by Joyce Alec
The sound of the door shutting alerted Eliza that she was no longer alone. Scrambling to her feet, she was terrified to see the evil face of Lord Penn leering down at her.
“Good evening, Eliza. What on earth can you be doing on the floor?”
His pretense at sympathy was a slap in her face. "I have what you want," Eliza retorted, wiping her damp cheeks and holding up her reticule. “Please, just take it and leave me and my family alone.”
"Ah, but you are alone, so very alone, my dear," Lord Penn replied, moving towards her stealthily. Panicking, Eliza backed away, realizing that he had deliberately blocked her way out of the room. Taking off her reticule, she threw it at him, shocked that he completely ignored it, keeping his gaze fixed on her. Eliza did not know what to do, moving behind a chair and keeping her back away from the wall. She was determined that he would not corner her.
"Whilst I am sure that the Williams necklace is indeed within your reticule," Lord Penn said, his dark eyes glittering. "I have come to realize that I shall take you and the necklace as my prize."
“Me?” Eliza gasped, continuing to move away from him. “I, sir, am not for sale.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Whether you are or aren’t is of no consequence, for I shall take what I want by force if I have to.” He lunged for her, catching her wrist and hauling her to him. “By force is it?” he sneered, pushing her against the wall. “Try and fight all you like my dear; it is of no use!”
Anthony opened the door to see the struggling form of Eliza being pinned to the wall, and all coherent thoughts left his mind. With a roar, he launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground. Eliza collapsed in a heap, shaking like a leaf. As Lord Penn scrambled to get away, Anthony pulled the man to his feet, delivering blows, rage fueling every punch.
“Stop, stop!” Eliza tugged Anthony back, bringing him to his senses. “You’ll kill him!”
Shaking with fury, Anthony stepped back, allowing Lord Penn to sag against the wall where Eliza had once been held. “He has no rights here, and he deserves whatever he has coming to him.”
“No, no!” Eliza cried, pulling on his arm and trying to stop him from once more launching himself at the man. “You can’t kill him; you can’t! Think what that would mean for you, and for your family. Don’t do it, Phillip, don’t do it!”
The use of his false name brought Anthony up short. He had lost Eliza once already and was not about to be separated from her again. Killing a lord would certainly force him to spend life in jail, waiting for the noose.
“Very well,” he replied hoarsely, his eyes still on Lord Penn. “It is for her sake that I don’t put an end to your miserable life here and now.” His voice rose to a roar. “You are to leave my house this very moment and never return. You are to send me her father’s debts, and I will pay them in full. You are not to besmirch his name or that of his family’s. You have escaped with your life today, do not think I shall be so generous the next time.”
He saw a barely perceptible nod from Lord Penn, who then left the room, staggering with each step. Anthony felt the anger drain out of him as he turned to look at Eliza. Her eyes were huge, her face wet with tears, but she did not come to him when he held his arm out to her, instead picking up her reticule and rushing from the room.
9
Eliza woke early, as was her custom, pushing herself up on her elbows. She had slept deeply for what felt like the first time in many months. Now that the worry and concern over Lord Penn was gone, her burden had vanished. The Williams necklace was safely back in her wardrobe, soon to make the journey home.
The thought of what Lord Penn had tried to do caused her to shiver, but she knew he would never be able to come near her again. The earl was to pay all of her father’s debts, so Lord Penn would have no cause to even cross her path. Why had he shown her such kindness after speaking to her so callously? It did not make sense. And why did he lie to her and make her believe he was a gardener?
Dressing quickly, Eliza was determined to make her way to the woods, in search of Phillip – no, Anthony. She would thank him profusely for saving her, and then take her leave, knowing that her job was done. She could not leave his estate without ensuring she let him know the depths of her gratitude.
Anthony sat in the clearing, dressed in his shirt and old boots. He had started a fire, hoping that she would come to him. He longed to see her again, to explain himself and to beg for her forgiveness. He kicked a chunk of wood morosely, thinking that he had hoped in vain.
