Elizabeth’s distress slowly settled as they exited the park and turned towards St James’s. He chatted of inconsequential things, and she replied in kind, but all the while, she knew that something between them had profoundly changed.
Just before they reached the townhouse, he murmured, without looking at her, ‘You can trust me, you know. You may not believe that yet, but it is true, nevertheless.’
She did not reply, but his words seared through her mind with a frightening beauty. Oh, how she longed to trust him, to tell him the truth and seek his advice and hope that he still held her in high regard. But it was impossible. She must face her father, then return to Brussels, and hope that the truth of Juliana’s birth would not be widely known.
The next day, while Clara was resting and Juliana and Charlotte out walking, Elizabeth decided to spend an hour in the upstairs drawing-room, reading. Mr Thornton had procured her a copy of a novel written by a lady, and Elizabeth was enjoying providing updates to him as she read through the book. It was an engaging story of a woman with three daughters who had been forced to move to a country cottage after the woman’s husband died. Elizabeth saw similarities with her own situation and had great admiration for Mrs Dashwood as she tried to provide for her family on a very small income.
She was chuckling softly at the author’s witty prose, entirely lost in the narrative, when the footman suddenly announced a visitor.
‘General Hunter!’ he declared, stepping back and allowing the caller to enter.
Automatically, Elizabeth stood, then almost instantly regretted it, as dizziness threatened to overcome her. The footman, who looked a little taken aback, asked if he should provide refreshments and she murmured some sort of agreement, simply in order to make the man go away. Her doom was upon her, and she wanted no witnesses.
The door closed, and Elizabeth and her father eyed each other. This time, she looked carefully at him. The twenty years showed clearly in his greying hair and in the lines on his face. But the arrogance was still there, that officer’s trick of demanding attention and obedience. Even before he spoke, she was conscious of his commanding presence.
‘You should ask me to sit down,’ he said.
Instantly cowed by his tone and by her lapse in politeness, she gestured towards the armchair facing hers. Despite his statement, he ignored this, instead walking to the mirror over the ornate mantel and adjusting the diamond pin in his cravat. Having satisfied himself that the alignment was perfect, he turned towards her again.
‘So, Elizabeth, you are returned to London.’ His tone was deceptively mild.
Elizabeth’s knees felt strangely soft, as if they would not carry her weight. Knowing she might fall, she sank heavily into her chair. ‘Yes.’
‘Why, may I ask?’
‘Juliana’s friend, the countess, invited her, and she wished to see England, and er… I thought a brief visit…’ Her voice tailed away. In truth, she was surprised that she had managed to speak at all.
‘When you ran away with… with that foolish boy—’
No! He must not criticise Jack! ‘He was young, but he was a good person,’ she managed.
Papa raised his eyebrows. ‘A good person? Taking a young girl of twenty-one away from her family in the middle of the night? Leaving me terrified as to your whereabouts?’ His pain cut through her, knife-like in her chest. ‘I took my horse and rode to find you, but I was too late.’ His eyes blazed. ‘Your reputation was already ruined, for everyone at the ball that night realised what had happened.’
Elizabeth lowered her head. The truth stung. Oh, how foolish I was! How inconsiderate!
‘I went to the church near Dover where that young pup tried to marry you. The priest wrote to me, three weeks after you ran away.’
Elizabeth looked up, her jaw dropping. ‘You did? Then you know that Jack’s intentions were honourable!’
He snorted. ‘Intentions do not a marriage make! The fool had not procured a special licence, had he?’
She swallowed. ‘No. He—we—did not understand such things.’
‘You were twenty-one, Elizabeth. Twenty-one! If he wished to be a man and to have you as his wife, he should have known!’ Papa began pacing up and down the room. ‘The priest had plenty to say about it—and I had to stand there as he pointed out your flaws and character deficits. My daughter! My own Elizabeth had done this thing! I also came in for rebuke, for allowing you to grow without a sense of decency and decorum.’ He stopped to look at her. ‘And I could not say one word against it. Everything he said was right. The fault was mine.’
