by Leah Conolly
Chapter 4
One week later, as James was sitting with his mother in the library, he found himself once again thinking with disdain about Elizabeth Gladstone’s uncouth and brazen manners rather than focusing on the book in his lap. Over the past several days, he had wondered how Isabelle was living with such a creature. Today Isabelle was to join him and his mother for tea. Then, he would be able to assess the damage himself.
“Will you be attending Lord Brisbane’s ball, James?” Lady Wordsworth’s voice pulled James from his thoughts.
James blinked, coming back to reality to meet his mother’s eyes. “I do not intend to, no. You know I have had no interest in balls since…” He felt there was no need to finish the thought, as his mother already knew.
Lady Wordsworth sighed. “You should try, James. I can see how lonely you are, how much you wish for someone to be at your side.”
James smiled at her. “I have you, Mother.”
“And one day I will be gone, you know. You need someone else.” Her eyes shone with pity. “Braith would not have wanted you to be unhappy.”
James couldn’t answer that, so he turned back to his book. Once again, he found himself unable to focus on it, his thoughts of Braith. He could never love another woman as he had loved her, nor did he have the slightest interest in trying.
Nevertheless, he knew his mother was still right. Every day he felt acute loneliness, like a physical entity that he was forced to drag around with him. Though he had his mother and Oscar, someone was missing. Someone like Braith.
The butler entered the room. “Lady Kinsley,” he announced, leading in the bright-eyed woman.
Mrs. Wordsworth and James stood to receive their guest. “Wood,” Lady Wordsworth said, addressing the butler, “have the tea brought into the drawing room.”
As the butler left, Isabelle smiled. “My dear friends, it is so good to see you!” She turned to Lady Wordsworth first. “How are you? James tells me you are in good health, but it has been so long since I have been able to ask you personally.”
James could see that his mother was genuinely delighted to see a different face around the house. “I am doing very well, thank you,” she replied. “I hear that you have quite the charge on your hands, Isabelle.”
Isabelle sighed, her expression drooping at the mention of Lady Elizabeth. “Yes, I am afraid so. Elizabeth would have come with me today, but she is paying a visit to her friend, Lady Darwin.”
Lady Wordsworth chuckled. “It is rather a pity. I wanted to see if what James said was true!”
As the party left the library, Isabelle replied, “It is indeed true. It has only been one week, but already I feel as if she has been living in my house for an age. She has refused every one of my attempts to help her act more like a lady and less like an untamed girl. I fear that it is hopeless.” Her melancholy tone punctuated their entrance to the sitting room.
“Do not give up,” James said gently, as they took their seats. “I believe you will find someone to help you with Lady Elizabeth and, until then, I will help you as much as I am able.”
“If you do truly wish to help me, James, I entreat you to come to the ball. I will be taking Elizabeth, and I fear I will not be able to handle her on my own. It may be that no man will dance with her if you will not.”
James shifted in his seat, hoping that the servants would enter with the tea to offer a distraction. “I am not certain of my attendance at the ball,” he said carefully.
Isabelle looked up in a rare moment of levity and met his eyes. “It will not mean you are betraying Braith,” she said softly. “I was her best friend in all the world, and I know that she would have wanted you to be happy.”
“I told him as much this morning,” Lady Wordsworth added. “Thank you, Isabelle.”
James looked down, feeling heat rush to his cheeks, embarrassed that they had both guessed the reason for his aversion to the ball so easily. “I know that I can never feel the same way about anyone as I felt about Braith. Why should I attend a ball where I will be forced to dance with pretty ladies who look at me only because I am a duke?”
“You cannot say that if you have not tried,” Isabelle said, with a small smile.
“It has been many years since you have gone to a ball,” Lady Wordsworth said.
“And besides,” Isabelle continued, “now you have a different motive, to help me with Elizabeth. You said you would help in any way you could.”
James briefly glanced into their eyes. They had pressured him to attend balls and other functions like this before, but he had never given in. Now, however, Isabelle was asking for his help, and that was something he wasn’t sure he could refuse.
Tea was finally served, allowing James to delay his answer. Once the tea was poured and they began to eat, Isabelle spoke again.
“I have been thinking about your problem, James. Indeed, it is second only to my problem with Elizabeth. I have come up with several women whom I think might be suitable for you.”
James sighed. “Isabelle, please—”
“Just listen, James,” his mother insisted.
He frowned but gestured for Isabelle to continue.
“There is Miss Martha Rowles. Her father is a doctor here in London. I have only met her once, but she was very agreeable. Oh, and what about Miss Joanna Bridgeman? Her family is very respectable.”
James nodded and tuned out Isabelle’s musings, completely uninterested. He couldn’t be attracted to someone without having met them.
“Of course, there is always dear Victoria,” Isabelle continued, “but you know her already.”
