Chapter 24

The following day was largely occupied in saying farewell to the Howard party, and to the other guests who were to take their leave. Much to everyone's unexpressed relief, this included the Debenhams, who had somehow discovered urgent reasons to be elsewhere. Nobody pressed them for more details; everybody was glad to see them go.

Louisa had instructed her groom to leave at first light, bearing a letter to her nephew; if he made excellent time and encountered no delays, he would reach Lady Irlam's home near Skipton at the end of a long day's travelling. If in turn Hal set off very early on the morning after he received the news of his sister's most unexpected engagement, and proceeded with similar reckless speed, he might arrive at Northriding Castle late that same day, at the cost of sprung horses, snatched meals and physical exhaustion. But he could hardly feel comfortable pushing on so hard if accompanied by his wife, so Georgie did not look to see Cassandra with him, and she was sorry, for she thought her sister-in-law might stand her friend in these trying times. She had had her own adventures around the time of her marriage to Hal, and all had not gone smoothly between them even after they had married. Perhaps she would be able to give sage advice, though Georgie doubted very much that any of it would really be applicable to her most peculiar and difficult situation.

Georgiana found it hard to cope with the affection shown to her by Lady Blanche and her daughter, which she was obliged to meet with answering warmth, feeling a fraud all the while she did so. Lady Blanche, who would presumably – if nothing happened to prevent it – be her sister-in-law too very soon, confessed that she had cherished half a hope that Georgiana and her brother might make a match of it even before the Pendlebury party had arrived, despite all she had said to the contrary. ‘Louisa had talked about you a good deal in her letters, you know, my dear, and so the idea was already in my mind, though of course I said nothing of it to anyone. I could not imagine anyone more suitable on paper. And as soon as I set eyes on you, and, more to the point, as soon as I saw Gabriel set eyes on you, I could not help thinking that you would be perfect for each other! I knew he was interested in you from the outset, and you in him, dare I say? And I am delighted to be proved right!'

She was plainly more than happy to welcome Georgie into the family, and Eleanor in particular seemed glad to gain a relative so near to her in age, who would be able to chaperone her in society soon enough. She endured a particularly awkward conversation in which the girl – who would, how ridiculous, be her niece and might wish to call her Aunt – asked her innocently about her plans for the rest of the year, to which she was obliged to give evasive and unsatisfactory answers, saying that there had been no time to think of such things just yet. It was so far true: she had no plans, but was in an atrocious state of confusion.

Despite the happy news, everyone who remained at the Castle seemed a little lethargic and lacking in energy that day, no doubt as a result of their exertions at the ball, and it came on to rain hard as the afternoon progressed, a heavy, cold, drenching rain that depressed the spirits. The greatly reduced party did not linger downstairs long after dinner, and the Duke was sensitive enough to Georgie's mood that he made no suggestion of visiting her later, and did not appear in her chamber unannounced, as he so easily could have done. She lay awake a while, wondering if he would come, unsure if she wanted him to, wondering what she would say to him if he did. But he did not, and at last she fell into a restless sleep, plagued by unquiet dreams.

She slept late the following morning, but rose in time to bid goodbye to Mrs and Miss Templeton – formally, in the case of the older lady, whom she had never liked, and affectionately when it came time to take leave of her daughter. They embraced, and Alice whispered a fervent, ‘Thank you!' in Georgiana's ear. It seemed unlikely that Georgie would ever be able to convince her friend that she had not sacrificed herself for her sake, and she certainly did not feel equal to attempting the task now. Her feelings about the prospect of marriage to the Duke were complex, and seemed to change by the minute. She did not think Alice would understand; how could she, when Georgie did not understand herself?

Georgiana, Lady Louisa and Miss Spry were now the only guests in the Castle, and an air of greater informality prevailed, along with a certain lessening of tension. When the Duke suggested that he and Georgie took a walk together after nuncheon, nobody suggested that any supervision was necessary. The expression on Louisa's face showed all too plainly that she considered it rather too late for that.

They made their way down through the depths of the Castle to the beach, dispensing with any aid on this occasion, His Grace carrying the lantern. The dogs had wanted to accompany him, but he had called a footman to hold them back and make sure they did not follow, though they whined piteously at being left. The descent was made largely in silence, and the pair did not speak of anything but commonplaces until they were outside on the strand. The tide was out, and a large expanse of gleaming beach was revealed, without so much as a human footprint to mar its perfection. The rain had stopped during the night, everything was as fresh and clean and shining as it could be, and fitful beams of hazy sunlight struck silver from the waves.

