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Georgette was not to be found anywhere they sought her. They first went to her bedchamber, of course, where their knocks elicited confusion from Prinny, who had been within, tending to her mistress’s frocks, and had not seen her for above an hour.

“Shall I ask them below stairs if any have seen her?” she said with concern.

“No, let us not raise a hue and cry just yet,” Sarah said while Lilly snivelled uselessly beside her. “Is her pelisse here? All her bonnets?”

As Prinny nodded, Lilly looked at Sarah questioningly, and Sarah added, “So we can assume she is still indoors.”

“Of course.” Lilly sighed. It was so helpful to have a clever friend like Sarah, who considered all the possibilities.

Then they were off, tearing all about Matlock in search of their friend who was stubbornly impossible to find, not in the drawing rooms, nor the library, nor even the billiards room.

At length, Elizabeth joined them, but when Miss Barlowe offered her assistance, they refused.

As the ladies walked away, Elizabeth said, under her breath, “The sight of her would likely send Georgette running in the opposite direction.” That made Lilly laugh, just a little, through her dismay.

When nearly three-quarters of an hour had passed with no luck, Lady Aurelia interrupted their search. “You might wish to check the attics. There is a particular tower window with a trunk beneath it. Georgette always did like to hide up there.”

“To hide?” Sarah enquired disbelievingly. “The Georgette I know has no need of a hiding place. She is far too brave.”

“I must agree,” Elizabeth replied. “I was surprised to see her so affected just now. I had formed the impression she is not easily discomposed.”

Lady Aurelia gave a short huff of displeasure. “Well, she does not usually make such a prodigious exhibition of herself. Perhaps when you find her, you will succeed in talking her out of this preposterous alliance. The attics are your best hope.”

“That might have been useful information some while ago,” Sarah muttered as the three ladies went off at a quick pace.

“Why, Sarah! That was positively snappish of you. Well done, darling,” Lilly said.

Indeed, the attic was where they found their friend, her knees tucked up and her head resting on the glass.

“Georgette?”

When there was no reply to Lilly’s call, Sarah asked, “Georgette? Dearest, are you well?”

From her unmarred countenance, it seemed Georgette had not cried, and Lilly admired her for that. She just sat there, silent and still, her gaze fixed at some point only her mind’s eye could see .

“Shall I leave you?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper.

“No,” Georgette replied finally with a sigh, straightening herself. “I daresay, Elizabeth, you might be the only one without reason to despise me.”

“What nonsense!” Sarah cried.

“Why ever would you think so?” Lilly asked.

“Because I have been hiding this from you,” Georgette acknowledged. “Hiding and sneaking and lying—unpardonably dishonourable, and I knew it was no good but…” With a little shrug, she said, “The heart wants what it wants, even when your own friends might revile and scorn you.”

“Revile and scorn? If you speak of those ninnies in the drawing room, they are no friends of mine.” Lilly pushed herself in on the seat beside her friend.

Not a seat, as it turned out, but a trunk as Lady Aurelia had mentioned.

There was an uncomfortable lock that pressed into Lilly’s hindquarters, but for Georgette, it would be tolerated.

“Mr Emerson is going to be terribly disappointed, you know. He has been ogling you since he arrived.”

Georgette smiled sadly. “The three of you must surely wonder what I am about. I am sure the whole of it seems absurd to you. Everyone is so determined to think Anderson the dullest, most uninspiring man, and with these untenable predispositions towards the outcasts of society.”

“I think it exceedingly noble,” Elizabeth offered.

“As do I,” Lilly said .

“And as fond as I am of things that rather disgust most others, I can hardly dislike him for helping some unfortunate children,” Sarah added. “Besides, I have begun to think much better of him since I have seen how well you both get along.”

Georgette smiled weakly. “He thinks you are lovely, too, Sarah. He told me you have a pretty frown.”

Lilly grinned to see Sarah flounder in the face of this compliment.

“There is no reason to suspect it is not true, darling, for Mr Anderson is evidently an expert in beauty, else he would not be marrying our dear Georgette.” To her, she said, “But why on earth did you feel you could not confide in us?”

“It was not just you. It was everyone. You know I had an offer—in a manner of speaking—from one of the de Borchgraves.”

“Oh yes,” Lilly said. “I had forgotten about that.”

“Anderson and I were already…well, we were not yet in love—although perhaps we were, for I could not even contemplate marrying another, even then, so I refused. I am sure you can imagine how the family thought me mad for not considering such an offer. Shortly after that, Anderson asked Father for my hand, and he was—well, in short, he threatened to force me to marry the viscount unless I promised never to see Anderson again. The taint of such a name was more than my father could countenance, whereas a Belgian viscountess fo r a daughter would have been just the thing, evidently.”

“That is horrid!” Lilly exclaimed.

“More than passably vexing, yes. Thus, we have grown accustomed to being discreet. It was easiest not to tell anyone than to expect any of you to keep it a secret. We planned to marry when I came of age, but now…Oh lord, now I do not know what will happen! Anderson has left, my father is bound to find out about our plans, and I refuse to marry a de Borchgrave, for I have no wish to live in Belgium!”

Elizabeth laughed and they all turned to look at her.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I was only thinking of my own first offer, from the cousin who is heir to my father’s estate.

Hardly a Belgian viscount, to be sure, but the family was not best pleased with me either, when I refused him, particularly as I had no other prospects to content them with. ”

“But they must surely be delighted now?” Sarah asked.

Elizabeth made a little wry smile. “They are, but not nearly as much as I am. All I mean to say is that practicality and pleasure are often at odds in the marriage mart.”

The ladies all laughed.

“If only the rest of the world were not so scandalised by Anderson’s charity.

’Tis an admirable endeavour in my opinion, and I love him all the more for it,” Georgette lamented.

“But so it is, and I shall not be moved from my decision, even if everyone who is anyone condemns me for it.” She quieted a little, and gave a rueful grin.

“It is nevertheless pleasant to hear you say, Elizabeth, that you would advise me to follow my heart.”

“I make it a practice to avoid advice,” she replied.

“All I can say is that I acted very foolishly once, to refuse an eligible man when I had nothing of my own and no other prospects. But I am certainly heartily glad I did, for I shudder to imagine what I might have missed out on, had I settled for what, in the eyes of society, seemed best.”

“I daresay my prospects just disappeared.” Lilly said so unthinkingly, and at once the other ladies were all looking at her.” She offered a weak smile. “I just gave your cousin quite a set-down, Georgette.”

Her friend winced. “You did? He could not have received that well.”

“I think it fair to say he despises me now,” she admitted. “Yet, Ball-Sack seems an equally unlikely match, though for different reasons. So I think I shall be forced to distress my mother and tell her I am not to marry, not this Season and perhaps not the one after that either.”

“Mr Balton-Sycke would not make you happy,” Sarah said. “He is Phyllaphis fagi, a pesky, destructive nuisance, while you are the lovely Coccinella magnifica . You would eat him for breakfast. It would not do.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that, but I do appreciate your seeing my side of things.” Lilly smiled at her friend. “So you can upset your father by telling him of your engagement, Georgette, and I shall upset my mother by telling her my news, and we shall endure the whispers together.”

Georgette at last rose, kissing Lilly on the cheek and extending her arms towards the others. “That sounds perfectly wonderful.”

“And so have a cheer,” Sarah offered. “William Buckland—the palaeontologist, you know—served an entire salver of Calliphoridae to the Regent—bluebottle flies, that is. Father said he is destined to be elected a fellow of the Royal Society, even so. There is always some newer scandal to come along and make the rest of them less interesting.”