BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"
chapter 8
LADY BRIDGERTON BEGAN planning her assault on Season the next morning. Billie limped into the small dining room for breakfast, ready to accept the task, but to her relief and amazement, her mother said she did not need her help in planning. All he asks is Billie to write down an invitation for Mary and Felix. Billie nodded, showing her grateful agreement. That's something he can do.
“Georgiana has offered to help me,” Lady Bridgerton said as she gestured for the waiter to prepare the breakfast plate. Although Billie is agile in using her cane, but she cannot prepare her own food from the sideboard while maintaining balance with a pair of canes.
He turned to his sister, who seemed very pleased with the prospect. “It will be very exciting,” Georgiana said.
Billie swallowed the answer. He couldn't think of anything more unpleasant, but he didn't have to insult his sister by saying it. If Georgiana wants to spend the afternoon writing invitations and planning a menu, she can do it.
Lady Bridgerton prepares a cup of tea for Billie. “How do you plan to spend your day?”
“I'm not sure,” Billie said, nodding in thanks to the waiter who placed the plate in front of her. He looked longingly out the window. The sun is just beginning to shine through the clouds, and within an hour the morning dew will have evaporated. Perfect day to be outdoors. On a horse. Be useful.
And there's a lot of things he has to do. One of the tenants was repairing the roof of the cottage, and although the neighbors knew they were expected to offer help, Billie still suspected John and Harry Williamson would try to evade the task. One had to make sure the brothers were doing their part, as well as one had to make sure the land in the west was planted properly and the rose garden was pruned to the specifications of his mother.
Someone's got to do it all, and Billie doesn't know who it is.
But no, he was stuck inside the house with swollen legs, and it wasn't even his fault. All right, maybe it's a little bit wrong, but it's definitely bigger wrong that cat, and it feels really painful— Billie's feet, not the cat's, although he was petty enough to hope that annoying little creature also had a reason to walk limping.
He stopped thinking about it for a moment. If you really think about…
“Billie?” his mother muttered, looking at him from the top of the edge of the tea cup from porcelain mixed with bone ash.
“I don't think I'm a very nice person,” mused Billie.
Lady Bridgerton choked so hard that tea gushed out of her nose. It was an unusual sight, and not one that Billie hoped she would see in her life.
“I can corroborate your opinion on that,” Georgiana chirped.
Billie threw a whimper at her sister who, upon reconsideration, was rather childish.
“Sybilla Bridgerton,” her mother's voice pitched not willing to be denied. “You're a very good person.”
“If not,” the woman continued, her voice skipping with the pressure of the don't-dare-dare-against me voice, “that would be a bad reflection for me, and I refuse to believe that I'm that jam mother.”
“Of course not,” Billie said quickly. Real quick.
“Then I will repeat my question,” said his mother. He sipped the tea subtly and looked at his eldest daughter with astonishing calmness. “What are your plans today?”
“Well,” Billie quibble. He glanced at his sister, but Georgiana did not help at all. The girl just shrugged with a helpless little twitch that could have meant everything from me-not-know-what-happening-with him to my-very-enjoy-your-anxiety.
Billie scowling. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone said what they thought?
He faced his mother, who was still observing him with a deceptive calm expression. “Well,” delayed again. “I'll probably read the book?”
“Book,” reset her mother. The woman patted the tip of her mouth with a napkin. “Exciting once.”
Billie was watching her mother carefully. Sarcastic replies popped into his mind, but even though his mother was calm, there was a glint in the woman's eyes that told Billie that keeping her mouth shut was a wise choice.
Lady Bridgerton grabs a pot of tea. He always drank more tea at breakfast than all the family members combined into one. “I can recommend something, if you want,” he told Billie. He also usually read more books than all family members combined into one.
“No. no need,” replied Billie, cutting her sausage into circles. “Daddy brought back the last volume of Precott’s Encyclopaedia of Agriculture while he was in London last month. I should have started reading it, but the weather is so sunny that I haven't had time to do it.”
“You can read outside,” advice Georgiana. “We can install the blanket. Or drag a long sofa outside.”
Billie nodded in a daze while stabbing a piece of sausage. “I think it's better if I stay inside.”
“You can help me plan entertainment for a party,” Georgiana said.
Billie gave him a look of disdain. “Trust no.”
“Why not, Darling?” lady Bridgerton. “Maybe it will be exciting.”