‘What an extraordinary place this is. It's so beautiful,' said Georgie, anxious to keep the conversation upon such unexceptionable topics as the scenery and the weather.

‘I have always found it so. Miss Spry would agree with you, I imagine, since she is of a literary bent, but I doubt many others among our recent party could be persuaded of it.'

‘Mary Debenham would have gone into raptures over a pile of mouldy sacking if she thought it would curry favour with you!'

‘True, but she would have been quite obviously dissembling, and you are not. And you forget, it would have been a pile of mouldy ducal sacking.'

‘That makes all the difference.'

‘To her, certainly.' He stopped, and turned to face her. ‘Georgiana…'

She looked up at him, stray curls blowing across her wind-flushed cheeks, her expression troubled, and he pulled her close. She had no will to resist him, but warned him feebly, ‘We can be seen from every window on this side of the Castle, I dare say.'

‘I am not proposing to throw you down on the wet sand and have my wicked way with you, my dear, tempting though the idea may be. Although I should tell you that, if I did, I imagine any spectators at Northriding would probably feel impelled to cheer us on rather than to disapprove.'

‘Of course – the heir.'

‘The heir. But that is a cold and impersonal word to use, is it not? Our child, Georgie. I believe I should ask you, though perhaps it is unwise of me to do so: how do you feel about that; about the prospect of motherhood, perhaps quite soon?'

‘It is not that I mind. I do not think it's that. I was raised in the expectation of becoming a mother, and my own family life has been a very happy one, unlike so many, unlike the Cavendishes, for example. It is the fact that we hardly know each other that disturbs me,' she said suddenly, feeling the truth in her words as she spoke them. ‘We are discussing making a child together, yet we really don't know the least thing about each other. I don't think that we have had a single conversation that has not consisted mainly of outrageous flirting, and ended in kisses rather than confidences.'

‘It is the way our society is arranged. Not the kisses, of course, but all the rest. The lack of acquaintance, certainly. If I were not standing here with you now, remember that I would be talking in some superficial fashion with Miss Debenham, Miss Templeton, or one of the others, if indeed I were permitted to walk with any one of them unchaperoned.'

‘It's barbaric.'

‘It is what we have.' He sighed. ‘You know I agree with you. It is barbaric, for many reasons. I am sure you think that as a man I have a great deal of freedom, far more than you have or ever will have, and of course this is true in many ways, but not in all. I must provide this estate and all its people with an heir. I have a duty to them that can no longer be shirked, and my own inclinations are of no importance. If I were one of those men for whom the female sex holds no attraction whatsoever, if I cared at all for duty and family, I must still persuade some woman to marry me, and we must go to bed together and contrive to make a child between us, however much we both hated every minute of it. A miserable prospect for both, I am sure you agree. We are not farm animals.'

‘How fortunate that you are not such a man,' she said bitingly. ‘Quite the reverse, in fact.'

‘I suppose you have no reason to believe me, Georgiana, but I have never been indiscriminate in my amours, which have in any case not been as frequent as rumour would have you believe. I swear to you that I have never pressed my attentions on anyone. The prospect of making advances to a woman who had agreed to be my wife through parental pressure or even her own ambition, yet shrank at the prospect of my touch, was always distasteful to me. It could not be anything else.'

‘At least she would have explicitly agreed.'

‘Where you have not?'

She made no answer, and he swore violently. ‘I don't know what to do,' he said at last. ‘I have never known such uncertainty. I can release you from our betrothal – of course I can. Today, or in a week, or a month. We can insert a conventional announcement of our engagement in the papers directly, and then another a while later, saying that it has been called off. It will be understood that you have jilted me, and I can live with that if I must. I could say… Georgiana, this is an impossible position to be in. If I say your reputation may suffer some damage as a result, if you reject me after the way we were seen together at the ball, you will reply that of course it is to my advantage to point that out. That is so, but it does not make it untrue.'

‘I do not know that I care so very much for my reputation just now. My brother may feel differently, of course.'

‘Let us not bring others into this any more than we need. I do not give a fig for your brother's feelings, or your aunt's, or even my sister's. But Georgiana, if you mean to refuse me, that is of course your right, but you know I must look elsewhere, and quickly. However much I sicken at the thought of it.'

‘I have ruined everything for you!' she cried as sudden cold realisation hit her. ‘Oh, God, but I have. Your house party, all your arrangements, all of it wasted. And if I did as you suggest, you would be obliged to court another woman immediately. But what decent family would want a man who has so recently been betrothed to someone else in scandalous circumstances, and then soon after jilted for mysterious reasons that surely could not be to his credit? It would mean that your choice of bride must surely be made from those who are solely concerned with your position and your fortune. And you will be tied to such a woman for life, and it will be my fault!'

