Restless and on edge, she began to pace around the house but nothing inspired her.
“I have no idea what I want,” she whispered aloud. “I am so used to being told what to do by Cecily that I cannot decide for myself.”
When a complete circuit of the house didn't offer any answers, Georgiana returned to the kitchen and sat down to study her list. The only item on it that appealed to her right now was to experience being drunk. With Ruth at her friend’s house overnight, the chances of being caught, or worrying her aunt unduly, were as low as they were likely to get.
“What harm can there be?” Georgiana whispered.
She began to search for some alcohol. An hour later, she blew a thin veil of dust off a bottle of brandy that had been tucked away at the back of a cupboard and studied it closely. Once the cork was removed she took a cautious sniff. The stench made her eyes water but was sweet and strangely appealing so she began to search for a goblet.
“Well, here goes nothing,” she murmured aloud once she had poured the cup half-full. She took a cautionary sip, frowned, and waited. “Really quite pleasant,” she mused as she studied the amber liquid swirling around in the receptacle.
She then took a second, much longer sip. The sharp sting of the fragrant liquid as it burned its way down her throat made her cough and gave the liquid a completely different taste. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she liked it or not. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant, just a little unusual. Within minutes a warm rush of heat flooded her cheeks, and was rather nice. Delighted, Georgiana took another, much larger sip. That too burned its way down her throat and settled warmly in the pit of her stomach but, in its wake left joy, the strength of which made her giggle.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, blinking rapidly as the fireplace began to blur around the edges. “What on earth?”
She studied the half-empty goblet in her hand in surprise. She hadn’t realised she had drunk that much, but now that she had tasted it she was compelled to drink more. The residual warmth that lingered deep within was wonderful and made her problems melt away.
“So, this is what all the men like to drink besides ale, is it? They have been keeping secrets,” she giggled as she took another longer sip. “They can keep the ale. I don’t like that, but this-” she picked the bottle up and studied it with a squint, “-this, I shall keep for myself.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a hiccup and found this incredibly funny, which made her thirsty and in need of another long slug of the sweet sin. As she settled into the plush confines of the chair, her contentment with the world around her grew even more, until even Will faded into insignificance.
“Cheers Will,” she called to the empty room and raised her glass like she had done at many a toast in the past. Even saying his name didn’t make her chest ache like it usually did now, but she had no idea how the brandy might be responsible for that.
“It is good stuff this,” she chortled. “Whatever it has in it really works,” she mused aloud and frowned as she tried to contemplate that but struggled to get her thoughts into the right order.
“My dress!” She cried suddenly.
She put the goblet onto the table with a dull thud and stumbled, staggered, and tripped across the room and finally made her way up the stairs to her bed chamber. Once there, she dropped onto the floor and, bottom in the air, withdrew the large box out from under her bed. Carefully lifting the crimson dress out of its tissue, she held it against her for a moment, luxuriating in the silken glide of the fabric against her as she studied herself in the mirror. Then, she turned to Ruth’s startling yet wonderful gift.
Emboldened by the alcohol she quickly divested herself of her clothing and tugged the corset on. Thoughtfully, the modiste had placed the laces at the front of the corset, allowing Georgiana to tie herself in, which she did, after a few drinks of brandy and a stumble or two. Eventually, having pushed and contorted herself into the confining clothing, she stood back to study the mirror.
Her cheeks flamed at the image that stared back at her. It was shocking, but also truly shocking in an empowering kind of way. She truly believed she had the strength to conquer anything, and probably would have done–if the world didn’t shake so much.
Delighted at what she saw she hurriedly tugged her matching dress over her head and sighed breathlessly as she material glided its silken delight over her bare flesh. It was wondrously wicked to be so boldly displayed in blood-red and black, but also incredibly satisfying. For once she was doing something for herself, and it fuelled her inner quest to achieve something in her life that flew in the face of everything everyone had ever told her she should do and be.
“I love it,” she cried as she whirled around the room only to gasp and cling onto the door frame when the world swirled alarmingly. “Oh, Lord. I need another d-drink-”
She hiccupped, which propelled her out of the room and into the hallway. Once there she struggled toward the stairs on wobbly legs.
“I wonder if this is what being drunk is like? But I can’t be drunk, I am not singing like my brother’s used to,” she muttered as she half-ran down the stairs and collapsed into a heap at the bottom when the world rushed up to meet her.
She pushed awkwardly onto her feet, shoved loose strands of hair out of her face so she could see properly, and staggered into the study whereupon she took a deep, fortifying drink from her goblet. Once empty, she refilled it and smiled naughtily as she fell back into the chaise.
“Grapes!” She cried with a giggle, as though she had just made an incredible discovery.
Once back on her feet, which was far more of a struggle than she had expected, she staggered to the back of the house where she thought she would find the conservatory.
“There has to be some here somewhere,” she muttered as she pushed her way through the foliage in search of a grapevine. “Grapey, grapey, grapey, grapey, come out wherever you are,” she called as she stumbled from one end of the conservatory to the other. “Now where are you?” she muttered with a frown as she made her way back to the door.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered when the room began to swirl again. Aware that she wasn’t going to be able to walk for long on such wobbly legs she hurried into the study to collect the bottle. Unfortunately, carrying the goblet at the same time proved difficult because the liquid kept sploshin
g over the edge and dousing her fingers–so she drank it to keep it safe before she plonked the now empty receptacle onto the table.
“Now, I will find those grapes,” she declared, taking the bottle with her for company.
As she left the hallway she was only vaguely aware of someone knocking on the front door, but her legs wouldn’t cover the distance to go back to answer it. Besides, she didn’t want to talk to anybody right now–only why she couldn’t quite remember.
“You can wait,” she announced to nobody in particular as she bumped her way along one wall and another to the conservatory. Once there, she realised that the grapes were hanging over her head.