As she helped herself to bacon, kidneys, and a thick slice of pound cake, she realized that, despite it all, she still had a good deal to be grateful for. Life had certainly not turned out the way she had planned, but the last day could have gone so much worse for her had she not had the good fortune to meet Lord and Lady Hanbury at her most disastrous dinner.
How strange it seemed that had her husband not humiliated her so publicly, Lady Hanbury might never have been moved to write her such a letter and to be ready to receive her in any crisis. What a curious thing the world was, how interwoven all of life’s twists and turns.
As Eliza settled down, she realized that some of life’s saving graces could never occur without its dreadful misfortunes. It perplexed her for a moment, and she could hardly work out if that was a good thing or not.
“Let me pour you a little tea, my dear,” Lady Hanbury said, smiling to see Eliza tucking into her breakfast.
At that moment, there was a knock at the dining room door, and Lord Hanbury’s butler walked in.
“Forgive me, My Lord, but you have a visitor.”
“Good heavens, but it is early,” Lord Hanbury said and laughed as he reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew his watch. “I hope whoever it is does not expect breakfast.” He laughed again.
“Oh, my goodness,” Eliza said suddenly, thinking it must surely be Augustus. “Oh, my goodness,” she said again.
“Have no fear, Eliza. You are safe here,” Lady Hanbury said with the sort of calm that Daniel always displayed as she reached out and laid a hand on Eliza’s own.
“Who is it, by the way?” Lord Hanbury put down his knife and fork.
“It is Mr Daniel Winchester, My Lord. He extends his apologies but says that it is urgent.”
“Oh yes indeed, please do show him in,” Lord Hanbury said and cast a look at both Eliza and his wife.
“I wonder what it could be. I wonder what is so urgent,” Eliza said, already panicking before she knew what was to come.
“Mr Daniel Winchester, My Lord,” the butler said, returning in no time with their visitor.
“Do come in, Mr Winchester, take a seat,” Lord Hanbury said with such warm politeness that Eliza thought she liked him almost as much as she liked his wife. “Have you had any breakfast yet, Sir?”
“I have not, Lord Hanbury, but I am afraid I have some rather grave news,” he said and looked for all the world as if he could not manage a single bite.
“Dear me, whatever is it?” Lord Hanbury went on.
“I have just received word this morning,” he said and paused for a moment before turning his eyes upon Eliza. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I have just received word this morning that the Duke of Lytton is dead.”
Chapter 25
With her austere black gown and cloak, Eliza felt as if she were somehow trapped inside a dark prison from which she could not escape.
The last few days had seemed like a dream, everything was so unreal. Even on the day of Augustus’ funeral, the light was of that strange quality which seemed only to exist in the subconscious.
Eliza had not spoken a word during the church service, feeling alone in the family pew even though she stood at the side of Dixon Musgrave, the new Duke of Lytton, and his wife, Cecile.
But they had only met just two days beforehand, and she most certainly did not yet consider them to be family. The truth of it was, she very likely would never consider them to be family, even though, thus far, they appeared to be rather pleasant.
But it was also true to say that Dixon Musgrave, a man Augustus had never wanted to inherit the Duchy, was finding it very hard to conceal his pleasure at such a sudden and fast inheritance, not to mention his new title.
Given that his minor title was simply Baron, his new-found status as a Duke was something which gave him a glow that could not be disguised, even at the funeral of the man who had had to die for him to inherit.
Eliza had kept her eyes to the front throughout the service, and having been amongst the first to arrive, she did not realize the presence of her family until the mourners, preceded by the pallbearers, began to make their way out to the graveyard for the body of Augustus Tate, fourth Duke of Lytton, to be committed to the ground.
It was her mother she saw first, her eyes flying to her immediately. Although her mother had been walking away from her towards the great, black hole in the earth into which Augustus would soon be laid, Eliza had recognized her immediately.
And more than recognizing that her mother was there, she felt it. It was a most curious sensation of sudden fear and disquiet, and conversely, relief.
For a moment, she wanted to run into her mother’s arms and cling to her, although a few deep breaths and a gentle reminder of how it was Eliza came to be there in the first place was enough to divest her of such a notion.
Eliza was aware also of her father and brother, although she did not see her father’s face until they were all around the graveside. It was only then that she realized the great change in him, how much it was he seemed to have aged.
