Page 40 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

Twenty-Nine

T he early morning shouts could only mean one thing: Sir Lightwood had returned.

Today was Johnathan's last opportunity to ask for permission to formally court Georgiana before accompanying the earl to Town.

He had not dared on Christmas Day, lest an argument ruin the festivities for everyone.

The next morning, Sir Lightwood left in a huff after Viscount Endelton stopped him from berating Jane for an imaginary infraction.

Johnathan hoped Sir Lightwood would be in something less than high temper for this conversation, but it was unlikely that the day would improve Sir Lightwood’s demeanor—for Sir Lightwood was rarely given to anything but anger around Johnathan.

Johnathan made two steps out of his door when he noticed Jane on the other side of the landing, trembling with Sir Galahad in her arms. The only way for the dog to exit was through the servants’ stairway.

This meant Jane would risk being seen by her father if she crossed the landing.

She likely did not dare let the dog go, lest he take the front stairway, as he often did.

Johnathan waved Jane back and continued toward the main stairway. At the top of the stairway he whispered. “I will ask Sir Lightwood for a meeting in his study. You can take care of our friend then.”

Johnathan clattered down the stairway, gaining Sir Lightwood’s attention.

“You’re still here?”

“Ah, Sir Lightwood, just the man I wanted to see. Do you have a moment?”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Perhaps we could go to your study?”

Sir Lightwood huffed, but led the way toward the study. Johnathan closed the door behind him—not so much to keep the conversation private but as to guarantee Jane’s safe escape with Sir Galahad.

Sir Lightwood turned and jabbed a finger at Johnathan.

“Now, what do you have to discuss? Do you have something more to take away from me than my inheritance?”

“You must know that is not my aim.”

“It may not be your aim, but it is my father-in-law’s. He wishes to oust me so that I might never be earl!”

Johnathan could not argue with the truth of that statement. “I have sought an audience with you on quite a different matter.”

Sir Lightwood folded his arms. “Enlighten me.”

“I wish to court your daughter.”

“Alexandra? By all means—take her far away.”

“Not Miss Lightwood?—”

“Jane? You may have Jane. She isn’t?—”

Thinking it best to cut off the diatribe before it continued, Johnathan interrupted. “I was speaking of Miss Georgiana.”

“George?” Sir Lightwood called his daughter by the masculine form of her name.

“I should say not. She is the only one of my remaining daughters who can make a good match, until Rose is of age. She is a true beauty. George is not for you, Yankee. The only way you could provide for her is if I cannot. You must be mad to think you can have my only means of securing a future the earl is determined to steal from me. Alexandra is useless on the marriage mart—what type of man would have her? And Jane... Jane is so mousy that no man would want her. You can have either of them if you wish for one of my daughters since that damnable duke has ruined my ability to force them to marry. But he never said I couldn’t forbid them—” a cold calculating curve of the lips that resembled a smile grew on Sir Lightwood’s face.

“Ha. The duke only said I couldn’t force— not forbid. ”

Sir Lightwood all but laughed at the revelation that gave him power.

“No, you may not have Georgiana. You may have leave to court either Jane or Alexandra. You have asked and I have answered. I am their father. I still have that power. Georgiana is not yet of age and must abide by my decision. Now be gone. Get out of my study and out of my home.”

“I will leave your study as you wish. But as for leaving Kellmore—I will not leave until the earl does.”

Sir Lightwood yelled a rather colorful expletive as Johnathan hurried out the door.

Jane stood at the edge of the breakfast room.

“Thank you for distracting Father,” she said as he neared. “He told me he would kill Sir Galahad if he found him in the house again. I did not think he would come back with Grandfather still here.”

At least his argument with Sir Lightwood did some good for the family.

“Sit with me and eat?” asked Jane. “ I’m afraid the others will not be down for some time, and I do not wish to be alone.”

Johnathan had little appetite, but knew it was better for Jane not to face Sir Lightwood alone, especially after his ill-fated conversation. He made himself a plate and sat across from her.

“I heard your argument with my father. I am very sorry. I do believe Georgiana would be quite willing to court you as well.”

“Without your father’s blessing, I cannot.”

“If we were identical, we could trade places, and then you could court her all you wanted.”

“That would be an interesting solution. I beg you not to tell Georgiana of this. I shall try again.”

A muffled yell, swallowed by a thump, came from the study down the hall.

“Oh dear, what now?”

The door slammed open, and Sir Lightwood yelled for his steward. Receiving no answer Sir Lightwood stomped down the corridor and into the breakfast room.

“Have either of you seen my steward?”

“No, Father. He's been given some time at home with his newly born son.”

“And who gave that order?”

“If you would like, I can rouse the earl,” said Johnathan.

“Figures! But how am I to take care of this then?” Sir Lightwood waved a letter. “There’s been a disaster in Yorkshire that must be solved immediately.”

