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A Misplaced Beauty

By Amy Lynn Walsh

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Chapter 1
Two years later, the Huxington family was once again in London.  It was Georgina’s third season out, and Patrice‘s debutante season.  The house was bustling.  Now there were three daughters to get fitted, primped, and styled.  Georgina was already tired of the whole tradition.  She had almost despaired of ever falling in love.  Perhaps… Maybe fate would send a good man her way this year.  If not, life wasn’t so terrible away from London.  If she could just get through the weeks that they resided in their townhouse, it wouldn’t be devastating to be a spinster.  ​

Georgina found the ribbon in her trunk, which she had told Patrice she could borrow.  She went across the hall to give it to her.  She could hear all three of her sisters talking through the door, which was slightly ajar. ​

“I do not know why we even bother to curl our hair or to spend hours on our toiletry.  While Georgina is around, no gentleman will take a second look at us.” ​

“I know.  She outshines everyone.  Not only is she beautiful, but she is so clever.  How did we end up with a sister who is a luminary?”

​“You know that even if someone offered for our hands, our father would most likely refuse.  He is such a traditionalist and so fond of Georgina.  Having a younger sister married first would make Georgina look like an old maid.  No, he will not allow any of us to get married unless Georgina is married first.”

​“We should all resign ourselves to being spinsters.  Georgina is so hard to please.”

​“Think of her rejecting poor Lord Jeffrey,” Michaeline said grimly.  “He was besotted with her; wouldn’t even look at another woman.  She spurned him because he liked his gin a little too well.  What man doesn’t?  Any other woman would have walked through fire to have Lord Jeffrey.”

​“You certainly would,” giggled Laurencia.

​“I am perfectly serious, Laurencia.  You will see how it is next year when you try to have a successful season with Georgina present.” ​

“Something must be done.  I am not one that takes well to being overlooked.  It is bad enough that Georgina is Papa’s favorite.  Must she be everyone else’s as well?” Patrice thought for a moment, “Perhaps we can get Mum to have a talk with her.  And, have Mum talk to Papa.  Our father is determined to overlook Georgina’s faults.”

​Georgina turned from the door.  No need to talk to Mother, she thought and quietly returned to her room.  How could she have been so blind to her sister’s feelings?  She really had not thought of Michaeline’s lack of suitors last season.  It had been so hectic with all the balls, teas, and rides in the park.   Her sister had gone with her wherever she went. 

'It sounds as though my sisters hate me.  Have I really been selfish by wanting to wait for the right man?  Perhaps there is no one who will satisfy me.  Maybe I am too persnickety. I cannot destroy my sisters’ futures.  I will marry the next man that proposes.' ​After some thought, Georgina amended, 'I cannot be that rash.  I will marry the next man whom my father deems suitable and feels would care about me as a person.'

Never one to let her moods dampen others’ spirits, later that evening, Georgina joined her sisters in the foyer with a smile on her face. Her sisters showed no difference in how they treated her.  Why would they?  They had obviously had these feelings for some time, and they had no idea she had eavesdropped on their conversation.  ​After making her promise to herself, Georgina had contemplated trying to stay out of what she termed the ‘marriage market’ altogether. Then she had decided that her first obligation must be to win a proposal of her own.  After that, she would worry about helping her sisters make good matches.  It would be hard behaving as usual, witty and cheerful because she felt almost despondent over what she had heard of her sisters’ conversation, but Georgina owed it to her sisters to be at her finest. ​

The ball was at the Spencer House, a colossal mansion owned by Lord Spencer and his wife.  It was to be one of the most prestigious gatherings of the season.  Mrs. Huxington had been stunned to receive the invitation since the Huxingtons, though wealthy, were not members of the peerage.  Oh, how she had gushed! Until her husband had threatened to accept the invitation to another, smaller gathering instead. ​

