by Abby Ayles
But that life was behind her now. Now she had to look to the future instead. A future where Prince Ferdinand knew she was looking forward to seeing him, apparently. Where she would talk to him and entertain him. Where she would have to live with the shame of knowing what he had tried to do with her, what sort of a woman he thought she was.
Lucy braced herself for the worst.
The dinner party was as beautifully planned as always. As she walked in, a few hours early so she could greet the Princess, Lucy could see the decorations going up, and could smell the delightful aromas rising from the kitchens. She was pretty confident she had not experienced that sort of understated extravagance before in her life. Other than the Prince and Princess, nobody had the same tastes, the same skills, or the same wealth.
She was taken to the Great Hall, where Her Majesty was overseeing the servants hanging garlands of flowers and ivy, and listening to a chef's aide explain what would be served over dinner.
“Your Majesty, Lucy Fitzgerald, daughter of Baron Fitzgerald, is here,” the footman said.
Princess Elisaveta turned around and Lucy curtsied, bowing her head low. A friend or not, Princess Elisaveta was still royalty, and the sort of royalty whose charisma alone made it worth the effort of bowing down before her. She was everything Lucy had expected a princess to be and more.
“I am so glad you could make it,” Princess Elisaveta said, smiling earnestly and taking Lucy's hand. “We shall have such a wonderful evening.”
Lucy nodded. “I am glad I could make it too, Your Highness, and may I say everything is looking fantastic.”
Princess Elisaveta laughed softly in delight. “I am pleased that you like it. All I wish is for my guests to be happy. Speaking of which... did your mother not mention you wanted to see my brother?”
Lucy found herself blushing and a faint perspiration rose on the back of her neck. “Oh, that is just my mother being... herself, Your Majesty.”
Her Majesty cast Lucy a knowing smile. “Do not be modest, I can see you blush.”
Lucy shook her head, but could not speak before the Princess carried on.
“My brother is somewhere around here,” she said, this time with a slightly frustrated tone. “I shall go and find him. Wait here.”
Lucy wanted to tell her not to bother, to stay. She wanted to say that she only wished to talk to her friend, and did not care at all for rude, licentious Prince Ferdinand. But she did not. She remained frozen and waited as Princess Elisaveta marched off. Even though she was a princess, Lucy could detect in her steps the slight stomp of a girl angry at her brother.
The last thing she wanted was to see Prince Ferdinand, but she could not exactly contradict a princess. If Her Highness wanted to go and find His Majesty so that he and Lucy could talk, then that was what was going to happen. At least Princess Elisaveta would be present to make sure he did not do anything too outrageous.
She heard a voice in the hallway echoing “Elisaveta?” She knew who it was immediately. Only one person would address the Princess like that.
And then she saw him. Prince Ferdinand walked right in through the door where Princess Elisaveta had left from and looked around the room. At first, he looked over her like she was a chair. But then his eyes landed on her. He looked a little startled as he stared at her, like he had just seen a ghost.
Lucy froze on the spot. “Hello, Your Highness,” she said nervously. “I trust that Your Highness is well?”
He nodded. “Yes, yes I am. I trust that you are well too, young lady.”
Lucy nodded. “I am very well, Your Highness,” she replied.
“Even after...” he began, raising an eyebrow. “You can be honest with me. You look completely and utterly petrified.”
Lucy blushed and looked aside. “To be perfectly honest, Your Highness, with Your Highness's permission... I am somewhat afraid of you, yes.”
She glanced up just in time to see Thomas smile. He still looked very handsome. Very devilish. “I did not mean you any harm, I simply... I am used to women being a certain way around me.”
She nodded. “And I understand that, Your Highness, I did not intend to make Your Highness believe I was pursuing something which I was not, and for that I apologize.”
Prince Ferdinand's smile vanished and he shook his head energetically. “No, no, no. Do not apologize to me. It was I who insulted your virtue. I should not have been so quick to assume your nature or your intentions. I dare say I have hurt you.”
“Not at all, Your Highness,” Lucy reassured him. “I was a bit startled, nothing more.”
“No, no, you are a woman of taste, and class, and I understand that. But I insulted you and I must rectify it.” He was pacing up and down a little, but for some reason he did not appear nervous. He simply exuded sheer energy. It was somewhat terrifying. “Give me a little time, and I shall think of something to compensate you the suffering I have brought upon you...”
Lucy wanted to tell him again not to worry, but, as with his sister, she was not exactly sure how to refuse a Prince. Was there any proper way of telling a member of royalty that he was wrong? That he was doing too much?
“I have it,” he finally said, “I know just what to do. A friend of mine is the Earl of Clanricarde, in Ireland. He is visiting for this party, and looking for a wife. I believe you would be a wonderful fit for him. So I shall introduce you.”
“Oh, Your Highness does not need to go so far!” Lucy replied.
“What is the matter? Are you already engaged to be married? Do you have a serious suitor?” Prince Ferdinand asked.
