knew
what?"
But the girls were looking beyond him now. He
turned to find the fourth occupant of their box, a woman about
twenty-four years old, whose dress and hair were too simple for the
theater. She had a serious face with a long nose, but she was
beautiful. There was a fierceness in her gaze which was not anger,
but something else. She never took her eyes off his as she came
forward, holding her hand out.
"I am your cousin, Hester Stowe," she said in
a low voice.
It took a moment for John to shake her hand,
for there was something powerful and strange about her. And, it
seemed, she did not mind owning him as a cousin, though he was
a bastard. Yet she was probably making a show of her genteel
poverty, because he knew that Georgiana would have offered her
better clothes, and anything she needed.
A woman who wants no finery , John
thought. God save us from them, even more than from the
ones who want too much of it.
Then, fearing that Georgiana might soon come
out after them, he said to the girls, "Don't tell your sister I was
here. It will only make everything worse."
Cecily nodded in understanding, and Dotty
suddenly stepped forward and made him bend so she could kiss his
cheek.
"I will make up for what I did -- I promise
you, darling," he whispered with grateful affection.
John went down the stairs as quickly as he
could, but found, upon looking up, that the strange young woman who
now lived with Georgiana had come to the banisters to watch him
leave.
Fourteen. The Days
In her husband’s magnificent London home,
Georgiana could not stop thinking of John, as she had known she
would not have been able to once he returned.
It was even worse now, when she finally
understood what physical love was meant to be like. She longed for
him day and night, and the insult and betrayal of having her sister
live under her roof as her husband's mistress was mitigated by the
relief she felt in not having to be in Hugh's bed.
She hoped she would never have to sleep with
Hugh again. It made her nauseous to think of it, whereas before
John had returned she had come to accept it and bear it like many
other obligations in her life.
It had been worse at the beginning, when Hugh
had been so overwhelmed by her that he hadn't been able to stop
touching her and asking to see her naked. The things he had said to
her then had seemed abominable, though they might be things that
two people in love would say to each other.
Then he had started to come to her drunk,
after meals, his eyes bleary and his hands moist. He would
sometimes insult her, or fight with her, telling her that she did
not act like a wife, that she did not love him.
John had said nothing at all; everything had
been in his eyes, in the way he touched her. Georgiana pressed a
hand over her breast, to feel as it had felt when it had been his
hand, she kissed and nuzzled her own shoulder as he had done, but
nothing could compare to being with him for those few hours. She
felt as if every pulse in her body beat for him.
Why did they have to be honorable, when Hugh
and Bess were not, when they flaunted their affair in her face? She
asked herself that sometimes, then she remembered the danger that
she might conceive, and thought of the scandal for the poor
innocent, and John's grief in doing to his own child what had been
done to him.
And there was that other terrible reality,
that she might be destitute, and her sisters too. She would go to
John, were she alone – she would not be frightened that he might
fail her, or die; she would believe in him, and in her own
strength. She would work alongside him.
But how could she do that when her sisters
might also end up poor and unmarriageable? She could not. Life was
much harder than anyone of them had known, when their father had
been finding the money to keep them safe and well. Life could be
terribly cruel to women.
Yet passionate love made people selfish, and
many times Georgiana wanted to walk through Halford
what?"
But the girls were looking beyond him now. He
turned to find the fourth occupant of their box, a woman about
twenty-four years old, whose dress and hair were too simple for the
theater. She had a serious face with a long nose, but she was
beautiful. There was a fierceness in her gaze which was not anger,
but something else. She never took her eyes off his as she came
forward, holding her hand out.
"I am your cousin, Hester Stowe," she said in
a low voice.
It took a moment for John to shake her hand,
for there was something powerful and strange about her. And, it
seemed, she did not mind owning him as a cousin, though he was
a bastard. Yet she was probably making a show of her genteel
poverty, because he knew that Georgiana would have offered her
better clothes, and anything she needed.
A woman who wants no finery , John
thought. God save us from them, even more than from the
ones who want too much of it.
Then, fearing that Georgiana might soon come
out after them, he said to the girls, "Don't tell your sister I was
here. It will only make everything worse."
Cecily nodded in understanding, and Dotty
suddenly stepped forward and made him bend so she could kiss his
cheek.
"I will make up for what I did -- I promise
you, darling," he whispered with grateful affection.
John went down the stairs as quickly as he
could, but found, upon looking up, that the strange young woman who
now lived with Georgiana had come to the banisters to watch him
leave.
Fourteen. The Days
In her husband’s magnificent London home,
Georgiana could not stop thinking of John, as she had known she
would not have been able to once he returned.
It was even worse now, when she finally
understood what physical love was meant to be like. She longed for
him day and night, and the insult and betrayal of having her sister
live under her roof as her husband's mistress was mitigated by the
relief she felt in not having to be in Hugh's bed.
She hoped she would never have to sleep with
Hugh again. It made her nauseous to think of it, whereas before
John had returned she had come to accept it and bear it like many
other obligations in her life.
It had been worse at the beginning, when Hugh
had been so overwhelmed by her that he hadn't been able to stop
touching her and asking to see her naked. The things he had said to
her then had seemed abominable, though they might be things that
two people in love would say to each other.
Then he had started to come to her drunk,
after meals, his eyes bleary and his hands moist. He would
sometimes insult her, or fight with her, telling her that she did
not act like a wife, that she did not love him.
John had said nothing at all; everything had
been in his eyes, in the way he touched her. Georgiana pressed a
hand over her breast, to feel as it had felt when it had been his
hand, she kissed and nuzzled her own shoulder as he had done, but
nothing could compare to being with him for those few hours. She
felt as if every pulse in her body beat for him.
Why did they have to be honorable, when Hugh
and Bess were not, when they flaunted their affair in her face? She
asked herself that sometimes, then she remembered the danger that
she might conceive, and thought of the scandal for the poor
innocent, and John's grief in doing to his own child what had been
done to him.
And there was that other terrible reality,
that she might be destitute, and her sisters too. She would go to
John, were she alone – she would not be frightened that he might
fail her, or die; she would believe in him, and in her own
strength. She would work alongside him.
But how could she do that when her sisters
might also end up poor and unmarriageable? She could not. Life was
much harder than anyone of them had known, when their father had
been finding the money to keep them safe and well. Life could be
terribly cruel to women.
Yet passionate love made people selfish, and
many times Georgiana wanted to walk through Halford
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