Then Mrs. Huxington had settled into quietly arranging for Madame Zoe to add to her daughters already well-stocked wardrobes and planning which hairstyles would be most flattering to her girls’ facial features and style of gown.  For the entire week prior to the Spencer's ball, she had coached her daughters from Lady Holman’s Ballroom Companion, often berating Georgina, because despite Georgina’s seeming success as a eligible maiden, she felt her eldest was too outspoken, too sarcastic, and altogether too educated for her own good. ​

There was also a battle of wills because Georgina refused to wear the frills, which her mother emphatically tried to insist she wear. ​“Georgina, only the matrons and old maids wear a single layer of satin.  You must have the satin overlaid with gauze or tulle, though I would prefer lace.”

​“Mother, I am not fond of looking like a doily.  My head sits on top of my shoulders, not a vase.”  Georgina paused, and looked at her mother smartly, “Though, I could wear one of the dresses you are choosing, and add a bouquet of flowers in my hair, and it would be a perfect masquerade costume.”

​Her youngest sister had snorted with laughter. 

​“See your unladylike influence on your sister!”  Her mother had scolded.

​Laurencia had laughed even harder, but Patrice and Michaeline had remained serious.  They found the current fashion quite charming and flattering to their plumper figures, and were not amused that Georgina was mocking the style of the gowns they would be wearing.

​“You should wear what is in fashion,” Patrice informed her sister.  “It is embarrassing that you are always the simplest dressed at every event.”

​“Mother, dear.  Refer to Lady Holman’s Ballroom Companion, page 10,” Georgina had requested of her mother. 

​“Praise the woman who shows good judgment and taste in wearing that which makes her most attractive, rather than rushing to follow the parade of fashion…” read her mother.

Georgina’s point, via Lady Holman, had been taken, as Mrs. Huxington stopped badgering Georgina on her style of gowns.

​Now Georgina was wearing a light-green satin gown, with a darker green sash showing off her slender waist, the bow falling to the floor as a wide train. 

To her mother’s horror, she had refused to allow Madame Zoe make the hemline wide enough to fit a crinoline, declaring that she would never again allow her lower half to be bound into a basket. However, she had made a concession to her mother and worn two extra petticoats to make her skirt appear fuller.  ​

The family climbed into the carriage, which slowly traveled to St. James Place, a few streets away from their own home.  It would not do to be early for such an event.  A display of such eagerness would make them appear as if they were newly moneyed. ​

When they arrived, Georgina stared up at the Spencer House in awe.  Each time she passed by it, she had marveled at its Greek style of architecture and its large terrace.

​“Georgina,” Mrs. Huxington hissed,  “do not stare so.” ​

“Now dear, it would be preferable if more ladies took time to appreciate such works.  Georgina just finished reading Arthur Young’s writings.  Give her time to take in the view.”

​Mrs. Huxington looked pointedly at the crowd of celebrants waiting to enter the mansion.

​“Perhaps we should proceed, Georgina,” Mr. Huxington acquiesced.

Mr. Huxington introduced his family to their host and hostess after a quite a long wait in a receiving line that went out of the entrance hall, across the terrace, down flights of wide marble stairs and crossed the driveway where town coaches were dropping off their passengers. ​“This is my wife, Henrietta Huxington.” ​

Mrs. Huxington bobbed up and down in at least three curtsies before Georgina placed her hand gently on her mother’s shoulders.  Sometimes her mother’s own eagerness was embarrassing for Georgina to watch.  When her mother was nervous, she was at her worst.

​“This is my eldest daughter, Georgina,” Mr. Huxington went on.

Georgina went forward, giving a small, graceful curtsy before the elderly Earl of Spencer and his wife. ​

“So this is the Georgina Huxington that I’ve heard about for two years,” Lady Spencer smiled at Georgina.  “I heard so much about the lovely lady who has spurned so many admirers that I told John that we would be spending the season in town.  And, I am so content at Althorpe.  I do love the country.”