‘Oh, no, Papa!’ This, she had not expected. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she reached for her handkerchief.
‘Well,’ he said, a little gruffly. ‘Tell me, how much has your daughter been allowed to mix in polite company?’
Her stomach lurched. This was the heart of it. ‘She has been accompanying her friends to some parties and to the theatre.’ She eyed him fearfully.
‘And to Almack’s.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was small.
‘I know, for I met her there,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I could hardly believe it. When you know, as I do, that your attempt to marry was unsuccessful, and that he died before he could make things right.’
He does not know about the Town Hall marriage. Maybe that would change things. I should tell him. ‘Papa—’
He was not listening. ‘How could you be this stupid! To foist an illegitimate girl on polite society! How could you? Answer me, Elizabeth!’
‘But no! Please, listen to me!’
Crash! Harry entered the room, sending the door smashing into the wall. The noise reverberated around the room, increasing Elizabeth’s sense of shock.
‘General Hunter, how kind of you to visit us again!’ He swept forward, bowing to the general. ‘However, you may not be aware Mrs Milford is unwell, so I am afraid I must ask you to leave us.’
‘Must you, eh?’ snapped Papa. ‘Young hothead! You have no idea what you are about.’
‘I know Mrs Milford is upset, sir.’
‘Bah! When was she ever sensible? Greatest watering pot I ever knew!’
That’s not fair! I have good reason to be upset. She could barely take in what was happening. To her horror, she saw who was with Harry. Juliana! And behind her, Charlotte.
‘General Hunter,’ said Juliana, her chest heaving with strong emotion, ‘go out of this house and do not return!’
Charlotte gasped. ‘Juliana!’
The general gave a short bark of amusement. ‘Spirited, like before. She did not get that from you, Elizabeth.’
‘Please,’ Elizabeth begged. They must not fight! ‘Juliana, please do not—’
‘Do not? Do not?’ cried Juliana. ‘I cannot bear to see him abuse you, Mama.’
‘But you are not aware—you do not know who he is!’
‘I know what I see. I know what I hear. I can judge a man as well as any.’ Juliana looked scathingly at the general.
‘You would judge me, eh?’ Approaching, he touched her chin with his knuckle. Her eyes flashed fire at him. He chuckled. ‘Very well, child, I shall go. But you would do better to return to Brussels.’
‘Mama and I are perfectly capable of making our own decisions. We need no advice from you!’
‘Nevertheless, you have it. It is kindly meant. I have your best interests at heart, no matter what you think you know.’
Turning back to her mother, he said, in a tone that was almost kindly, ‘Goodbye, Elizabeth. I hope you will see sense.’
He strode towards the door, where Juliana stood aside to let him pass, her face set with suppressed rage. He nodded to her, bowed to Harry and to Charlotte, and was gone.
Elizabeth stood quickly, unsure of what exactly she was trying to do. Somehow, somehow, she had to rescue the situation. She stood, swayed, and then everything went black.
CHAPTER NINE
Voices. Concerned faces. Juliana!
Elizabeth gripped her daughter’s hand. ‘Juliana,’ she said, ‘I am so sorry!’
‘Hush, Mama! You are not to blame. It is that man! That overbearing, autocratic monster!’ No! She must not say such things of Papa! I hurt him! It is all my fault! ‘No, Mama, please be well. You are safe. Listen to me. You are safe!’
Someone had brought hartshorn, which Harry wafted under her nose. The harsh smell made her cough. She was, she realised, lying on a sofa. Lord, I must have fainted—how undignified! Yet it did not matter. Nothing mattered. Only the knowledge of how grievously she had wronged Papa, and how angry he was, and how Juliana hated him. She coughed forcefully and struggled to sit up.
‘Mama, here is laudanum,’ Juliana said softly. ‘Will you take it?’
Laudanum! Oblivion. Yes. She drank and closed her eyes as the drug began to take effect.
She vaguely heard Harry asking if he could carry her to her chamber, and she agreed. Then blessed blackness surrounded her, and she knew no more.
