by Rose Pearson
Chapter Two
Whilst there were no letters to be sent, there was, according to the housekeeper who did the bidding of Miss Skelton, a need for Elsbeth to adorn the front of the House for Girls with flowers. Apparently, it was a reminder to all the gentlemen who had been invited that the ball was to happen tomorrow evening. Elsbeth did not quite understand given that so many of them had already sent their replies to confirm that, yes, they were to attend tomorrow evening’s festivities.
Regardless, Elsbeth did as the housekeeper directed without making even a murmur of protest, thinking that to be outside instead of kept within the House would possibly give her the time she needed to think about all that Mrs. Banks had said. She was in no doubt that Miss Skelton had not said as much to her as regards her dowry and the wonderful age of twenty-one when she would attain her freedom, simply because she did not want Elsbeth to remain in the House for Girls. There had always been something about Elsbeth that Miss Skelton disliked, and now she was making it even more apparent that she did not care for her in the slightest. Whilst Elsbeth knew that she was, as Mrs. Banks had said, a free spirit flying in the face of Miss Skelton’s harsh and firmly aligned ways, there had never been any other explanation as to why the lady had taken such a dislike to her. From her earliest memories, Elsbeth could recall Miss Skelton being dismissive and disinterested in her whilst being a little more jovial to the other girls. That had only bred anger and resentment in Elsbeth, who had grown more than a little frustrated with the lady’s continued dislike of her; so, in her own way, she had done all she could to battle against the lady’s hostility, to the point that she knew exactly what to say and do t0 bring her the most frustration.
Perhaps it was a little childish, Elsbeth reflected, as she picked up the basket which held the brightly colored flowers and the string with which she could tie bunches to the railings that surrounded the House for Girls. Then again, she had been a child for a very long time and only in the last few years had begun the journey towards adulthood. Miss Skelton had never changed, and Elsbeth had felt herself shrinking away from her more and more. She often sought the friendship and understanding of Mrs. Banks, a mother figure to all the orphan girls, and did not think she would have survived life here without her.
But now she had to consider what path to take. She could remain here until she was twenty-one, in order to come into her fortune, but that would mean over three years of Miss Skelton’s dark looks and embittered words. To continue her quest to become a governess seemed the most likely path to take, for then she could simply give up that life when the time came. What would she do then? Where would she go? It was all so unexpected and yet Elsbeth was filled with a delicious excitement. To finally be free, to finally be able to build her own life....it was so near and yet so very far away.
Walking outside, Elsbeth paused for a moment as she took in the bustling market, the laughter and conversations washing over her like a wave of warmth. It was something she longed for but could never have within the House for Girls. Miss Skelton did not even like them to be near to the market, as though afraid they would smile too much for her liking.
Sighing, Elsbeth turned her back to the busy Smithfield Market and focused on her task, hoping she might be able to linger for a little while after she’d finished her task.
“Are you selling these?”
Jerked from her thoughts, Elsbeth turned to see a young man standing a short distance away from her, his eyes bright and a lazy smile on his face. Schooling her features into one of nothing more than general amiableness, she shook her head.
“No, I’m afraid not, sir. I am to place these around the railings.” She did not say why, not wanting to encourage the young man to come to the Smithfield House for the ball, not when he clearly knew this was where she was from.
“I see.” He moved closer to her, his smile still lingering – and Elsbeth felt herself shrink back within herself. He was clearly something of a rake, for with his fine cut of clothes and his highly polished boots, there was no doubt that he was a gentleman – and gentlemen, from what she knew, often thought they could get whatever they wished.
He was still watching her intently, his dark brown eyes warm as they lingered on her. His dark hair was swept back, revealing his strong jaw. With his strong back and broad shoulders, Elsbeth was sure that he sent many young ladies hearts beating wildly with hopes of passion, but she had never felt more intimidated.
“Do excuse me,” she murmured, making to turn away from him but only for him to catch her elbow.
“Do let me buy one from you,” he said, his breath brushing across her cheek. “To remember you by, my fair flower.”
Elsbeth felt a curl of fear in her stomach but chose to stand tall, her chin lifted. “No, I thank you, but I cannot sell one to you. I have a job to do. Do excuse me.”
She wrenched her elbow from his hand and turned away again, telling herself to remain strong in the face of his oozing self-importance. She did not like him at all, despite his handsome features, for it was clear that he expected a simple compliment to overwhelm her to the point that she would do just as he wished.
“Well, if you will not sell one to me then perhaps you might converse with me for a time,” the gentleman continued, his smile a little faded from his expression. “I am greatly inclined to know who you are.”
Concentrating on tying a bunch of flowers to the railings, Elsbeth focused intently on her task so that she would not have to answer him immediately. She could see his smile disappearing altogether as he waited, his irritation mounting – and she felt the same sense of triumph as when she had set Miss Skelton to rights only yesterday.
“You need not concern yourself with someone as lowly as I,” she replied eventually, barely giving him a glance. “I am sure you have more than a few beautiful young ladies in your acquaintance.”
He chuckled, not taking her brush off with any kind of sincerity.
