by Amelia Hart
"Hold it and pretend to drink it. You may keep the same glass all evening if you like, and never drain it. It will give you something to do with your hands if you are not asked to dance."
Dreadful thought. "I hope I will be asked. I'd like to dance."
"I think you'll have at least one invitation, even though you're not generally known. See, there are the Setons, and Michael is here with them. He is sure to stand up with you. You must refuse anyone who has not been introduced to you."
"I know."
"Not that you will encounter such poor behavior here, I don't think. The patronesses are very strict."
"I know."
"Yes, of course you do. I'm sorry. I'm only nervous. So much rests on this. Don't let that frighten you, of course. You will do very well, I'm sure of it. If all goes as I hope for you then we can expect your sisters to be well-received also. It will mean great things for all the family."
"I know, Mama. Let us go talk to the Setons, before you worry yourself to death."
They stood by their friends, were joined by more acquaintances, and introduced to others. Elizabeth proved popular, and danced almost every dance, cautiously demure, unusually quiet, but simmering away inside with a froth of pleasure. How her sisters would gasp and sigh when she told them she had danced with a baron, no less. He had not been a very good dancer, nor very handsome, but he was extremely cordial.
Michael danced better. He seemed to have developed a partiality for her company. He was so kind to her, and attentive, nineteen years to her eighteen. Yet he seemed callow next to the gentlemen who stood around talking amongst themselves or surveying the crowd, impeccably dressed and leisurely. Oh, how they swaggered and tilted their heads back and looked bored. More than one had lifted a quizzing glass to inspect her with dashing rudeness, so she did not know whether to glare or blush. She turned her head away and fluttered her fan in front of her face.
In a lull in the dancing, there came a moment when she met the eyes of a middle-aged woman across the room. The woman looked directly at her as if measuring her carefully. She seemed the very definition of aristocracy, with a cool, haughty face, high cheekbones and a small, tidy mouth. She wore black; elegant and uncompromising. She reached out a hand to lay it on the forearm of a man standing near her, and he turned his head. Elizabeth looked away before she could be seen to stare, and a moment later sent a darting glance back to them and away again.
Both the strangers were looking at Elizabeth now. He was very handsome, in a lean, dignified way. There was such a likeness between the two of them they must be related.
From the corner of her eye she saw they now approached, and she waited, almost holding her breath.
"Mrs Seton, how delightful to see you," came the woman's voice, commanding even in greeting. As everyone else turned their heads and smiled in polite welcome, Elizabeth could examine the pair.
Definitely related, though it was difficult to break down the individual features of his face to compare them to another's, as he made such a strong impression. He was very compelling, his brow broad, nose lean and cheekbones prominent. He had dark shadows under his eyes and seemed distant from them all, as if he did not quite listen. For a moment those grayish-green eyes rested on her face, and then he looked at his relative who still spoke, then at the crowd beyond her, disconnected from them all.
". . . and of course my son," said the woman in black, "who is now the Earl of Carhampton, following the untimely death of his cousin."
"A sad loss for your family," Mrs Seton said.
Elizabeth's eyes went to the black armband on the man's arm. The Earl's arm. He was in mourning. That explained the air of sorrow that hung about him. She wished she could take his hand and hold it, and sit with him in sympathy and let him know he was not alone. A peculiar idea, when he already had his mother with him. Yet despite her black dress there was nothing in the brisk snap of her manner to make one think she mourned.
"It is so congenial to meet with you here. And your friends," the Earl's mother said.
"Have you been introduced?" asked Mrs Seton. "Mrs Alexander, Lord Carhampton, allow me to make known to you Mrs Cross and her eldest daughter, Miss Elizabeth Cross. Mrs and Miss Cross, Mrs Alexander and Lord Carhampton."
He bowed while the women curtsied, and now Mrs Alexander assessed Elizabeth's Mama, who murmured a quiet, "Charmed, I'm sure," showing just the right degree of civility and deference. Not too much, in the face of such a coolly appraising inspection.
