Karen Harbaugh (16 page)

Above all, I would be safe; I did not want to be hurt as Mama had been hurt. The safest course, then, would be not to think of love or marriage at all, but to take comfort in what I had and knew. I would go on as I had before, caring for and being cared for by Mama, resolutely setting aside my feelings for Lucas, discarding my plans for her marriage with Sir Jeremy, since they did not seem to be working anyway. Who was I, after all, to fiddle with the destiny of others, whatever Miss Angstead might have thought?

I settled down more comfortably in the pillows. I had been foolish. I was only seventeen—well, almost eighteen, but I was not all
that
grown up. To be sure, I had gone to Samantha’s party, wearing a far from schoolgirlish dress and my hair up, had been kissed— No, I would not think of that. After all, there were still more years to go before I would be absolutely on the shelf—if I considered marriage at all.

But Samantha is thinking of marriage and is of an age with you,
whispered a last, fading voice. I ignored it. I started making other plans. Mama and I would be together, I would care for her, I would practice my painting until my pictures sold, I would ... I finally fell into my despised nap.

I woke again to the sound of a light tapping. I rose up on my elbow, rubbing my eyes with one hand. “Yes? Who is it?” I said.

“It is I, Georgia,” came Mama’s voice. The door opened a crack, and she peered in. “Oh, dear, did I wake you? I had hoped I did not, but I could not wait to tell you.” She floated to the window and swept aside the drapes. The sun shone on her hair and formed a halo about her face. “So dim in here! Oh, Georgia, I could not wait!” She turned to me, her face glowing, and clasped my hand in hers. “Oh, my dear girl, my dear, dear darling girl, I am to be married! I am so happy!”

Chapter Eight

My world turned top over tails again. I felt faint, but luckily Mama did not see this, for she had turned again to the window. Then she whirled around in an ecstatic waltz, laughing, and finally fell onto a chair. “Oh, I cannot believe it! Well, Jeremy had asked me before, and I had refused him since I did not believe he could seriously think my background would make me fit to be his wife. But, oh, my dear! He did think it! Why, he practically abducted me! I went out today thinking we were to have merely a small al fresco luncheon, and what should he do but pull a special license from the bread basket! And he had it arranged that we should be married in a quaint little church close by! Well, of course, I would not marry so abruptly, and I did want you there with me in church when we
did.
So we are to be married two weeks from now, in that same little church! You may imagine I could hardly eat after he pulled out the marriage license, but what is luncheon, after all, compared with marrying the man I love?”

I had recovered enough by this time to smile. “Oh, Mama, I am so glad,” I said, determined to go through this without letting her know the turmoil I was in. “It is as I had hoped. I do like Sir Jeremy. It shall be nice to have a father again.”

Perhaps my voice sounded odd, for Mama looked anxious and said, “Are—are you sure, my dear?” She looked almost like a child caught in a scrape, and this made me smile in spite of myself.

“Of course I am sure! Why, I have been scheming for you to marry Sir Jeremy since I came home! Clever, was I not, M-Mama?” I could not help myself;

my voice broke and I sobbed unrestrainedly.

I felt comforting arms around me. “Oh, heavens, what have I done? I had thought you would have liked it; you did keep saying you wanted a father! I should never have succumbed to Jeremy’s arguments!”

I lifted my head and summoned up a smile. “Nonsense, Mama! I am just so happy that you and Sir Jeremy will marry and that you shall not be lonely any longer. It is just this illness; I seem to succumb to the slightest sentimentalities!” I gave her a hug to reassure her—and myself. “I am so glad!” I put as much enthusiasm in my voice as I could. “Now I can be easy that you shall not be lonely again!”

She was convinced. Indeed, I
was
glad; how could I not be when I could see her whole being shine with her love of Sir Jeremy? But...what of me? A selfish thought, but I could not help thinking it. It seemed that the base of my world was nothing but sand and my future unsure. I had pretended to think of myself finding employment and being Mama’s sole support—but I more than half believed it myself. At the same time, I had listened to Samantha’s plans for her Season, and more than half wished I could share the experience. But the first bubble had burst with Mama’s marriage, and as for the second—I had to admit I knew nothing of such things beyond what I had heard in gossip at school. What did one have to do or be to qualify for a Season in London?

