Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
She had slept, on and off while Mason had been gone, waking each time in a fitful spell, her mind a well of cruel memories and fears come to life. While she seemed to be recovering, her chest loosening, her vision clearing, she could still feel the pounding fear, the terror. She woke sweating, her heart smacking hard against her ribs, and her mind reeling, but eventually, exhaustion would claim her again and so the process would repeat.
Eventually, though, the nightmares became more unbearable than the weight of her weariness, and with some force, she kept herself awake, staring up into the darkness of her room, trying to still the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. Every step, every creak, every sound inside Wintersmith drove a spike of fear through her, so much so that when the door opened she was almost certain it was Jane, come to finish the job...
Only when Mason spoke did she allow herself to relax, and her eyes stung with tears at his words. Cared for... Poor Jane. Dear Jane. She had been so kind and sweet. Whatever had stolen that from her, Georgiana could not fault her entirely...
As Mason leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, she stretched out her hand to take hold of his arm, and through the darkness, tried to find his features, sniffling softly, "Mason... Please stay." She begged, in a broken whisper, "I don't want to be alone... Not right now... Please?"
Exhausted, but it was not readily in Mason's character to refuse. He didn't sigh with discontent or make any sort of other signal towards annoyance. Truthfully, he wasn't annoyed. He was tired, surely, but that did not necessarily relate to annoyance. His arm captured, he stepped back towards her bedside and took a seat. He ignored, entirely, the propriety of an unwed man and woman being left alone together. Engaged or not, their interaction was going against every conduct that ought to have been employed. A chaperon should have been present to watch over them both, but it was not the time to consider such decorum.
"I will stay," he agreed readily, though immediately fell silent. He was too tired even to come up with a topic of conversation. Even he had, he wasn't certain Georgiana had the will or desire to speak. Instead, he let his mind mull over the events of the day… of the week, truly. It had been an exciting time, but not at all in a thrilling way. It bore down heavily on every nerve he had and the doctor, during their time shared with Jane, had expressed his concern over the Master's health. He had suggested promptly that Mason get fresh air and exercise, perhaps in the country as the city air did not seem to be agreeing with him.
He had assured the doctor that he had been planning to take to his spacious country estate in Scotland for reprieve. That for three or four months, he'd leave Wintersmith behind. The doctor had taken Jane at once, promising to return to Georgiana later the next day to ensure her health was improving. From the sound of her breathing alone, though still raspy, it sounded like she was a ways better already. Breakfast for her would be served in bed. The doctor had ordered she stay in bed until at least tomorrow afternoon and it had been Mason's intention to force that prescription on her. He was almost certain he would take the same prescription, however, as he hoped he'd be able to take a small rest during the morning and early afternoon.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
He agreed, without conversation and while she too very briefly considered the impropriety, she couldn't rightly care at the moment. It wasn't as though either of them had any real reason for concern... She was in no position to act upon passions and he was certainly not the sort to take advantage of anyone in her state. She just needed him there, and he seemed to understand that.
As he sank beside her, she dropped her hand to his, her eyes returning to the ceiling. Over the next few days, she would take the time necessary to heal, but what he had said about discussing things to come make her nervous. Would things change? Would he not want to marry her? She could thin of no rational reason why... but a near death experience could be fearful, and he had already lost so much. Perhaps he had changed his mind, for fear of losing more?
Mason had, over the course of only a few months, transformed...and in turn, he had transformed her. She could not think that anything would scare him away from a decision that had meant so much to him, and she wasn't willing to believe for anything that he would ever leave her that way... least of all out of fear.
It wouldn't do to dwell, and as it was, she was far too tired to think about much. Her eyes rolled back again, the lids falling closed and with a soft sigh, she drifted off again, her hand still enclosed around his, even as sleep claimed her entirely.
Until he was certain she was asleep— when her breathing was long, slow— and her restlessness had come to an end, did Mason rise again. It was nearly dawn by that hour when he finally leaned over and with one last kiss to her forehead, retreated to his own quarters. The hearth was cold and the air in the room even colder, but he didn't bother to start a fire. Instead, he quickly undressed and changed in bed clothing, happy to strip away the guilt and discontent like an article of clothing itself.