“My lord?”
Spinning on his heel, Anthony saw Eliza coming towards him, dressed simply and with her blonde hair in a braid, as it had been the first time they met. “Eliza,” he breathed, rushing forward to take her hand.
“My lord,” she began again, taking her hand from his. “I have to come to thank you for your generosity towards my family and me. Father’s debts are vast, and there is no reason for you to pay them. Regardless, I must thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have saved me from a great deal of trouble.” She curtsied, intending to move away, but Anthony stopped her, his hand grasping her arm.
“Eliza, please,” he implored. “Won’t you let me explain? Please, I beg of you.” Such was the desperation in his voice that she had no choice but to acquiesce, seating herself on the tree stump, the familiar scene tugging at her heart.
"I must beg your forgiveness for my behavior last evening. I spoke words of such cruelty, and the look on your face told me how much I'd pained you." He swallowed hard, his eyes searching her impassive face. "I happened upon Lord Stockton and yourself in an embrace the previous evening, and I believed you to be using me, making me feel like a fool for falling in love with you."
Eliza colored immediately, remembering the scene. "Oh, Anthony, it was not what you thought! Yes, I had asked John to kiss me, but it was to see if I felt the way I did with you." She covered her red cheeks with her hands. "It became apparent that I did not, and so we parted ways."
“He is now betrothed to your sister,” Anthony replied gently.
“Yes, yes,” Eliza replied, getting to her feet. “And I wished them both a lifetime of happiness. It appears that they have longed for each other for a while, but John’s attention to propriety was all that was hindering him.” She gazed at him, her hands on her hips, exasperated by the muddle they were in. “Anthony, I must ask why you lied to me. You made a fool of me, and I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me your true identity when we first met.”
“Eliza, you must forgive me on that account as well,” answered Anthony. “I only hid my identity so you would open up to me about how the guests truly felt about me. I did not expect to fall in love with you.”
Eliza thought about his confession, and said, “Well, things would have turned out much differently if I did know your true identity. I would never have opened up to you, and I certainly wouldn’t have told you of my troubles.” She looked Anthony in the eyes, “But, you must promise never to tell falsehoods again.”
Anthony got to his feet, making his way towards her. “I promise. I will always tell you the truth, even if it’s something you don’t want to hear. Oh, Eliza, I have been such a fool,” he confessed, holding out his hand. “If only I had asked you before coming to my conclusions about you and Lord Stockton, I might have spared us both this heartache.”
Eliza glanced down at his open hand and then back up into his face. Anthony had asked for her forgiveness, and she was willing to give it. She loved him too much to hold a grudge, taking his hand in her own. “I waited for you in the woods yesterday morning,” she said quietly. “I wanted to confess something to you.”
“What was that?” Anthony asked, his hands now slowly sliding around her waist.
“I wanted to confess my love for you,” she whispered. “Gardener or not, I know that my heart belongs to you.”
“And you hold mine,” Anthony replied, lowering his head. Their kiss was soft and sweet, both a promise of love and a givin
g of forgiveness.
THE END
Part II
A Lady’s Reluctant Heart
By Caroline Johnson
1
“Mama! Mama!”
The familiar annoyed voice made the duchess close her book with a sigh as her fingers moved to her temples to massage them.
“One day my nerves will get the better of me and these two will be left to shout at the walls,” she told her brother, who shook his head in amusement.
A door slammed in the distance and the sound of stomping became louder and louder until a fair-haired girl barged into the room, wearing a very prominent scowl. “Mama, tell Lizzie that she cannot claim the first dance with Lord Deering. She just wants him because I do and it is just not fair!” Isobel stamped her foot on the ground in frustration.
Another young girl glided into the room and shrugged in a dainty manner. “Too bad. Do get over it, my dear, and stop making such a fuss. The servants are starting to gawk.”