My mind again brought back the sneers of the girls at school and the loneliness there, and I was sure that those who were presented to the ton did not suffer such indignities. I was on the brink of womanhood, and my thoughts on it were vague and tinged with trepidation. I had been used to thinking myself a girl forever; I felt uncomfortable thinking of what came after or what would happen to me when I was a girl no longer.

* * * *

Mama’s marriage to Sir Jeremy was a nine days’ wonder. The ton had nearly given up the thought that a hardened bachelor like Sir Jeremy would even lend his thoughts to marriage after all the eligible young ladies thrown at him year after year. The announcement of their marriage caused a sensation; who, after all, was this woman of obscure background who had ensnared the Unsnarable? It seemed Sir Jeremy and Mama had been extraordinarily discreet; few, if any, had heard of Mrs. Canning lately, and even the gentlemen who had formed her admiring circle had got no nearer than arm’s length and knew only that Sir Jeremy had been as one of them, although a little more favored than most. Those who remembered recalled that there were the Cannings of Somerset and that there had been a runaway match between a younger son and some young lady. Some others remembered a youthful Major Canning who bravely gave his life during the Peninsular wars and who had left a young wife and child behind.

The curious called or left their cards. Some claimed to have known Mama of old when Papa had been alive; some even claimed to be related. Of the former, Mama seemed mentally to shrug her shoulders and accept them at their word if they were pleasant enough. The latter fell into three categories: the opportunists who clearly wanted to batten on Mama’s good fortune, the Swifts, and the Cannings.

The opportunists were politely but speedily dismissed. When it became clear what these people were about, Mama quickly changed from an amiable, laughing lady to an austerely mannered, haughty matron. I was amazed at how quickly she could make their fawning manners wilt and freeze all conversation to a standstill.

The Swifts were entirely different. Two of Sir Jeremy’s aunts near London came to town on the heels of the announcement. Lady Sheffield, the eldest, was his father’s sister, as was Mrs. Harris. The former, a marchioness, lived up to the dignity of the title; indeed, she made Mama quite nervous at first. Her manner was old-fashioned and austere, her countenance severe, with sharp planes and angles at cheek and chin. But she proved herself to be kindly for all that and was clearly delighted that Sir Jeremy had finally come around to do his duty to his name and produce an heir.

Mama actually blushed at this last statement; Lady Sheffield took this as a sign of great modesty in her and kindly patted her hand, saying she would do very well and that she was glad her nephew had had the sense to choose a pretty-behaved and modest young woman. This caused Mama to blush even more furiously, and she looked appealingly at Sir Jeremy; but he only grinned mischievously at her and solemnly agreed with his aunt.

Mrs. Harris was quite the opposite of Lady Sheffield; where her ladyship was all sharp angles and unbending of manner, her sister was all rounded plumpness and sighing romanticism. She had accompanied Lady Sheffield on her visit but said little beyond the exclamations of congratulation and felicity. She cast speaking glances to both her nephew and his wife, clasped her hands, sighed, and fluttered the lace of her handkerchief as she dabbed sentimentally at her eyes. After they left, I could see that Mama had become more comfortable in her new role as Lady Swift; their approval had dissipated any fears that she would not be an acceptable wife for Sir Jeremy.

It was a good thing that the Swifts had called on us before the Cannings. The Viscountess Canning deigned to cross our threshold at last, and such was her demeanor upon admittance to our parlour that an impartial bystander would have thought she had been forced to visit Newgate Prison instead of a residence at Half-Moon Street. Fortified by the knowledge that the Swifts found no fault with her—indeed approved the match—Mama was able to greet the viscountess with a calm and truly regal air.

As she was announced into our presence, Mama rose. She was looking particularly beautiful in a soft lavender-pink gown, her only ornament a single diamond pendant. The lavender color and turban on her head were the only things that distinguished her from a young girl. Her appearance was enough to give the viscountess pause as she entered the room.

She recovered, however, and came forward. “Lady Swift, I presume?” Lady Canning said haughtily.

