BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"
chapter 6
GEORGE FORCED HIS FACE to display a calm expression. His mother meant well; always. But she's a woman. He could never understand what it meant to fight for the king and the country. He won't be able to understand what it means to not be able to do it.
“It doesn't matter what I want,” is furious. He took a lot of his brenda. Then chugging it again. “I'm needed here.”
“And therefore I am grateful,” his mother announced. He turned to the other three women with determined smiles, but the look in his eyes seemed too bright. “I don't need all my boys to go to war. If God's willing, all this nonsense will be finished before Nicholas is old enough to enter the army.”
At first no one spoke. Lady Manston's voice sounded a little too loud, her words a little too shrill. It was one of those clumsy moments when people didn't know what to do to break it. George finally sipped a drink and said in a low tone, “There will always be nonsense among men.”
It seemed like it was releasing a bit of tension in the air, and of course, Billie looked up at him with her chin raised defiantly. “Women will do better if we are allowed to rule.”
George responded to Billie's attack with a friendly smile. The girl tried to lure him. He refused to obey.
But Billie's dad ate the bait. “I'm sure so,” said, with enough soothing tone in his voice to tell everyone he didn't mean it.
“Definitely better,” Billie insisted. “Yang there will definitely be less war.”
“I have to agree with him there,” Andrew raised the glass towards Billie.
“That's debatable,” said Lord Manston. “If God wants women to rule and fight, God must make them strong enough to wield swords and rifles.”
“I can shoot,” Billie said.
Lord Manston turned his head towards him and blinked. “Yes, maybe you can,” he said, almost as if thinking of an awkwardness in science.
“Billie caught a stag last winter,” said Lord Bridgerton, raising his shoulders as if this was a normal occurrence.
“Really?” asked Andrew in admiration. “Very good.”
Billie smile. “The meat is delicious.”
“I can't believe you let him go hunting,” Lord Manston told Lord Bridgerton.
“Nobody can stop Billie,” murmured George quietly. He turned around suddenly and crossed the room to pick up another drink.
There was a long silence. A stifling silence. George decided this time he didn't care.
“How's Nicholas doing?” ask Lady Bridgerton. George smiled at his glass. The woman always knew how to deflect a conversation from a difficult topic. Sure enough, his perfect public smile rang out in his voice as he added, “His behavior is better than Edmund and Hugo, I'm sure.”
“I'm sure not,” Lady Manston replied with a laugh.
“Nicholas will not—” Georgiana started saying.
But Billie's voice came out loudest. “It is difficult to imagine anyone being punished more often than Andrew.”
Andrew raised one hand. “I hold the record.”
Georgiana's eyes widened. “Among the Rokesby?”
“Among everyone.”
“That can't be true,” taunted Billie.
“Confident, it's true. There's a reason why I left school early, you know. I think if I visit there, they won't let me through the gate.”
Billie happily received a glass of wine that a waiter finally brought and then raised it towards Andrew to salute the skeptic. “It just shows the principal should be applauded for his common sense.”
“Andrew, stop exaggerating,” Lady Manston said. The woman turned her eyes and turned to Lady Bridgerton again. “He was indeed sent home from Eton more than once, but rest assured, he was not expelled out.”
“Not because of lack of effort,” Billie chirped.
George let out a long breath and turned towards the window, directing his gaze into the ink-seal night. Maybe he's a jerk—a jerk who happens to never be sent home from Eton or Cambridge—but he really doesn't want to hear endless jokes from Andrew and Billie.
That never changes. Billie would say something very clever, then Andrew would play a bad boy, then Billie would say something dropping, then Andrew would laugh and wink, he said, then everyone will laugh and wink, and it always happens, always, the same.
And he was so bored with it all.
George glanced briefly at Georgiana, who was sitting grimly on one of the most uncomfortable chairs in his opinion in the house. How could no one realize the girl was not involved in the conversation? Billie and Andrew light up the room with their ingenuity and joy, and poor Georgiana can't get along. Not that he seemed to be trying to do it, but at fourteen, how did he expect to compete?
Suddenly, George crossed the room to the side of the little girl and bowed. “I saw the cat,” he said, his words disappearing into Georgiana's ginger-red hair. “The cat darted away into the forest.”
The cat didn't do it, of course. George had no idea what was going on with the cat. Something involving brimstone and satanic fury, if there is justice in this world.
Georgiana flinched, then turned her head towards George with a wide smile that was puzzling due to his resemblance to her sister's smile. “Really? Oh, thank you for telling me.”
George turned towards Billie while upholding his body. The girl observed him with a sharp look, reprimanding him silently for lying. George returned the expression with an equal haughty attitude, his raised eyebrows almost challenging Billie to open her lie.
