Her sister scrambled out of her lap. “I can! I want to go first!”
During the following hour, Georgiana did her best to keep hers and her sister’s focus on games and delicious food. It was better than thinking about when her guests would need to leave. Yet, all three of them knew the clock would keep ticking. Eventually, the hour ended.
“Can’t I please stay? Just a little longer?” Emma begged on the front steps of the house.
Watching the carriage roll closer, Georgiana felt that lump in her throat form again. Her heart thudded. She gripped her sister’s hand tightly, not ready to let her go.
She considered it for a minute. Emma could stay here, hidden away in the house. She had enough money to keep her clothed. If Georgiana had to, she could very well trim her own gowns to fit her sister. Besides, there was a fair chance her father wouldn’t even notice the young girl was gone for at least a week––perhaps even a month.
“Please?” Emma whined.
Sighing, Georgiana shook her head. “I wish I could keep you here, Emma. I want that more than anything.”
“Then don’t make me go.”
“I… I must. Father would miss you. The household would miss you.”
Her sister shook her head. “But I miss you. No one tells me stories like you do.”
“Then I shall write you stories and send them,” Georgiana promised. “And you’ll visit me again, so I can tell you more. This farewell is not forever, Emma. It’s only temporary.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
Promises were not enough, however, for Georgiana to find comfort in watching Emma leave. The reunion had been sweet and tender. All that desperation she had felt clawing its way out of her throat had finally ebbed away. But as the carriage left and she dropped her hand to her side, she felt restless and frustrated.
I feel so ridiculous. I thought everything would feel right after seeing Emma. But it wasn’t enough. There’s just been so much change that I hardly know what to do with myself. And there’s no one to talk to, not really. There was only so much I could say and do with Marjory and Emma. Here, it’s different.
Maybe talking wouldn’t be enough. Pacing in the hall after Wentworth closed the door, Georgiana tried to gather her thoughts. But the feelings kept rising. They threatened to choke her, forcing her to find something else she could do with her energy.
“Mrs. Helen?” Georgiana slightly hiked up her skirts on her way down the hall. The housekeeper was talking to a footman, both of them holding bundled cloth in their arms. “I’m going to start redecorating the library.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” Then the woman stiffened. “The library! We were going to save that for next Season. It’s a large room with more books than we can count.”
Georgiana waved a hand. “I’ll start sorting them out, and I’m sure we’ll have it finished before summer.”
“But summer is only two months away! Are you certain, Your Grace?”
“Quite so, thank you!” she called over her shoulder before moving down the next hall.
Two more turns later, she opened the door to the magnificent library.
It really is magnificent in here. Only cluttered and musty. I’m worried half of these books might be ruined with time or worms or dirt. Such beautiful bindings… Well, perhaps it’s best if I survey what we have here a little closer.
Usually, she liked to hide in the nook beside the window, where there were two tables next to a cushioned chair. It was comfortable with good lighting and easy access to everything she needed. But now she moved to the right instead. She drew the curtains and moved to the ladder.
“I do love a good book,” Georgiana muttered to herself. “But really, can anyone read all of these books?”
Her determination won over any good sense. The books were stacked nearly all the way to the large ceiling. Something told her that the tops of the shelves would be the dirtiest. They’d have to work from the top to get to the bottom.
Georgiana began plotting her plan of attack for the room. All this work would most assuredly help her forget her worries about her marriage and being away from her sister. She didn’t want to think about that now, not when there was so much out of her control.
It was better to be here, where she could manage everything just the way she liked it. Even now, Georgiana could manage climbing up the ladder by herself. She gripped it tightly and climbed each rung carefully. Near the top, she looked up and studied the bindings. Two books were out of place.
“What are you two doing there? Silly books.” She frowned and shifted to the side, struck by the need to fix them. Every challenge had to start somewhere. Georgiana reached out, only to slip on the thin rungs.
Her grasp was tight but not enough, and she felt the world slip out from under her.