​“I do believe my wife thinks that you are involved in a 19th century fairy tale,” her husband added, and reached out to shake Georgina’s hand, as if Georgina really were a princess. ​

“If I am in a fairy tale, my fairy godmother has yet to present her calling card!” Georgina retorted.  When the couple laughed she continued, “And, the Brothers Grimm have yet to write in the dashing, fearless prince of my tale.” ​

The Spencers smiled and nodded at each other as if agreeing that the legend of Georgina Huxington had been true.

Mr. Huxington tried to divert the couple’s attention back to the remainder of his family, but the Spencers barely spared a glance for Georgina’s two sisters. ​

Georgina herself ended the audience with them by motioning toward the line waiting to greet their hosts.  “I apologize for monopolizing your time.  I must give the other guests the honors now.” ​As she followed her parents into the large ballroom, she realized just how difficult it must have been for her siblings to have an older sister that only thought of herself.  'However, I am going to change all that.   Never fear, sisters.  Tonight, maybe I'll even capture the heart of an earl or marquis! Then you will have no more worries about your prospects and can stop hating me.' ​Georgina took a moment to look around.  The room was already quite full of maidens in clusters or standing by chaperones, waiting for young men to ask them for the honor of a dance.  The gentlemen had begun making their rounds.   Several of them turned their heads as she entered the room.  She closed her eyes, now mortified when at previous functions she had been delighted and proud.  She knew that if she chose to count, she would barely make it to ten before she would be surrounded by eager young men.  ​Now she realized that it was not only her sisters that resented her, but perhaps every other female in the room, matrons included.  For, most of the matrons had a daughter or ward in the running for marital bliss. ​Georgina wanted to turn around and flee.  She actually did a half turn to leave the room, but then steeled her spine and prepared to entertain and attract.

​“Miss Huxington, since we have already been formally introduced, may I have the honor of dancing the quadrille with you?” a gentleman asked. ​

“And may I have the honor of the first waltz?” requested another.

​Georgina’s dance card was filled before the small orchestra began to play the first tune. ​All throughout the night, Georgina danced with grace and vitality.  At the banquet table, she jested and flirted.  Nothing could quell the beauty of her green eyes, the bronze of her curls, her soft lips...  ​

Georgina was too busy bantering and dancing to notice the man standing in the shadows of doorways, sitting behind the dowagers or glancing out from the gaming tables.  Malcolm, the Marquis of Birmingham, felt himself becoming more and more enthralled with the laughing beauty with the sad, emerald eyes.  He had seen her as she first entered the residence.  The Spencers, his distant cousins and the hosts of the event, had shown an unusually great liking for her, and in return she had shown consideration for the incoming guests rather than being focused on his cousins’ flattery. ​He has seen her turn, as if to flee, and close her eyes as if wishing to escape the incoming mob of suitors.  ​Then he had seen her draw courage, put her feelings behind her, and entertain the dozens of young men who paid court to her throughout the night. ​Malcolm was able to catch a smattering of her conversations during the times he stationed himself near the columns that became his observation posts.  However, as lively and witty as her words were, he had to spend much of his time back at the gaming tables set up in the Painted Room, so that his interest in the beautiful young lady would not become apparent.

​Finally, Malcolm brought himself to ask an acquaintance of her. ​

“It is obvious that you have holed yourself up in the country for too long!  That is Miss Georgina Huxington.  She was the celebrity of the past two seasons, and it is apparent she will be the same this year.  I have never seen the like.  Despite a small dowry and having rejected suitor after suitor, she is most admired.” ​

“Is she virtuous?” ​“There has never been any rumors of vice or promiscuity.  She has grace and wit.  Most of the men in this room are half in love with her, married or non.” ​

Malcolm continued to follow Miss Huxington with his eyes. ​

“Are you going to place a wager?” asked Frederick.

​“A wager on what?” ​“I suppose you have yet to pay a visit to St. James Gentlemen’s Club.  Yet, I am surprised you did not hear talk of it here amongst the gaming.” ​

“What are you speaking of?” ​“Well, some of us have made a game of counting Miss Huxington’s proposals.  There are many wagers out.  There is a post at St. James if you want to claim a number.”

