by Brenda Joyce
Lizzie hesitated. “Unless you tell Thomas the truth, and he can accept what you have done, there is no other choice.”
“I can never tell him about this,” Anna whispered. “No man would accept such a bride.”
Lizzie felt rather certain that Thomas would break it off with Anna if he knew she was carrying another man’s child. “We are doing the right thing—the only possible thing,” she murmured.
“Just promise me, we will only give him up to a good home,” Anna said.
“I promise.”
Anna stared at her for one more moment, then wiped her eyes and walked to the armoire. “I’ll pack your things for you, Lizzie.”
“You will do no such thing—you are already fatigued and out of breath.”
“I don’t mind, not after all you have done for me.”
“Absolutely not,” Lizzie said.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Lizzie and Anna froze, and then Lizzie breathed and said cheerfully, “Come in.”
Georgie entered, her brow furrowed. “Why is the door closed? What are you two whispering about?”
Lizzie feigned an expression of surprise. “We were hardly whispering.”
Georgie crossed her arms and frowned. “The two of you have been acting strangely for several days! Something is going on, isn’t it? Something you aren’t telling me!”
“Nothing is going on,” Lizzie said firmly. “Georgie, surely you wish to come with us! Surely you wish to elude that old toad, Peter Harold, before he proposes marriage to you! And you adore Dublin!”
Georgie’s full lips pursed and her eyes darkened. “I am worried about Mama’s health. There will be no one to take care of her, to make sure she rests and eats well, if I go with you and Anna. I simply cannot abandon Mama for several months.”
Lizzie realized that, once again, Georgie’s mind was made up. No one could be more stubborn. “But what if Mr. Harold proposes?”
Georgie crossed her arms. “He has been calling for months now. Maybe he also realizes that this is not the best match?”
“That is hardly an answer,” Lizzie pressed.
Georgie flushed. “What do you want me to say? That I will refuse him? If he proposes, I will have to think very carefully about my future. I doubt I will ever receive another offer of marriage. I am trying very hard to like him.”
Lizzie and Anna exchanged dismayed glances.
“I will be fine,” Georgie said softly to them both. “Besides, Mama is right, this will improve Lizzie’s chances of finding a beau.” She forced a smile and failed. “Now, let me help you both pack.”
Lizzie seized her elbow. “But I don’t want to marry anyone.”
Georgie’s brows raised. “That is only because you have yet to fall in love.”
Lizzie turned away, recalling Tyrell de Warenne’s smoldering eyes as he leaned on the wall, trapping her there, at the costume ball.
“Surely you are not dreaming about Tyrell de Warenne again?” Georgie cried, understanding her far too well.
Lizzie hesitated. She had never stopped dreaming about Tyrell, not for a single day in the past four months. “Of course not,” she said.
“Lizzie, I was with Mama when Sir James mentioned that the de Warennes have gone up to Wicklowe,” Georgie said. Wicklowe was the de Warenne estate, not to be confused with the county Wicklow in which it was situated. She hesitated. “Tyrell has been given a post in the Irish Exchequer, Lizzie, an important post.”
Lizzie felt herself falter while her heart lurched. Tyrell would be in Dublin, in a position as a government official? Oh! She could not manage this now, not when Anna’s crisis was such a huge, frightening burden. “Georgie, do not be foolish,” she said. “I haven’t given him a thought since last October. I have far more important matters on my mind.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Anna pale. Lizzie had no clue as to how she sounded so sensible and calm.
“Such as?” Georgie asked suspiciously.
Lizzie smiled firmly. “Such as saving you from a fate worse than death. Now, why don’t you help us? We have much to do and not very much time in which to do it.”
The Grand Canal Docks in Dublin were south of the River Liffey and but a few blocks from Merrion Square, a matter of convenience and coincidence. The sisters had completed the trip by barge in a mere four days. Now they stood on the docks, clutching their indispensables, as a crewman piled up their trunks and valises beside them. Lizzie and Anna locked glances of growing dread. Anna was as pale as the cleanest batch of laundry. Lizzie knew she must be as equally white.
“She will never let us in, unexpected and uninvited like this,” Anna mumbled, her lips barely moving.
