Page 78 of Ironvine

“I’ll be with you. We shall all be polite, and we shall not stay long. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll try.”

ChapterThirty-Four

Charles

The windinghilly road that led to Fairthorn seemed to delight Georgina. A smile curled her lips from ear to ear as she took in the lush green grasses and the groves of trees. “Almost there.”

His hands guided the reins of the carriage. “Yes, almost there.”

She loved the country. She lovedtheircountry. Who would have thought that the young lady who had so much to recommend her and was the toast of many a party in London since she had come out several years ago, would be so content in the country?

A pinch of bitterness filled his nostrils. Like his pipe when he hadn’t bothered to clean it. No. More acrid, thicker.

“Is that smoke?” Georgina pointed to a yellowish-white billow in the sky before them.

Charles urged the horses forward, and they charged ahead, entering Fairthorn. Black smoke curled from the front drive before the manor house. Flames wrestled and flew high.

“Madame, please!” a young maid cried out. “Please, I beg you!”

“Get out of my sight!” Georgina’s mother shouted as she flung objects into the flames. The crying servant girl ran off. Other servants stood and watched, unable to do anything as their mistress held sway over destruction. The flames before her multiplied and grew bolder. The plume of smoke thickened and blackened and billowed as she threw more objects into the fire.

“What the hell is she doing?” Charles brought their carriage to a halt and jumped off.

Thomas ran out the front door, and down the steps. “Mother! Mother!”

“Ah, there they are! Welcome, my lord and lady,” said Mrs. Townsend, her face red, shimmering with perspiration. She extended her arm and bowed to them in mock tribute.

“Dear God!” Thomas turned to the servants. “Fetch water. Put this out at once!” They dashed away.

“No, Thomas! All this dross shall burn.”

“No, Mother, no!” Georgina’s shouts rose from behind him as she rushed to the flames.

“Georgina!” Charles hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her back.

“Papa’s paintings, his letters! My sketchbooks!” she cried out, shoving against Charles, but he held her fast.

“You’ve destroyed Georgina’s things?” Charles stood on the other side of the fire from Mrs. Townsend, Georgina struggling, twisting in his iron grip. “Why?” he roared.

“Dear God…” Thomas’s lips parted as he took in the destruction.

Rounding the fire, Mrs. Townsend cast Charles a foul look as she tracked toward her daughter. “Trollop. You dare come here with your whore monger to take your belongings?”

“They were all I had left of Father! How could you do this?”

Mrs. Townsend’s eyes flared. “Nothing but refuse, all of it, polluting my house for years. Your scrawlings, your father’s cheap tokens.”

“Do you hate me so much?”

“With your brazen and vulgar behaviour, you made your hate for your family quite plain. You have disgraced us all. Your sister’s husband is most displeased with her. I can no longer live here, but your brother must, and what must he endure.”

“Mama, please.” Thomas darted to his mother’s side. “Georgina did not run off to Gretna Green with a soldier or a servant. She is married to a man of great title and wealth. She—”

“That does not blot out her betrayal nor her disgrace. What she did was undignified and shameful.” Her cold eyes locked on her daughter once again. “Were you so set on having a Montclare in your bed?”

“Madame,” Charles warned her.

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