​“How many men has Miss Huxington rejected thus far?” ​“I believe the number is in the mid-twenties.” ​

“And she has received offers from members of the peerage and of the moneyed?”

​“Oh yes.”  Frederick seemed to look Malcolm’s attire up and down.

Malcolm realized he looked rustic in his coarse woven suit compared to the majority of the men at the ball, who were wearing fine black suits and white vests. 

“Say, you aren’t thinking of a proposal!”  Frederick laughed.  “Miss Huxington turned down Bartron.   You … None of us stand a chance!” ​Frederick went on to mention seemingly countless young men who had thought they stood a chance with Georgina Huxington. 

​Malcolm knew Frederick was right.  If the girl had turned down Bartron, who was one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom and was surely any woman’s physical ideal (though he was annoyingly pompous) a large man like himself would never win such a beautiful lady’s hand; especially if the large man lived and dressed like a simple farmer.   ​However, the more Malcolm thought of Georgina Huxington, the more he knew she was unhappy.  She had not seemed the least bit flattered by all her attention, though she had made sure to appear as though she was brilliant with delight throughout the evening.

​Malcolm decided that he would risk rejection, and send a proposal to this woman to whom he had never been introduced. Perhaps it was the first time in his life that he so swiftly followed a whim, but it was also the first time that he had ever seen a woman whose image he knew would always stay fresh in his mind.  ​

The next morning, Georgina was called down to her father’s study.  ​“Sit down, Georgina.  I have received quite an original letter.  It is a proposal for your hand in marriage with quite a generous settlement and with a refusal of dowry.  This is usually done in person.  However, it is not a hoax.  It has the seal of Birmingham on it.” ​

“I do not recall ever being introduced to the Birminghams.  What do you know of this man?” ​

“I have met the Marquis of Birmingham several times.  He is of about twenty and seven years.  He has great land holdings in the North.  He is possibly the last in his family and has many obligations which keep him from making many London seasons.” 

​“Despite having land and title, he has remained unmarried?  Does he have any great flaws in character?”

​“No, I have heard that he is trustworthy, well learned, and kind.”

​“Very well, I will accept him in marriage.”

​“After all the men who have asked for your hand, you are deciding to accept a proposal sight unseen?” Mr. Huxington was incredulous.

​“It is time, Father.  Another season without a husband and I will be considered ‘on the shelf’.”

​“But, child…”

​“Do you not think the Marquis of Birmingham would make a good husband?”

​“I believe he would make a good husband. He would be gentle.  He would be faithful.”

​“Then send an acceptance letter and an invitation.  I want to meet the man I am to marry!”

​Mr. Huxington looked away. “There is something you need to consider…”

“Yes?”

“Malcolm Birmingham is a bit stout.” ​

“Stout?” ​

“The Marquis is a very large man.  Not only is he broad, but tall.  Much taller than I.” Mr. Huxinton looked at Georgina expectantly.  “You still won’t change your mind?”

​“So I am to marry a portly man.  I have learned an important lesson on human nature during my seasons in London.  Appearance is not as important to me as it once was.  Some of the most handsome people in society are the most depraved.  Go ahead, father.  It is time for me to be wed.  Let my sisters have a chance to win marital bliss.” ​

“So that is why you are leaping into this.  You are concerned about your sisters.  It will not hurt them to wait another season.  I want you to form a happy union.”

​“No, Papa.  I am so fortunate to have a father who knows me and is truly concerned for my well-being.  Now we both need to let go—you of me, and me of my fantasy of the perfect husband.  Perhaps the only perfect man in the world is you, Papa!  Fortunate Mother!”

​“Speaking of your mother, we must call her in at least pretend to seek her counsel.”

​“I am sure she will be thrilled.  For one of her daughters to marry a marquis must be her dream.”