“Of course she will. We are her family,” Lizzie insisted, but her heart was pounding as if she had run a footrace. All she had to do was hail a hackney and in a matter of moments they would be on Eleanor’s doorstep. Lizzie realized she was shaking.
“She has never liked me,” Anna moaned. “And I have always known it!”
Lizzie looked at Anna in some surprise. “Of course she likes you. Come, you must not think the worst, not yet,” she said, taking Anna’s hand.
“At least we have a few pounds—enough for a room if we need to let one,” Anna cried.
“It will not come to that,” Lizzie said firmly, refusing to think otherwise. Eleanor would not be pleased to see them, but beyond that, she could not fathom what would happen—except that she was fiercely determined to convince Eleanor to allow them to stay. “I see a hackney! Wait here,” she cried, rushing down the pier.
The cabdriver was only too happy to accept their fare and he cheerfully loaded up their trunks. Within moments, they were upon Merrion Square, home to the most fashionable of Dublin’s residents. Lizzie and Anna held hands as their coach halted before Eleanor’s home, a huge limestone mansion on the north side of the park. Corinthian columns graced the wide entrance, above which was a towering temple pediment. The house was four stories with several terraces and balconies overlooking the square. The park itself was filled with manicured lawns, blooming gardens and a maze of pebbled paths, but Lizzie did not see any of it. She stared up at the house, consumed with fear and dread.
“Ladies? I got your bags down for you,” the cabdriver said from the sidewalk where he stood.
Lizzie realized he had opened the coach door. She stepped down with his help, Anna following, and quickly handed him the fare they had agreed upon. As the hackney drove off, she and Anna simply stared at each other in real dismay.
Lizzie bit her lip. “Well, this is it, then. Smile, Anna, as if nothing is wrong, as if we are here on a tour of the city and merely calling on a beloved aunt.”
Anna voiced Lizzie’s very own thoughts when she whispered with some desperation, “But what if she does not even allow us inside?”
“She will have to,” Lizzie said briskly, “as I refuse to take no for an answer.”
“You have become so brave,” Anna said, looking ready to cry.
Lizzie took Anna’s hand, hoping to be reassuring, although she was as afraid as her sister. “You look as frightened as a Frenchman on his way to the guillotine,” she said. “And that will not do.”
Anna nodded, appearing miserable.
The trunks on the street, the two sisters walked up the high front steps, past a pair of imposing, life-size lion statues, and across the portico to the front door where a liveried doorman stood. He nodded at them and opened the carved oak door. Lizzie realized she still held Anna’s hand, a sure sign of her own state of anxiety, and she released it as they stepped into a circular foyer with black-and-white marble floors and a huge gold-and-crystal chandelier. A curving staircase faced them. A servant appeared and Lizzie handed him a calling card. “Good day, Leclerc,” Lizzie said with a slight smile. “Please tell our aunt that we are here.” And even as she spoke, she could hear the high, rather strident tones of her aunt speaking in a nearby salon, and the warm laughter of a gentleman, as well.
&nbs
p; “Certainly, mademoiselle,” the butler said, bowing as he left.
“Aunt Eleanor has callers,” Anna whispered nervously.
“Then she will have to mind her manners,” Lizzie returned, knowing that Eleanor never minded her manners. She was so wealthy that she could say and do anything that she pleased. The fact that she had never named an heir had hardly hurt her, either. Such an odd choice entertained society to no end.
Eleanor’s voice rose in sharp protest, breaking their silence. “I do say…What? My nieces are here? My nieces are here? Which nieces, Leclerc?”
Lizzie and Anna exchanged worried glances.
“I have not invited any relations,” Eleanor cried. “Send them away! Send them away this instant!”
Lizzie gasped in abject disbelief. She would not even see them? But moments later, she heard her aunt’s heels clicking on the floors as she approached, and Eleanor appeared through one of the arched entryways in the foyer, her expression filled with anger and disbelief. Lizzie’s heart sank, but she quickly rearranged her own expression, hoping to make it a pleasant one. Then she realized that a tall, darkly blond gentleman was with her.
Eleanor entered the foyer with the tawny-haired gentleman. “What is this display?” she demanded.