“I may very well do, miss, but they do not all intrigue me as you do.”
Biting back a groan of frustration, Elsbeth tried to continue on with her task as quickly as she could, finding it more and more difficult to concentrate as the young man continued to follow her along the railing.
“Must I beg you for a flower?” he laughed, putting his hand over hers for a moment as she tried to tie the next bunch to the railings. “Come now, a name then, in exchange for your reluctance to give me a beautiful bloom.”
A heat rose into her face as Elsbeth pulled her hand away, disliking this man more and more.
“I do not think that necessary,” she replied, firmly, looking into his expectant face and hoping that, somehow, he would leave her be. “I will not be engaging in any kind of flirtation with you today, sir, so I would ask that you leave me to my task.”
The mirthful look on his face began to die away, his lips flattening and eyes growing dull. Clearly, he was not in the least bit used to having such a straightforward refusal.
“Good day, sir,” she said again, trying to build her courage by remaining exactly where she was and looking into his face without any kind of hesitation. “Now do excuse me.”
Letting out a long breath of relief, Elsbeth watched out of the corner of her eye as the young gentleman stepped back, let out his breath in a huff and began to walk away from her, evidently very out of sorts from her rebuffing of his charms. She could not help but be glad that he had left her alone, hating the thought of even seeing him again. He unsettled her in a way that had left her almost stricken with fright, for she had been forced to battle her way through their conversation in an attempt to keep up her courage.
“A ball, you say?”
Horrified, Elsbeth’s head shot up as she heard the young man’s voice drift towards her, seeing him talking to an older gentleman who was indicating Smithfield House with his walking stick.
“And how might one procure an invitation?”
Elsbeth closed her eyes, tightly. She did not want this particular gentlema
n to attend, praying that Miss Skelton would not allow a late invitation but yet fully aware that this was exactly what she would do.
Her fingers slipped as she tried to continue tying the string around the bunch of flowers, her ears straining to hear what the young gentleman was saying. She was aware that he was still watching her, could feel his eyes on her as she hurried to finish, desperate to get back inside and away from his intimidating gaze.
“Then I simply must see what I can do to obtain such an invitation,” she heard the young man say, loudly. “I am quite certain that I can convince whoever is in charge that I simply must be allowed to attend.”
The older man he was talking to laughed aloud. “I do not think you need concern yourself in that, my dear Lord Radford! To have a viscount amongst them would be a wonderful event in itself!”
A viscount.
Her heart sank. Miss Skelton would grasp at the opportunity to have a viscount at their ball, which would mean that, unless Elsbeth could find a way to excuse herself from all the proceedings – which was highly doubtful – she would be forced to see the young man again.
Her stomach churned as Lord Radford made a show of walking through the iron gate towards the front of the large House, his eyes lingering on her and a broad, proud smile plastered across his face. She shook her head to herself and turned her whole body away from him, refusing to give him even the smallest bit of her attention any longer.
She heard a faint chuckle, the arrogance of him making her hands curl into fists. This man had no consideration for anyone other than himself, it seemed, believing that he was going to not only find out her name but also acquaint himself with her more fully.
“I will not allow myself to be married off to any man,” she muttered to herself, tying the last bunch of blooms to the railings with a little more force than she had intended. “I will have my independence. I will have my freedom. And nothing that either Miss Skelton or an arrogant young gentleman presumes will make any difference.”
Chapter Three
The following evening found Elsbeth trying desperately to come up with some kind of excuse as to why she simply could not attend the Smithfield House ball, even though Miss Skelton had already ensured everything was in place.
“You have a new ballgown, Elsbeth. Your benefactor granted you a substantial amount of money for this so you must be careful with it.”
Miss Skelton walked into Elsbeth’s bedchamber without either knocking or introducing herself, just as she always did.
“Thank you, Miss Skelton,” Elsbeth replied, through gritted teeth, wishing she could find something else to say that would express her discontent at both the lady’s rudeness and her own disinclinations towards the ball.
“You have slippers also. I expect you to make a good impression on all the gentlemen who attend this evening,” Miss Skelton continued, grandly. “Given your status in society, it is best that you attempt to open as many doors as possible, Elsbeth. That includes the possibility of a husband.”
“I will not marry, Miss Skelton,” Elsbeth retorted before she could stop herself. “I have no intention of doing so.”
Miss Skelton’s beady eyes landed on her with such a fierceness that Elsbeth was forced to catch her breath.
“You will do all you can, Elsbeth, for you know very well I want you gone from this house,” Miss Skelton hissed, her grand and calm demeanor gone in an instant. “You are not wanted, you are not welcome. Do I make myself clear?”
Elsbeth got to her feet, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “This is my life, Miss Skelton, and I will do with it as I please. I will not be forced into matrimony; I will not be forced into anything I do not wish.” She lifted her chin a notch and held Miss Skelton’s gaze firmly. “I am well aware that you do not want my company nor my presence in Smithfield House but I will remain here for as long as I choose.”