He still looked tall and slim and fit, but his greying hair looked greyer still, and his face was more drawn and lined than she ever remembered it being before. She could hardly believe that it had only been a year since she had last seen him, he had changed so much.
As the Reverend began to give his last words on the life of the man who had caused Eliza so much fear and concern, she was unable to concentrate fully.
She stood flanked by the new Duke and Duchess of Lytton as if they had decided that they would come on that day and at least protect her. But she wondered what life would be like from that moment onward. She would be moving immediately into the Dower House, of that she had no doubt. But just how much the new Duke and Duchess might influence her day-to-day life, she could not even begin to guess.
At that moment, she had the greatest hope that she would see very little of them. She was not a family member, nor the mother of the current Duke as most Dowager Duchesses were, and so she could only imagine that her visits to the main hall would be very few and far between, all based upon invitation only.
The idea of it gave her a sense of relief, for she had truly had enough of being at the mercy of an entitled Duke. Life in the Dower House would, surely, be a time of peace for her.
But at only just twenty, she wondered how long such peace would be welcome. These were, of course, thoughts for another day. And yet she could not keep her mind on the final moments of her husband’s burial service at all.
She only looked occasionally at the coffin as the thought that her husband’s lifeless body lay in it, just feet from her, was too much to contemplate. She was both afraid and made guilty all at once, even though she knew in her heart that she had not caused her husband’s death.
There was only one person with whom that dubious achievement lay, and that was Nella West. And since Eliza had continued to stay with Lord and Lady Hanbury in the days which followed Augustus’ sudden demise, she had no idea how the situation now sat.
Was Nella West now the personal maid to Cecile Musgrave? And if so, would spite lead her to one day tell her new mistress of her former suspicions of her old mistress?
Eliza shuddered visibly, and Cecile Musgrave gently lay a hand on her arm. It was a kind act, but one that would have been better coming from somebody Eliza knew well and cared about.
She allowed her eyes to stray to the other mourners, searching for any sign of Daniel. He was some rows back from the graveside directly opposite her, and when Eliza finally found him, she could see that he was already studying her intently.
Eliza wanted to smile at him, to acknowledge him in some way, but she was just too terrified. She had not seen Daniel since the morning he had arrived in the breakfast room of Hanbury Hall to inform her that her husband had died.
Beyond the usual run of questions, mostly from Lady Hanbury herself, there had curiously seemed very little for them to talk about. Lady Hanbury had done no more th
an ask for the briefest details; who had told Daniel the news? And what had happened?
But once Daniel had parted with his information, telling them that Lady Caroline Harker, her eyes full of excitement, had given him the news that the Duke of Lytton had died very shortly after suffering a severe seizure the previous evening, there seemed to be nothing left to discuss.
The truth was, of course, that there would have been much to discuss if the two of them were alone. She would have admitted to her fears that her husband, seeing his wife running from Lytton Hall with his attorney, had risen to his feet to give chase and immediately fallen to the ground in the grip of a seizure that would, moments later, take his life.
She still did not entirely know the details of it all and wondered if she ever would. And the fact was, had her husband not treated his own body so badly and for so long, his anger would never have ended fatally.
A change in the Reverend’s tone brought Eliza back to the here and now, and following the direction of his gaze, she realized it was time for her to take a handful of the small mound of prepared earth to throw on top of her husband’s coffin as it was lowered into the ground.
Reaching out for the fine, dusty earth, Eliza could see that her hand was shaking violently. So much had happened of late that she could hardly pinpoint the thing which had made her feel so anxious, and in the end, she simply had to settle upon the idea that she was still so shocked that Augustus had died.
Throwing the earth onto the coffin with a little too much haste, she rose to standing again and watched as the new Duke and Duchess of Lytton performed the same little ritual.
Shortly thereafter, the service came to a merciful end. Eliza stood staring blindly down into the hole, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the earthen walls and not Augustus’ coffin. She was aware of people moving away and the gentle rumble of conversation as her fellow mourners came out of the trance that seemed to traditionally affect people at a graveside.
“Was it very awful, my dear?” Ariadne Holloway was suddenly at her side, her little hand quickly gripping Eliza’s.
“I can hardly believe the last days have happened at all, Ariadne.”