But the girl did not do it. Instead he ignored George with a one-shoulder twitch so faint that no one would notice him other than George. Then he turned his head back towards Andrew with his usual charm and sparkle. George returned the attention to Georgiana, who was clearly smarter than he realized, as the young girl observed what was happening with a slowly rising curiosity, her eyes moving back and forth to all of them, as she watched, like they're players on the field. George put his shoulders. Good for Georgiana. She was glad the girl had a brain. He will need it with his family. George took another sip of brandy, deep in thought until the conversation around him turned into a low hum. He's nervous tonight, not as usual. It was here that he, surrounded by people known and loved his whole life, and all he wanted was to stupefiedly stare at the window, looking for answers. All he wants is. He doesn't know, that's the problem. Over there. George doesn't know what he wants, only what he wants isn't here.
His life, he realized, had reached a new level of shallowness.
“George? George?”
He blinked. His mother called his name.
“Lady Frederica Fortescue-Endicott is engaged to Earl of Northwick,” her mother said. “Did you hear?”
Uh. So this is gonna be the conversation tonight. George finished his drink. “But.”
“The eldest daughter of the Duke of Westborough,” her mother told Lady Bridgerton. “A very charming young girl.”
“Oh, of course, beautiful girl. Dark hair, right?”
“And very beautiful blue eyes. She also sings as bright as a bird.”
George held back his sigh.
His father hit him on the back. “Sang duke gave him big mascawin,” he said, straight to the point. “Twenty thousand and a patch of property.”
“Because I have missed my chance, there is no point in cataloging his traits,” George said with a diplomatic calm smile.
“Of course not,” says his mother. “It's too late for that. But if you listened to me last spring—”
Gong dinner sign reads—untunglah—and his mother must have decided there is no point in urging his matchmaking efforts further because the following words that come out of his mouth are related to the menu that night, and there was no fresh fish in the market that week.
George walked back to Billie's side. “Can?” he murmured, and extended both hands.
“Oh,” exclaimed Billie slowly, though George could not imagine why the girl was surprised. Nothing had changed for the last fifteen minutes; who else would take him to the dining room?
“How valiant you are, George,” said his mother, welcoming the husband's hand and letting the man lead him across the room.
He smiled flatly. “I admit having Billie Bridgerton under my mercy feels intoxicating.”
Lord Bridgerton laughed. “Enjoy while you can, Son. He doesn't like to lose.”
“Does anyone like defeat?” reply Billie.
“Of course not,” replied his father. “More on the question how graceful can someone give up.”
“I'm very ang—”
George lifted the girl into a sling. “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?” muttered. Because they all know. Billie Bridgerton can rarely be graceful when losing.
Billie shut her mouth tight.
“Two points for honesty,” says George.
“What to do to be able to get three points?” reply Billie ketus.
George laughing.
“Again,” Billie said to her father, basically can not let go of any debate, “I did not lose anything.”
“You lost that cat,” Georgiana said.
“And your honor,” added Andrew.
“It just deserved three points,” said George.
“My leg sprained!”
“We know, dear,” said Lady Bridgerton, lightly patting her daughter's arm. “Shortly you'll feel better. You said so.”
Four points, George was about to say, but Billie glared at him with a murderous look.
“Don't dare,” growled the girl.
“But you made it so easy.”
“Are we making fun of Billie?” asked Andrew, watching them as they entered the corridor. “Because if yes, I'm telling you, I'm hurt you started without me.”
“Andrew,” growled Billie.
Andrew put his healthy hand over the heart, pretending to be offended. “Open. Injured, I said.”
“Can you guys not make fun of me?” asked Billie in an annoyed voice. “Only for one night?”
“I think, but George is far from exciting,” said Andrew.
George was about to say something, but then he saw Billie's face. The girl was exhausted. And pain. What Andrew received in return was Billie's plea for release.
He brought his lips closer to the girl's ears, lowering his voice to a slow murmur. “Are you sure you're strong enough for dinner?”
“Of course!” billie replied, embarrassed that George asked. “I'm fine.”
“But are you okay?”
Billie's lips stiffened. Then vibrate.
George slowed the pace, letting Andrew walk in front of them. “Nothing embarrassing from needing a break, Billie.”
Billie looked up at George, something almost bashful in her eyes. “I'm hungry,” he said.
George nodded. “I can ask for a small stool to be placed under the table so you can lift your feet.”
Billie blinked in shock, and for a moment George could swear he could hear the sound of the girl's breath blowing through her mouth. “It would be great fun,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Tak problems.” George stopped for a moment. “You do look pretty in that dress, by the way.”
