The Masquerade

by Brenda Joyce

  Georgie raised her elegant brows. “Did you meet someone?”

  Lizzie hesitated as she sat down, thanking the maid, who also served as cook and laundress, as she handed her a plate of toast. Pushing the plate aside, she said, “Did you have any luck in finding a new suitor?”

  Georgie smiled in a rather self-deprecating manner. “Who am I fooling, Lizzie? It’s not just my height. I am too political for my own good. No man wants a wife who can debate the Catholic question or the issues associated with the Corn Laws, the tithe or the union. No, I had no luck.”

  And Lizzie hesitated. Then she reached out and gripped her sister’s hand. “You are the most loyal, sincere person I know. I want you to be happy, Georgie. Please do not settle for a toad like Peter Harold.”

  Georgie grimaced at her. “We shall see.”

  Lizzie had a dreadful feeling then.

  “But you are bursting with news.”

  Lizzie could not contain her smile and she proceeded to tell Georgie almost every detail of her encounter with Tyrell de Warenne. “And he insisted I meet him in the gardens at midnight,” she ended breathlessly.

  Georgie gaped at her, stunned. It was a moment before she could speak. “I think he must have been taken with you!”

  Lizzie shook her head. “He was taken with Maid Marian—a daring wench who flirted shamelessly with him!”

  “But that was you,” Georgie said, clearly making an effort to remain calm, her gaze wide.

  “I don’t know who she was,” Lizzie said frankly. “I have never engaged in such a manner with any man before. I was rather in shock—it was almost as if I were outside of myself, listening to my own repartee!”

  Georgie stared in real concern. “But you did not go. You went home, leaving your costume with Anna.”

  Lizzie bit her lip. “I was terrified he would unmask me and be sorely disappointed. Still, if I had gone, there would have been a kiss, and Georgie, I so want to be kissed by him.”

  “You did the right thing,” Georgie said in her usual brisk tone. “Nothing could ever come of such an association—unless you welcomed an illicit one.”

  Lizzie was about to insist that she would never do such a thing, but remembering her secretly bold dreams, she found she could say nothing.

  “You did the right thing,” Georgie repeated. She began to smile, while Lizzie wondered if her sister was right. “But you did succeed, Lizzie. You impressed him, and if he did think you foolish before, now, he clearly admires you.”

  “Yes, he did seem to admire me,” she said softly. Oddly, any pleasure in that triumph was outweighed by Lizzie’s regret.

  “Where is Anna?” Mama said sternly.

  Lizzie had just come inside after a long morning walk down a nearby country road. She had hoped for distraction from her far-too-vivid daydreams. Before, Tyrell had been a pleasant fantasy whom she had summoned up at will. Now he haunted her at every turn. Shoving his image aside, she faced her mother. Carefully she said, “Is something wrong, Mama?”

  “Yes, something is wrong.” Mama marched to the bottom of the stairs. “Anna! Please come down this minute, as I wish to speak with you and Lizzie.”

  Lizzie had the distinct sense that they were in for a serious comedown.

  Anna came down the stairs in her white lawn nightgown, white cap and a lawn robe. “Mama?” She exchanged a worried glance with Lizzie.

  “The two of you, into the parlor, if you please.” And Mama marched ahead of them into the room.

  Exchanging more glances, both sisters followed rather meekly. Mama was waiting near the door, which she solidly closed and placed her hands on her hips. “Is it true, Lizzie, that you were flirting with a pirate?” she demanded, her cheeks high with color.

  Lizzie blinked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anna flush. Of course, she could not lie. “Yes.”

  Mama’s eyes were wide. “Mrs. Holiday saw you in the game room! She said the most extreme flirtation was in place!”

  “I thought you wanted me to flirt,” Lizzie said very cautiously.

  “Oh, I do!” Mama cried, rushing to her and gripping her hands. “I am so pleased with you! But you,” she snapped, turning to Anna, “you were supposed to leave the ball after the shameless behavior I witnessed! You have turned into an incorrigible coquette, missy, and I do not like it, I do not! I saw that waltz! Why, they do not even allow waltzes at Almack’s. And then you blatantly disobey me, your very own mother! Instead of leaving the ball you connived with your sister, ruining what could be her single chance at marriage!” She whipped her attention to Lizzie, who felt rather shocked and at the same time, somewhat worried over her mother’s extreme temper. “Who was he?” Mama demanded. “There were at least a half a dozen pirates at the ball. Who was he, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie swallowed hard. Her mind raced. If she told her mother the truth—as she was honorably bound—she could not even imagine what Mama would do. She might, ridiculously, think to try to make a match, and Lizzie could imagine how humiliating that would be. But how could she lie? She turned to look at her sister for help, but Anna looked away.