"Christopher, there is a set forming," said Mrs Alexander. "Perhaps you would enjoy a dance." Her words were a suggestion. Her tone was not.
Lord Carhampton looked at his mother, something passed between them, and she pinched her lips together and glanced away. Then he turned to Elizabeth, inclined his head in inquiry and held out his gloved hand. "Miss Cross, would you do me the honor?"
She inspected his face, smiled at him so his lips twitched upward in a vague response that did not reach his eyes, then put her own hand in his. "I'd be delighted," she said in a calm way, and congratulated herself on her composure. An earl! She held the hand of an earl. Now he looked directly at her she could not imagine he needed comfort from one such as she, he was so controlled, so distinguished.
He led her to the dance floor, and she was acutely conscious of her uplifted hand in his, and held it high so the weight of her arm did not drag on him but rested light as thistledown. He was a tall man, and though she herself was tall, standing next to him she felt small and feminine; such a pleasant sensation.
The dance was a cotillion, and he assayed it gracefully, the crossing and swapping of partners making it impossible for any conversation. His gaze held hers now, and again she smiled, loving the challenge of the quick hop and skip, completing it all perfectly and knowing she showed well. This was success indeed.
When the dance finished she was warm. He took her hand, and placed it in the crook of his elbow. "You dance extremely well."
"Your excellent lead made it so easy."
His eyebrows lifted in the faintest hint of surprise. Was he not used to compliments?
"Would you care to take a turn about the room?" he asked.
"Thank you."
His arm was very firm under her fingertips, and even above the combined smells of perfume and pomade and beeswax, she imagined she caught his scent. Sandalwood, perhaps it was, and cloves. She turned her head a little towards him to catch it better, and he looked down at her and smiled his sad smile.
"Are you enjoying the evening?" he said.
"Very much, thank you. Everyone is extraordinarily kind."
"It's easy to be kind to one who is so pretty."
"Oh." She looked down, then peeked up at him through her lashes. "What a lovely compliment."
"Have you been in town long?"
"We usually live here, except in the heat of summer." It amazed her that he might be interested in her life, yet here he was, questioning her about it.
"And then where are you located?"
"In Brighton."
"Ah, our seaside resort." He nodded as if he knew the place.
"Yes. It's beautiful there, with the sea and the sunshine."
"And promenades along the shore."
"Precisely."
"Mrs Seton said you are the eldest daughter of your family?"
So he had been listening, though his mind had seemed elsewhere. "There are nine of us, and four girls in total."
"A very prosperous number."
"Papa likes to say he is blessed, and Mama says she is cursed."
"Are you all so troublesome, then?"
She felt her lips quirk at the idea, tilted her head toward him and confided, "I think it’s only that she must find husbands for us all. The task is so daunting."
"No doubt you will pop off quickly, and then she'll see it's no chore at all."
"Do you think so? That’s a pleasant thought, though my season has been so enjoyable thus far, I wouldn't mind another."
Was this a deeper question? She replied carefully, to avoid making a bad impression. "Not precisely. Only I would not like to be married off and disappear into the countryside, never to attend another ball. That would be very sad, I think."
"I understand they have balls in the countryside," he said gravely.
"Now you're teasing. I know that. But the London balls are in a class of their own; such amazing spectacles, so very grand. If I had them as a constant diet I'd become insufferably bored and jaded of course, but if I never had them again?" she shook her head, "No, that would not do either."
"Would it not?"
"Decidedly not. I would shed tears into my teacup." She pouted in a way that Papa had told her was adorable, and was rewarded with another faint smile, this one more genuine.
"Tragedy indeed."
"And what of you? Are you enjoying the Season?"
A shadow seemed to come over his face, and the smile disappeared. "I find I’m not in the mood for it."
"Yes of course. The death of your cousin. I'm so sorry."