Dawn sent shimmering rays over the placid estate, now tenderly touched by the first drops of snow. Only an hour previous, the blackness had been absolute, but now the mist was visible, silvery against the backdrop of trees that were silhouettes. The world outside was as still as an oil painting and the trees darker than ravens. Come mid-morning, those infernal birds would certainly be hopping the branches. Mason yanked the drapes over the window, swallowing himself in darkness as he retreated to his bed.
Sleep was quite forgiving that morning, though Lizzie proved not to be. He had dozed off—dreamlessly—that morning, but not two hours later, he was stirred by the excited sounds of Lizzie swirling around poor Mary. She was talking loudly, though about what, he couldn't make out. He was certain it was some object or little or no consequence, but it frustrated him deeply. Knowing it would be a folly to stay into bed any longer than he had been, he moved from it and dressed again.
"Lizzie," he scolded as he stepped from his room and gently shut the door, "What is with all this morning chatter?" It must have meant nothing because a moment later, her face had gone hot with embarrassment. "Why don't you go to the breakfast room, fetch some tea, and bring it up to Georgiana. Would you do that for me?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Sleep, it seemed, worked miracles that medicine could not. By the time Georgiana roused, she felt almost perfectly well again. The constriction in her chest and throat were entirely gone, her forehead cool. Even the fear, though still lingering, had less effect. She righted herself almost immediately, and while she was sure it would earn her a scowl from the doctor, she slipped from the bedclothes, to open the curtains.
It was a cool dawn, but the sun hung like a pale egg behind misty clouds, the snow, like her ailments, having abated over night. Settling back in bed, she breathed in deeply and without a cough.
Mason had once said to her that tragedies and suffering had made them stronger, but Georgiana knew better now... It wasn't what she endured that caused her to press on. It was what she had to endure for. Lizzie and Mason... They were her entire world, and she couldn't abandon them...
Just as much as they needed her, she desperately needed them.
With a pleasant sigh, she looked to the window again and out into a new day.
Morning trudged on quite terribly. He had been confident that Lizzie would be strong enough to bring up the tea herself without Mary's assistance. He saw himself downstairs to the breakfast room and settled himself in at the empty table to begin his own morning meal. The display had already been spread out with rolls, fruits, preserves, and breads. He ate calmly, quietly, and busied himself as he did so reading letters that had come to Wintersmith from the morning post. Most were related to business, a few personal, but nothing of any grand importance to him. In any regard, it was an easy and harmless way to distract his mind for the time being.
Meanwhile, toddling up the stairs with a porcelain saucer and cup in her still childhood chubby fingers was Lizzie. She had fetched the tea as requested, content to put her services to work, and came up the stairs. She scarcely knocked on the door and had to request the help of a passing servant to open the door for her before she slipped into Georgiana's room.
"Mason asked me to bring this to you," she explained, setting the teacup and its saucer down on Georgiana's bedside table. "Are you unwell?" Lizzie hadn't been privy to all the exact details of the ongoings, but she knew something unusual had occurred under the house roof when it had been Mary who had taken to her as a nurse of sorts. Though she hadn't particularly enjoyed the change in her company, she had accepted it willfully.
"Something must be going on. He was supposed to leave tomorrow for Scotland, yet he wished to talk with me tonight after tea. Do you think he is sending me away to school instead of letting me stay here? He better not. I won't let him send me back to school!"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
As Lizzie entered her room, Georgiana smiled, instantly feeling the sense of levity the young girl brought with her. Even with her usual flood of questions, which probably should have overwhelmed, Georgie could not help but chuckle, and shaking her head, she patted the space on the bed beside her.
She gathered from Lizzie's words that she hadn't been told the brunt of what happened, and she was glad for it. The situation was delicate, at best, and while she hated the idea of lying to Lizzie, she hated the idea of the girl being frightened, all the more. It seemed best to leave it vague and hope the details never revealed themselves.
"I'm well enough, my dear. Just a bit under the weather, but I'm sure I'll be right as rain in no time, at all." Plucking her tea off the tray, impressed to find that this time, at least, it was lukewarm, instead of cold, she took a sip and leaning back into her pillows, she considered the second question with a small, thoughtful frown. Would Mason send her off? If he thought at all that Georgiana wasn't going to be capable of handling Lizzie's care, it was possible... but surely he would have discussed the matter with both of them, before making an concrete decisions.
"I don't imagine he would do that, Lizzie. But if he did, I'm sure it would be for a very, very good reason. I'm sure we'll find out tonight. Thank you very much for the tea. It's lovely."
