RALPH WAS IN his library the following afternoon, poring over a report from his bailiff at Chartleigh on the progress being made on the laborers' cottages and on his findings with regard to the dower house. Everything appeared to be progressing satisfactorily. In little more than a month's time they would all be going into the country to prepare for Gloria's wedding. Then he would be able to superintend the building himself, and his mother would be better able to decide on the changes she wanted in her new home.
He looked forward to the move. Sometimes, he felt, one's life fell into a routine that was difficult to break. His own life was at such a stage. Definite changes needed to be made. He must end his affair with Sally Shaw, and he must consummate his marriage to Georgiana. He was quite clear in his mind that both moves must be made. If he continued to see the dancer much longer, he might never be able to give her up. And give her up he must. Somehow, although he loved Georgiana with every fiber of his being, he knew that he would not be able to make love to her if he were still conducting his affair with the other girl.
And he must consummate his marriage. There was no reason in the world why he should not do so. He knew now that he would be able to make love to Georgiana without causing her undue pain. And he believed that he would also be able to give her pleasure once she had got over her initial fright. Most important of all, he felt that a deep enough friendship had grown between them to diminish her terror. She seemed to feel some affection for him, even.
But it is one thing to know what one should do, even what one wishes to do, and quite another to do it, Ralph felt. Somehow he needed a change of circumstances to force him into organizing his life along more satisfactory lines. A move to Chartleigh would force him to give up his mistress. It would also bring him into closer daily contact with his wife.
He was a little worried about Georgiana. He had never known her to be ill. Yet last night she had looked quite ghastly for a while. She had sat with her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed for fully half an hour before rallying a little and announcing that she would go into the supper room with him. But she had hardly touched the food he put on a plate for her.
And this morning she had vomited again, rushing from the breakfast room when Stanley had set a plate of kidneys down on the table across from her. He had not wanted her to go out this afternoon, but she had insisted that she was quite recovered and that she had promised her mama to go shopping with her. He supposed that her mother was quite capable of looking after her if she should become ill again. He would certainly call a physician if she had a recurrence of the strange sickness.
He turned hot and then cold as he recalled his mother's guesses of the night before. How embarrassed he had been. And how mortified poor Georgiana must have felt. He had not dared look at her. He tried to return his attention to the letter from his bailiff.
Ten minutes later the butler interrupted his thoughts by announcing the arrival of Miss Burton. Ralph jumped to his feet. He had almost forgotten that his reason for being at home at this unusual hour was the note he had received from Vera that morning asking to see him. His curiosity on receiving that letter returned to him now.
He held out a hand to his visitor and smiled at her. "Hello, Vera," he said. "How are you? Do come in and have a seat. There is a warm fire. It is cold outside today, is it not?"
"Thank you,." she said, and he noticed immediately that her normally calm manner had deserted her. "I knew that Georgie was to go out with Mama this afternoon. That is why I asked to see you at this hour."
"Indeed?" he prompted, hiding by his kindliness of manner his surprise.
"What do you make of it, Ralph?" she asked. "You seem very calm, which suggests that you do not believe a word of it. And you may say it is none of my business. You would be right too, of course. But Georgie is my sister and we are very close. I did not have one wink of sleep last night."
Ralph was frowning down at her. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Has something happened?"
She stared at him for several moments and then her eyes grew round with horror and one hand crept up to cover her mouth. "Oh," she said, "is it possible you do not know? Did no one talk to you about it?"
"About what?" Ralph asked, laughing briefly at the expression on her face.
Color rushed into her checks. "Oh no," she said. "It did not occur to me that you would not… It is nothing. I merely heard that… I thought perhaps… I heard that Georgie was ill last night. I wondered what the truth of the matter was."
Ralph seated himself in the chair opposite Vera's. "Now," he said, "what is this all about, Vera? And do not tell me you have come to inquire about Georgiana's health. If that were so, it would have been sensible to come when she was at home. Besides, you could have found out the truth about her sickness from your mother, who was right there. What is it that no one thought to tell me?"