“It is shocking, my dear, but I do not think that it is entirely surprising. From everything you have told me about the old Duke, he was never going to live a long and healthy life.”
“But you know the rest of it, Ariadne,” Eliza said in a whisper. “You know what happened. You know what really caused it.”
“I know what happened before he was taken ill, my dear,” Ariadne also whispered. “And I am bound to tell you that I burned your letter. There is nothing in my possession to give any hint of it.”
“Thank you. I just had to tell you. I had to say it, if only in a letter.”
“But everything you told me still does not add up to this,” she said, and her eyes darted briefly in the direction of the grave. “Augustus did this to himself, Eliza. You have suffered enough this last year without adding erroneous guilt to it all. He was the one who chose not to listen to reason. He was the one who chose to let his emotions flare out of control. And he was the one who chose to drink himself unconscious night after night. I will not have you turn yourself inside out with questions that can never be answered.”
“I do not know what I would do without you,” Eliza said truthfully, her eyes filling with tears. “And I know you might not believe me, but I am sad. I am sad that Augustus did not live a better life, and that he died knowing that I had never loved him and never would.”
“I know, but that was something he knew well himself before he even married you. Never forget his part in all of this.”
“Yes, you are quite right. This is not the life I asked for, not the life that I had chosen for myself.”
“My dear, your mother and father are peering over. I do not think you can let them leave without at least having a few minutes conversation with them. Forgive me, but I think you must.” Ariadne squeezed her hand firmly.
“Oh yes, of course,” Eliza said and nodded gravely. “Will you wait here for me?”
“Of course I shall.”
Eliza slowly walked the short distance to her family, aware of the eyes of her mother and father on her the whole time. Her brother Henry was standing at the side of his love, Penelope, looking embarrassed as if he could not quite meet her gaze.
“Eliza, my darling.” Her mother was the first to speak. “What a very awful day for you.”
“Indeed,” Eliza said neutrally.
“You are so very young to have suffered so much.” Eliza could see the tears welling in her mother’s eyes, and for a moment, she wanted to put an end to her misery and discomfort. “I wish there was something I could say to make it better. But I think that there is no right thing to say in this circumstance.”
“I daresay it is awkward,” Eliza said in a tone that was so flat she sounded utterly exhausted. “After all, how does one commiserate with a widow who never wanted to be married in the first place? How does one say they are sorry for such a loss to the person who could never have loved the man she was sold away to?”
“Eliza, this is hardly the time, my dear,” her father said in a tone which reminded her of the hundreds of other times he had gently chastised her in her life.
“Then when is?”
“Perhaps your father and I could call upon you? You will be in the Dower House now, I suppose?” her mother went on nervously.
“I suppose I shall be in the Dower House when I return to Lytton Hall.”
“Return?” Her mother raised her eyebrows.
“I have been staying with Lord and Lady Hanbury. I do not think you are acquainted with them, but they have been very kind to me since I went to Lytton Hall.” Eliza had been hoping to hurt her mother’s feelings with such a declaration, and looking at her, could see that she had done just that.
However, she was not as gratified by it as she had thought she might be and had been on the point of apologizing when she saw her brother hold out his arm for Penelope to take.
She realized then, without a doubt, that the two of them must now be engaged to be married. She turned her head sharply to look at them both, and Henry, once again unable to hold her gaze, looked down.
Something about it rekindled the fire of her betrayal and anger; it reminded her that men seemed to always have their way in everything, that they would always get whatever it was they wanted.
Henry had not been compelled to marry for money, even though he would be the one to take the title of Earl when the time came. She realized then that her marriage had, ultimately, been for Henry’s benefit. Her father had chosen one child over another, and she knew that she could not forgive it.
“I shall be in my period of mourning for the next year,” she said hastily when her mother did not speak.
“But you shall be allowed visitors, close family, and friends, at the Dower House, surely?” her mother went on.
“I cannot think of it at the moment, Mama. There is too much else in my mind which currently demands my attention.”
“Then you will write to me, my dear? Perhaps just a few lines when the time is right, you will write to me and tell me that I can come?”
“Perhaps,” she said and nodded her head with almost vicious firmness before turning to leave them.
Eliza bit back tears as she walked away, hardly knowing why it was she felt so sad. After all, they had treated her so badly. They had identified her as the only member of the family who was completely expendable, whatever the circumstances.
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 21