Lizzie took the spot at the edge of the bed that was patted for her and folded her arms neatly in her lap, considering the possibility that was being discussed with great meditation. A frown possessed her lips then with the uncertainty of her future, though if she had analyzed the situation at any depth without her own worry clouding her judgement, she would have known her concern was pointless.
"A good reason?" she echoed her governess, "I don't think there is a good reason in all the world to be sent to school, though I've been told there are some very nice schools on the continent— in France and Spain and such. I suppose those wouldn't be too terrible." She seemed to already be resigning herself to the belief that she would be going away and, she would, but not in the way she was thinking. Sighing, she lolled her head to the side for look down at Georgiana. She wouldn't know until that evening and waiting for things had never been her particular strong suit.
"You are welcome," she replied, glad for the change in conversation, especially when it gave her some deep gratitude. She smiled immediately, pleased the her tea was well received. "Should I bring you anything else? A crust of bread? A cake? Are you even hungry at all? I know when I'm sick, I'm not very hungry usually, but I've always been told you ought to eat, even when you're sick and to drink the waters from town."
"Or would you just like to rest?" It never seemed to occur to her that her questions were rather accosting as opposed to helpful, but she hadn't really ever had to care for anything—or anyone—before.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
"Well." Georgiana mused, a small smile coming over her pale features, brightening her eyes, "If there is no good reason than he wouldn't do it. Simple as that. He would never do anything to hurt you. Certainly not intentionally. He loves you very much, Dear Heart."
Sinking back, settling her cup down on the bedside table, she shook her head as Lizzie changed the subject. Despite feeling better physically, she was still quite shaken emotionally, her stomach a roiling ball of nerves. Even with Jane having been taken away, she was sure it was a feeling that would linger for some time...
"I'm fine. Rest is probably for the best, though I'm a bit tired of being cooped up. Hopefully it won't be for much longer yet." Smiling again, she reached out to give Lizzie's hand a gentle squeeze, "Now then. You've been a wonderful nurse, but it's silly for you to be waiting on me. Off you go. Enjoy your freedom, a bit. I'll see you this evening."
Lizzie didn't seem to mind being sent off and slipped quietly from the side of Georgiana's bed. With Georgiana ill and Mary occupied, she knew readily that the afternoon would be to herself. What she could do in that time, she wondered, she hadn't a clue. Still, she looked forward to the freedom and curtsied politely to Georgiana, bided her good rest, and left. At first, she was rather bored and lonely, but only for about five minutes, at which point she had decided to pull on her muff and down jacket to go outside. The snow was powdery and fresh, almost entirely undisturbed except for the few tracks that walked to and from the front door.
The garden was a pristine, untouched wasteland and she took great pleasure in making the first trail through it. Her petticoat was dirtied in only a few moments, her stockings soaked, and her slippers worn. She had hardly seemed to notice at all, frolicking for nearly an hour, before Mason had caught her in the act.
"Lizzie, what on Earth are you doing?" he called to her, in his elegant tail coat with gloved hands slipped in to his pockets. Lizzie immediately flushed with embarrassment of being caught, and quickly looked away, as if avoiding eye-contact would make him go away. It did not.
"Nothing," she replied, "I was just about to come inside because I believe it about lunchtime."
"Yes, it is, come inside now before you freeze. We shall lunch together."
They spent lunch together, tucked in close to the fire that was burning flush and bright. After lunch, they spent time together in silence, both reading, and it wasn't until early evening that Mason's eyes shifted upward. "Lizzie," he said, "Would you go see Miss Georgiana? See how she is doing and if she is well enough to take supper with us tonight?"
"Sure," she replied, slipping off her sofa and making her way upstairs to gently knock on Georgiana's bedroom door.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
It was a terrible thing, being cooped up in bed all day long. Georgiana had never been one who enjoyed idleness as it was, but when it was forced, it was nearly maddening. She couldn't imagine how Mason had endured it back in London, since she and he were very much the same in that respect. She was glad for every interruption, even if it was just the doctor, checking on her progress, or a maid bringing tea, here and there. She'd had lunch in bed, as well, and while it was wonderful and her appetite seemed to have returned, it wasn't ideal.