For a moment he frowned at her as if puzzled, then his brows lifted. "Among other things."
"So you'd rather not be here?" Which would explain his absent-mindedness. Poor man. So elegant and impressive, yet hurting underneath. Again there was that strange urge to comfort him, and tell him he was not alone. Yet she did not know him well enough. One did not impose on an earl.
But her question seemed to bring him back to himself, because he met her with flattery again. "How could that be, when I find one such as you here?"
What a charming man. So brave. To dance and flirt to entertain her, when his heart must be heavy as lead inside him.
"You are too kind."
"Now I must give you back to Mrs Cross, but it has been a pleasure to meet you." He bowed over her hand, and once again she saw that faint glimmer of a smile - there then gone - so swift she almost missed it.
It warmed her.
He deposited her at Mama's side. As he turned away from the group he met his mother's gaze, and the woman quickly excused herself and hurried after him. As she came up beside him he said something to her in a low voice, and nodded in firm decision, then carried on to the door and went out. Mrs Alexander stopped still in the center of the floor, and pivoted to look back towards Elizabeth. Her eyes were bright and hard as she stared, and the smile that curved her thin lips was not at all as charming. Then she, too, went out.
Elizabeth did not see them for the rest of the evening.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Is that him? That one there?" Jane held back the drapes for a better view.
Elizabeth peered from the upper floor window. "No. He has darker hair than that. And he's taller. And much more handsome."
"An earl. How wonderful." Katherine picked up the fan her sister had used at Almacks, held her skirt out wide to one side, and twirled slowly in a solitary waltz.
"An excellent catch, yes," said Mrs Cross, seeming complacent, but Elizabeth was not fooled. She knew her mother too well to miss the bright spots of color in her cheeks, or the way she kept smoothing the expensive lace that fell from her sleeves. Three times she had straightened the cap that sat in her curls, which had not once been crooked.
"That's so grand," said Jane.
"If you marry him you'll be a countess." Katherine lingered over the word as if it held magic.
"I can't imagine it. Not our Beth." Alice teased the kitten in her lap, not concerned by the threads his sharp claws pulled from the fabric of her pinafore.
"Why not?" said Katherine. "She'd be a beautiful countess. She'd make all the other countesses envious."
"Is that him?" asked Jane, and Elizabeth looked again.
"Yes," she said. Nerves fluttered deep in her stomach.
Katherine rushed to the window to peer out too, but he had already climbed the steps of their house and was out of sight. "Lady Carhampton. We'll all have to curtsy and bow and put you always at the head of the table, for you will outrank even Mama and Papa."
Elizabeth grinned. "But when we go out I’ll keep you always near me so you will meet the sons of marquises and dukes and marry them and have an even higher rank. Then you may be seated above me."
Alice only looked disdainful, but the older girls sighed in unison.
"Oh, won't that be perfect," Katherine said. "Only imagine it. You must marry him. You must."
"Certainly if she can bring him up to scratch, she will," said Mrs Cross.
"And if I love him," said Elizabeth.
"Yes, of course," said Mrs Cross with fond impatience. "But what is not to love? Look at him, so handsome, so exquisitely mannered."
"He is very cool," she answered, a little wistful. Yet perhaps he would warm, with time. His quiet smiles seemed promising.
"He is correct. Trust me, once he knows you are his he will be much more passionate. But that is the way of nobility. They must be even stricter than most to avoid raising false hopes. The fact that he calls on us like this means he is already half in love with you."
"Do you think so?" she asked. "I didn’t imagine him particularly captivated."
"What does a schoolroom miss know of such things? You are an innocent, and while that is a very good thing to be, trust me to see the signs of a man transported with delight by a young woman. He will be as attentive a husband as you might wish for."