"I cannot," she said. "Oh, I cannot say anything if no one else has. Oh, curse me for walking into this. I shall never forgive myself."
"I think I might find it hard to forgive you too if you do not satisfy my curiosity soon," Ralph said. "Tell me, please, Vera. Whatever it is, it must be something I should know if you took for granted that I did know. And if it concerns Georgiana I must be told. Please? She is my wife."
Vera was now as pale as she had been flushed a few moments before. "It was your brother, Stanley," she said. "I daresay it is as Lord Beauchamp said. He is just a hotheaded boy who does not quite know what he is talking about. I am sure there can be no truth in what he said."
"And what did he say, Vera?"
"He said…" Vera looked at the ceiling and drew a deep breath. "He said that Lord Beauchamp is keeping Georgie as his mistress. Oh, it cannot be right, Ralph. I do not know why I even listened to such nonsense."
Ralph was very still. "On what grounds did he make his accusation?" he asked. "Surely you must have asked him that?"
"Yes," Vera admitted. "He said that he had seen her leave this house late at night and be driven away in Lord Beauchamp's carriage. But it could have been anyone, Ralph. One of the maids, perhaps. And it could have been anyone's carriage. And even if it was Georgie, there is probably a perfectly reasonable explanation."
"And he said no more?" Ralph asked.
"N-no," Vera said. "That is all."
"I see," Ralph said. "And my cousin was also present when my brother said all this, Vera?"
"Yes," she said.
“And how did he respond?"
“He said it was all nonsense," Vera said, "and I am sure it is. He made sure I left quickly. He was furious with Lord Stanley for saying as much in front of me."
Ralph stared at her, his face blank.
"What are you going to do?" Vera asked miserably. "I do wish I had not assumed that your brother would also have spoken to you. I feel quite terrible. I am sure there was no need for you to know. It is all a ghastly mistake, and he probably knows it by now and has apologized to your cousin."
"Yes," Ralph said. "You are doubtless right, Vera. I shall speak to all concerned and find out the truth of the matter. Then we can all have a good laugh about it. Though I might be tempted to break Stanley's head. Roger was quite right. He had no business talking on such a topic before a lady."
Vera got to her feet. "I shall go, Ralph," she said, "now that I have done such terrible damage. I am so sorry. Please do not let yourself doubt Georgie. She is impulsive and occasionally a little wild, but I know she could not do something so terrible. Please believe me."
"She is my wife," Ralph said gently, "and I love her, Vera. I do not need someone else to plead her case to me.”
"Of course," she said. "Yes. Forgive me, please, Ralph."
She left the room without further ado, leaving Ralph standing before his chair looking at the door she had closed quietly behind her. His mind refused to function at first. Vera's words revolved in his brain, making no sense whatsoever.
Then he felt anger at his brother. White fury. Had Stanley been in the house at that moment, he would have found himself confronting a brother he had never seen before. Ralph, normally gentle and pacific, to whom reason was of infinitely more value than passion, would have gladly killed him. To accuse Georgiana of infidelity! And to voice those suspicions to at least two other people. He would choke the life out of him!
Ralph was pacing furiously back and forth in the library, slamming one fist into the other palm and trying to guess where he might find his brother at this hour of the afternoon, when he heard sounds of the front door being opened and closed again. He yanked open the door of the library and strode out into the hallway.
"Oh, Ralph, dear," Lady Lansbury called, sounding vastly relieved, "you are at home. Do come and help me support Georgie. She has been quite ill again, the poor baby."
But her words were quite unnecessary. Ralph had seen at a glance that his wife was not well. She was leaning heavily on her mother's arm. The butler was hovering at her other side. Her face, beneath the poke of her bonnet, was ghastly pale. He rushed toward her and scooped her up in his arms and headed for the stairs.
"Send for the doctor immediately," he called over his shoulder to the butler, "and see that he is sent up to my wife's room as soon as he arrives."
