The Debutante's Daring Proposal. ANNIE BURROWS
Sukey is dressed far more demurely...’ she began, plucking at her bodice again. Only to have Stepmama step up, slap her hands away and ruthlessly tug it back into place.
‘Sukey is pretty,’ she said. ‘Men already take notice of her.’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Sukey dropped her ribbon on to the dressing table. ‘Georgiana is pretty, too. In her own way. I mean, that is, there are sure to be some men who prefer larger girls, with thick black hair and brown eyes,’ she said staunchly, in the face of all evidence to the contrary.
For not one of the youths of Bartlesham, or any of the nearest towns, had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her. Even though Stepmama had taught her to behave like a lady, the manners and the clothes were all only a thin layer of top dressing. No matter how hard she tried, she was always going to look big and clumsy in comparison to her dainty little stepsister and rouse entirely different feelings from the males of the population.
Stepmama sighed. ‘Men who prefer larger girls will want to get a glimpse of her best assets, then, won’t they? I wouldn’t have thought I’d need to remind you, Sukey, that all women have to make the best of what God has given them, if we are to survive in this harsh world.’ She waved her hand at the wads of tissue paper, lidless boxes, gloves and shoes littering every flat surface of the dressing room the two girls shared.
And Georgiana’s protests died on her lips. She knew, deep down, that Stepmama was doing what she saw as her best. It was just...well, she hadn’t wanted to come to London in the first place. And, as she’d feared, it was proving to be like living in a desert.
There were no fields, no woods, no streams. Nowhere suitable to gallop, except a stingy little formal bit of parkland. Not that ladies were permitted to gallop even there.
Not that she could, anyway, not now Stepmama had sold Whitesocks. Her lower lip wobbled. Whitesocks had been Papa’s last gift to her. The last horse in the stables over which they had any legal rights. According to Stepmama, it made far more sense to sell the animal they couldn’t afford to stable in London anyway and put the money towards meeting the expenses they wouldn’t be able to escape.
Georgiana had hoped, right up until the last minute that something would happen to prevent the sale. That she’d be able to keep that one last link to Papa—but, no. Even her last-ditch appeal to Edmund had come to nothing. Not that he’d heard the whole story.
Which was, she’d eventually decided, her own fault.
She should have kept a cool head and explained her reasons for asking him for help in a rational manner. That’s what she should have done. Perhaps even presented him with a written statement, in which she’d listed all the points she wished to make in alphabetical order, which he could have taken away and considered at his leisure. At least he would have treated that kind of appeal with respect. And then he might have been a bit more amenable to making some kind of deal.
She might, at the very least, have persuaded him to buy Whitesocks so that she would have known he would have a good home.
Instead, she’d spent the time waiting for him brooding over past hurts and present problems, so that by the time he arrived she’d been ready to explode. And had done so. Acted in a way that was practically guaranteed to alienate him.
If it was even possible to alienate someone who’d become a stranger. A cold, unapproachable stranger who merely happened to look a bit like the boy who’d been her favourite person in all the world. A stranger who had never once attempted to renew their friendship, as adults. Who had, on the contrary, occasionally even cut her in the street.
She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.
‘Oh, please don’t cry, Georgiana,’ said Sukey, rushing to her side to give her a hug. ‘Mama, could we not let her tuck a fichu into the neckline, or something?’
Georgiana slipped her arm round Sukey’s waist, and returned her hug. Dear Sukey. She was so sweet-natured. Every time Georgiana was upset, over anything at all, Sukey would shed sympathetic tears. Indeed, she’d been more upset over the frequent beatings Georgiana had received when Stepmama first took her place as Papa’s bride than Georgiana had herself. She’d come and sit at her bedside, and hold her hand, and plead with her to just try and be good, because she couldn’t bear to think of her being beaten so very often. Until in the end, it felt as if every time she misbehaved, it was Sukey who got punished.
Between the pair of them, these two women had crushed her desire to rebel against all the rules and regulations that governed the behaviour of young ladies. Besides, what had been the point of carrying on the way she’d done before Papa remarried? Edmund had gone, so there was nobody to box or fence or fish with. The local boys might have stopped teasing and tormenting her for being different to the other girls, once she’d knocked a couple of the biggest of them down, but that didn’t mean they would allow her into their ranks. At that time, Sukey had been the only person who appeared to want to spend time with her. In fact, Sukey had followed her round like a little puppy, declaring that she’d always wished for a sister.
‘A fichu? And have her look like a dowd? Absolutely not! If we are going to find a husband for Georgiana, we are going to have to make men look at her.’
‘But,’ Georgiana said, plucking up all her courage, ‘I don’t really want to find a husband.’
‘Oh, heavens, not this again,’ said Stepmama wearily. ‘Respectable women have to marry, unless they have family who will take them in and care for them, that’s all there is to it.’
‘I know, but—’
Stepmama held up her hand to silence her. ‘I promised your father I would find you a good husband and that is exactly what I will do.’
Georgiana sank on to one of the dressing stools, the impossibility of protesting about her father’s last wishes completely silencing her.
‘A Corinthian, hopefully. Isn’t that what your papa always said? That only a notable Corinthian would do for you? Someone who could match your energy and horsemanship?’
‘Yes, Papa did say that,’ she admitted glumly. Though what he’d actually meant was that he hoped that was the kind of son-in-law she’d bring home one day. If she couldn’t be a boy, the next best thing would be for her to marry someone who was exactly the sort of son he’d always wanted.
And that wasn’t the sort of man she wanted to marry, if she had to marry anyone. Men who liked sport, and horses, always smelled of the stable—which invariably put her in mind of that disgusting scene she’d witnessed. Which she could never think of without remembering Liza’s tears when she lost her job and home as a result.
And it was all very well Stepmama saying that Liza should not have let him do what they did until they were married, but Wilkins had been doing it as well. In fact, he’d been doing all the work, from the look of things. And not only had he entirely escaped any form of punishment, but he hadn’t shown the slightest bit of remorse when Liza had been sent packing, either.
‘Besides, you want to have children, don’t you? Of course you do,’ Stepmama continued ruthlessly, before Georgiana could say a word. ‘It is in our nature.’
‘Then I must be a most unnatural sort of female.’ She sighed, because the way a man got a woman with child had to be the way she’d seen Wilkins treat Liza and it had looked perfectly revolting. She didn’t ever want to let any man do...that to her. The very thought made her feel sick.
‘You will feel differently once you meet the right man,’ said Stepmama. ‘In fact, I shouldn’t be surprised if you met someone tonight who overturns all your silly girlish fears and fancies with one look.’
‘I should,’ said Georgiana gloomily. ‘Because the kind of men who will be attending a tonnish event will only want to marry girls with a title, or a dowry. And I don’t have either.’
Stepmama froze. ‘Georgiana! I thought you understood about the way I have spent what money your papa left for your future. It was his dearest wish to have