Jane gasped. Johnathan wished to console her, but he knew it was not Georgiana who was in danger.

“My sister has gone and married—and closed up the house—both without my permission!”

“Aunt Elaine is married?” asked Jane.

“Yes. The bumbling Banbridge has swiped her from me. He has all my lands!”

Johnathan did not point out that those lands were, in fact, rented to Lord Banbridge—a fact he knew only from Georgiana.

“And what of Georgiana? Where is she?” asked Jane.

“Likely in the shelter of Banbridge. Although she knows her place, she’s at Lightwood Manor. I was going to stay for the day, but I must leave immediately for Yorkshire. Find someone to ready my carriage!”

“Poor George,” sighed Jane. “We have no way to warn her.”

The possibility of leaving now on horseback crossed his mind.

He would reach Banbridge first, but then what?

Short of abducting Georgiana, that is how the law would see it, there was little he could do.

Banbridge knew Sir Lightwood, hence the marriage by special license.

By the time Sir Lightwood arrived in Yorkshire the boys would be tucked safely away at school.

Banbridge was no fool. Georgiana would be safe.

“I’m sure she’ll be well enough off. Lord Banbridge is the good sort. He is hardly one to leave Miss Georgiana alone. And I would say, in a round of fisticuffs, Lord Banbridge would easily win—if it comes to that.” It wasn’t much reassurance but it was all he could give.

“Are you sure?”

“I resided with the man for two days. And he was much besotted with your aunt. He will let no harm come to your sister.”

“I should go upstairs and write to her immediately. My letter will not beat Father there, but perhaps it will do some good.”

Jane rushed from the breakfast room, leaving a half-eaten bun on her plate.

As for Johnathan, he had absolutely nothing of interest to write to Georgiana—because his quest failed.

The candle flickered and the inn's wobbly desk threatened to spill her ink with every word George penned.

Dearest Jane and Alex,

If you have not yet set off for Bath, I wish you to with all haste.

Father will be some days in returning to you, as he is likely following me to London.

I shall explain forthwith, but I feel some urgency that you remove yourself from Kellmore as I have never witnessed father in such a rage as he is over our aunt’s nuptials.

Though the reason the wedding has set him into such a frenzy, I do not know.

I have already sent a letter detailing the wedding, so I shall waste no ink and paper on the beauty of it. I also included joy for Alex’s birthday in the previous letter. I hope you have received it as there is no joy in this tale.

Father arrived two—no three—days ago and was granted admittance to Lord Banbridge’s parlor.

I shall spare you the cruelties father spewed at his sister.

Lord Banbridge, much to his credit, barred Father from the house.

Of course, father did not quit the village.

We did not see him again until yesterday morning as services commenced at the parish chapel.

Father arrived disheveled and intoxicated.

I shall spare you the scene that unfolded.

The curate’s wife spirited our aunt away.

Father realizing our aunt left, turned on me.

Only the interference of Lord Banbridge kept me safe from father’s temper.

Lord Banbridge has kindly offered to send me to London to stay with Grandfather with all speed.

She could not bear to write the next. How her stomach lurched at the reek of drink that clung to father’s rumpled coat. The congregation turned as one, their faces a collection of startled “Ohs” and raised eyebrows.

“Sir Lightwood, you forget yourself.” Lord Banbridge stepped between George and her father.

“Forget myself? I forget nothing!” Father lurched forward, nearly colliding with a pew. “You think you can steal my sister and corrupt my daughter with your?—”

“Papa, please.” The words escaped Georgiana's throat as barely a whisper. The last time she called him Papa, mother had been at his side.

His bloodshot eyes fixed on her with such venom that she stepped backward into a column. Father grabbed her by the arm. “Come with me now, daughter.”

“That is quite enough.” Lord Banbridge stepped forward, his jaw set as firmly as the stone columns supporting the parish church.

“I cannot allow you to handle your daughter thus while you are in this state and neither can these good people.

Shall I call the magistrate? You are in God's house, sir, and you will conduct yourself accordingly. Remove yourself at once.”

Father blinked as if noticing for the first time he was in the church. He dropped George’s arm and fled.

George omitted the conversation leading to her leaving in the dead of a clear cold night in hopes that by the time the ruse was discovered, she would be beyond her father’s reach.

As traveling companions she had a coachman, three footmen, one of which whom had the arms of a blacksmith and could barely fit his clothes, and two housemaids who were being dispatched to Lord Banbridge’s London residence to ready it for the arrival of the new lady of the house.

One of the maids came into the inn’s dimly lit bedroom with a pitcher of water. “Miss? The coachman wishes to leave at five in the morning. Ye best be getting into bed.”

George concluded, signed and sealed the letter, leaving instructions that it be posted at the first opportunity.