When Lizzie returned that evening, Georgie had already decided she'd had enough, and had managed not only to leave her bed, but to dress - though it was a simple frock that required very little effort with buttons and bodice laces. She was in the process of tugging on her slippers when Lizzie knocked and calling her in, she smiled faintly, "Lizzie, dear. I was just about to come down and see how everyone was doing. I'm going out of my mind up here, all by myself."
Rising, much more steadily than she had been the day prior, she brushed down her skirts, before running her fingers through her tangled hair. It would have been better to pin it up, properly, but she was still tired and the effort seemed a waste, particularly when she wasn't entirely sure she'd be allowed to stay downstairs for long, at all. But she was determined. She missed Mason, and she wanted to spend time with him, even if it meant make the choice all on her own, "What was it you needed, darling?"
Lizzie used both hands to open the door knob and pop it open, stepping in through the threshold with a coy smile. "Hello, Miss Georgie," she greeted the woman politely, offering a small curtsy as she felt the need to be on her best behavior after being caught ruining her petticoat earlier that day. Formality set aside, she smiled a bit more warmly than she had been before.
"I came to ask you whether or not you'd be joining Mason and I for taking supper," she explained when asked, "He wanted to know if you'd be able to join." Judging by her dress, she would at least be coming down for a little while, Lizzie decided. She also noted that the woman looked a bit healthier than she had that morning and for it, Lizzie was glad though also a bit disappointed, knowing she'd likely have to go back to her lessons soon instead of spending her mornings in the snowy gardens.
Downstairs, supper was already commencing being served. A few platters had made their way on to the dining table and while it was hardly a full-course, exquisite meal, it was nice and smelled even better. Mason had taken his seat at the head of the table, having brought his book with him to read and sip his brandy as he waited for one—or both—ladies to descend. It had been Lizzie who made her way down first, excusing herself from Georgiana's room and rushing down the stairs with a hungry, rumbling belly.
She climbed into her seat without refrain, eyeing the platters greedily, calculating out what she wanted to eat first… and how much of a share of each she'd take.
"Mason," she asked, "Are you sending me away to school?" she asked as she reached for a roll but one frown from Mason sent her back to wait patiently for Georgiana, too.
"We shall discuss everything with Georgiana," he clarified, giving her no sense of certainty, "over dinner. Together."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Georgiana smiled at the notion of dinner with Mason and Lizzie and nodded to the girl's question. She was sure things wouldn't go back to normal right away, and it would take some effort for her to forget exactly what had happened - perhaps she never would - but the last thing she wanted was to dwell, or to be MADE to dwell on it by anyone within Wintersmith. Only a select few even knew, and she was happy keeping it that way.
Her heart still hurt to think about Jane, but she was perfectly content moving on, returning to the way that things were before Mason had left for London... Particularly in some fairly pleasant conventions. She had missed him, and while she understood why he might keep his distance - taking to heart the idea of loss, so deeply - she preferred not to spend so much time apart from the man she was, hopefully, going to spend the rest of her life with.
She follow Lizzie down, after finishing with her slippers and only a few seconds behind the girl, she caught the question as she came into the dining room, her eyes moving to Mason and then to Lizzie, then back again as, with a small smile, she settled into her seat, "Good evening, Mason. I missed you, today."
To say Mason had healed was about as accurate as saying an angry bear was unfriendly. He hadn't not in the least and hauling Georgiana up the stairs had been detrimental to his shoulder. Pain rung out through it at first but had since dulled to a slow ache that afternoon. More than once he had tried to stretch out the injury, only to find it barking painfully in his ears every time he did. At the dinner table, he was a picture of a relaxed, content gentleman and not a single suggestion of pain twinkled in his eyes, but he felt it in his own mind. His shoulder killed, but he wouldn't let it show.
When Georgiana arrived he smiled pleasantly and stood to welcome her to the table. Only once she had sat did he return to his own seat. "Good evening, Miss Georgiana," he replied, shooting a sideways glance to Lizzie as she nearly leapt at the roll tray. Settled back into her seat, prayers were said briefly and, finally, the little girl was allowed to indulge. Mason took food into his own plate, notably using only his right hand to serve portions on to his plate, pick up his wine glass, or move food to his mouth. He was, unfortunately, forced to use his injured arm when cutting meat, but did so in small intervals to allow the muscles to rest in-between.
"I wanted to speak with you both this evening on a proposition of change," he began after he had broken his evening bread and had taken down a few bites to quell the ache in his stomach. "I would like to suggest you both come to Scotland with me for the winter. The weather worsens, we will need to leave next week."