As her sister picked up the book her mother had just put down, Isobel clenched her fists. “Be quiet, Lizzie! Mama!”
The duchess gave a pleading look to her brother, who sighed and stood up. “Why don’t you and I take a walk, Isobel? And let us see if we cannot sort through this mess.”
Isobel looked at her quietly smirking sister and then at her uncle. Gritting her teeth, she bit out, “I’ll get my bonnet.”
As soon as Isobel exited, the duchess looked at her oldest, disapprovingly. “Really, Lizzie? Lord Deering? What has gotten into you?”
Lizzie made a sound. “I cannot help it. He saw me whilst I was out riding and he asked me. How could I say no? I did not wish him to think my manners were poor. Besides, Isobel’s reaction amused me.” She made a face at the book and handed it back to her mother, “I’ve read this one. I did not approve of the ending.”
Her mother put the book on her lap and shook her head. “Must you tease your sister so?”
“Why should I not? She makes it so easy, Mama. I cannot help it.” Lizzie sat on the seat by the window and picked up her sewing. “Besides, I want Papa to come back. I am so very bored.”
The duchess looked on disapprovingly. “You are the daughter of a duke and duchess. I find it hard to believe that you find the time to be bored, darling.”
Lizzie just made a noncommittal sound and focused on her task. Lord Deering was too old for Isobel. The duchess was so determined that both her daughters make a good match that she had forgotten that Isobel needed someone who could temper that energy inside of her. Lord Deering seemed hardly the person for that. Lizzie planned on making sure Lord Deering stayed far away from her sister. She’d play with him like she had done with many others, and then toss him aside. Isobel would find the perfect match. After what Lizzie had experienced, she was determined to guide Isobel to a man who would treat her well.
Lizzie turned her head, watched her sister walk in a very unladylike manner and nearly snorted. She would make a lady of Isobel yet.
When Uncle James returned with a calmer niece, Lizzie rang the bell for tea, and as Isobel left to freshen up, her sister followed her.
“What?” Isobel asked in a sullen manner, as she sat down at her dressing table. A maid was waiting to fix Isobel’s hair.
“Leave us. I’ll do that,” Lizzie ordered the maid.
“Very good, m’lady.” The fresh-faced maid hurried out of the room.
“Why did you do that?” Isobel turned around in annoyance.
“Oh, hush now!” Lizzie undid Isobel’s curls and started setting them again. “Have you seen Lord Wentworth’s nephew?”
Frowning, Isobel played with the pins on the table, her fingers restless. “Which one? Lord Wentworth has relatives all over England.”
Grinning, Lizzie pinned up another curl. “The one who could not take his eyes off you during the ball last night.”
Isobel’s fingers stilled. “Why didn’t he ask me to dance?”
“Maybe he was too shy or perhaps you just did not give him the opportunity to ask. You should look for him today. He seemed quite taken with you.” Lizzie chuckled. “I nearly missed a step when I was dancing with Sir Bale.”
Isobel made a face. “Why? So that you can take him from me like you did Lord Deering?” She yelped when Lizzie pulled on her curls in reprimand.
“Lord Deering is practically ancient. He might just fall asleep while dancing.”
That made Isobel giggle against her will. “He is not that old. Granted, he may have a few gray hairs, but all distinguished suitors do these days.”
Lizzie met her sister’s eyes in the mirror, seriously. “Is that what you want? Do you want to tie yourself down to a boring old man? You will be bored to death, darling.”
“Then why did you accept his invitation to dance?”
Lizzie raised her brow. “Because Lord Deering is looking for a young wife whom he can control.” She tightened her hands on Isobel’s shoulders. “I will not let that be you.”
As they exited the room, her sister asked, “What if he decides he wants to marry you? I heard Lady Frederica asking Uncles James about whether you plan to accept a marriage proposal. Soon there won’t be any eligible men left, Lizzie. You keep turning every suitor away.”
