The weather was stultifying. Georgie could not ever remember feeling so hot and uncomfortable in all her days. Though her hands were hot in her lace gloves, she was oddly thankful for them as it meant the slick sweat she could feel running down every part of her did not cause her to lose her grip on her parasol, or betray her when she had to offer her hand to passing suitors on horseback. She despised this daily parade through the park, wishing that Mama would accept that she simply did not intend to marry any one of the barrage of suitors that sought her hand. All of them were the same, dull and insipid. Not one had yet managed to make her laugh in the four years that had passed since she had survived her coming out. Not one had once asked her of her interests and her ambitions in life. They were so puffed up with their own importance that all they could ever manage to do was bore her with their own tedious accumulation of wealth and status.
She tried to force a smile as Major Linnet cooed over her, and almost laughed aloud when he noticed her indifference and switched his flirtation to Camelia Borrowdale who was sat beside her. Finally he clicked his horse to a trot and moved away, sure to show off his impeccable seat, and the quality of his mount. Georgie sighed with relief and sank back against the velvet upholstery. “Georgie, you really should be more polite,” Camelia scolded her. “How will you ever find a husband if you let every man of our acquaintance think you despise him?”
“But I do despise them, and so I have no intention of letting them think otherwise,” Georgie admitted, stifling a giggle at the serious face Camelia was pulling. “It would be dishonest, and I do not believe telling lies should ever have a place between husband and wife.”
“Georgie, you are quite dreadful. “You will never find a husband if you keep pushing everyone away.”
“If I ever find a man who has some semblance of intellect, and is polite and knows the truth from a lie I shall snap him up immediately I can assure you,” she said flippantly.
“I think you are asking too much,” Camelia sniffed. “We are not getting any younger, we cannot afford to be so picky.”
“I am barely twenty four years old,” Georgie said, knowing she sounded exasperated. “If I am considered too old for marriage then so be it. I would rather be a doughty old spinster than marry just for the sake of doing so.”
“I know. A part of me wishes I could feel the same way,” Camelia said wistfully. “But I am not as clever as you, nor am I as pretty. I need to find a husband soon or I shall find myself alone forever, and not having the wealth your family possesses I face poverty too. No genteel governess positions for someone like me I am afraid.”
“So aim higher,” Georgie said expansively. “Why should our only option be to be a governess, a bride, or poor? Why can we not choose a career for ourselves as men do? You would make a wonderful seamstress. Why, you already design your own dresses, making your own dressmaker’s work too easy!”
“It would not be right, it isn’t done,” Camelia said pouting a little, though Georgie was sure she had seen a flicker of something in her friend’s eyes. Nobody ever gave women credit for their talents, their intelligence. They were shepherded into such tiny and oppressive lives. Georgie had determined that she would not allow her lie to become so narrowly defined, being a wife and mother were not the only things she might be good at, and she knew that her defiance was in part admired, and feared by many of their acquaintance.
“Pah,” she snorted. “Why is it not right? Other women work, have lives outside of the home – why should we not be permitted such freedoms just because we were blessed to be born into wealth?”
“But we can do charitable works, and ...” Camelia looked at her helplessly.
“Indeed. We can be angels of mercy, or vain devils who care for nobody but ourselves. Those are our choices Cammy. I for one will not settle for anything so dull and neither should you.”
“Callum Winters asked for my hand,” Camelia admitted sheepishly. Georgie turned to her and flung her arms around her.
“But that is wonderful news. You have had a thing for him since you were a girl! Why ever did you not tell me before?”
“Because of everything we just discussed. I thought you might think me foolish for settling only for being a bride, a mother.”
“Oh Cammy. I do not expect any other person to agree with me – ever. I was born into the wrong mold. I try and fit myself within it, but cannot – that does not mean I expect you to be like me. I am delighted for you.”
“You are? Oh you do not know how happy that makes me. You see, I wanted you to come and help me choose my gown. Nobody has a better eye than you.”
“Not true, your own is far better than mine, and why ever would you purchase a gown? You should design it yourself and make it too. I shall be glad to help, though you know my stitching leaves much to be desired. I am rather good at cutting out patterns though.”
“You truly believe I could do so?” Cammy asked tentatively.
“I think it would be criminal if you do not. As I said, your dressmaker has not once delivered you a gown you did not design yourself, and I know you embellish them further once you get them home, and every woman in Providence wishes to have gowns like yours. They go to Miss Havering and find that they get mere copies, as without your personal touches the patterns seem dull and uninspiring.” The two women embraced, and Georgie could see her words had both touched and frightened Camelia. She wondered if the poor girl would ever realize just how talented she was, and that it was a crime that she did not use her gifts to their fullest.
“I shall think on it, but if I do I will take you up on your offer to help,” Camelia said suddenly withdrawing from the embrace.
“I shall be honored to do so. Maybe young Callum will realize that he has the means to an immense fortune if he simply encourages you to use your gifts?” They giggled, knowing that there were few men who would ever be able to accept a wife who worked, and certainly would never wish for her to earn more than he might. But a little part of Georgie wondered if Callum just might be the kind of husband who might break that mold into smithereens. He adored Cammy, always had, and he had always been most encouraging of her abilities. Georgie wondered if she should maybe speak with him, and decided that at the soonest opportunity she would do just that.
“Albert,” she called to the driver on the dashboard of the landau, “could you please drive us home. The heat is stifling and it would appear that we do not really need to be here at all as Miss Winston has already found a fiancé.”
