by Tuft, Karen
Elizabeth cleared her throat to get Mama’s attention. Mama’s eyes, which had been half shut, popped open.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Lady Putnam, but I must speak with my mother,” Elizabeth said.
Mama instantly rose from her chair.
“Well, I say . . .” Lady Putnam said, rising indignantly to her feet.
Mama ignored her, taking hold of Elizabeth’s elbow and nearly dragging her from the room. “What a relief you showed up when you did, Elizabeth. What an absolutely dreadful person, going on and on about those ridiculous daughters of hers—and yet, what other social equals—if one can even refer to her as an equal of mine—is here for me to converse with?”
Lady Putnam swished past them right at that moment, glaring angrily at Mama before disappearing inside the ballroom. Elizabeth winced.
“Vile woman,” Mama muttered. She and Elizabeth continued down the hallway until they were just outside the open ballroom doors. “Lady Ashworth must now play hostess to all of her guests, as Lord Ashworth has gone up to his room, so I cannot speak with her at present—I must say, I expected Ashworth to remain until the betrothal was announced, but it seems that such is not to be the case. Too ill, apparently. I don’t like it, but I suppose we shall have to make do with Lady Ash—”
“Mama,” Elizabeth whispered, finally forcing a word in. “There isn’t going to be a betrothal announcement.” She looked around her at the guests strolling about them, hoping they hadn’t overheard.
“I suppose by that you mean Ashworth intends to wait until he is more fully recovered—”
“No, Mama,” Elizabeth whispered. She swallowed. “There isn’t going to be a betrothal at all.”
Mama gasped. “I don’t believe it!” She grabbed Elizabeth’s elbow. “You had one task, one simple task, and you couldn’t even make it happen. What is wrong with you?”
“It wasn’t as simple as all that,” Elizabeth said, wincing.
The music in the ballroom had stopped, and the buzz of conversation had grown increasingly louder. Ladies who had been in the retiring room along with Mama were flooding into the hallway and heading in their direction, their gloved hands over their mouths as they whispered. Gentlemen began to leave the cardroom, Papa amongst them. Papa’s face was nearly purple, his eyes bulging in rage—Elizabeth knew that look—as he stomped toward them . . . and then right past them and into the ballroom.
“Marwood, what—?” Mama started to say. He’d barely glanced their way as he’d gone past. She abruptly left Elizabeth and hurried after him. Elizabeth followed, the unease she’d felt earlier roiling in her stomach.
She could see Lord Halford and Amelia standing on the dais in front of the musicians. “My good friends,” he said in a booming voice. “I am pleased to announce that this lovely lady, Miss Amelia Clarke, has just now consented to be my bride.” He kept speaking, but Elizabeth heard no more. She was too intent on watching Papa.
“What’s this?” he snapped.
The guests were crowded near the dais, but that didn’t stop Papa. He pushed his way through them, letting no one stand in his way. Elizabeth and Mama followed.
“You are betrothed, Lord Halford?” he said sarcastically. “May I be the first to congratulate you, although it was but minutes ago you jilted my daughter. Now I see why: you have been caught dallying with this servant who is not better than she ought to be.”
Gasps and murmurs flew around the room, and Elizabeth caught enough bits and pieces to grasp that Anthony and Amelia had been caught on the terrace in an embrace. But what a horrible thing for Papa to imply about Amelia, that she was a woman of loose morals. She was the daughter of a vicar, for goodness’ sake! For Papa to declare such a thing about Amelia in such a public place was unthinkable.
“Watch yourself, Marwood,” Anthony replied in a low voice. “You are speaking of my future wife.”
“And such a wife as you deserve, no doubt. It must come from years of mucking about with commoners and light-skirts across the Iberian Peninsula.”
The room went absolutely silent at Papa’s words, and then Elizabeth watched in amazement as Amelia straightened her back and walked toward the woman who had been her employer and friend for the past two years. “Lady Ashworth,” she said as she dropped into a low curtsy. “Your son honors me with his proposal and defense of me, and I am truly humbled.”