"Scotland!" Lizzie cried as soon as the suggestion had been made, "I would detest Scotland!" she announced certainly, defiantly. "There would be nothing there to do at all! At least here we are near to London. I would be so bored in Scotland."
"Lizzie," Mason replied, maintain his calm demeanor, "The estate in Scotland I speak of is closer to Edinburgh than this place is to London. Not that a lady of your age should be out all that often, anyways. You ought to be studying more."
With her fork, she angrily stabbed a disc of carrot. "I don't think I'll very much like Scotland. I've heard terrible things about Scots."
"And where have you heard that then?"
"I… have…" she stumbled, not expecting the question, "All over the place. Everyone says it."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
It never ceased to amuse Georgiana how Mason sometimes still insisted on being so formal with her. Before, it had bothered her, but it was almost endearing now. She could half imagine him still calling her 'Miss' even after they had been properly married. She had begun, for a short time, worrying about what had him so perplexed, particularly when Lizzie had voiced her own concern, but Georgie had learned the day that Mason had proposed to her, that while he was certainly proper and perplexing, he was never cruel.
So it wasn't entirely a surprise when he was finally spoke, making the suggestion that she and Lizzie both go with him to Scotland. Her smile was warm and gentle, even as Lizzie reacted somehow entirely how Georgiana had anticipated she might. She was, as they both knew well, strong willed... and not at all afraid to speak her mind. While Scotland appealed to her, intensely, just for the shear idea of being at Mason's side, to Lizzie, it must have sounded like a dreadful way to spend a winter.
"Ah, my dear Lizzie." She mused, as she continued to protest, "You can't very well stay here, on your own, can you? Surely you would prefer Scotland over returning to school. Even if you've hear terrible things about Scots." She looked to Mason, her eyes full of mischief as her smile brightened, "...You'll have no contest from me. I think Scotland sounds wonderful."
"I think I'd very much rather go back to school than go to Scotland!" Lizzie announced defiantly but if Mason was fazed by this declaration, it hadn't shown on his face. He had merely raised his eyebrows and took some more meat on to his plate. Then, he gave a small shrug as he continued to eat his supper.
"Very well," he replied without pause, "I shall arrange a school for you, then." It was evident from his manner and countenance that he had no intentions of actually organizing a school for Lizzie, but the little girl was pleased at her success in the argument. He knew when push came to shove, she'd rather be going to Scotland than to school, so he left that matter as settled. It had worried him briefly that he'd be met with resistance from both Georgiana and Lizzie. Lizzie he had been expecting, but Georgiana had been his wildcard.
More than once she had expressed how much she had loved Wintersmith and that it was a home she had never had before. It cut him deeply to attempt to pull her from that, but ultimately he thought it best. Though having his fiancée nearly murdered in his own home, less than fifty feet from him, reminded him that he was not always some protector… he felt better if she were to be close. Mason was confident that Lizzie would be fine no matter where she went, she just had that type of personality, but he couldn't rightfully leave the girl behind in his own mind. Nor did he want to try and rationalize leaving her behind, for as much as she loved him, he loved her.
Furthermore, he valued her education and her future in the world, and knew a better education would come from a well-trained governess than a school.
"Scotland is nice in its own way," he agreed, picking at the roasted carrots, "Lots of beautiful landscapes."
"And not much else…" Lizzie again argued.
"There is more to Scotland than you know," he tried to assure her, "But we'll be leaving in three days. It is a very long ride by coach."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
She smiled faintly, knowing fully well both what Lizzie and Mason were doing, amused entirely by the display. Mason would, of course, allow Lizzie no quarter for her attitude - she would go to Scotland, even if it meant screaming and yelling the entire way, because he valued her education, he valued her safety, but most importantly, he loved her... and knowing what she did about Mason, she knew that it ran so much deeper than a man and his ward.
It warmed Georgiana's heart... But it was also part of what attracted her to the man in the first place. He wasn't one to back down, to give up and cave, and that was an endearing quality, as much as it could be an irritating one. She, meanwhile, was simply too happy that he was taking them with him to worry about whether or not she actually wanted to go to Scotland in the first place. There might not have been much appeal to the place, but so long as she was with Mason and Lizzie, she didn't care where they went.
