talk of marriage would be dismissed. But first she just had to make Papa listen; knowing what she knew of her stepfather, that was not likely to prove an easy prospect. It was very late before Georgiana finally found sleep.
Two days later, and Georgiana had left the sanctuary of Farleigh Hall. The clock ticked its frantic pace upon the mantelpiece as she faced her stepfather across his study. She stood tall with her head high, her hands held tightly behind her back, trying hard to convey an air of confidence that she did not feel. From the moment of her entry to the room, it was clear that Mr Raithwaite’s annoyance with his stepdaughter had not mellowed since their last meeting in Farleigh Hall. He continued to write, refusing even to acknowledge her presence, never mind actually look at her. Georgiana waited in silence. The only sound in the room was the frenzied ticking. And still Edward Raithwaite concentrated on the papers lying neatly on the desk before him. Some fifteen minutes passed.
‘Papa.’ She uttered the word softly, as if to diffuse any notion of confrontation or insult it might contain.
Mr Raithwaite’s flowing script did not falter, his hand continuing its steady pace across the page.
She thought he had not heard or was intent on refusing any means of communication with her when he placed his pen upon the desk with the utmost care. Finally he raised his eyes to meet hers and they were filled with such unrelenting severity as to almost unnerve Georgiana before she even started.
‘Have you come to apologise for your appalling behaviour and the lack of respect with which you treated me the other day?’ His thick wrinkled hands lay calm and still upon the polished wood veneer, a stark contrast to Georgiana’s fingers, which were gripping onto each other behind her back.
‘I meant no disrespect to you, sir, and I’m sorry if my words sounded as such.’
Mr Raithwaite’s austere demeanour relaxed a little. ‘No doubt the shock of falling into the river was responsible for your harsh words. And now that you’ve had time to reflect upon the whole affair, you see the error of your ways.’ The elderly brow cleared a little more. ‘Mmm.’
A woman was expected to be obedient and unquestioning, first to her father, and then to her husband. Her stepfather was an old-fashioned man, fully supportive of the view that his wife and children were merely chattels. Nothing would be gained by antagonising him, or so Georgiana reasoned. The best strategy was to agree with most of what he said, even though it rankled with her to do so, and then, when he was at his most amenable, to reveal Mr Praxton’s lies. Not for the first time, Georgiana wished that she’d been born a man. The feeble weapons of women were not those she would have preferred to use. But they were the only ones available to her. She forced her face into a smile. ‘Indeed, Papa. I didn’t mean to be ill mannered with you. I know that you only have my best interests at heart.’
The old man nodded and looked at her with a strange speculative gleam in his eye. ‘Never a truer word has been spoken, Georgiana. Your welfare lies at the heart of all of my actions of late. It’s well that you realise that.’ And then he looked away, and the peculiar intensity of the moment had vanished.
It was precisely the opening Georgiana was looking for. ‘I never should have doubted it, and it’s with such an understanding in mind that I must speak with you. I ask only that you listen to me, for what I have to say is the truth. I would never lie to you, Papa, you must know that.’
He cleared his throat, rose, and meandered over to stand before the window. ‘Then say what you must, child, and be quick about it.’
The time had come. Now she would reveal Mr Praxton for the man he truly was. She pressed her cold clammy palms tighter and began to speak in what she hoped was a calm and controlled voice. Any hint of emotion could condemn her as a hysterical female, not worthy of Mr Raithwaite’s attention. ‘I’m aware that Mr Praxton has spoken to you regarding what happened prior to my accident. And I also know that you hold that same gentleman in high regard.’ She swallowed hard. ‘But I must tell you, sir, that Mr Praxton has not spoken the truth. I would never entertain an improper dalliance with any gentleman, let alone Mr Praxton. You know that I’ve never encouraged his attentions. Why should I then behave in the absurd manner he’s claimed? I swear that I’m innocent of his charges. He’s trying to make fools of us both.’ Her heart was pounding and her lips cracked dry. She waited to hear his understanding, his proud belief in her virtue, his condemnation of Walter Praxton.
Silence, save for the clock’s incessant ticking.
Georgiana longed to still its maniacal movement, but she waited with restrained patience.
Eventually her stepfather turned from the window to face her. ‘No man, or woman for that matter, makes a fool of me.’ His voice was slow and measured.
The breath escaped her in a small sigh of relief. The deed was done, the truth told. Mr Praxton would be banished from her life.
‘How could you even think it?’ He surveyed her with a closed look. ‘Whether you did, or did not, indulge in unladylike behaviour no longer matters. Your marriage to Mr Praxton has been arranged and in time you’ll come to see that it’s a good thing for both our families. Mr Praxton thinks very highly of you and I trust you will endeavour to become a good wife.’
A strangled laugh escaped Georgiana’s lips as she stared at her stepfather with growing disbelief. ‘He lied to you, tried to destroy my reputation. Does that mean nothing? You would still have me wed him?’
Edward Raithwaite’s manner was carefully impassive. ‘There was never any threat to your reputation until you started your foolish twittering in front of Lady Farleigh. Any damage to your reputation was effected by your own hand, my dear. But your forthcoming marriage will rectify any harm that has been done.’
‘You cannot seriously expect me to marry him!’ Georgiana’s voice increased in volume and she placed her hands against the desk’s cool wooden surface, leaning forward towards her stepfather.
‘Sit down, Georgiana,’ he snapped, ‘and do not raise your voice to me.’
Georgiana took a tentative step backwards, but remained standing.
Mr Raithwaite’s face darkened. ‘I said, sit down,’ and his enunciation was meticulous.
Her legs retreated further and she stumbled into the closely positioned chair.
Gone was the bumbling genteel man. Mr Raithwaite’s eyes focused with a shrewd clarity. ‘A woman must marry as her father directs, to consolidate power and wealth, to open up new opportunities for the family. It’s the way of the world. If you’re labouring under some childish notion of love or romance, then I’m here to tell you that it’s nonsense. I didn’t send you to that expensive ladies’ academy to learn such foolishness. No, Georgiana. Walter Praxton is as best a match as can be expected. You will marry him and behave as behoves a decent young lady. And that, my dear, will be an end to the matter. Forget all else.’
Georgiana stared at Edward Raithwaite as if seeing him for the first time. A tightening nausea was growing within her stomach and she could feel the sweat bead upon her upper lip. The terrible sinking sensation arose not so much from what her stepfather had just said, but rather from that which he had not. Her scalp prickled with unease as she struggled to comprehend the enormity of what she had just learned. All his talk of childish notions and nonsense was a distraction, an attempt to divert her from the real issue. But Georgiana would not be distracted so easily. Her mind had grasped the problem in full. ‘You knew,’ she said in a quiet voice, and never once did her eyes leave Edward Raithwaite’s face. ‘You knew all along.’