Elizabeth’s esteem for her went up even further.
“Pathetic,” Papa sneered. “Only last night the chit was expounding her radical views and spewing defiance toward those of the highest rank. I was appalled.”
“Marwood, you have already been warned,” Lord Halford said. “Pray, do not force me in this matter.”
“If your father were standing here, he would disown you,” Papa said. “I am sure I would rather have no heir than one who flaunts propriety as easily as you do.”
Elizabeth dropped her eyes.
“Enough, I am leaving,” Papa said, slashing his arm through the air. “I will not stay another minute in this house. You will excuse us, Lady Ashworth.” He pivoted and strode out of the room. Elizabeth and Mama had no choice but to follow.
As if by magic, the Ashworth butler, Buxton, materialized. “I have already sent word to have all your belongings packed and your carriages readied, Your Grace,” he said to Papa. Elizabeth sensed an undertone of disgust, but he was too well trained to say what he was really thinking.
Her parents simply stalked past him.
“Thank you, Buxton,” Elizabeth whispered.
He nodded slightly.
It was time to change into her traveling clothes. It might be full nighttime now, but Papa had said they would not spend another minute in Ashworth Park, and he meant it. This was not going to be a comfortable ride back to London, regardless of the fine quality of the Marwood carriage.
Chapter 2
The following afternoon, Kit and Phillip rode over to Ashworth Park to see how Anthony was faring. “We need to assure ourselves that he survived last night,” was more precisely how Kit had phrased it to his brother. “I doubt his father was enthusiastic when he heard the news. Amelia is a lovely young lady—”
“Indeed,” Phillip said. “I danced with her twice last evening, before everything went all sixes and sevens.”
“I noticed. And if I’m not mistaken, so did Anthony. But Society isn’t going to look fondly on a commoner marrying the heir to a marquess,” Kit said, “no matter how lovely she is. Anthony is going to need the support of his friends, however this turns out.”
“Agreed,” Phillip said.
Ashworth Park was eerily quiet, especially after the boisterous crowds of villagers that had been here only yesterday. They left their mounts with the stableboy, who ran over and ascended the stairs that led to the large front doors. Phillip raised the knocker and let it fall.
The door opened shortly thereafter.
“Afternoon, Buxton,” Kit said cheerily. “We’ve come to see how our good friend Anthony fares after the big announcement last evening.”
Buxton gestured toward the front sitting room. “Please be seated, gentlemen,” he said. “I shall inform Lord Halford of your arrival.”
“Well, at least Tony is still among the living,” Phillip whispered when he and Kit were alone in the sitting room. He leaned over to take in the fragrance of the flower arrangement that sat on a side table before walking over to peer out the window.
Kit simply sat and crossed an ankle over his knee.
Anthony joined them shortly thereafter. “What brings you two here at such an early hour? I expected you both to still be sleeping off the excitement of yesterday’s fete.”
Kit rose and shook his friend’s hand. “It is precisely yesterday’s excitement that made it impossible for us to sleep.”
Phillip wandered over and slapped Anthony on the back. “My br
other speaks the truth. We feared for your life at the hands of the Duke of Marwood—or, perhaps, even your father, if Marwood didn’t finish the deed himself.”
Anthony smiled grimly. “No one is particularly happy with my announcement yesterday—including the bride-to-be. I am resolved, however.”
“How may we be of service to you?” Kit asked.
Anthony’s brow wrinkled in thought for a moment. “If you truly wish to be of service . . . but it is too much to ask.”
“Try us,” Phillip said.
“Very well,” Anthony said. “Amelia and I are bound for London in three days’ time. The news—and by news, I mean gossip—of our betrothal will be spreading like wildfire, I’m afraid, and so my parents and I agree that the first step we must undertake is to introduce Amelia to London Society. She must be seen by others as the genteel young lady she is, not scandalous at all. We will need all the friends we can muster around us, especially as my sister, Louisa, and Papa cannot travel, and Louisa’s husband, Farleigh, and Mama must remain behind with them.”
