(http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f142/capwilly1/Westinghouse/Georgiana_AVI.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Who:</strong>Georgiana Elliot<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Lord Greymore's Quarters<br/><strong>With:</strong>Archie, Ella, Albert<br/><strong>When:</strong>Half Past Noon<br/><strong>What:</strong>Being Invisible<br/><br/>Georgiana had told Archie was going to bathe, but as soon as she walked into her new quarters, so much bigger than what she had at Westinghouse, a sigh escaped her lips. Bathing be damned, she liked the way she had smelled and to be honest she felt like the more she took on this new role the more she was losing herself. She walked to the wash basin dipping her cloth into the warm water and running it along her neck and jaw. She was starting to feel foolish, closing her eyes she felt the water dripping down her throat and disappearing between the valley of her breasts. The slight washing was what she needed and with placing the cloth back on the basin she turned to change into some clean clothing.<br/><br/>Georgiana had changed and was walking through the room that connected her's with Archie's when she heard voices, Slowing her steps she opened the door into his room quietly melting into the wood work. From years of servitude it was easy to become invisible, even in the bright sprig color dress she had decided on. She leaned her head against the wood and listened.<br/><br/>With Archie's words, she is quite easy on the eyes and I like the sound of her voice, a pain hit Georgiana, it was a subtle thing that jerked her further into the shadows dancing around his room. Slowly backing out of the room, not caring to hear more, she retreated back into her room and quickly back down stairs, flinging open the kitchen door into the garden. She knew who Archie was or a least she thought she did, and as for herself she felt like everything she did was wrong. She couldn't even seem to help run his household without stepping on his toes, the worst was not being able to help him forget Vivienne. She looked up into the bright afternoon sun and felt a wetness on her cheek. No she would not cry, she would grow from this, in fact, she will be her blunt, brash, loud-mouthed self.<br/><br/>With this declaration she reached up and untucked her hair, letting the wavy locks tumble down her shoulders to her waist. She had never liked her hair up and when she was a maid she had always been reprimanded for it, the memory made her smile and she stared out at the beautiful garden she had cultivated while her fingers lazily played through her wavy locks.