Lizzie grinned. “Do not worry about me.”
2
A ball was taking place at Lord Deering’s. Lizzie and Isobel greeted friends and acquaintances with plastered smiles. Being that they were the daughters of the Duke and Duchess of Wellington, many people sought their attention. As always, Isobel and Lizzie were expected to be on their best behavior. After an exhausting hour of niceties, the sisters found a hidden corner and let themselves breathe.
“I do say. If one more old lady asks me whether Lord Barton and I are to be married, I might very well take off this shoe and start hitting her with it.”
Lizzie’s remark had been meant for her flushed sister’s ears only, but she heard a low, barely audible chuckle. When she looked around, there seemed to be no one paying attention to them. She chalked it up to her annoyed mood. The moment was immediately forgotten when her eyes found a young man approaching them from the side.
Smiling at him, Lizzie murmured to Isobel, “It seems that charming young man over there has an interest in you. I have been watching him work up the courage to approach you since we arrived.”
Isobel’s eyes darted to where she was looking, and to Lizzie’s amusement, the younger girl blushed. “He is very attractive,” she managed.
“Good evening,” Lizzie said as the man approached
The young man bowed quickly and spoke in a deep voice. “Good evening. I am Sir Charles Wentworth. I believe we were introduced last week.”
“Sir Charles, of course. Yours is a hard face to forget. How do you find the ball tonight?”
The man smiled. “I do not find it lacking pretty girls, but I believe I may have found the most beautiful girl in the room yet. Could I ask you for a dance, Lady Isobel?”
Isobel blushed, “Your words are very kind, Sir Charles. I would be honored to have this dance.”
As Sir Charles held her hand, he flashed a charming smile. “Then would it be too bold to claim the next dance as well?”
Isobel gave him a look from under her lashes. “Let us see how you fare on the first dance.” With that she was led away as Lizzie watched on with a smile.
She had forgotten her predicament however, when Lord Deering found her. From his breath, she could tell that he was on the verge of being drunk.
“Good evening, Lady Elizabeth. You look lovely. I believe you promised me a dance.”
She smiled at him. “I believe I did.”
She did not dislike dancing, but Lord Deering’s incessant stumbling was too much. She could not find any joy in the music, in her partner, or in dancing. “Perhaps we should stop, Lord Deering, you seem unwell.”
“Nonsense, Lady Elizabeth. I am as fit as a horse,” he stammered.
She wondered i
f she should tell him that it was ‘fit as a fiddle’, but decided against it. The man was determined to dance. When the dance ended, she slipped away and didn’t wait for Lord Deering to escort her back to her seat. Isobel was still with her young man. He seemed totally entranced.
“True love. What a joke,” Lizzie said out loud without realizing her inner thoughts had crossed her lips.
“I’ll drink to that,” spoke a familiar male voice. Lizzie looked up to see a tall man sipping on his drink standing next to her.
“Do I know you?” questioned Lizzie, annoyed with the man’s unwelcome conversation.
“We haven’t been introduced.” He gave a short bow. “My name is Matthew Adams. You were dancing with my cousin, if you call what he did dancing.”
Lizzie stood up. “I feel he was not so well.”
“Or he was drunk,” Matthew offered.
“He is your cousin. Should you really be saying that?” Lizzie asked. His lack of manners was almost unforgivable.
“Why? Will you hit me with your shoe?”
Lizzie looked at him intently. “I knew someone had been listening to me. You do realize eavesdropping is very rude.”
“It was not by choice, I assure you. However, it was a sight I would have enjoyed.”
Lizzie was accustomed to presenting a polite, delicate, and cool front to the world and yet this man, this stranger, had seen her for who she was. He had seen her without her playing her role. It was unsettling.
“I did not mean it.”
Matthew continued to sip his drink, his eyes on the new dancers, “I believe you did. Isn’t that your sister?”
“Yes, Lady Isobel.”