“Mother just told me that I don't need to be in the planning.”
“Only because I don't think you want.”
“I don't want.”
“Of course not, but you want to spend time with your sister,” her mother continued smoothly.
Oh, goddamn. Her mother was great. Billie put a smile on her face. “Can't me and Georgie do anything else?”
“Of course, if you can convince her to read the farm leaflet from behind your back,” said Lady Bridgerton, her hands gently flicked in the air.
Smooth like a bullet, Billie thought. “I'll help with some planning,” he gave up.
“Oh, it will be very good!” Georgiana. “And also very helpful. You must have more experience in this kind of thing than me.”
“Not really,” replied Billie bluntly.
“But you've been to parties.”
“Well, yes, but..” Billie did not bother to end her sentence. Georgiana looked so happy. It would be like kicking a puppy if he told Georgiana that he hated being dragged to house parties by their mother. Or if hate is a strong word, he is clearly not having a good time. He really doesn't like to travel. He knows it's about himself.
And Billie doesn't enjoy spending time with strangers. She is not a shy girl; not at all. He just prefers to be in the middle of people he knows.
People who know him.
Life is so much easier that way.
“You can see it like this,” Lady Bridgerton told Billie. “You don't want to have a party at home. You don't like parties at home. But I'm your mother, and I've decided to hold it. Therefore, you have no choice but to attend. Why not take this opportunity to make this event something you might enjoy?”
“But I won't enjoy it.”
“You will obviously not enjoy it with such an attitude.”
Billie took her time to regain her composure. And resisted the urge to argue and defend himself and told his mother he was not willing to talk as if he were a child…
“I'd love to be able to help Georgiana as long as I'm given time to read my book,” said Billie stiffly.
“I won't dare to keep you away from Prescott’s,” murmured his mother.
Billie glared at her mother. “Shouldn't have mocked her. It was books like that that allowed me to increase the productivity in Aubrey Hall by ten percent. Not to mention improvements for tenant-owned plantations. They all can now eat better after—”
Billie stopped her own words, then gulped. He just did something he said he wouldn't do.
Arguing.
Defend oneself.
Act like a child.
Billie stuffed as much of her breakfast into her mouth as possible within thirty seconds, then stood up and grabbed her wand propped up to the table. “I'll be in the library if anyone needs.” To Georgiana he added, “Tell me when the grass is dry enough so that we can overlay the blanket.”
Georgiana nodded.
“Mother,” Billie said to her mother with a nod to replace the knee bend salute she used to give when she was about to leave. Another thing he couldn't do with a stick.
“Billie,” said her mother, the woman's voice heard trying to reconcile. And maybe a little frustrated. “I hope you won't..”
Billie waited for her mother to finish her sentence, but the woman simply shook her head.
“Forget,” said.
Billie nodded once more, pressing the stick to the floor for balance while turning around with healthy legs. His wand hit the floor with a loud bang, then he swung the body in between, his shoulders tense and stiff as he repeated the movement all the way to the door.
It was hard to walk out with dignity while using a cane.
.
GEORGE WAS STILL NOT sure how Andrew could persuade him to accompany his younger brother to Aubrey Hall for a morning visit, but here he was, standing at the main door while handing the hat to the Thamesly, who was the one who had been visiting the city, the butler of the Bridgerton family since before he was born.
“You did a good deed, Old Man,” Andrew hugged George's shoulder with greater force than necessary.
“Don't call me that.” Oh, my God, he hates that word.
But it just made Andrew laugh. Sure oes. “Whatever you are, you're still doing good. Billie will go crazy from boredom.”
“Tak no harm he experienced a little boredom in his life.” grumbled George.
“Really, but I'm concerned for his family,” Andrew gave up. “Only God knows what kind of madness he will inflict on them if no one comes to comfort him.”
“You speak as if he were a child.”
“Little boy?” Andrew turned to look at George, his face wearing an enigmatic calm expression that George was familiar enough that he was very suspicious. “Not at all.”
“Miss Bridgerton is in the library,” Thamesly tell them. “If you both want to wait in the sitting room, I'll tell you your presence.”
“No need,” says Andrew cheerfully. “We will join him in the library. The last thing we wanted was to force Miss Bridgerton to walk limping more than necessary.”
“You're so good, Sir,” murmured Thamesly.
“Is he still in pain?” ask George.
