Georgie

Georgiana Lewington

Her room was suited to a much younger girl. She had this thought regularly, it bothered her that the old, oak-panelled nursery hadn't changed since she could remember, and looking around at the familiar surroundings: her once treasured rocking horse, the handmade doll's house with the many miniature figures stood in the positions that she left them, her rag doll lying on her bed that she resented loving. Her parents would never let her move to a different room in their large country house, especially considering how they always thought of her as their precious girl, the child they had to protect from parties, alcohol and the reasons her father fought in unknown great battles.

With a defeatist sigh, she began undressing. She remembered looking in the mirror, as she did now, pretending to be so ladylike, it made her shudder inwardly in embarrassment. Georgiana had a vivid memory of keeping a diary where she would try to rationalise over problems that cropped up during the day just like her father did, only recently had she realised how ridiculous an idea that had been and she silently prayed to God, like Mother had taught her, that she hadn't mentioned this to her parents. She was sure she would have never heard the end of it.

Despite the resentment of her younger self, one thing hadn't changed: an intense desire still coursed through her veins to join her parents in the great parties they held in the vast expanse of rooms leading off from the central ballroom.

A few hours earlier, Georgiana's mother had made the long walk to her room, already dressed in her evening ball gown and glided into the room to say goodnight before turning her attention to the many guests. As she seemingly floated out of the room, Georgiana dared to ask this question, not that this was the first time. Eleanor Lewington's shoulders dropped in time with a small and slightly frustrated, sigh and declared that this was not the time and she should take this up with Nanny Roberts, the maid employed to look after her, if she needed to have it explained again. Irritated by her mother's constant lack of awareness that she did have a daughter that she was meant to care about, Georgiana tried a different tact.

"Mother? Do you remember when I asked you if I could go and play with the serving boys who ran around in the garden while I was locked up in this house like a prisoner? You replied that it 'would never be fitting for a lady to act like those poverty ridden children'. Now you are saying I cannot integrate with my own class. Am I a prisoner? Or do you just have no feelings for me?"

The woman, dressed in the elegant cream dress that swirled just above the floor, standing in the doorway did not turn around and merely shook her head in sad disappointment at the nerve of her child and disappeared to find the governess to sort out this mess, she had to concentrate on this dinner tonight.

The girl almost growled in frustration at the lack of acknowledgement she got from her parents and began to get changed with angry, forced movements. The long mirror in her room displayed her figure as she was replacing her day garments with the silk night dress that had been laid out neatly on the bed earlier, and it infuriated her more seeing her curves and having to deny how much they screamed woman. She fished out her long, dark hair from the back of the silk and let it flow over her shoulders and back.

From downstairs, the sound of lilting music crept up through the floorboards into the room and a small, relaxed smile stretched across her face as she executed several perfect turns beside her bed. Dancing had always been one of her favourite pastimes and she gave a soft laugh and through herself onto the soft quilts, being enveloped by the sheer number of them. And although she still held onto her bitterness about not being allowed to join in downstairs, being a well looked after, contented girl in 1865 was definitely not something that was given to everyone and she knew to not take in for granted. She'd seen many children with next to nothing compared to her, and she could only imagine how horrible their lives were.