She nudged her horse forward at once. When the street grew congested, she slid down from the saddle. Her footman appeared and took the reins.
There she was, little Emma, skipping down the lane. A robust woman in black followed close behind. A governess, Georgiana supposed. She gulped and pushed back the sudden rush of nerves before hastening down the street. Her eagerness got the better of her.
“Emma?” she called, even though she knew she was still several steps behind them. “Emma!”
Her sister paused in the street. Georgiana thought she was about to turn to her, but instead, the governess was steering her sister toward the family carriage, which she hadn’t noticed. The two of them were about to climb in.
Georgiana hurried forward in an attempt to catch up to them before they left. It was a busy street, but they must have heard her.
“Emma!”
“Georgiana?”
When her sister turned and met her eyes, she stumbled as relief poured through her. Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to escape. Georgiana cared little for judging eyes as she picked up her dress just enough to hurry over.
Already she wanted to put out her arms so Emma could run into them. Georgiana would spin them in a circle, and they would laugh and cry and hug, and it would all be better for them. At least for a moment. She felt her heart pound, eager to hug her sister. She had made promises to Emma, and it was time she made good on them.
“Get in, young lady,” the woman in black snapped.
“Wait!” Georgiana drew closer as Emma put one foot in the carriage. “Just a minute, please. I will only take a minute. Emma!”
“Georgiana!”
The woman turned to Georgiana then, shooting her such a dark look that she stopped in her tracks. She was frozen as the governess pushed her sister into the carriage and ordered their driver, Parkington, to take off.
Hesitating, the man tipped his hat to her and muttered something before following the governess’s orders. This left Georgiana holding her skirts in one hand as she watched the carriage depart.
Emma was gone. She was there and then gone.
Though Georgiana watched desperately for the curtains of the carriage to move and reveal her sister, it never happened.
“Your Grace?”
“Mhm?”
She couldn’t find words to describe the heavy weight in her chest. Part of her knew it was Thomas speaking to her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except that Emma was gone.
She supposed it was for this reason that she hardly paid any attention on their journey home. If people noticed her or stared or laughed, she didn’t notice. She didn’t care. She just thought of Emma being taken away from her and the stabbing agony in her heart.
At last, she was back on her feet in the small stables at her home, but Georgiana couldn’t make it out of the structure. If she went back to the house, it meant admitting defeat for good.
“Your Grace?” Thomas hesitated. “Shall I assist you inside?”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “Please leave me, Thomas. I should like to be alone.”
The cautious young man glanced around for a moment before nodding reluctantly. He backed out of the stables, finally leaving her alone.
Being on her own brought no relief and little strength. But it gave Georgiana the space she needed––the space she needed to cry. One tear escaped, and the others quickly followed. She leaned against the gate to her horse’s stall before hiding her face in her hands.
They wouldn’t do much to catch her tears, but she supposed she should try. It wouldn’t be proper to make a mess.
Georgiana gasped for breath as she tugged at her pelisse, looking for a spare handkerchief. She sniffled just when a voice spoke up and made her pause.
“Would this help?”
Her tears made her vision blurry. Though she could tell it was Owen, she struggled to make out what was in his hand. She reached out a hand, and he put a soft cloth in it. His handkerchief.
Just what I need, my husband actually playing nice while I’m falling apart. It’s not like he would even understand. He would probably just tell me to go away or redecorate another room or eat something. After all, he only cares to avoid me.
