Page 15 of A Rare Find

“My God.” Georgina’s laugh was low. “Even de Burgh? The snobbery.”

“It’s not snobbery. What I’m saying is I abhor you for you.”

“Because I teased you when we were children.”

“Teased me? You nearly put out my eye.”

“I was eight years old. And I said en garde. You were supposed to raise your stick and parry.”

“I was using my stick to roll my hoop, like everyone else.”

“No, you weren’t. Your hoop was on the ground. You couldn’t roll it for your life. You were standing there looking furious, and I thought you’d benefit from a bit of swordplay.”

“You cut off my braid in church.”

“Also at a callow stage of life. And I’d brought the most cunning little pair of grape scissors. I had to cut something.”

“Why bring grape scissors to church?”

“Good question.” Georgina paused. “It was just the tip of the braid.”

“You rode me into a ditch.”

“I didn’t see you. You matched the lane. I recommend brighter colors.”

“The time at Mrs. Pattinson’s.”

Georgina’s eyelids flickered. “Which time at Mrs. Pattinson’s?”

“The ball. The ball before you went to London. You were nineteen.”

Some quick, complex expression passed across Georgina’s face. Then she gave a small, negating twitch. “It wasn’t what you imagined.”

“I don’t care.” Elfreda wished she hadn’t brought it up. Memories of that night were stupidly tender, like bruises in her brain.

“Elf.” Georgina stepped closer.

“Stop.” It was overwhelming. The amulet. Georgina. The odd light in her eyes. Elfreda swallowed and met those eyes directly.

“Go fritter away your life,” she said. “Dance and drink champagne and play whist with your pretty friends and snicker at wallflowers and put on private theatricals and—”

“How is that frittering?” Georgina interrupted. “That is life. Except for the snickering at wallflowers. You’ve got me all wrong there.”

“Do as you please,” Elfreda continued. “Engage in all the superficial pursuits you like best, just as long as you do not come near me ever again.”

Georgina stared. “If I was born a thousand years ago, and buried in some barrow, you’d collect my buttons and hairpins. My frittering would seem significant.”

Elfreda did not concede the point.

“You weren’t,” she said. “And it doesn’t.”

With that she started walking up the rutted road to Marsden Hall.

“So I’ll see you at dinner!” Georgina called after her. “Seven o’clock. Lapdog fricassee.”

This time, Elfreda didn’t glance over her shoulder. She hoped she’d already seen the last of Georgina Redmayne.

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