Laudanum—a tincture of opium, cinnamon, saffron, and cloves mixed with wine—was a highly potent drug. Elizabeth had no recollection of the night just gone, and even the memories of Papa’s visit yesterday were rather hazy. Juliana helped her dress, saying she had no need of a maid today, and she went downstairs, but her body was slow and her brain sluggish. She managed to sit through a morning visit from Olivia’s poet, followed by the Etherington family, although their chatter and laughter hurt her head, but gradually, the drug-induced fog began to lift.
The others decided to walk in St James’s Park, but Elizabeth declined the opportunity. She did not want to hold them back, unsure as yet if the laudanum would allow a brisk walk. Besides, Mr Thornton was due to call. At this stage, they had abandoned all pretence of him accompanying his mother. He called to see Elizabeth, and the servants knew it. Surprisingly, Juliana had not yet realised, it seemed, that her mama had developed a particular friendship. Elizabeth, who was no fool, had realised that Juliana had her own preoccupations. So, she told them she would lie down instead, and they all agreed that she should.
She managed a nap, awaking refreshed and more clear-headed than earlier. She would no longer deny reality. Papa had rightly berated her. What she had done to him all those years ago—running away and leaving him with the shame—had been cowardly and selfish. It had been wrong. Many parents would have simply cut the connection, uncaring if their child lived or died. Jack’s parents had cut him off completely.
When she had written to Papa to tell him of Jack’s death and Juliana’s birth, she had done so as an act of desperation. The fact that he had supported them financially for twenty-one years was much more than most would have done.
There was no use hiding from the truth. She must apologise to Papa, properly. She must tell Juliana the full truth.
And she must tell Mr Thornton.
She dressed with care, as if choosing the right clothes and ensuring her hair was nicely dressed could make a difference to the outcome. Ten minutes before the appointed time, she was in the drawing-room, book in hand. How things had changed since yesterday!
Then the door opened, and he was there. Despite herself, she could not help the leap her heart gave on seeing him. Today his coat was a deep blue, complemented by a blue-and-gold waistcoat, the usual fawn pantaloons and shiny black boots. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his brown eyes alight with admiration.
‘My dear Mrs Milford!’ As the footman departed, discreetly closing the door, he stepped forward to bend over her hand. His lips were warm on her skin, which burned with his touch.
She swallowed. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Thornton. Please, be seated.’ He sat beside her on the small sofa, his left leg daringly close to her right one. If she moved just slightly, she would be able to— She resisted the temptation. ‘I have already ordered refreshments, as I knew you would be here.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Predictable as sunrise, eh?’ He held his hands up. ‘I admit it. Where you are concerned, I could not let you down.’ His expression hinted at something more than a conversation about afternoon tea. ‘I do have another engagement in an hour, I’m afraid. I must bring Mama to her bank. She enjoys all the benefits of being an independent widow, as well as all the benefits of having my advice and support in matters of business.’
Elizabeth nodded at this. ‘She is fortunate to have you. I have had to make do with my own counsel all these years.’
‘I admire you for it! I have enjoyed our conversations about such matters. It is unusual to find a gentlewoman who has had to fend for herself since such a young age.’
She shrugged. ‘I did what I must. There is no particular merit in it. In fact,’ she added, taking her courage into both hands, ‘my trials should not be seen as admirable, rather as just punishment for my own foolish behaviour.’
‘I do not judge you, Mrs Milford,’ he said with seeming sincerity. ‘We must all be allowed a little foolishness when we are young.’
‘But the consequences vary. What I did—it hurt people I care about. It still has the power to hurt people I care about.’
He frowned. ‘I am not exactly sure of your meaning, though I am glad we are speaking of these things. Who have you hurt? Who might you hurt?’
She hesitated.
He took her hand in his. ‘If it helps, I can tell you that I remember the night you and Milford eloped.’
She blushed and took her hand away. Pressing both hands to her burning cheeks, she managed, ‘How terrible to hear it spoken aloud, after all this time!’ She gathered herself, then took a breath. ‘Did everyone at the ball know?’