I suppressed a frown. Who else would it be? I thought indignantly. If Mama had any similar thought, she did not reveal it. She came forward and curtsied most gracefully as her ladyship extended two wrinkled fingers. Mama barely touched them before the viscountess withdrew her hand. “I see you have done well for yourself. Sir Jeremy Swift. Very well indeed.” Her hawk eyes left Mama and fixed on me. “And this ... ?”

Mama’s lips tightened, but she said coolly enough, “Georgia, your granddaughter, my lady.” I gave a credible curtsy, I believe the best since Miss Angstead’s. For Mama’s sake, I said to myself, I would be on my best behavior.

Lady Canning beckoned to me. “Come here, girl. I must look at you.” I bridled at her arrogant voice, but after catching a warning look from Mama, I subsided and came forward. A viselike grip took hold of my chin, and I was forced to look at her ladyship. Her steel grey eyes examined me as if I were a horse, and I stared back at her lean face as calmly as I could. How rude of her, I thought to myself, even if she is my grandmother and a viscountess!

The thought must have reflected in my face, for she let go of me and emitted a short bark of laughter. “You show yourself to be a Canning, if I am not mistaken, with that look! You have your father’s eyes and hair, and yes”—she flicked my chin with her finger—”that devilish stubborn chin.” She turned away and glanced at Mama. “As for the rest,” she said, her voice void of interest, “you take after your mother.”

I grew angry again at her tone, but I lowered my eyes and said demurely, “I am so glad you think so, my lady! I have always thought Mama to be the most beautiful lady I have ever known.”

I heard Mama gasp and begin to remonstrate, only to be interrupted by Lady Canning’s short laugh. “Impertinent minx!” I raised my eyes and saw she had pursed her lips, but there was a glint of approval in her eyes. “You are loyal, at least.”

I curtsied again. “Yes, ma’am. Mama has told me that Cannings are always so.”

A “Humph!” was the response she gave to this accolade to Mama’s raising of me, though she was momentarily surprised into giving Mama a sharp, assessing glance.

Mama took this break in conversation to order tea. She served it with her usual grace, and the viscountess seemed wont to take it with more of an accepting demeanor than previously.

“I have come,” said her ladyship in a more expansive tone, “at an opportune time, I think.” Mama looked at her questioningly. Lady Canning gave what could have been a smile. “Come now, Lady Swift, you must realize that your marriage changes things a little for you and my granddaughter.”

“A little, I will admit,” said Mama, smiling. “I have acquired a husband, and my daughter a father.”

“More than that, I think,” replied her ladyship. “You are newly married. No doubt you will be going on your honeymoon.” Mama raised her eyebrows at this excursion into her private life but inclined her head. “My granddaughter is close to eighteen, if I am not mistaken, and it is time she thought of marriage, do you not agree?” Mama opened her mouth and closed it, looked at me, then nodded again. “How awkward it is, then, that you should be going on your honeymoon just as she should be having her Season, don’t you think?”

Mama sank onto her chair, clearly taken aback. “It is true she is near eighteen, but Georgia is still young yet, and I had thought she would accompany us to—”

Lady Canning waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing is more awkward, I assure you, than having a young chit of a thing at one’s heels during one’s travels.”

“Georgia would
not
be at our heels, madame!” retorted Mama with a good deal of heat, but she was cut off.

Her ladyship smiled condescendingly. “You may not think of yourself, Lady Swift, but you must think of your daughter. The sooner she enters society, the better her chances at an eligible connection. As for her youth, why, at her age I was already wed and heavy with my first child!” She gave Mama an assessing glance. “And I’ll wager you were not much older, as well.”

“Excuse me, my lady,” I spoke up, “but I really have no thought of marriage.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the viscountess. “I have never heard of a young lady who has not thought prodigiously about marriage.” She looked at Mama as if to blame her for my unorthodox statement but saw that Mama was nodding in agreement. She sniffed but said, “And what do you think you will be doing with yourself if you do not marry?”

“I—I could become a paintrix and support myself doing portraits. Or perhaps a school-mistress,” I said defiantly, but the words sounded immensely foolish in the face of her obvious scorn.

“Fiddlesticks! A more nonsensical scheme than that I have yet to hear. No, no, it’s a Season you’ll be wanting and a Season you’ll be getting,” she pronounced triumphantly.