“Very good Miss Georgina,” Albert replied and clicked the horses to a trot.
It was not long before they were out of the park gates and rumbling along the leafy streets of the most exclusive residential district in the city. Albert turned the horses into the decorative wrought iron gates of one of the largest houses on the street and pulled up outside the front door. He leapt down and opened the carriage door, flipping the steps out and offering a hand so Camelia could descend gracefully. “I shall see you at the ball this evening?” she asked.
“You shall. I will be wearing my blue gown I think,” she said knowing the question her friend would ask next.
“Then I shall wear my green and we can complement one another,” she said and skipped up the stairs and inside.
Georgie grinned to Albert as he jumped back into his place. “Shall we go straight home Miss Georgie,” he said with a wink. She grinned at him.
“No, a longer drive I think.”
He drove them outside of the city limits and into the wide open countryside. Georgie clambered up onto the dashboard beside him and he handed her the reins and the whip. “All yours Miss Georgie,” he said and leant back, as if to relax. Georgie chuckled and cracked the whip just over the horses, not touching them, but the sound alerted them and soon they were galloping along the rough and rutted roads. She knew it was reckless, and one false move could lose them a wheel or even worse, but she loved to drive like this with the wind in her hair – and nobody watching and telling her no.
Reluctantly she pulled the horses to a halt and let them rest for a moment while she assumed her more usual position in the rear of the carriage. “You have the softest hands,” Albert said admiringly. “You hold them reins like they was ribbons. Never known a driver like you.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “And please know how grateful I am that you never tell a soul of this.”
“Is my privilege to watch you Miss Georgie, I’d not want to give that up – nor do I want to lose my job if they ever find out I let you do so!”
“I would never let them do that to you Albert.”
“Your Daddy wouldn’t ever give you the chance Miss. I’d be gone before you were even able to call my name.” She knew he was right, and she knew that his risk was far greater than her own. It made her even more grateful that he was prepared to let her indulge in her favorite pastime.
The drive home was far more sedate, and Georgie was careful to make sure that her hair was tucked up inside her hat once more and her dress smoothed out by the time they pulled up outside the elegant town house. “I shall ensure the carriage is gleaming for tonight Miss Georgie,” Albert said as he handed her down.
“You had best do just that, Mama will be accompanying me,” Georgie said in a teasing tone she knew she should not use with the servants.
“I’ll put my best efforts in then,” he teased back. Georgie wished that all her friendships were as easy as those she shared with the servants of her parents’ home. There were boundaries that should not be crossed, but when Mama and Papa were so often not there she had been left alone with the maids and Mrs Green, the housekeeper, Mr Wilson, the butler and the stable lads and coachmen. They were all kindly folk, and had become the family she needed. It was very difficult now to treat them differently.
A stack of letters was waiting for her on a silver salver when she entered the hallway. Neatly tied in a pink ribbon, she smiled knowing what might be inside. She raced up the stairs, two at a time – knowing if she was caught that Mama would condemn her as a hoyden once more but she did not care. In her hand she held the key to her release from this prison of manners and sensibility. Collapsing onto the chaise longue at the end of her bed, she ripped into the envelopes wondering what she might find within.
Just a few minutes later she was surrounded by a sea of discarded letters. There was only one left, and her hopes were hanging tentatively by a thread that this one would be any more promising than the past eleven. She held her breath as she began to read, praying that this one might be the one she had been looking for.
Dear Respectable Lady
I write to you as your advertisement intrigued me greatly. I have friends, here in Ruby Springs who have been blessed in the relationships they have made through such a means and I long to find such an accord myself.
I am a simple man. I run a small bank in the town here, and it is slowly becoming prosperous. I will admit that I have often found I like numbers more than I do people, but please do not think that I would ever prefer my work to my wife. I find that there is a gap in my life, and had not realized what it was until my friend was wed recently. I would very much like to find the joy that he has done with his lovely bride Ellen.
I come from New York originally. I studied economics and mathematics at Princeton. I was considered something of a prodigy and graduated at the top of my class two years younger than all my classmates. I do not say this to boast, but so that you will not be surprised by my being in control of a bank at the tender age of twenty seven years. Though, that said the town that my bank serves is quite tiny. I believe it is an honor to serve this community, to help them to further their dreams and to ensure they are prepared for any troubles that may arise. I am glad to say they have welcomed me warmly.
I do enjoy music very much. I play the pianoforte, rather terribly in truth, but I do enjoy it. But my passion lies in my horses. I have a phaeton which I like to drive at reckless speeds, and my matching bays are a delight to see as they strain every sinew to take us rapidly to wherever we are headed. It is my one indulgence, my one recklessness I suppose you might call it.
I was the first person in Ruby Springs to have full indoor plumbing and electricity. I am terribly excited by new technology, and am eager to have one of the American Bell Telephone Company’s ingenious contraptions installed – though I know nobody else who owns one, so it would be an extravagance I must sadly put off for now.
I am sure that I am probably putting you off with all my ramblings, my desire to see change and passion for things some people see as simply distractions. But I genuinely believe that it will be technologies such as these that will change our world for the better.
I do so hope that you will respond to my letter. I would very much like to meet with you. I am happy to travel anywhere to do so. I do so love to see how many improvements they have made to the railways each time I travel too!
Yours most hopefully
Martin Shaw