James had to keep from wincing. The Countess of Chester had been pursuing him for years, even when they had both been married. Just the thought of her was distasteful.
“The countess is not for me, Isabelle. I appreciate your efforts, but I cannot establish interest in a young lady based solely on family connection. I must meet her and discern her character first.”
Isabelle shook her head. “You are too serious, James.”
“Perhaps you are not serious enough.”
“Isabelle is only trying to help,” his mother interjected. “We both are.”
“I know. I appreciate the concern you both have displayed on my behalf, and I take it into account very seriously. To show you that I truly mean it…” James sighed silently, wondering if this was the right decision. “I will go to the ball.”
Lady Wordsworth smiled. Isabelle grinned, reaching out to touch his hand. “Oh, James, thank you! You will not regret it. You will see.”
“Yes,” James sighed, feeling even less certain that he had made the right decision. “We will see.”
Chapter 5
Elizabeth purposefully slurped her tea, as she sat at breakfast with Lady Kinsley. She watched the muscles in her godmother’s face tighten, but after over a week of living with her, Lady Kinsley had given up trying to send her stern looks.
“Elizabeth,” she said, never one to leave a silence for very long, “I have arranged dancing lessons for you to prepare for the ball in a fortnight. I believe you will find them instructive and invigorating.” She smiled, looking past Elizabeth. “I remember when I took dancing lessons before my first ball. I was rather clumsy at first, but by the time I arrived at the ball, it was as if I had been doing it for years!”
“Must I go to the ball?” It was almost all Lady Kinsley talked about, and Elizabeth was starting to find the idea rather tiresome.
Lady Kinsley stared at her as though she had just uttered the most profane insult. “Of course, you must go! Lord and Lady Brisbane were kind enough to include you in the invitation, and it will be the perfect way to make new acquaintances in the area.”
Elizabeth sighed, setting her teacup down a little harder in its saucer than she intended. “I do not want to dance only so I can be married off to someone who can help my father’s estate.” Her words came out forcefully, causing Lady Kinsley to pause.
“You do r
ealize, Elizabeth,” she said gently, “that marriage is the only way to help you and your father.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Of course, she had realized it, but she didn’t want to accept it. There had to be some other way. Lady Kinsley watched her, waiting for an answer.
“I do not want dancing lessons.”
Lady Kinsley froze. “Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth repeated: “I do not want dancing lessons. This is not my first ball, and I can dance perfectly well. Even if I could not, I doubt any man will dance with me. Even you cannot deny this.”
Isabelle’s mouth dropped open, as it always did when she had no idea what to say in response to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, I must insist—”
“And I must refuse,” Elizabeth repeated calmly. “I will not take dancing lessons.”
Isabelle’s knuckles whitened, as she gripped her fork tightly. “You know that I must inform your father of this. You cannot continue in this fashion, Elizabeth.”
“I can, and I will. Tell my father. He has already sent me away. He can do nothing further to injure me.”
Isabelle huffed and then rushed off, probably to write the letter right then and there. Elizabeth realized she had truly upset her, but she couldn’t allow herself to care too much. She was not going to be confined and told what to do.
* * *
After a few mornings of relative silence from Lady Kinsley, they met at breakfast again. Lady Kinsley looked rather grave, but finally addressed Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth, your father has replied to my letter. He wishes you to read this.” She handed her a letter, and Elizabeth opened it, mentally sighing as she could already hear the reproof to come.
Elizabeth,
Lady Kinsley has told me of your behavior since you have been in London, and I find myself severely disappointed. I had hoped that in different company you might find it within yourself to behave, but it seems that you cannot even be kind to a woman who has agreed to bring you into her home at her own expense.
Elizabeth winced, remembering her humbling thoughts when she had first arrived at Mrs. Kinsley’s house.
Therefore, you have forced my hand once again. If you will not listen to Mrs. Kinsley and act like a lady, you will marry Lord Huxley. You do remember him, I trust? He is not the man I would choose for you, but I must see you safe and married, and he is the only man who will accept you.
Please, Elizabeth, be kind to your godmother. Listen, and perhaps you may find a man to marry on your own. I will be awaiting Lady Kinsley’s next letter reporting on your behavior.
Sincerely,
Edward Gladstone, Earl of Waymouth
Elizabeth felt numb. She felt Isabelle’s eyes on her, but the rest of the world disappeared, apart from the paper in her hands.
She had met Lord Huxley several times. He was one of her father’s old friends, but he was a known gambler and, overall, a detestable man. Elizabeth felt she would rather die than be married to the likes of him. How could her father do this?
“Elizabeth?” Lady Kinsley asked, bringing her back to reality.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Pardon me, Lady Kinsley. I think I will go to visit Felicia, if it does not interfere with the dancing lessons.”