“What?”
George had no idea why he said it. And judging from the look of shock on Billie's face, the girl didn't either.
George shrugged his shoulders, hoping to have a free hand to fix his cravat. I don't know why it feels so tight. And of course he would give a compliment about Billie's dress; isn't that what a gentleman does? Plus, the girl looked like she needed a little push. And that dress was perfect for her. “The color is good,” George improvise. Sometimes it can also be charming. “The color, uh.. accentuate your eye color.”
“My eye color is brown.”
“Still keep making the color stand out.”
Billie looks a little anxious. “Yes God, George. Have you ever praised a woman?”
“Did you ever receive a compliment?”
George belatedly realized how horrible his words sounded, and he stuttered into saying something meant to approach the apology, but Billie was already shaking with laughter. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he choked, wiping tears with his shoulders as both his hands wrapped around George's neck. “Oh, that's funny. Your face..”
“Oh, it's clear.”
George shakes. “Really, I'm sorry.”
“You're such a gentleman,” Billie's goda.
“This surprises you?”
“Not at all. I think you'll die before insulting a woman, albeit unintentionally.”
“I'm pretty sure I've insulted you at some point in our history.”
Billie. “I'm not sure I'm counting.”
“I admit, tonight you look more like a woman than usual,” George said.
Billie's expression turned sharp. “There was an insult somewhere in there, I'm sure.”
“Or compliments.”
“No, I don't think there is,” Billie pretends to think about it seriously.
George laughed, satisfied and sounded hoarse, and it was only after his inclinations faded into a small laugh that he realized how foreign it felt. It had been so long since he had let go of laughing, letting the laughter tickle his entire body.
Away from the laughter in public that can be found in London.
“I've received compliments, but I admit I'm not an expert in receiving them,” Billie said, her voice softening as she added. “At the very least, not for the color of my dress.”
George slowed down another step while turning and the dining room door appeared in view. “You never went to London for the Season, huh?”
“You know I never.”
George wondered why. Mary attended, and she and Billie usually do it all together. But it seems disrespectful that he asks, at least not now, when dinner will begin.
“I don't want to,” said Billie.
George did not indicate that he did not ask for an explanation.
“I must suck there.”
“You will definitely be fresh air,” he lied. Billie would be so bad at it, then George would definitely be obliged to be her savior in public, making sure the girl's dance card was at least half filled in, she said, then defending his honor whenever the brainless young man assumed Billie had no morals because she was a little too harsh and too free.
It's gonna be exhausting.
“Sorry,” muttered, stopping to ask the waiter to bring a bench. “Should I keep carrying you until he comes back?”
“Benggengku?” repeat Billie, as if she suddenly lost her language skills.
“There is wrong?” george's mother asked, observing them with curiosity that was not covered through the open doorway. She, Lady Bridgerton, and Georgiana were already in their respective seats. The men are waiting for Billie to be taken down.
“Sit, please,” George told them, “I've asked the male waiter to bring something to put under the table. So Billie can lift her leg.”
“You're so good, George,” said Lady Bridgerton. “I should have thought about it.”
“My leg has been sprained,” said George, while bringing Billie into the room.
“And I have never,” reply Lady Bridgerton, “although one would think I should have been an expert by now.” He looked at Georgiana. “I think you may be the only child whose bones or joints have never been broken or sprained.”
“That's my special skill,” says Georgiana flat.
“Should I say, you two look harmonious,” said Lady Manston, looking towards George and Billie with a deceptive calm smile.
George glared at his mother. Don'tdon't. Her mother may want to see her married, but the woman will not try this move.
“Don't flirt,” said Billie in a loving reprimanding tone in her voice to stop the thought's direction. “Who else will take me if not George?”
“Unfortunately, my arm cracked,” murmured Andrew.
“How can your arm be broken?” ask Georgiana.
Andrew leaned forward, his eyes sparkling like the ocean. “Round with shark.”
Billie grunting.
“No,” said Georgiana, not feeling impressed, “what really happened?”
Andrew put his shoulders. “I slipped.”
There's a pause. No one expected something so ordinary.
“Shark fish make the story better,” Georgiana finally said.
“Indeed, right? Truth is rarely as interesting as we like.”
“I think at least you fell off the mast of the ship,” Billie said.
“The deck is slippery,” says Andrew bluntly. And while everyone thought of the shallowness of all this, he added, “Indeed like that. Water, you know.”
The waiter returned with a small padded bench. The bench wasn't as high as George liked, but he still thought it was better than letting Billie's feet dangle.