“With what funds?” Miss Skelton sneered, her eyes narrowing. “I have told you that your benefactor will withdraw his funding by the end of this year.”
Having been about to retort that she knew very well this was not the case, Elsbeth bit her tongue hard and tasted blood. If she said anything like that, then Mrs. Banks would be the one in the firing line, and she could not allow that.
“Then I will remain here until the end of the year,” she replied, calmly. “And we will see what my benefactor does then, shan’t we? Perhaps he, whomever he is, will surprise us both.” She lifted one eyebrow, looking towards Miss Skelton with a determined air and saw the woman’s eyes narrow further.
It was clear she was somewhere between anger and suspicion, as though Elsbeth had surprised her by speaking so plainly. However, Elsbeth did not back down, continuing to keep her gaze pinned on Miss Skelton as she held her chin high and her hands on her hips. She was not about to allow Miss Skelton to continue to demand that she do whatever it was she asked, finding a new strength filling her. This was the start of her new life. A life where she did not have to agree, did not have to do, did not have to behave in a certain way at a certain time in a certain place. There would be no need for her to go to the ball this evening. She would not have to wear the gown nor dance with whichever cloying gentleman wished to take her hand in his.
“Whatever it is you are planning, Elsbeth, you had better watch that tongue of yours,” Miss Skelton whispered, malevolently. “If you truly believe that you can continue on in this house with that kind of attitude, then I will tell you now that you are wrong. Whatever you think about yourself, you had best remember that it is still I who holds the power in this House.”
“I will not be treated as though I have no right to my own life!” Elsbeth exclaimed, her anger bursting out in a torrent. “I am doing what I can to find a new position far away from here, but I will not be shoehorned into matrimony! You cannot insist upon that.”
Miss Skelton’s lip curled. “You really are a most disgraceful young lady, Elsbeth. I thought I had trained you better than that. Why Lord Radford has any interest in you, I simply cannot understand.” She sneered at Elsbeth as she stepped forward, her whole expression telling Elsbeth that she was walking on very thin ice – and yet Elsbeth did not care.
“You will do exactly as you are told, else I shall withhold my references from your applications,” she continued, as Elsbeth struggled to find a decent retort. “The dream of being a governess will disappear the moment I refuse to write you a reference.”
Elsbeth was so angry that, for a long moment, she could not speak. She could feel heat searing her cheeks, feel fury coursing through her veins, setting her whole body alight, but still, she could not speak. She wanted to shout that this did not matter, that she would simply remain here until she was twenty-one if she had to, but she knew she could not.
“I will not be going to the ball this evening, Miss Skelton,” she replied, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “I will not be attending in any way. Lord Radford will have to simply enjoy his own company for a time.”
Miss Skelton did not move nor speak for a few minutes. There was no expression on her face as she looked back at Elsbeth, although her face was a little paler than before.
“You will attend, Elsbeth, else I shall send Mrs. Banks out from this establishment. Do you understand me? I will terminate her position here if you do not show at this ball. This is your choice, Elsbeth. Either you do as expected or Mrs. Banks will lose her place in the only house she has called home these last fifteen years.” She gave a slight shrug and turned away from Elsbeth, walking back towards the door. “The choice is yours, Elsbeth.”
Elsbeth went cold all over, realizing that Miss Skelton had her over a barrel. She knew full well that Elsbeth would do anything for Mrs. Banks, which meant that she would go to the ball this evening after all, would dance and converse with the gentlemen there and would listen to them when they spoke. That included the hateful Lord Radford, with his arrogant ways and determined smile. Sinking into her seat, Elsbeth let out a l
ong groan and buried her face in her hands, feeling hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
She had no choice. She had thought that, finally, she would be able to start making decisions about her own life, would be able to determine what it was she could do, but now, it seemed, Miss Skelton continued to hold the reins of her life. She was to be tossed about, from one place to the next, simply by Miss Skelton’s demand.
Tears began to flow through her fingers as she wept, feeling both hurt and confused by Miss Skelton’s hatred of her. Why she would go to such lengths as to threaten to hurt Mrs. Banks, just to force her to remain at the ball, to force her to consider gentlemen that she’d never met before in life?
You are not wanted.
Her tears still flowing, Elsbeth got up from the bed and looked at the smooth, unblemished silk of her new gown. It was beautiful, almost seeming to glow as she ran her fingers down it gently.
You are not welcome.
This was why Miss Skelton was doing all she could to force Elsbeth to attend the ball. She did not care whether or not Elsbeth became a governess, a seamstress or a wife, just so long as she left her establishment as soon as possible. Perhaps she knew that Elsbeth’s chances of finding a suitable position as a governess were somewhat slim, given her status and her lack of proper parentage, so was determined to have her meet as many gentlemen as possible in the hope that one might take Elsbeth off her hands. On top of which, Lord Radford appeared to have spoken to her about his interest in Elsbeth, which made her almost sick to her stomach.
She wanted nothing to do with him and, whilst she knew she had no other choice but to attend this evening’s festivities, it did not mean that she would have to accept any kind of invitation to further her acquaintance with anyone, including Lord Radford.