"Oh, Ralph," Georgiana said faintly, lifting her arm up to cling to his neck, "how foolish I am. I am sure there is no need of a doctor. I merely need to rest. You will be thinking me a very poor creature."
"Hush, love," he said. "We will have you all tucked up in your bed in a moment and you shall rest until the doctor comes. He will give you something to settle your stomach."
He carried her into her room and set her down on top of her bedcovers. Lady Lansbury followed him into the room.
"I have sent for your maid, Georgie," she said. "What a fright you gave me, my girl. I should have known better than to take you away from home today."
She began to pull off Georgiana's half-boots. Ralph untied the strings of her bonnet and eased it from her head. He left the room when the maid came running in.
An hour passed before the doctor arrived. By that time the dowager and Gloria had returned from their afternoon outing. Ralph was in the drawing room, restlessly wandering about, then aimlessly picking out a tune on the pianoforte.
"Do stop worrying, Ralph, dear," his mother said. "It will be as I said last night, mark my words. Goodness me, men always seem to be taken by surprise by such events, just as if they were not mainly responsible. Georgiana is a strong girl. She will do very nicely once she has passed this early stage of nausea. Some women succeed in escaping it altogether. With me it always lasted for the first three months, but then I always did have a rather delicate constitution. Chartleigh was never willing for me to leave my bed during those months."
Ralph said nothing. Gloria looked embarrassed and made an excuse to go to her room.
The doctor was shown into the room a few minutes later. He was smiling and nodding obsequiously. "Her ladyship will be as right as rain after some rest, my lord," he said to Ralph. "Her mother is with her now."
"Is it anything serious?" Ralph asked. "Does she need medicines? Treatment?"
"Now, do tell us, doctor," the dowager said. "Is my daughter-in-law increasing?"
The doctor smiled conspiratorially. "Her ladyship was most insistent that I say absolutely nothing, my lady," he said.
"Quite understandable," she replied, smiling condescendingly at him. "Shall we put it this way, doctor? If I were to assume that her ladyship is with child, you would not entirely deny that I am right?" She smirked at Ralph.
"I certainly could not do that, your ladyship," the doctor replied with a confidential smile. He was rubbing his hands together. "But neither could I confirm it. It is too early to be absolutely certain. But remember, your ladyship, that I have kept my word to the countess. I have said nothing." He smiled broadly at his two listeners.
"Absolutely not," the dowager agreed, and she nodded graciously as the man made his bows and his exit.
"Well," she said, turning to Ralph, her hands clasped across her ample bosom, "my darling boy! I am very proud of you. You have wasted no time in doing your duty. Oh, I do hope it is a boy, Ralph. An heir. Dear Georgiana! I must go to her immediately."
"Mama!" Ralph said sharply. "Remember that the doctor said that he cannot know for certain yet. And he promised Georgiana that he would say nothing. It was wrong of him to drop hints the way he did. Besides, she is unwell. She does not need any excitement today. Her mother is the best person to look after her at present, I believe."
"That is my boy," his mother said approvingly. "You learn to protect her, my darling. It is most fitting while she is increasing with your heir. I shall wait until tomorrow. Surely she will have told you by then, Ralph. And remember, you must act as if you have been taken completely by surprise,"
"Yes," Ralph said. "Excuse me, Mama. There is something I must do."
He succeeded in reaching the library and closing the door before his legs buckled under him and set him down with a thud in the nearest chair.
Georgiana was lying on her bed staring up at the canopy above, her hands clasped behind her head. She should summon her maid to take away her empty cup and saucer and snuff the candles for the night. But she did not feel like settling to sleep yet.
What a predicament she had got herself into. She was with child. She had not needed the doctor to tell her so. Indeed, the doctor had been very cautious about agreeing beyond all doubt that it was true. But she knew very well that it was. And one part of her was delighted, elated. It seemed like heaven on earth to be carrying Ralph's child. It was going to be a boy, she had decided, and he was going to look exactly like his father, even to the good-humored mouth and laughing eyes. She would see that he was happy enough.