Lucy shook her head. “No, your Majesty, but I... I am not sure I would be suitable for an Earl.”
“You will. You are a stunning beauty, and my sister says you are a strong young woman with a good heart. You are very much worthy,” Prince Ferdinand insisted.
She shuffled her feet, not at all sure what to make of what was happening.
“You will love him, trust me. And he is much more of the gentle, loving variety,” His Highness explained. “Not so much like I am,” he explained. “If you understand what I mean by that.”
Lucy nodded and smiled. She understood. Although he was a friend of Prince Ferdinand's, the Earl of Clanricarde was not a lustful man who would spend the hours after dinner locked in a room with an unmarried young woman. Rather, he was a respectable man, who was most likely waiting for the perfect woman to be his wife.
Lucy was not sure she was ready for this. But how could she turn it down? An Earl on a silver platter? This was exactly the sort of opportunity her mother talked to her about. She may not be the right woman to tame down Prince Ferdinand and make him into a husband, but she was absolutely prepared to marry a good man who was already contemplating marriage. And she was dressed beautifully, ready to impress anyone suitable.
She nodded. “Very well, Your Highness, I will accept Your Highness's most gracious offer, and I shall meet with the Earl of Clanricarde, so that he may decide whether I would make a suitable wife for him. Thank you very much.”
Prince Ferdinand looked overjoyed by her decision. “Not at all,” he replied. “Thank you for allowing me to compensate my atrocious behaviour when we last met.”
And with that, he swiftly made his way out of the room, with a slight skip in his step, apparently ecstatic that he had been allowed to put the world to rights.
Just as he left, he passed Princess Elisaveta in the doorway.
“Brother!” she exclaimed. “I have been looking for you everywhere.” Her eyes landed on Lucy.
Lucy shook her head and smiled.
Understandingly, Princess Elisaveta smiled back and nodded. “You are not even dressed for dinner,” she scolded her brother as he left the room.
Chapter 20
Lucy was not unimpressed when she was introduced to the Earl of Clanricarde before dinner. He was a bit older than she had expected, at least a whole decade older than her, if not two whole decades. But he wore it well, was not pa
rticularly marked by the years which had passed him, and possessed a certain smoothness that comes with age.
Sitting beside him she realized that the evening would be a pleasant one whether or not he was interested in her, or she in him. Had Lucy ever been asked what sort of a slightly older man she would consider marrying, she would have probably described the Earl: late thirties to mid-forties, not many signs of ageing, calm and collected, polite and gentle.
He was, indeed, a very handsome man. He was not the tallest man she had met, but he was a good three inches taller than her, and his frame was otherwise perfectly proportioned. He had a strong jaw and nose, and sparkling blue eyes which shone like sapphires. His chestnut brown hair showed a few silver streaks, though it was hard to tell if it was from premature ageing or if he was older than he initially appeared. But he was the perfect balance of mature and youthful.
And, quite importantly, he did not have any of the aura of intimidating power which surrounded Prince Ferdinand. It was a relief to her, as she found Prince Ferdinand, however handsome he was, to be incredibly overbearing and exhausting to talk to for more than a few minutes at a time.
She found it difficult to keep up with his manic pace. The Earl, on the other hand, was fairly neutral, a peaceful presence who neither revitalized nor tired her.
He also had a wonderfully melodic accent and a certain wit and charm about him. She knew from experience that not all Irishmen had this smoothness, this class. This was purely from maturity, education, and a natural sensibility for others' moods and mind sets. It was as though he could see where you were emotionally and adapt to make sure you were always comfortable. And between this and his smooth accent, he was a genuine pleasure to listen to. She could listen to him talk all night, happily.
All this really counted in his favour. Prince Ferdinand was not wrong when he had said that the Earl was a fantastic marriage prospect.
There was a slight problem: She felt no instinctive pull towards him. He was more like a friend of the family than someone she wanted to touch and hold like she wanted to touch and hold Lord Jones. But she did not feel the urge to push him aside either. It was a difficult choice. But she knew that if she gave him time she might grow to like him. And if she did not grow to like him, he did not seem the sort to be bitter about it. He would be worth the effort.
“How come is it that a fine, educated man of your age is not yet married?” Lucy asked.
The Earl sipped his wine and thought it over. “I would like to be. But I am careful. Like when I was buying my summer house. Just because I had enough money to buy whatever I liked did not mean I was about to just buy anything. I waited for years for the house I truly desired to come up for sale.”
Lucy nodded. “I understand that. Not being able to have quite what you desire.”
“Do you now?” he asked. “I would have thought you are too young to have experienced the torment and patience of deprivation.”
“Perhaps I am too young, perhaps I am wrong, but it just feels as though everything I actually want always... belongs to someone else,” Lucy said quietly.
“That happens a lot at your age,” the Earl replied. “It is rare to get what you desire at your first attempt.”
“How long does one have to wait to be able to get what they truly desire, then?” Lucy asked.
“You are asking the wrong man,” the Ear said. “I am not married either.”