Lizzie stepped bravely forward and curtsied, aware that she was trembling. “Good day, Aunt Eleanor. We have come to town for a spring tour and Mama asked us to call on you. We hope you are well?”
“Well? A spring tour? What nonsense is this?” Eleanor snapped, now flushed with her anger but still clearly taken aback. She was a very small, slender woman with iron-gray curls and brilliant blue eyes. She wore an exquisite black velvet dress with an equally exquisite diamond necklace. Eleanor had never come out of mourning for her husband, Lord de Barry, although he had died a decade ago.
Before Lizzie could respond, the gentleman stepped forward, taking Eleanor’s arm firmly in his own. He was in his twenties, a very handsome man with a twinkle in his eyes, and Lizzie would have thought him a rogue, except he wore the plainest of clothes—a dark blue jacket and tan trousers. “My dear Eleanor,” he said, sounding very amused, “is this any way to greet relatives who dare to call upon you?”
Eleanor gave him a rude glance. “I have not asked for your opinion, Rory, although, I know you shall give it.”
Rory grinned and dimpled as he did so. “Perhaps the ladies have traveled some distance?” He glanced at the sisters, his gaze lingering on Anna, who looked ready to collapse or weep. Then he looked carefully at Lizzie, his gaze oddly sharp, even searching. But his tone remained light. “I know there is a generous spirit within you, auntie,” he added in chiding reprimand.
Lizzie had not a clue as to who this relation was.
But Eleanor sighed. “Yes, they have indeed traveled some distance. My nieces hail from Limerick.” She said the word as if it were offensive. Then she glared at them. “Come fortune-hunting, have you? I have not summoned you!”
Lizzie said firmly, “We are very well, thank you kindly, Aunt Eleanor, although as you can see, Anna is somewhat taxed from our journey.”
Eleanor harrumphed.
Rory glanced at Lizzie briefly and then at Anna again, his eyes impossible to read, before turning back to his aunt. Mildly, he murmured, “And will you not introduce me to such fair beauty?”
Eleanor snorted, then glared at Anna. “Fair beauty? Well, she used to be a beauty, but one would not know it today. Rory, these are the Fitzgerald sisters, Elizabeth and Annabelle, my brother Gerald’s girls.” She turned to Lizzie and her sister. “This scoundrel is my nephew, his dear departed mother was Lord de Barry’s sister.”
Rory swept them a laughing bow. “Rory McBane, at your service,” he said with extreme gallantry.
“Pay him no real mind, as he is an incorrigible rake,” Eleanor snapped. But Lizzie had already decided that, in spite of his modest manner of dress, he was indeed a ladies’ man.
Anna suddenly made a small sound and reached for Lizzie’s hand. At that moment, she began to collapse, her knees clearly giving way. Rory McBane leapt forward, and as Anna crumpled to the floor in a swoon, he lifted her into his arms. No longer smiling, he said tersely, “Come, Eleanor, your niece is ill.” And he strode with his burden quite familiarly through the house.
Lizzie rushed after him in real fear, Eleanor on their heels. “She has a weak constitution,” Lizzie claimed to his back, terrified now that Anna was ill. She knew the strain of their deception was becoming too much for her sister. “The journey was a difficult one for someone as frail as she is.”
Rory led them into an opulent salon of medium size, placing Anna on a sofa. “Leclerc,” he ordered. “Bring me salts!”
Lizzie knelt beside him, taking Anna’s hand. Rory looked up at her. “Does she often swoon?”
She hesitated, meeting his gaze, which was as green as an Irish spring day. “Sometimes,” she said, adding another lie to the existing pile of them.
Lizzie was watching him carefully, and she saw his gaze narrow in suspicion. She sensed he was clever and astute, and she feared he was suspicious of them. “She hasn’t felt well for several days,” Lizzie said quickly, telling herself that he could not possibly suspect the truth. Anna was plump now, as she was five months into her pregnancy, but her gowns were high-waisted. All had been let secretly out, and they continued to conceal her slightly bulging tummy. Of course, in another month or so, she would be very obviously pregnant. Lizzie continued to grip Anna’s hand, hoping she would wake up.
Rory stared searchingly at her for a moment and then said, “Eleanor, you should summon your physician.”