“Say no more,” Kit said. “Phillip and I will join you in Town and shall be at your beck and call. London should be quiet at this time of year; many of the ton having fled to their country homes for the summer. Perhaps that will work to your advantage.”
“That is our hope,” Anthony said.
“Very well, we shall leave you so you and your betrothed may begin strategizing. We are off to London and will await your request for our assistance there.”
“Thank you, both of you,” Anthony said, shaking Kit’s hand and then Phillip’s. “I doubt this will go as smoothly as I might wish, but to have such good friends at my side gives me hope. I find I wish to marry Amelia, you see, and yet she is reluctant, feeling that I only proposed to protect her reputation. That may be true in part but is not the whole of it.”
“She brings you peace,” Phillip said.
“We have seen it in your countenance,” Kit added.
“Yes, that could be it. But I won’t have real peace until I am sure she is convinced of the sincerity of my intentions and can make sure Society views her as I know her to be.”
“A daunting task, to be sure, but not impossible,” Kit said. “We shall see to it.”
“Thank you,” Anthony said. He walked with them to the door. “Thank you both.”
They shook hands again, and Kit and Phillip left to find the stableboy and their horses.
***
Papa had only allowed stops along the way to London for meals and changing horses. It had been a long, arduous journey, and Elizabeth had gone straight to her room upon returning to their London townhouse.
For the first leg of the journey, Mama had stared out the window into the darkness and hadn’t uttered a word. Papa, seated across from Mama and Elizabeth, had glared at Elizabeth while drinking from his flask. Eventually, both her parents had fallen asleep, and Elizabeth had stared at their shadows, her mind too heavy with guilt and embarrassment to think clearly, until she, too, had drifted off into a fitful slumber.
In the early morning, they had finally stopped to break their fast. Papa’s eyes had been bloodshot, and he’d directed a perpetual sneer at Elizabeth. Mama had simply ignored her.
Once they’d gotten back on their way, Papa had pointed his finger at Elizabeth. “You have ruined us,” he’d said. Then he’d taken a large swallow from his refilled flask.
“I don’t understand, Papa,” she’d said. For all the world, Elizabeth hadn’t—and still didn’t—understand why he’d accused her of that. “I cannot help that Anthony felt we shouldn’t marry. And I agreed with him.”
“Yes, obviously you agreed with him. You are nothing if not agreeable,” Papa had said mockingly.
“I believe Miss Clarke is better suited for him,” Elizabeth had said in a quiet voice, hoping Papa would see reason.
“Better suited? Better suited?” Papa had nearly roared. “A commoner with a high opinion of herself?”
“I do not believe Miss Clarke is—”
“Silence!”
Elizabeth’s mouth had snapped shut.
Papa had taken another long swallow from his flask and then had leaned forward in his seat, toward Elizabeth. “That . . . creature . . . seduced him from right under your nose,” he’d hissed in a low voice.
“You are utterly inept when it comes to attracting a suitor. One would think you were made of stone,” Mama had added.
“Be quiet, woman, and do not interrupt me,” Papa had snapped.
Mama had withdrawn farther into the corner of the carriage and had glared at Elizabeth.
“Your mother does make a point, however. Between your ineptitude and that creature’s wiles, we are ruined. And I will have my vengeance in that regard.” He’d taken another swallow and had turned to stare out the window. “I vow I will,” he’d muttered to himself.
Mama had stared woodenly out her window.
Elizabeth had stared out her own window for the rest of the journey, pondering Papa’s words, unable to make sense of them—and feeling like a complete and utter failure.
Now that she was in the relative safety of her room, she removed her traveling clothes with the help of her maid and crawled into bed. It was just going on noon, but even though she’d slept in the coach, she was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open.