“I'm surprised Admiral McClellan allowed you to recuperate at home,” Lady Manston said as the waiter crawled under the table to put the bench in place. “Not mean I'm complaining. It's good to see you at your place in Crake.”
Andrew gave his mother a big smile. “One-armed sailors are not very useful.”
“Even with all the pirates legged wooden pegs?” billie asked as George put her in his seat. “I think losing one arm or leg at sea is arguably a requirement.”
Andrew shakes his head and looks. “Our cook lost one of his ears.”
“Andrew!” exclaimed mother.
“That's terrible,” Billie said, her eyes glowing with eerie pleasure. “Are you there when it happened?”
“Billie!” exclaimed mother.
Billie turned her head and looked at her mother, then protested, “You can't expect me to hear about a sailor without ears and not ask.”
“Although, this is not a proper conversation for family dinner.”
The discovery between the Rokesby and Bridgerton clans has always been classed as a family invention, no matter if not a single drop of blood was shared between them. At least not in the last hundred years.
“I can't imagine where this conversation is worth unless we all go to a public lodging place,” Andrew said.
“It's a shame that I'm not allowed to go this late,” Billie said.
Andrew gave her a sassy grin. “Reason number 738 why I'm glad I wasn't born a woman.”
Billie rolled her eyeballs.
“Are you allowed to go there during the day?” ask Georgiana.
“Of course,” said Billie, but George saw Billie's mother didn't look happy about it.
So did Georgiana. His lips frowned in frustration, and one of his hands was on the table, his index finger tapping on the tabletop impatiently.
“Mrs. Bucket make meat pie **** the most delicious,” said Billie. “Every Thursday.”
“I've forgotten,” Andrew shuddered considering that delicious culinary. “How can you forget? It's heaven inside the skin of the pie.”
“Agree. We should eat together. How about when ma—”
“Women can bleed,” spray Georgiana.
Lady Bridgerton dropped her fork.
Billie turned to her sister in shock and caution. “What?”
“Women can also engage in blood-filled cruelty,” Georgiana said, her tone approaching a ferocious tone.
Billie doesn't know what to do. Usually George would enjoy the girl's discomfort, but this conversation turned sharply into an odd conversation so all he could feel was sympathy.
And relieved that it was not he who questioned the girl.
“What you said earlier,” said Georgiana. “On women, and how we will more rarely start a war than men. I don't think that's true.”
“Oh,” said Billie, looking very relieved. Frankly, George was also relieved. Because the only other explanation for a woman to bleed is a conversation she doesn't want to enjoy at the dinner table.
Or anywhere else.
“How about Queen Mary?” georgiana. “No one can call him a peace-loving person.”
“They didn't call him Bloody Mary on a whim,” Andrew said.
“Quickly!” Georgiana agreed while nodding enthusiastically. “And Queen Elizabeth sank the entire fleet.”
“He ordered his men to sink the fleet,” Lord Bridgerton corrected.
“He who gave the order,” reply intense Georgiana.
“Georgiana is right,” says George, glad to be able to give a compliment in her place.
Georgiana gave him a grateful look.
“True once,” Billie smiled.
Hearing him, Georgiana seemed to be a pleasure.
“I don't mean to say women can't act cruelly,” said Billie, now that Georgiana is done with her argument. “Of course we can, when given the appropriate motivation.”
“I shudder to think about it,” murmured Andrew.
“If someone I love is in danger, I'm pretty sure I'll be violent,” Billie said earnestly.
For years George would think of that time. Something changed. Something shakes and spins. The air was whistling with electricity, and everyone—every Rokesby and Bridgerton who were at the table—almost seemed to be sitting in a halted time, as if waiting for something they did not understand.
Even Billie.
George looked at the girl's face. It is not difficult to imagine him as a warrior, strong and protective of the people he loves. Is it included in it? George thinks yes. Anyone with the same last name as her would be in the protection of the girl.
No one's talking. No one even breathed until Lady Manston let out a laugh that was nothing more than a puff of breath, then announced, “What a topic that makes depression.”
“I disagree,” says George smooth. He thought the girl had not heard him. But Billie heard it. His lips opened, and his dark eyes looked at George with a surprised and curious look. And maybe a little gratitude.
“I don't understand why we talk about these things,” Lady Manston continues, determined to drive the conversation back to light and sweet things.
Because it's important, George thought. Because it means something. Because nothing has mattered for years, not to those left behind. He was fed up of feeling useless, pretending to be more valuable than his siblings by birth.
George looked down at the soup. He lost his appetite. And of course just then that's when Lady Bridgerton exclaimed, “We have to throw a party
DON'T FORGET LIKE, COMMENTS, RATE, VOTE, AND FAVORITE YES!!!!!!!!!!!