A brow quirked, however, as he indicated they would be leaving in only three days time. Sitting up a bit straighter, she looked to him, her eyes flickering briefly to Lizzie, who seemed too engrossed in eating to care, before she asked, quietly, "...What... what of the wedding? Are we postpone, then?"
Mason and Lizzie seemed to be at an argumentative impasse. Lizzie had no expected Mason to cave to her whims, even if he only said that he had and had no intentions of allowing her off to school. With little left to argue, Lizzie fell uncharacteristically silent and resumed her meal, meditating deeply over where she'd be sent to school. She was convinced anywhere may be better than Scotland, but when she inquired where she'd be going to school, Mason replied, most naturally:
"Spain, of course. You've already studied at a French school once."
The word 'Spain' made her nose crunch and her expression twist. "What about England!" she protested, and he just shook his head, explaining no school in England would ever give her a good enough education. That was, simply, untrue, but if he was ever going to convince her that she should come to Scotland with them-- it needed to be her idea.
"I suppose Scotland might not be so bad. Only for one winter, yes? We'll go elsewhere in Spring again?"
"Of course," Mason replied, "Do you really think I wish to stay in Scotland forever? I have business to attend to. People to see, things to accomplish. I can't do much of anything from Scotland."
Finally, Lizzie ressigned and agreed to go to Scotland, so long as Mason promised it wasn't permanent. Content at the solution, Mason's eyes turned next to Georgiana and he smiled. "I see no reason to postpone it," he explained, "I've been told you already have a dress. What more could be needed? I care little for extravagant parties. The people who come to the autumn ball are not my friends nor do they truly care about my wellbeing. Or I theirs, truthfully. If you wish for the large wedding and party, we can do that… but a quiet affair at the church down the road appeals to me more."
Appealed to him because he worried for her. What would happen to her, to Lizzie, if something happened to him? He knew what troubles were brewing from his choices and while he kept them to himself, so as not to worry anyone, he knew he couldn't ignore them forever.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Georgie's heart soared at those words, and sitting up a little straighter, her smile brightened. It was as though the incident in the baths had never occurred at all, her entire countenance lifting at the notion of his suggested words. It had been one thing to think they would marry in a few weeks. But a few days?
The size mattered little to her... She would have been happy to have only Lizzie and Mary there, and she could tell easily enough from his words that Mason shared the sentiment. There was no cause for great ceremony amd circumstance when most of the fluffy, frilly people they invited would only be interested in the amount of money they had spent, or the gossip of Mason Osment marrying his serving girl...
Nodding, containing her joy as much as possible, she reached discretely to take hold of his hand, "I think that sounds like a marvelous idea."
Lizzie, of course, would undoubtly be disappointed that there would be no great affair, where she could show off her pretty dress and dance and fratranize with the guests, but somehow Georgie was sure she'd get over it quickly enough.
Releasing Mason's hand, she returned to eating, though her appetite was all but forfeit to her excitement...
Mason, content that he had won the impasse with Lizzie, seemed more content than before. It was at least one matter settled, though the list of things he had to accomplish before leaving for Scotland had just gotten exponentially longer in such a short time. It didn't annoy him, but it did make him hesitant. Not in regards to his choices by any means, but that it seemed impossible to finish everything that needed finishing before leaving Wintersmith. He was, on the other hand, looking forward to leaving the Estate behind, at least for a time. Georgie took his hand and roused him from his thoughts.
He returned to the present, exhaling slowly, and returning to his meal. He picked at his plate, but ate a little bit of everything, as was polite. His lack of appetite didn't stem from excitement so much as thoughtfulness. In his head, he was cycling over his 'to-do' list several times through.
By the time the meal was wrapping up, Mason hadn't said much more than two words since their initial conversation. In face, he seemed pleasant enough, but it was painfully clear he was lost in other things. "Ladies," he began politely as maids had come to take away plates. "Please ensure you're packed. Mary can help secure your trunks, if you need. I'm going to be quite busy this afternoon, but now may be a good time to pack as today is likely going to be the least busy day we have until we leave by coach."
Not only did he have to prepare for a wedding, but he also had to prepare the Estate for his lack of presence. By now, the maids and the servants were more than capable of running Wintersmith without his direction, but there were various loose ends he needed to tie off. The wedding, however, would take first priority. It wouldn't take much, as there wasn't going to be any guests.