She longed for the blackness that came with sleep and that took her away from her anguish.
***
Elizabeth had no desire to leave the house, but a few days after returning to Town, Mama set her teacup down at breakfast and announced that she and Elizabeth would attend the theater that evening. “Marwood will accompany us,” Mama said. “And it is imperative that you be seen out in Society, head held high, now that those ugly rumors about Lord Halford and his unfortunate betrothal are making the rounds. You must be seen as indifferent, utterly unaffected by this tawdry business. And we must begin to consider other single gentlemen who would make favorable suitors for you.” She rose abruptly. “You look rather the worse for wear, Elizabeth. If I were you, I would spend the day making sure you look your absolute best.”
She strode out of the room.
As Mama had barely uttered two words to her since they’d arrived home, that was quite a speech.
Elizabeth had known, of course, that sooner or later she must leave the protective confines of the house. Tonight was as good a night as any.
She spent the afternoon reading and then bathed and washed her hair in preparation for the theater—she would not give Mama any opportunity to criticize her appearance. She must look her absolute best for Mama’s—and Papa’s—sake. She chose a gown of light-blue satin that brought out the color of her eyes and the pink of her cheeks. Her maid, Gibbons, took extra care styling her hair. Elizabeth could not allow herself to be invisible this evening.
Papa and Mama were both in the entrance hall when she descended the stairs. Mama gave her a scrutinizing look and said nothing. Papa barely glanced at her.
“Let’s be on our way, then,” he muttered and strode to the door, which their butler, Harris, opened.
The carriage was already waiting for them. Mama climbed in first, followed by Elizabeth. Papa entered last. No one spoke as they rode to the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden—much as no one had spoken since arriving back in London. If anything, Papa seemed angrier than before.
When they arrived at the theater, he descended and assisted Mama and her from the carriage. “I have seen you safely here and am assured by John Coachman that he can see you safely home.”
“But, Marwood, you said nothing of a previous engagement,” Mama said, looking dumbstruck. “You told me you would accompany us.”
“I do not inform you of all of my personal business, Duchess,” Papa replied. “I accompanied you here, and that’s all I intend to do this evening. En
joy the theater.” He bowed formally to them and climbed back into the carriage before giving the coachman the signal through the carriage window.
“If he is going to visit that—” Mama muttered before she cut herself off.
Elizabeth did not want to contemplate who it was Papa might be visiting.
She and Mama entered the theater, and Mama whispered, “Check your expression.” Then Mama, who had been clearly distressed by Papa’s leaving them, affixed a serene smile on her face and proceeded to nod to acquaintances as she and Elizabeth made their way to their box. She could hear the murmurs grow in volume as they walked past, but it was to be expected. Mama didn’t stop to speak with anyone, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful.
When they arrived at the Marwood box, they discovered, to their dismay, that it was already occupied by two gentlemen and two ladies, individuals Elizabeth had never seen before.
“Ahem. I believe there has been some mistake,” Mama said as the two gentlemen rose to their feet. “This is the Duke of Marwood’s box.”
“It may have been once, but it is no longer,” the taller of the two gentlemen said. “But as you and your lovely daughter are here, we will invite you to join us.”
Mama’s demeanor slipped. “What do you mean, ‘is no longer’?” she demanded.
“Exactly what it sounds like, Duchess.” The taller man gestured to the empty seats that remained in the box. “Allow me to assist.”
Elizabeth knew Mama well enough to know she wasn’t about to turn tail and run in this uncomfortable situation. She huffed in indignation and sat regally in the nearest empty chair, meaning that the gentleman had to pull Elizabeth’s chair back a few extra feet to enable her to sit without squeezing past Mama. How mortifying.
“Thank you,” she murmured to the gentleman. She shouldn’t even be speaking to him since they hadn’t been introduced.
But if what he’d said was true, it meant she must be grateful that he was being courteous, and she must be courteous in return.