​However, Georgina was sadly mistaken.  Mrs. Huxington was not taken with the idea. ​“The Marquis of Birmingham?  Absolutely not.” ​

“But why, mother?” ​

Mrs. Huxington stared at her daughter.  “You want to marry him?  I should have known.  Sometimes I think all your decisions are based on what most conflict with my opinions.” ​

“Mother, that is not true.”

​“Malcolm Birmingham is little more than a social recluse.  He has spent years in the country with scarce interaction with the fashionable society, even in Durham where his estates are.” ​

“How do you know all this, Mother?” ​

“Lady Sarah Bidwell pointed him out to me at Spencer House.  I will admit that if his figure was a bit tidier, he would be quite handsome, but it is not.  I will not have one of my beautiful girls with such a man! What is the worst about the marquis is that he is intimate with the peasants on his land.” ​

“Intimate?”

​“Yes, he treats them like family.”

​Mr. Huxington stepped in, “Now Henrietta, you are leading Georgina to believe that Lord Birmingham is doing something immoral in his associations with his tenants.”  He turned to his daughter, “From what I have heard, the marquis treats his land serfs very well and is well compensated by them in their gratitude.  He does have a friendlier relationship with his underlings than most would like.”

​“I can certainly accept a husband whose major flaw is that he is kind to those beneath them.  It is certainly an improvement over a pompous manner.  Please allow me to accept the offer, and request his presence for an introduction.”
​“If this is what you wish, I’ll ask the marquis to call.”

Mrs. Huxington flounced out of the room angrily. ​

Shortly, Laurencia came skipping in.  “Good morning, Papa and Georgina!  Did you hear of P.T. Barnum’s latest purchase?” ​

“P.T. Barnum?” inquired her father.

“The American circus owner.  I just read about him in the paper this morning.”

​“What did he buy?”

​“An enormous elephant. Would you like to know the elephant’s name?” ​Georgina could tell by the gleam in her youngest sister’s eyes that she would not like the answer.  Her sister had come in too soon on the wake of her mother’s departure, for there not to be some relation to the current situation. ​Laurencia snickered, “The Grand Marquis!”

​“I am not in the least amused,” Georgina said severely. ​Laurencia appeared shocked.  Typically Georgina was the one she could count on to understand her humor and share in her laughter. ​Georgina softened her tone, “You see, Laurencia, by saying such things, you are making a mockery of the man I am to wed.  From what father says, the Marquis of Birmingham is honorable and extraordinarily kind.  The beauty that lies within is greater than any on the surface.  You might say that in many people, their beauty has been misplaced.  However, in the man I am to marry, his loveliness may be in the proper place, in his heart and soul.”

​Laurencia nodded.  Then threw her arms around her sister.  “Oh, Georgina, I do not want you to leave us.  Please don’t marry the Marquis of Birmingham.”

“My mind is set, dear.  However, we shall have months together before I am wed.”  ​

Later that afternoon, the Marquis of Birmingham received a notice stating that Miss Georgina Huxington would accept his hand in marriage with an invitation for Malcolm to honor the Huxington family with his presence that very night.  Consequently, the stunned Malcolm almost dropped to the ground in a dead faint.  Fortunately, there was no one present to see the play of expressions crossing Malcolm’s face.  He looked stunned, then bewildered, and then fearful. ​He had to take a seat to contemplate the letter he had just received.  Perhaps he had misread it.  No.  Miss Georgina Huxington was accepting his offer. ​Oh, but if she met him, she might change her mind...

​Malcolm hurriedly penned a note to Mr. Huxington giving his regret that he had been called out of town. 

It was just the first of many epistles written with the purpose of postponing a meeting with his betrothed.  His delaying tactics were so effective that he and Georgina would not meet until their wedding day.

Walsh, Amy. A Misplaced Beauty: The London Debutantes: Georgina (The London Debutante Series Book 1) (p. 14-25).

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