At least, she thought, it might have seemed like heaven if she could just have sent Mama downstairs after the doctor had left, to send Ralph to her. She could have held out her arms to him as he came into the room and waited until he sat beside her. And then she would have told him and he would have hugged her and kissed her and they would have proceeded to live happily ever after.
The trouble was that she could not do any of those things. And through her own stupidity, as usual. At least she had had the presence of mind to make the doctor promise to say nothing about her condition as he left the house. And of course, Mama had promised too. It would be unimaginably awful if Ralph found out that part of the truth first, before he found out the other. Her stomach felt quite unsteady again at the mere thought of his discovering that she was increasing when he believed her to be still virgin.
But even though she had ensured that he would not find out, she still felt under pressure. She must let him know about the identity of his "mistress" without delay. And for several reasons. She could not keep her condition a secret from him for more than a few days at the most. It would be unfair. And there was always the danger that that imbecile Stanley would take it into his head to blurt out his suspicions to Ralph after all. That would pose a major embarrassment.
It was perfectly clear to her now, of course, that she should have told Ralph the truth a long time ago. After their second or third encounter at Kensington would have been the ideal time. By now she felt paralyzed by inaction just to think of broaching the topic with him.
" By the way, Ralph, you know that girt you visit in Kensington twice a week?"
No, much too casual an approach.
"Ralph, I have something to tell you that will make you dreadfully angry, but I hope you will forgive me when you have had time to think about it."
No, far too bland, meek, and mild.
"Oh, Ralph, dear, I have a shocking confession to make, but I know you will laugh with me once I have done so."
Worse and worse. Perhaps she should just burst into tears. Or get dressed in her black outfit and have her maid send Ralph up. Or…
Georgiana pulled a pillow from behind her head and hurled it over the foot of the bed. The other pillow followed it two seconds later. She felt better for a moment, until she realized that the display of temper had brought her no nearer a solution to her problem.
Well, she decided, climbing out of the bed in order to retrieve her pillows, she would set herself a limit of two days. Tomorrow, if she was as brave as she thought she was, or the day after, if she was the coward she feared she was, she would go to Ralph and make a clean breast of the whole thing. She would not let it go beyond two days.
And once she had cleared up everything with Ralph, she would go after that Stanley. A slut and a whore, indeed! It was a great blessing that her stomach had forced her to run the night before. Otherwise, she would probably have brought permanent disgrace on Ralph's family and her father's by punching him in the face. Impudent, silly boy! He deserves no better. And the disgrace might almost have been worthwhile. At least she would have succeeded in making an idiot of him.
Georgiana rang for her maid and lay down again on the bed. She clasped her hands loosely across her abdomen and gave the canopy a self-satisfied smile. When she was putting herself through the agony of telling Ralph about her recent exploits, she must fortify her courage by remembering how glorious it was going to be to tell him about his child. He would be so surprised and so happy. Ralph would make a wonderful father. She just knew he would.
He had seemed touchingly concerned about her earlier in the evening when he came to see her for a few minutes. He had refused to sit down and had been pale and ill-at-ease. Poor Ralph! He probably imagined that she was dying at the very least. He had been on his way out. She smiled. At least she knew he was not going to keep an assignation with another woman. The next Kenington night was tomorrow. The thought sobered her. She would not be able to go, of course. But the fact that she was supposed to do so must make it all the more important for her to talk to Ralph tomorrow.
She smiled at her maid and directed the girl to snuff the candles. She would try to sleep and dream up some magically tactful way to break the awful truth to her husband.
Ralph in the meanwhile was being shown into Lord Beauchamp's dressing room, where his lordship's butler was helping him into a particularly well-fitting evening coat.
"Ah, Ralph, my lad," he said cheerfully, "looking for company, are you? I am on my way to a card party. Do you care to join me?"
"No," Ralph said. "But I would like to have a word with you before you leave."
"Well, fire away, my boy," Roger said, smoothing the fine face of his cuffs over the backs of his hands while his valet pulled the coat into place across his shoulders. "Oh. You may leave, Perkins. I believe you have done a good enough job that your reputation will not suffer when I appear in public."
