Page 43 of Georgiana
“Yes, my Lady. I’ll be done shortly and have a footman bring down the trunk right away.
“Thank you, Anna. I’ll be waiting in the front foyer when you are ready.”
Anna hurried down to Lady Georgiana’s room and quickly placed the last bits of clothing in the waiting trunk. About to exit the now empty bedchamber, she spied a package of letters on her ladyship’s desk. She picked them up and saw they were addressed to His Grace, The Duke of Adborough. Before she retrieved her cloak, she bundled them up with a pale pink ribbon and placed them in the box for outgoing mail near the butler’s office. Mr. Chapman would see that they were forwarded to the Duke tomorrow morning.
Georgiana slid the sheets into a leather folder made especially for her music and hurried into the front foyer. Chapman waited by the door; her cloak folded over his arm. Anna slipped into the room through a servant’s door.
“Anna, I think I left some letters on my desk. Did you take care of them?”
She’d written a final letter before leaving. It somehow seemed fitting, but couldn’t recall if she’d placed them with her new journal for packing.
“Yes, m’Lady.” Anna said. “I made sure they were all tied together so they wouldn’t become separated and lost.”
“Good.” Her shoulders slumped in relief. She did not want Mrs. Howell or one of the other maids to inadvertently come across them. They might take it upon themselves to read them and have a good laugh over what a foolish girl she’d been. In fact, she should burn them, but there wasn’t time. Fitz was pacing the entrance way as it was and Richard had assumed a silent vigil near the front door.
Georgiana shrugged the cloak over her shoulders and with a quick glance toward Chapman, she whispered a thank you. He acknowledged her with a slight, yet gracious nod. The carriage trundled up the drive from the stables. She and Anna would ride together, while Fitz and Richard rode alongside with the armed outriders. She hurried down the front steps of Adborough Hall and was helped into the carriage by a young footman. Although his face remained stoic, Georgiana could see that his eyes were full of curiosity.
Her escape had all the elements of a Gothic novel. Courageous heroine stealing away with her maid before the evil master returned. At least the sun shone bright and she wasn’t in her nightgown, trussed up in a smelly woolen blanket. A small part of her acknowledged this time Maxwell would not be her knight in shining armor. After three long months with no word from him and learning what he believed of her, she held no hope of his return.
Two days later…London
“These arrived by post this morning, your Grace.” Benson carefully placed the mail on the corner of his desk.
Max looked up from his desk where he’d been unsuccessfully trying to balance the household accounts from Adborough Hall. This was madness, attempting to run his estate from London. What would take only an hour or two with his steward now took weeks. On top of that he couldn’t stop thinking of the visit Nathan paid him over a week ago, levelling all sorts of accusations.
Since then he’d spent many restless nights vacillating between anger and heartache. Angered by how deceived he’d been and heartache over the lost dream of a girl he’d love for so long. Even if he returned to Adborough Hall after the self-imposed exile, he didn’t know if he could bear becoming intimate with a woman who had known other men.
He eyed the usual pile of envelopes and stopped breathing at the sight of a stack of ivory cream ones emblazoned with his ducal crest, bound by a soft pink ribbon.
With a mixture of anger and trepidation Max stared at them for over ten minutes. Convinced they would be endless pleas for forgiveness coupled with Georgiana begging to be allowed to attend London so she could snare another unsuspecting dupe into fawning over her, he tossed them into a drawer.
Two weeks later, searching for a ledger, Max stopped cold as his hand pushed against the bundle of letters. Anticipating a return of his anger, yet knowing he should read the blasted things, he slid the ribbon off and opened the first letter.
September 16, 1814
My darling Maxwell,
May I call you Maxwell, for that is how I think of you? Forgive me for being so forward, but Mrs. Annesley long ago advised me to write down what is close to my heart when I cannot speak them with my mouth – and you are my heart.
I have loved you for as long as I can remember and the thought of you being in London, angry with me, breaks me in two. I fear the unknown and the reason for your cold, cold wrath.
How I wish you would return to Adborough Hall. I miss your voice, your laughter, sure to erupt when Sir Waddlesworth skids on Mrs. Howell’s polished marble floors. He is a fluffy white cat I have befriended. I miss the very presence of you in each room. However, if wishes were horses, you’d have a stable full of thoroughbreds and I can’t make you come home.
Instead, I will tell you what has been happening since you’ve gone.
Mrs. Dawson has chased poor Sir Waddlesworth out from the kitchen three times this week. He has such a weakness for kippers and who can blame him, for he is a cat. Mr. Powell continues to prune the shrubs and trees, and the trees are a glorious riot of color. I have pressed a few leaves into my memory book. This will be my first fall as the Duchess of Adborough and I wish to create something for our children to remember.
I cannot write anymore. The page will be soaked through if I continue to write while I cry like a child. Forgive me.
I love you. I miss you. I ask your forgiveness for whatever I’ve done.
Georgiana Kerr
Max laid the letter down on his desk and deep-seated anger bubbled up from his core. How could she write such loving words? Did she think he’d come galloping back like a lovesick fool to Adborough Hall, all because she wrote a few pretty sentences?
He slammed his hand over the letter on the desk and stood. How could he forgive her, when the lies she and her brother withheld had broken his trust? He slid the letters into the top drawer of his desk, locked it and left the room. A brisk ride through Hyde Park would clear his head.
It was two long days before he returned to her letters.
