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hope that
Bess finds a man like Mr. St James, or even Cecily who is now
seventeen and very pretty may find a man who will save us.
    John, I beg you to write to me, and tell me
what I shall do. If only your Mama or Papa were alive, they would
help me too, they would not let this happen.
    I must hear from you, John! Tell me that
everything will be well, and that we shall overcome this, and you
and I can be together.
    Forgive the sploches and the bad
handwriting, I cannot stop crying, though I should be offering you
confort as you suffer in War, instead of demanding your help.
    I love you so, John.
    G.

    Georgiana's heartfelt letter in her bad
handwriting, her shocking spelling, and full of her tears, never
made it to John, for the ship that carried it abroad sank during a
bad tempest off the coast of Africa, taking her desperate plea to
the bottom of the sea with it.
     

Six. Winter

    One hardly needed to be in society to know
that the Countess of Halford was one of the most beautiful and
elegant women in London. She was beautiful by nature, in the glory
of her twenty years, and she was elegant by discernment. She always
remained fashionable and poised, as was expected of her.
    A contract had been signed between her and
her husband, Hugh Stowe, upon their marriage. It did not specify
what her duties should be, but it did not have to. A Countess of
Halford should always be exquisite.
    It was a part she played, as she had played
many parts in the nine months since her marriage. She walked in the
park enveloped in her furs, and sat at the theatre in her diamonds,
and entertained at home in splendid gowns.  The winter of 1761
was no different than the other seasons of her marriage except in
this: that by February, the war in India was over.
    "Jack is coming home!"
    She had expected to hear this, sooner or
later, but when Ned entered during luncheon to announce it, she
couldn't help the clatter her fork and knife made against the fine
china dish.
    "Is anything the matter, Georgiana?" her
husband asked coldly, turning toward her, though she could see that
his face was pale.
    "Other than the news Ned has just brought, I
don't see what the matter could be," she replied with as much
coldness. It seemed to be the way that noble people spoke to each
other, most of the time.
    Hugh sought to stare her down, but did not
manage. "I don't see that there is any interest in that John
Crawford should return."
    "Oh, but steady on, Hugh!" Ned protested. "He
is our --"
    It was Hugh who now set his cutlery down
almost with violence, "I forbid you from calling him that! How much
of a fool are you?"
    "Steady on!" Ned repeated. Unfortunately,
though he was an affectionate boy, he did not have very strong
opinions, and ran from any confrontation with Hugh.
    "Your brother asks if you are a fool," said
Georgiana to Ned, "because his solicitors disinherited the man who
can no longer be called your brother, and threw his mother out of
her house when she was ill and about to die..."
    "I did not know that she was dying, or you
will agree that I would hardly have gone to the trouble of
procuring an eviction notice," Hugh said between gritted teeth, as
it was something he had said many times before.
    "And now," Georgiana continued, playing with
her wine glass. "The man who is  not  your brother
is returning, and the man who is your brother thinks that John
Crawford might actually appeal to the law."
    "What exactly do you mean by that?" Hugh
asked.
    Georgiana smiled. "That you think that John
Crawford, as you call him, might hire a solicitor and try to get
his inheritance back..."
    "He had no inheritance."
    "...when in fact I believe that he will come
straight here and take your head off with a blow of his fist."
    "And do you so desire to be a widow, madam,
that you smile as you say this?"
    Georgiana shrugged, but there was defiance in
her expression.
    Hugh's jaw worked from side to side, though
his tone remained even. "Let me remind you, then, that should