"Well certainly I will get to know him better, and then I’ll see-"
"Yes, yes, but let us put my pearls on you," Mrs Cross said, took her daughter's hand and tugged her up from the window seat, then unfastened the triple strand of pearls that were around her own neck, "for now I look at yours in this light, they are too insignificant. I'll put on my emeralds instead. It is a great pity you are not permitted to wear jewels, or I would send you out in my sapphires. They would make his jaw drop I'll warrant, be he the loftiest of earls."
"But that would be vulgar, Mama."
"Yes it would be, no need to remind me, you impertinent thing. I was only wishing we might put them on you, for they would bring out the color of your eyes. Such pretty eyes, my chick."
"Thank you. Must I truly be laced so tight? I can barely breathe."
"You don't need to breathe. Just sit and look radiant and flutter your eyelashes at him, and I'll do the speaking."
"Lady Carhampton," said Katherine again, sighing as if in love with the name itself. "Just imagine the dresses you'll wear."
"The furs and the jewels," added Jane.
Alice looked up from her kitten. "You'll meet the queen."
"Meet the queen?" scoffed Jane. "She will dine with the queen. After you, your majesty." She stood, curtsied grandly to Katherine and gestured with exaggerated courtly grace. Katherine lifted her nose and bosom high in the air and minced forward.
"May we come down to meet the earl too?" asked Alice.
"Certainly not!" Mrs Cross said. "You are to stay above stairs and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you."
"But Mama-"
"Don't 'Mama' me. This is too important to give him disgust for us through your rollicking ways. You will stay out of sight. Only after he is firmly married to your sister will he meet you, scallywags. Now be off, and give your sister and me a moment of peace."
With reluctant obedience they sauntered out, both Katherine and Jane catching Elizabeth's gaze with meaningful nods and wide-open eyes to indicate the importance of the proceedings, and their support.
When they were gone Mrs Cross turned to Elizabeth. "Now Beth, I want you to be calm and composed. No telling of funny stories, for we have no idea if he has a sense of humor. You will captivate him with your fine looks and femininity."
"Don't you think he should know what he's choosing?"
"No, no when courting it is always best to be cautious. Suitors may take the strangest things into dislike, imagining the little they know of you is your entire character. Best while they know so little to giv
e them nothing to which they may object. They can find out more at leisure. It is a sort of joyous discovery. Let him look at you, and you look at him, and if you like the man you see - and I don't see how you can fail to, for he is very splendid - then you take him and be grateful."
"Perhaps it is Papa's money he wants."
"And so what if he considers that also? There is nothing wrong with being a sensible man. Not when you're such a darling, lovable girl he can't help but fall head over heels the moment he really knows you."
"Funny stories and all?" Elizabeth asked sceptically.
"Funny stories in their place, at the right time. You do have a very teasing way about you, and while that is charming among the family or our closest friends, another might be offended."
"It seems very hard to me, to pretend to be something I am not-"
"I never said pretend. I only said to be your calm self, and poised. You can do that for me and your father, can't you? It will be the very greatest triumph to him if the Earl declares for you. It will reward every good thing he has ever given you or done for you."
"Very well. I'll do what I can. But you know I don't think it right to marry without love."
"Oh, you modern misses. I declare we never thought of such things when I was a girl. Do not ask if you love him. Only ask if you could love him. And if you think the answer is yes, that is enough. When you are married, there is a lifetime for esteem to grow and flourish between you."
He was so proper, so polite and precisely correct, it was difficult to decide if he was happy. His faint smile came and went but the skin around his eyes did not crinkle, though she watched him carefully. He said what he ought to Papa, and drew him out about the nature of his work and the manufactories. Papa was cagey of course. He did not wish to disgust his lofty visitor by glorying in his connection with trade.
Yet Lord Carhampton was not put off, but nodded his head with civil interest, and directed the occasional comment to Mama to include her. To Elizabeth he said nothing as yet, though each time his eyes turned to her she felt his glance all through her body - a tightening, a drawing-in of breath and awareness. Did he like her? Did he admire her?