Page 81 of Ladies in Hating
She pretended, very hard, all the way home, until her mother opened the door, and she knelt on the floor, and Bacon flung himself into her lap, and she realized abruptly that her face was wet with tears.
“Georgie?” her mother said. “What on earth—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked, like something coming apart. “Please don’t. I need to be alone.”
There was a long silence, and though her gaze was fixed on Bacon’s thick white coat, Georgiana could see that her mother’s pointed slippers did not move.
Eventually, Georgiana lifted her head.
Edith was standing beside the door. She was dressed for walking—she and Bacon must have just come back inside. Her hair was scraped back from her face, pinned ruthlessly into place so that none of the familiar fine blond strands escaped.
Her face was a careful closed blank, and her shoulders were pulled back so that her body made a slim, spare column from the top of her head down to her heels. She stood frozen, one gloved hand closed into a fist at her side.
“I am sorry,” she said finally. Her fingers tightened and then released, but the tense erect carriage of her body did not loosen. “I shan’t intrude upon your privacy.”
And then she turned away.
Georgiana heard her breath escape with a sound like a sob.How did she keep doing this? How was it possible that no matter how she turned and twisted, she hurt someone she loved?
She felt as carved-out and dangerous as a blade—impossible to get close to, impossible to hold.
“Wait. Please wait.”
That had been her voice—she had felt the words form in her mouth, in her lungs—but she did not recognize the hoarse sound.
Her mother turned back, her face unreadable.
“I don’t know what to do,” Georgiana said thickly. “And I’m afraid.”
As she watched, her mother’s fingers twitched toward her, as if to stroke her face. But her hand dropped to her side, and Georgiana felt a single slow stab of grief and loneliness.
But then Edith’s face grew stubborn and set. And then, delicately, she lowered herself to the floor and took Georgiana’s hand. Her voice, when she spoke, was the same as it always was: soft and firm and precise. “You don’t have to tell me. But I want you to know that you are not alone.”
Georgiana couldn’t bring herself to grip her mother’s fingers back, only watch as tears dripped from her jaw and landed on Bacon’s fur. He shoved his head into the hollow of her palm.
It felt inconceivable to explain what she needed—to admit where she’d gone wrong. To admit that all her desperate clinging to independence was a lie. That she wanted too much. That she had lost her way.
Edith had never seemed disappointed by Georgiana’s choices. She had supported Georgiana when Georgiana had told her—softly, secretly—that she did not ever intend to marry. She’d played along with Georgiana’s false front to theton. She had read Georgiana’s books again and again—had long passages ofThe Tale of Josiah Ravenmemorized, for heaven’s sake.
But somehow, it was still impossible for Georgiana to believe that her rejection of societal expectations had not disappointed her mother. Even if Edith did not say it.
And Georgiana did not want to make it worse.
“It’s not—” she said, and then paused and tried again, blinking against her hazed vision. “It’s not about money. Everything is fine with the books. With my career. We’re perfectly secure.”
Very lightly, her mother squeezed her fingers. “Georgie, my love. You know that I am immensely proud of you.”
“I—yes. I do.”
“Then know, too, that I mean this as gently as possible: security is not the most important thing to me.” Her mouth tightened, just a little. “Not anymore.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I should have said this years ago,” her mother said. “I think of speaking every day.” Her voice sounded wry. “Strange, is it not? That it should be so hard to say the words to one’s own child. I’m sorry, Georgiana.”
Georgiana turned, surprised, to face Edith more directly. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry that I did not do better by you and your brothers. I’m sorry that I was not stronger.” Edith’s jaw was still as sharp and precise as a young woman’s, and she was not looking at Georgiana. “I married your father because I believed it to be an advantageous match, and I stayed with him for as long as I did because I did not know what else to do. But if I could live my life over—oh, my dear. I would have taken the three of you and fled. No matter the cost.”