“I don't know,” replied the butler was diplomatic, “but it might be worth remembering that the weather today was very sunny, and Miss Bridgerton was inside the library.”
“So she suffered, then.”
“Very, My Lord.”
According to George this was the reason he let Andrew drag him off his weekly inventions with their father's estate manager. He knew Billie's ankle was unlikely to undergo much change. Her swollen night looked severe, though it was festively wrapped in a silly pink ribbon by the girl. Such wounds do not heal overnight.
And though he and Billie have never been friends, to be exact, George feels a strange responsibility for the girl's health, not least with respect to her current situation. What is the sound of Chinese proverbs? If you save one life, you will be responsible for that life forever. He obviously didn't save Billie's life, but he got stuck on the roof with the girl, and…
And damn, he doesn't know what this means, just that he thinks he should make sure the girl feels at least a little kind. Although Billie's girl is most annoying and makes her grit her teeth in part of the time.
It's still the right thing to do. That'sthat's all.
“Oh, Billie..” call Andrew as they walk to the back of the house. “We came to save you..”.
George shakes. He doesn't know how his brother survived in the Navy. Andrew could not take it seriously.
“Billie..” call Andrew again, his voice chanting silly tone. “Whereaaaaaaa are you?”
“In the library,” George reminded.
“Well, of course, but isn't this more exciting?” sahut Andrew with a big blinding smile.
“Of course,” he does not wait for an answer.
“Billie!” call again. “Oh, Billiebilliebilliebill-”
“For God!” Billie's head emerged from behind the library's doorstep. Her brown hair is pulled back into the loose bun typical of women who have no plans to meet anyone. “Your voice is loud enough to wake the dead. What are you doing here?”
“Is that how you greet an old friend?”
“I met you last night.”
“True once.” Andrew leaned over and landed a sisterly kiss on Billie's cheek. “But you haven't seen me for a very long time. You have to fill up supplies.”
“Availability of your presence?” ask Billie to hesitate.
Andrew patted his arm. “We are very lucky you got this chance.”
George tilted his body to the right so he could see Billie from behind his sister. “May I strangle him or will you do it?”
The girl gave him an evil smile. “Oh, it should be done together, don't you think so?”
“So you can split the error?” chirps Andrew.
“So we can share the excitement,” Billie corrects.
“You hurt me.”
“By pleasure, rest assured.” Billie jumped to her left and turned to look at George. “What brought you here this beautiful morning, Lord Kennard?”
George frowned at Billie who called him by his title. Bridgerton and Rokesby were never formal when there were only two families. Even now, not a single one is blinking because Billie is only with two single men in the library. But this was not something that would be allowed during the upcoming party. They all realized their relaxed attitude would not be possible if there was someone else.
“Retected by my sister, unfortunately,” I'm George. “There is little anxiety over the safety of your family.”
Mara Billie squinting. “Really.”
“Well, well, Billie,” said Andrew. “We all know you don't fit stuck in the room.”
“I came for his safety,” George said as he jerked his head towards Andrew. “Although I am sure any injury you inflict on him will be justified.”
Billie threw her head back and laughed. “Come, join me at the library. I have to sit.”
While George recuperated from the incredible sight of the merry Billie, the girl skipped back to the nearby reading table, holding a light blue skirt over her ankle to make it easier to move.
“You should have used your stick,” he said.
“Not comparable for such a short distance,” Billie said, then sat back in her chair. “Again, the sticks fell and took it much more trouble.”
George followed Billie's gaze to where his sticks were lying on the floor, piling each other up. He bent down and picked it up, placing it gently beside the library table. “If you need help, you should have asked for it,” he said slowly.
The girl looked at him and blinked. “I don't need help.”
George was about to tell Billie not to be so defensive, but then he realized she was not being defensive. Billie was simply stating the facts. Facts that the girl saw.
George shakes. Billie can be so literal.
“What?” ask the girl.
George put his shoulders. He had no idea what the girl was talking about.
“What do you want to say?” sue Billie.
The corners of the girl's mouth reminisced. “It's not true. You're obviously going to say something.” Literal and insistent. Terrible combination.
“What's your sleep good?” ask George politely.
“Of course,” replied Billie with enough arches on her eyebrows to tell her George was aware of changing the subject. “I told you yesterday. I've never had trouble sleeping.”