‘How can I possibly answer you?' he said, his voice constricted. ‘Whoever should own the blame, or even if there should be no blame to apportion, everything else you say is true. And yet you know I desire to marry you and no other woman in the world. Just you. Beyond that bare fact, what on earth can I say?'

She was crying now, salt tears pouring down her face and making her eyes and lips sting in the sharp breeze. He swore again when he saw, and took her by the shoulders. ‘Georgiana, I could say I do not want you as a sacrifice. Christ knows I do not want you to marry me for some noble and misguided reasons against your will. I have said a dozen times that I do not want an unwilling bride, and least of all if that bride is you. I would prefer you come to me of your own free choice. But if I must be completely honest with you, now that we are speaking of it, I know that for my part I do not have the strength to be noble. Do not expect it of me, I beg you, for if you expect it you will be disappointed.'

She looked up at him questioningly through drenched lashes.

He said bluntly, ‘I mean that I will take you on any terms I am offered.'

‘If my brother should force me – but he would not – you would still take me on those terms?' she sniffed.

‘I fear I would. No – I know I would. On those terms, on any terms, as long as I can have you.' He took out his handkerchief and wiped her face, but the gentleness of his touch in contrast with the stark nature of his words just made her weep the more, until he took her in his arms and let her sob her distress and confusion out into his shoulder.

At last she drew away from him a little and tried to regain her composure. ‘I can't do any more of this now. It is too exhausting. I will have my brother to face soon enough.'

‘I am sorry for it. I am not in the least acquainted with him, though I believe I know him by sight. He is tall, is he not, one of the younger Corinthian set, with the dark hair and striking bright blue eyes you Pendleburys all seem to share? I have always thought, if indeed I thought about it at all, that he seemed amiable enough. My poor girl, is he in truth so very terrible and stern? I will protect you, if I can. If we engineer matters so that he sees me first and has his fill of abusing me – as he is entitled to do – before he has a chance for a private interview with you…'

Georgie laughed at the picture thus presented to her, glad of the lightening of mood after so much intensity. ‘He's not terrible at all, and anything but stern. He is the best of brothers, and even when I got myself in a terrible tangle last year he barely censured me as almost any other man would have done. It's not that I'm afraid of him in the least. The idea is ridiculous. I'm just ashamed.'

‘Of what we have done?' His face was closed now, unreadable to her once more. ‘Of being caught, and exposed to public embarrassment? I suppose that is reasonable.'

‘Not that, or not exactly that. Of the trouble I have caused him, now and in the past. You know that we were orphaned eight years ago, and poor Hal – who was barely one and twenty then – was obliged to take care of all five of us, at an age when most other young men care for nothing but their own pleasure. Bastian has always been well-behaved, but I have been a constant trial, and the younger boys are monsters. It would take me all day to tell you of the mischief that they have caused.' She gave a little hiccup of laughter. ‘Jonathan and Hugh once tried to stow away on a ship of the line, and almost caused an international incident.'

‘You have four brothers?'

‘Five, and no sisters. Alice Templeton thinks that's why I am not scared of you.'

‘Perhaps it is, at that. I imagine growing up with five brothers could have that effect. I only had one myself, two years younger, and a much older half-sister.'

‘I did not know you and Lady Blanche were not full siblings.'

He shrugged. ‘It makes no difference to us. We have always been as close as our age-gap permitted. I have visited her every year in Ireland, or she has come here.'

‘Sir…'

‘I think by now you may be allowed to call me Gabriel, you know, my dear.'

‘Gabriel, then, I am sorry. I cannot repeat it often enough, I think. For saying that I had lost a husband at Waterloo, that whole ridiculous story, when you had lost your brother and your cousin there. It was unforgiveable of me.'

‘How could you know? I do not regard it, I assure you. You meant no harm.'

‘I never mean any harm, but still I cause it. It's just another example of my thoughtlessness. I have sworn a hundred times to do better, but still I keep on making these reckless errors.'

‘You think our marriage is another such? No! No, it is my turn to apologise. Do not answer that. I know you are weary of these endless discussions, and you have more to face later. Let us walk on, and talk of something else. You will catch cold if we stand here any longer.'

She agreed readily, and they walked on across the lonely beach, her arm through his, and talked of lighter matters for a while, to the relief of them both. One could not live at such a pitch for ever, and there would be more challenges to face soon enough.