so rapidly. But for instance, I am sure it will not be right to ride astride. Of that I am absolutely sure, as it is not even quite the thinghere.”
Georgiana was not surprised as that had been in her thoughts before now. She had never tried out a sidesaddle and hoped it was as straightforward as it appeared to be.
“I really ought to have seen to a proper saddle,” the baron said. “I fault myself and hope it does you no harm.”
“Sidesaddle cannot be so hard, Papa,” Georgiana said reassuringly. “I am certain it will be no trouble—Margaret Hardy uses one easily enough and she is prone to trip over her own two feet.”
Baron Manley nodded gratefully at being let off the hook on that particular subject. “Then of course,” he continued, “it is even quite usual in our little corner of England that only the gentlemen stay behind for port and that all the ladies retire to the drawing room. Though we may run things looser in our own house…”
“I’ve always enjoyed our conversations after dinner, Papa. And port for that matter.”
“Yes, but that’s the sort of thing that only goes on with us. Nobody else will do it. In general, I think your good instincts may steer you. Though, perhaps it will not always be right to say what is on your mind.”
The baron stared at the far wall, as if he were thinking hard. After a gentle sigh, he said, “I suppose what I mean is, I have been lax in your education and I hope it does not result in any difficulties, my dear. Perhaps suppress your natural…enthusiastic honesty. At least until you get the lay of the land. Lady Mendleton will guide you and she will expect you to wish to be guided.”
Georgiana smiled, finally understanding her father’s meaning. “What I think you say, Father, is do not set London afire with my forthright opinions.”
“Just so, Georgie.”
*
Six days later,the Countess of Mendleton had been as good as her word. Georgiana had heard the carriage rolling up the drive to Manley Hall as she sat at breakfast with her father. It was all too evident that her mother, still abed above stairs, heard it too. She glanced at the ceiling and the distant wailing heard over their heads.
The baron had thought it wise to make some prior arrangements for this particular day. Writing back and forth to the countess, he had expressed the idea that the carriage ought to stop the night before at an inn nearby so that the horses were fresh and Georgiana’s departure might be made speedily. The countess was left to think this was on account of Lady Manley’s distress at parting from her daughter. Everybody else knew this was to avoid whatever scene Lady Manley had planned to express her vexation over not being included.
Georgiana’s trunks, such as they were, were packed and by the front doors. There would be no dilly-dallying in her leave-taking, lest her mother have time to dress and come down and say or do nobody knew what.
She took a last bite of toast and leapt up, her father already heading for the door. Marta helped her into her traveling cloak and bonnet, and Georgiana hurried out the front doors and down the steps.
The carriage that stood on the circular drive was well-appointed, with a coat of arms emblazoned in gold paint on the door and pulled by four fine chestnuts. It was driven by a burly coachman, the type one suspects has a pistol in each pocket and would not hesitate to use them. Two tall grooms had leapt off the running boards and a pert lady’s maid popped her head out the window.