The valet gave a doubtful glance at his master's neckcloth, which still lay in its starched perfection on the dresser. But he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
"Well," Roger said heartily when they were alone, "I can see from your face, my boy, that you know. So I might as well save us both from the tedium of pretending ignorance and surprise. It is a dreadful coil, Ralph. He took me completely by surprise, you know, and I had said pistols before having a chance to think. Quite a disastrous choice! I shall delope, of course, but that will leave me dreadfully exposed to the young lunatic's bullet. Is he a good shot, by any chance?"
"My God," Ralph said. "What are you talking about?"
Roger looked back at him and then closed his eyes for a few moments. "I should have put us both through the tedium," he said. "You did not know after all, did you?"
"No," Ralph said. "You are talking about Stanley, are you not? A duel? Has the world gone mad?"
"I seriously fear young Stan might have," Roger said, turning and picking up the unfolded neckcloth. He proceeded to arrange it himself, with the aid of the mirror in front of him. "You should seriously consider packing him off to Oxford, Ralph. He could work off his energies there in acceptably unruly undergraduate activities. He maneuvered me very handily into accepting his challenge and then I blurted out pistols without a thought to the consequences. Someone is likely to get killed, and I very much fear it might be me.-
"Is it true?" Ralph asked quietly.
Roger swiveled sharply on his chair. His brows were drawn together. "Is what true?" he asked.
"Is Georgiana your mistress?" Ralph asked. "I swear if it is true, Roger, I shall kill you myself before you even leave this room."
Roger pulled the half-tied neckcloth off his neck again and slammed it down on the dresser. He got to his feet. "Damn you, Ralph," he said. "I never thought to hear you ask me such a question."
"I want to know if it is true," Ralph persisted.
"No, it is not true, dammit!" Roger replied.
"Is it true that she had been leaving the house and driving away in your carriage late at night?" Ralph asked.
Roger sat down again. "Look, Ralph, my lad," he said, "I think you should have a good talk with Georgie. I can't say any more."
"Can't or won't?" Ralph asked.
"Won't." Roger said firmly. "But there has never been anything remotely improper in my relations with your wife, my boy. If you will just look at me and remember who I am, I think you will know that I am speaking the truth."
"If that is so," Ralph said, "why did you accept Stanley's challenge?"
"There were reasons," Roger said reluctantly. "I am fond of Georgie, you know, and she is married to my favorite cousin."
"What did he say about her?" Ralph asked.
"You would not want to know, my boy," Roger assured him.
Ralph moved for the first time since he had entered the room. He began to pace the floor. "You cannot fight this duel, Roger," he said. "When is it supposed to be, anyway?"
"Tomorrow morning," Roger said. "At dawn, of course. Everything has to be dramatic with young Stan."
"It must not take place," Ralph said. "You must just send him word that you have changed your mind."
"Spoken like a true man of the world, my lad," his cousin said, grinning despite the seriousness of the topic. "And where would I find a hole deep enough to hide my head in for the rest of my life, may I ask?"
"You cannot fight!" Ralph said vehemently, coming to a halt in front of his cousin. "Do you realize how appallingly public the whole affair will be if you do so? I will not have that happen to Georgiana."
"I must confess the thought has bothered me somewhat," Roger admitted. "But I am afraid this thing has gone rather too far, Ralph. I don't know quite why it is, my boy, but people like me take affairs of honor rather seriously, you know."
"I shall put a stop to it!" Ralph said firmly. "I shall look for Stanley until I find him tonight. And I shall make sure that he does not keep his appointment tomorrow. He will come to apologize to you, Roger. And if there is any fighting to be done, I shall do it. Georgiana is my wife, for heaven's sake, and my brother and my cousin are about to fight to the death over her! She is not your concern or my brother's."
He turned and stalked from the room. Lord Beauchamp turned back toward his dresser with a shrug and a half-smile and regarded the ruined neckcloth ruefully. He rang for his valet.