He nodded grimly. ‘Your chaperone—I think she was your father’s cousin? —did not react well. Instead of covering it up and making some excuse, she threw a fit of the vapours, wailing about how displeased General Hunter was going to be, and how wilful you were, and how she could not be held to blame.’
‘Lord! She was always terrified of Papa. But in truth, she was not to blame.’
‘I cannot imagine you being wilful,’ he murmured, half-smiling. ‘Not in the common sense of the word.’
‘It is true,’ she responded carefully, ‘that I did not throw tantrums or refuse to do things. In that sense, wilful is probably not accurate. I was actually very amenable, wishing only to please others. Including Papa. And Jack.’
‘And yet, you are strong.’
She shrugged. ‘I have had to be. But there is something I must ask you. And then something I must tell you.’
‘I am here. I shall answer any question as best I can, and I shall listen to whatever it is you wish to tell me.’
‘Very well. My question first. You remember my elopement.’ He nodded. ‘Why then have you made a friend of me?’
He frowned. ‘I should like to answer your question, but I confess I do not fully understand it. Why should we not be friends?’
‘Because of the scandal!’
His brow lifted. ‘An elopement that took place more than twenty years ago?’ He lifted her hand again. ‘Believe me, that scandal is long dead.’
Tell him the rest! She looked helplessly into his deep brown eyes, wishing it were that simple. If only Juliana had not been illegitimate.
His expression changed, his gaze dropping to her lips. Suddenly, her heart was thundering in anticipation of his kiss.
Leaning forwards, he gently feathered his lips on hers, sending shivers of sensation spiking through her. They pulled back, pausing to enjoy the moment, the anticipation—
There was a sharp scratch at the door. ‘Tea, Ma’am!’
‘Come in!’
When Susie, the young housemaid, entered, there was nothing untoward to see. Mrs Milford was sitting at one end of a sofa, her hands resting in her lap, while Mr Thornton, her visitor, was standing looking out of the window. He turned around when Susie entered with the tea, wine, and pastries and thanked her smoothly. While Elizabeth was still serving, there was a further knock on the door. The footman was frowning a little
. ‘Begging your pardon, Mrs Milford, but there are two persons who wish to speak to you.’
Elizabeth was all amazement. ‘To speak to me? But I know no-one here.’ Persons generally meant people who were not of the aristocracy. Elizabeth had had little dealings with tradespeople since arriving in England. She could not possibly imagine why someone would wish to speak to her. ‘Are you certain they do not seek the earl or Lady Shalford?’
‘They were most clear, Ma’am. The man presented his card.’ Elizabeth read it in puzzlement. Mr Mason, lawyer. ‘A lawyer?’ Has Papa decided to cut me off completely? Is this his lawyer? She paled, feeling slight dizziness overcome her. The traces of laudanum in her body revived, clouding her reason and combining with fear to paralyse her.
Mr Thornton intervened. ‘Mrs Milford, are you well?’ She looked at him blankly. How should we live, without Papa’s allowance? Oh, why did I ever return to England?‘ Do you wish to see these persons?’
She nodded. It is better to know the worst.
‘Would you like me to stay with you?’ His words penetrated the fog. The choice was clear. Decline and continue to carry the burdens alone or accept and risk losing him forever. If he stayed, then he would shortly discover the full extent of her foolishness, and its impact on her innocent daughter. But you were planning on telling him anyway.
Yes. The time had come to live with truth, no matter how painful that would be.
‘Thank you, Mr Thornton, I should like that.’
His eyes blazed for an instant. She could see his relief and delight at this evidence of her trusting him. Do not be glad, Charles, for you are about to discover the entire sorry tale.
CHAPTER TEN
‘I have put them in the small parlour,’ said the footman.
Wordlessly, Elizabeth stood, and they followed the footman downstairs. Strangely, now that all was unravelling, a strange calmness settled over Elizabeth. She was supremely conscious of Mr Thornton’s presence at her side and was grateful for it.
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