“No!” Lizzie cried, and she quickly smiled at him. “It is just a slight flu, really,” she told him. “Anna will be fine.”
Rory was clearly skeptical, and Lizzie waited in some dread. At that moment Leclerc entered, handing Rory the salts.
“Thank you,” Rory said, placing them directly against Anna’s nose.
Instantly she coughed, her eyes fluttering open.
He waved the salts there another time. As Anna coughed again, now wide-awake, he slowly stood. Lizzie rushed to take his place and sit at Anna’s hip. Still gripping her hand, she met her sister’s gaze. “You have merely fainted,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry,” Anna managed to say.
“It’s all right.” Lizzie stroked her brow. Finally, she became aware of her aunt.
Eleanor stood beside Rory, her face a mask of pure displeasure. She said, “Well? Is the crisis over?”
Anna struggled to sit up. “I am so sorry, Aunt Eleanor,” she breathed. “Please forgive me.” The color was returning to her cheeks.
“It is not your fault,” Lizzie said softly. She felt Rory’s gaze and saw him staring far too closely at Anna. Lizzie hoped he was admiring her beauty, and not trying to discover their secrets.
Slowly Lizzie stood and faced their aunt. “I am sorry to intrude this way,” she said with vast dignity. It was hard to be brave, but there was simply no choice. “Mama insisted we come. We knew it would displease you, but we cannot disobey our mother. Now, as you can see, Anna is not well. Please, let us stay—just for a while.”
Eleanor’s eyes seemed black. “I thought so! There was no spring tour of Dublin! No one tours this city anymore! There was only a deceitful scheme on the part of your mother! I knew it.”
Rory took her arm as firmly as he had done earlier. “Auntie, your niece needs rest. Clearly she is not well and I know you will not turn her away.”
“Lydia Fitzgerald has dared to foist two of her three daughters on me!” Eleanor cried in outrage.
“And is that so terrible, really?” Rory asked her softly. He smiled charmingly at her. “Is it not a boon to have such feminine beauty in your home?”
“Maybe for you,” Eleanor snorted. “Are you taken with one of them? Elizabeth needs a husband,” she said.
Lizzie winced, feeling herself blush. Anna suddenly spoke, struggling to her fee
t as she did so. Rory dashed to her side to help her. “Aunt Eleanor?”
“Do not get up,” Rory exclaimed, chiding in his tone.
“I am fine,” Anna said, smiling at him. She turned her anxious gaze on Eleanor, and she became pleading. “Perhaps we can be of some help to you. I play the piano and sing, Lizzie loves to read aloud and she is a fine cook. No one bakes a better pie. We won’t be a burden, really—we will be a help. Perhaps you will enjoy our companionship. Oh, please, do let us stay!”
“I do bake a wonderful pie,” Lizzie said with a quick smile. “We would love to be companions to you, if you will but let us.”
“I have this scalawag as a companion,” Eleanor said tartly. “He never leaves me alone!”
Rory said gently, “You would benefit from such female companionship. It is long overdue and I cannot attend you as much as I would like to. You know I am off to Wicklowe in a few days.”
Lizzie was certain he meant Wicklow county and not the earl of Adare’s mansion in the Pale.
Eleanor faced him. “You are the one who thinks to benefit here, I can see that, you handsome rogue. And those affairs of yours shall only land you in the King’s tower!”
Rory raised his brows in mock exasperation. “Do not worry about me, Auntie,” he said. “May I remind you I must go to London soon? I will not be back until midsummer. And then what will you do? I do not wish you to be lonely, Auntie,” he cajoled. Then he grinned. “And I confess I should not mind such pleasant company when I call.” His gaze wandered away from his aunt. Lizzie was surprised when he winked at her.
Eleanor grunted. “You are off and about half of the time. I shall do as I always do—hie myself off to Glen Barry in Wicklow.” But she was clearly falling under his very charming spell.
Rory left Anna and took both of his aunt’s hands. “Do let them stay,” he murmured.
Lizzie had never seen such an open display of gentle persuasion.
Eleanor’s expression broke, softening. “We shall see.” She glared at Lizzie and Anna. “You may spend the night.” With that, she turned on her heel, striding quite briskly from the room.