Mrs. Kinsley blinked in surprise. “No, my dear, they will start tomorrow. Enjoy your visit with your friend.”
Elizabeth nodded and left to get ready for the visit to Felicia. Her thoughts were swirling, and even as she dressed, she couldn’t let go of the letter. The paper creased, because she was gripping it so tightly.
She wondered if her father was serious. Though Lord Huxley was an old friend of his, she knew that he had grown rather tired of the old brute over the years. It wasn’t the first time he had given her an ultimatum like this, but it was the most serious.
As she walked to Felicia’s house, Elizabeth realized that this was her own fault. She had given her father no other choice. He had been forced into these ultimatums, because she had refused repeatedly to comply with his rules. Sometimes he had carried his threats through, and sometimes he hadn’t.
Despite everything, Elizabeth was awed at how patient he had been with her. It had taken eighteen years of battling her will for him to finally send her away, and then deliver an ultimatum this serious. Many others, she was sure, would have stopped indulging her a long time ago.
Elizabeth sighed. She just couldn’t help herself. Society was a cage, and she didn’t want to be confined by it. Perhaps she never would fit in, no matter how hard she tried.
Finally, Elizabeth reached Felicia’s house. She knocked on the door and was invited in by the butler, who already knew her well from her previous visits. As usual, the butler led her to the library, where Felicia was in a chair, reading.
“Lady Elizabeth,” he announced.
Felicia looked up with a smile and immediately put down her book. She stood, and Elizabeth rushed over to her. Felicia’s face fell in an instant. She waited until the butler left before asking, “Dear Elizabeth, whatever is the matter?”
Elizabeth presented the letter for Felicia’s perusal, and explained as she read. Confiding in her was like a breath of fresh air. Though Elizabeth was sure that her father had told Isabelle of his decision, Elizabeth couldn’t find it within herself to speak of it with her.
As Felicia scanned the letter, and Elizabeth finished her explanation, Felicia’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “Elizabeth,” she breathed, “you must listen to your father’s wishes! You cannot marry Lord Huxley!”
Elizabeth took the letter back and folded it up again. “I know I cannot! But just as I cannot marry Lord Huxley, I also cannot become something I am not.”
Felicia sighed. “You must at least try, Elizabeth. I could not bear to see you married to him.”
“I cannot do the things they wish me to do. Lady Kinsley has arranged dancing lessons for me, and we are to go to the ball in a week. How can I possibly do everything she asks of me? It is against my very nature!”
“Elizabeth,” said Felicia seriously, her blue eyes piercing, “you must find it within yourself to listen, even if only for a little while. If your father forces you to marry Lord Huxley, then you will be giving up everything you are, for the rest of your life. If you comply, for now, it may be that you will find a man who truly accepts who you are.”
“As you do,” Elizabeth said with a smile, already feeling better. “What a pity you do not have a brother.”
Felicia laughed, her expression lightening. “So, what will you do?”
“Well, I would rather die than marry Lord Huxley,” said Elizabeth. “Do you remember that dinner at my father’s house when we were young? You said that Lord Huxley had teeth like a dog’s!”
Felicia continued laughing, falling back into her chair. “I do remember!”
“If Lord Huxley were a dog,” Elizabeth inquired, “what would he look like?”
“He would be small and stout,” said Felicia, between bouts of giggles.
“With large jowls and crooked teeth.”
“His eyes would be wide and red, and too far apart.”
“And he would not be able to bark, only whine.”
They collapsed into a fit of laughter, and once Elizabeth recovered, she said more seriously, “I cannot marry him, Felicia.”
“No,” she replied. “You cannot marry a dog.”
Elizabeth laughed again, feeling a thousand times lighter than she had when she had first read the letter.
“Thank you, dear Felicia,” she said sincerely, taking her friend’s hands. “I do not know what I would do without you.”
Felicia smiled. “Come, Elizabeth, let us talk of what you can do to appease Lady Kinsley and your father.”
Chapter 6
“She really has made such improvements, James,” Isabelle began, teacup in her hand. She took a sip of tea and sighed. “That letter from her father seemed to change her mind, thank heavens. I was beginning to wonder what on earth I should do with her!”
>
“I am glad to hear of it,” James commented, taking a sip of his tea. He knew he was shrinking into himself, dreading what was to come tonight. Though he listened to Isabelle and was sincerely glad of Lady Elizabeth’s improvement, his stomach continued to knot with worry as he considered that he hadn’t danced in many years.
“Her dancing lessons have progressed most satisfactorily,” Isabelle continued. “She has hardly complained or purposefully abused her manners once since last week. I believe it has helped her to see her friend, Lady Darwin, as well. She is a dear girl and would not do anything to bring attention to herself. She has been good for Elizabeth, I think.”