Lucy shook her head. “But in general. You have waited for the things you want, how long does it take to get what you want?”
He laughed a little. “It depends on what you are looking for, and on your luck. In terms of that house, I waited four years. In terms of a wife, I have been searching for some time,” he said, “but I suppose I am a picky man. I will search for what I want the most, until I have what is just right for me. Patience is a virtue, don't you know?”
“Do you ever... give up?” Lucy asked.
He shrugged. “I would not call it giving up, but there have been times when I realized the thing I was waiting for would not wait for me. I had to ask myself whether I truly wanted to chase it, or whether it was time to let it go.”
“I suppose I need to do some soul-searching too,” Lucy confessed. “I have been seeing many potential suitors and yet none have been quite right for me.”
“A girl like you must have many suitors, but I cannot believe that they are all so terribly inappropriate. If enough men propose to you, one will eventually suit you,” he replied.
Lucy sipped her wine thoughtfully. “You may be right, but... I cannot pick which one I want.”
“What's wrong with the lads, then?” the Earl asked.
“One is married,” she began.
“Ah, that's a no,” he agreed.
“Many of the others are too naïve,” she said.
“But they can grow,” he countered.
“A few of them are just... uninteresting, or two-faced,” she said.
“If you are certain of your judgement, lassie,” he said.
“And one...” she carried on, suddenly pausing.
“One is the one you truly want,” the Earl said, having waited a few seconds for her to finish.
She shook her head. “He is still obsessed with this woman he once courted. Probably engaging in some... indecent activities with her also,” she added in a whisper.
The Earl nodded. “So... if you had to narrow them down to two, which two would you see?”
“I... I do not know,” Lucy said. “It is hard to choose. Especially so suddenly.”
The Earl put his head to one side. “How come are you so indecisive?”
Lucy wanted to reply. She wanted to say she was not indecisive, it was just that her suitors made her life hard. But she could not. Because he was right. She was continually flip-flopping back and forth. One minute she did not want to marry, the next she was feeling swept up in a whirlwind of romance. One moment she was chasing a man, the next she was running from him. First, she was open and honest, then she was scared to tell the truth. She was as indecisive as they came.
The problem was not the men. There was nothing wrong with any of them. The problem was... her.
“I do not know why I am like this,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “It seems as though nothing ever works out the way I intend it to.”
The Earl nodded. “So, what is your intended result?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“When you see a potential suitor, what is it you want from him? What requirements must he meet in order to satisfy you?” the Earl elaborated.
Lucy had never really thought of it this way. What did she want from a man? Or, indeed, from life? She shook her head. “I do not know.”
“Then there is your problem. You don't know what you want from them. And if you don't know what you want them to do, or say, or be, how are they supposed to know what to do, or say, or be like to please you? They're people, not circus animals.” The Earl's words were harsh like knives, but the soft, fatherly way in which he spoke them reassured Lucy.
“You are right,” she admitted. “I cannot ask someone to give me what I want when I do not even know what it is myself. But... how can I work out what I want, and how to get it?”
“One cannot move towards an objective if one does not first set the objective,” the Earl explained. “What is it your heart truly desires? In ten years, where would you like to see yourself?”
“I suppose in a nice house, with a few children but not too many, doing some charitable work, and living in peace and quiet,” Lucy replied.
The Earl nodded. “Then you are not concerned by status, or attending events?”
“I suppose not,” she admitted. “If anything, they make me anxious. I only wish to have a loving husband, a family, and a peaceful life.”
“Then that is a good first step to take. You want a man who wants children and who does not like these big social events... like this one,” the Earl said.
“And what else do you want?” he asked her. “What do you want him to look like? To believe in? To do for a living? To make per year?”
She shook her head. “I don't know. At all.”
“There has to be something,” the Earl replied. “Blonde or brown hair? Or black?”
Lucy shook her head again. “I could not care less.”
“How much money do you spend per year?” he asked.
She shook her head once again, feeling a little frustrated. “I do not know.”
“How can you expect to find the right man when you do not know what makes a man right?” The Earl chuckled and sipped his wine.
“I wish someone could tell me what makes a man right,” she complained.
He choked back a laugh, coughing on his wine. “Lucy... Nobody can do that but you. If you keep asking other people to make your life choices for you, eventually you will have no choices left and wind up with whatever other people like.”
“How did you decide what you want in a wife?” Lucy asked. Perhaps knowing how to work it out would make the process easier at least.
The Earl sipped a little more wine to soothe his throat. “I just thought about it. Asked myself what sort of a woman I could tolerate for several decades, in sickness and in health.”
“Am I that sort of woman?” Lucy asked.
“I am afraid you are a little young for me,” he said, “not in the body, but in the heart.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, feeling a little indignant.
He shook his head. “It means that you do not know what you want, so you cannot know if I am right for you. How am I supposed to fall in love with a woman who does not even know me?”
“I see...” she replied. “Do you think I would be a woman someone could tolerate in marriage?”
“I am sure that many men would relish your company. When you are ready,” he replied.