“You said you never had trouble sleeping,” George corrects, a little surprised to remember the difference.
The girl shrugged her shoulders. “Same as.”
“Pain doesn't wake you?”
Billie looked down at her feet as if she had forgotten her feet were there. “It doesn't look.”
“If I may interject,” Andrew bowed in salute to Billie with a stupid looking arm swing, “we came to offer help and help in whatever you consider important.”
The girl gave Andrew the look that George usually keeps for bad kids. “Are you sure you want to make a promise that big?”
George bowed until his lips were at the same height as Billie's ears. “Please remember he used ‘kami’ as an exaggerated figure of speech, not as a plural pronoun.”
Billie grinning. “In other words, you don't want to be part of it?”
“Not at all.”
“You insulted the lady,” Andrew said without the slightest protesting tone in his voice. He perched lazily on one of the Bridgerton family's beautiful armchairs, his long legs stretched forward so that only the heels of his shoes touched the carpet.
Billie gave him an irritated look before returning to George. “Why did you come here?”
George sat at the table opposite him. “As he said, but without hyperbole. We thought you might need company.”
“Oh.” The girl was slightly stunned, clearly shocked to hear George's straightforwardness. “Thank you. You're so nice.”
“Thank you, you're so good?” repeated Andrew. “Who are you?”
Billie turned her head quickly. “Am I supposed to bend the leg salute?”
“That would be nice,” says Andrew.
“Must be done with stick.”
“Well, if that's the case..”
Billie turned to George again. “Dia *****.”
George raised both hands. “I won't argue.”
“The sad state of the youngest boy,” Andrew sighed.
Billie turned the eyeball, and raised her head towards Andrew while talking to George, “Do not push him.”
“Turned,” Andrew continues, “never honored...”.
George stuck his neck out, trying to read the title of the book Billie read. “What did you read?”
“Dan seems to be ignored as well,” Andrew continued.
Billie flipped the book so that the letters in gold ink faced George. “Prescott’s Encyclopaedia of Agriculture.”
“Jilid four,” George nodded in agreement. He has volumes one through three in his personal library.
“Ya, this has just been published,” Billie confirmed.
“Surely new once, or I must have bought it the last time I was in London.”
“My father brought him from his last trip. You can read it after I'm done if you want.”
“Oh, no, I'm sure I should have it myself.”
“As a reference,” Billie nodded approvingly.
“This is probably the most boring conversation I've ever had,” Andrew said from behind them.
They disregarded.
“Do you often read heavy books like that?” George nodded toward Prescott’s book. She always thought women preferred books of poetry or plays by Shakespeare and Marlowe. That's what her mother and sister seemed to enjoy.
“Of course,” replied Billie, scowling as if George insulted her with that question.
“Billie helps her father in land management,” said Andrew, who seemed bored of mocking them. He pushed himself up and walked to the wall with shelves, picking books at random. He flipped through several pages, frowned, and returned them.
“Yes, you once mentioned that you helped him,” George said. He looked at Billie. “Very once you.”
Billie's eyes narrowed.
“That's no insult, just observation,” George said before Billie could open her rash little mouth.
The girl did not look sure.
“You have to admit, most young women don't help their fathers like that,” said George fluently. “Because of that, you're amazing.”
“I swear, George,” said Andrew, looking up from the book being flipped around, “you even give compliments like ******* cocky.”
“I'll kill him,” grumbled George.
“You should be in line,” Billie's comment. But then he lowered his voice. “But it has a point.”
George terakenak's. “What?”
“You do sound a little..” Billie flicked her hand in the air instead of finishing her sentence.
“As ********?” help George.
“No!” billie answered with enough speed and enough confidence to make George believe him. “Only a little..”.
George's waiting.
“Are you talking about me?” asked Andrew who was back in the chair with a book in his hand.
“Not,” answer them in unison.
“I don't mind if the conversation is a compliment,” the man muttered.
George ignored her, and continued to stare at Billie. Billie's forehead wrinkled. Two small lines formed between his brows, curling face to face like an hourglass, and his lips furrowed into a serious snort, almost like he was waiting for a kiss.
George realized he never noticed Billie while he was thinking.
Then he realized how strange his observation was.
“You do sound a little cocky,” Billie finally replied. His voice was slow, meant only for the ears of the two of them. “But I think it's understandable?”
Understandable? George leaned forward. “Why are you saying it like it's a question?”
“Entah.”
George leaned back and crossed his arms, raising one eyebrow to signal that he was waiting for Billie to continue.
“Alright,” Billie said, not so gracefully. “You are the oldest, the heir. You're the brilliant, handsome Earl Kennard, oh, and we mustn't forget, ready to get married.”
George felt a smile slowly widen on his face. “You think I'm handsome?”
“This is exactly as I was talking about!”
“Also brilliant,” murmured George. “I did not expect.”
“You're acting like Andrew,” grumbled Billie. I don't know why, this makes George chuckle. Billie's eyes narrowed into delicacies.
George's smile widened into a grin. For God's sake, it feels good to be able to make fun of the girl.
Billie leaned forward, and by then George realized how well people could talk with gritted teeth. “I tried to be understanding,” the girl growled.
“I'm sorry,” George said immediately.
Billie's lips are tight. “You asked me. I'm trying to give you a serious and honest answer. I thought you deserved it.”
Well, now George feels like ********.
“I'm sorry,” he said again, this time more than just a polite attitude that has been embedded.
Billie exhaled, biting the inside of her lower lip. He thought again, George realized. How wonderful it feels to see others think. Is everyone this expressive while thinking about their ideas?
“That's because of the way you grew up,” finally Billie said. “You cannot be blamed at all like..” he exhales again, but George is patient. Billie will find the right words.
And after a while, the girl managed to get it. “You bred—” But this time he suddenly stopped.
“To be cocky?” said slowly.
“To be confident,” Billie corrected, but George felt his statement was closer to what Billie was about to say. “It wasn't your fault,” the girl added.
“Now who is being condescending?”
The girl gave him a wry smile. “I, I'm sure. But it's true. You can't help it like I can't help but be.” Billie flicked both hands again, which seems to be a gesture to describe all the things that are too clumsy to say out loud.
“Diriku,” he finally finished.
“Shortly.” George said it softly. He says it because he has to say it, even if he doesn't know why.
Billie looked up at George, but only with her eyes. His face remained slightly lowered, and George had a very awkward feeling that if he did not return the girl's gaze, if he did not hold on, he could not, Billie would return the gaze to her two tightly clasped hands, and the moment would be lost forever.
“Who are you?” whispered.
Billie shakes. “I don't know.”
“Is anyone hungry?” suddenly Andrew asked.
George blinked, trying to wake himself up from whatever spell was cast on him.
“Because I'm hungry,” Andrew continued. “Hunger. Hugely. I only ate one breakfast this morning.”
“One breakfast?” Billie began to ask, but Andrew had already stood up, and jumped to his side.
The man put both hands on the table, and advanced the body to mutter, “I hope I will be invited to have tea.”
“Of course you were invited for tea,” Billie said, but she sounded just as shaken as George felt. He cringed. “But it's a little too early.”
“It's never too early to drink tea.” Andrew announced. “No if your cook makes biscuits.” He looked at George. “I don't know what she put in it, but it tastes delicious once.”
“Mentega,” sahut Billie dazed. “A lot.”
Andrew shakes his head. “Well, that makes sense. All tastes better with a lot of butter.”
“We'd better ask Georgiana to join,” Billie grabbed her stick. “I should have helped her plan entertainment for that home pasta.” He rolled his eyeballs. “Government my mom.”
Andrew wettest. “Do your mother even know you?”
Billie threw an exasperated spotlight back.
“Seriously, Billie-goat, what do you want us to do? Go to the ground in the south and plant barley?”
“Stop,” says George.
Andrew turned. “Why?”
“Do not disturb him.”
Andrew was stunned and looked at him for so long that George inevitably thought if he had spoken a foreign language.
“This is Billie,” finally Andrew said.
“I know. And you better not bother him.”
“I can face my own battles, George,” Billie said.
George looked towards the girl. “Of course you can.”
Billie's lips were open, but she didn't seem to know how to respond.
Andrew looked back and forth between the two of them before looking down small. “I'm sorry.”
Billie nodded.
“Maybe I can help in the planning,” advises Andrew.
“You would obviously be better off doing it than I am,” Billie said.
“Well, it goes without saying.”
Billie stabbed Andrew in the leg with one of her sticks.
And just like that, George realized, everything was back to normal.
It's just that it didn't happen. Not for him
don't forget to get rich usually!!