  Nervously, she said, “He was masked, Mama. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” Mama exclaimed in disbelief. “You finally meet a man interested in you—Mrs. Holiday said she has never witnessed such a degree of interest before—and you do not know?”

  Lizzie winced. “I do not know who he was, Mama.”

  “Anna!” Mama said with anger. “You have dozens of suitors every time you leave the house! How could you? This was Lizzie’s chance.”

  Anna bit her lip. “I am so sorry,” she said. And now Anna looked at Lizzie. “Mama is right. I should have left and you should have stayed.”

  “I decided that leaving the ball was best,” she said with a smile, touching Anna’s arm. “I really didn’t want to stay, and I am glad you stayed and enjoyed yourself.”

  Mama threw her hands up into the air. “These monumental matters must be decided by me,” she declared. “Lizzie had a golden opportunity. How will we ever discover who your suitor was?”

  Lizzie inhaled roughly. “Mama, he was hardly a suitor.”

  “If he was so terribly smitten by you, then he was a suitor, oh, yes. I shall have to get to the bottom of this. Oh, I do hope he is a British soldier from a fine and wealthy family! I will call on Mrs. Holiday this afternoon and inquire after every detail, every single one! And believe me, I shall uncover this mysterious man’s identity.”

  “Mama, this is not a good idea!” Lizzie cried.

  “And why not, missy?” Mama demanded.

  Lizzie could not think of a credible answer.

  Mama was like a terrier with a bone. No matter how Lizzie might protest, she was off to see Mrs. Holiday, determined to uncover the identity of Lizzie’s so-called suitor.

  Lizzie watched her driving off in the curricle with no small amount of dread. Georgie stood beside her. “What will I do if she realizes that it was Tyrell de Warenne with whom I was flirting?” Lizzie asked in a hushed tone.

  Georgie was brisk. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when the time comes? Perhaps some of the other pirates present also wore black.” She touched Lizzie with a reassuring hand.

  “I am doomed,” Lizzie whispered. Once Mama discovered the truth, she would be marched up to Adare, and not as Maid Marian. But Georgie interrupted her thoughts. “Lizzie, do you think Anna is behaving a bit oddly?”

  Lizzie turned as Georgie went to sit back down. They were in the parlor and Georgie was mending Papa’s socks, as they really could not afford new ones, not when no one would ever see his old ones. Lizzie had hoped to try to read. Instead, with Mama’s sudden departure, all she could do was pace in uncharacteristic agitation. “Maybe she is tired from the ball. She never naps but she is resting now.”

  “She did dance most of the night,” Georgie declared. “However, I think this family is in a fine kettle, indeed.”

  Lizzie could not agree more. Althou
gh she was not prone to moping about, she returned to the window, as if standing there might bring Mama back.

  “Try not to worry so,” Georgie said, taking up her needle and thread.

  Lizzie did not reply, but she went to the sofa and tried to read her book.

  Three hours later, flushed with delight, Mama bustled into the house, beaming. “Lizzie!” she cried, sailing to the middle of the foyer. “Georgina! Anna! Papa! Everyone, come quickly—I have news! I have the most miraculous news!”

  Lizzie felt her heart sink. She prayed that Mama’s news had nothing to do with her. Papa stepped out of the library as she and Georgie left the kitchen. They had spent the last hour shelling peas, as they only had one house servant and Betty could not possibly manage by herself. Anna came downstairs, rather slowly.

  “Are you all right?” Lizzie asked in a whisper as they gathered before Mama in the foyer.

  “I am fine,” Anna said with a bright smile. “I was only tired earlier, Lizzie.”

  “Everyone!” Mama clapped her hands. “I have discovered the identity of Lizzie’s pirate!” she exclaimed.

  Lizzie cringed.

  “Lizzie! It was his lordship himself. Dear, dear Lord, He has blessed us now—it was Tyrell de Warenne!”

  Lizzie felt terribly faint. “No,” she whispered.

  “Oh, yes!” Mama cried, clapping her hands. “Tyrell de Warenne is taken with you!”

  Lizzie gave Georgie a pleading look, incapable now of speech.

  Her sister stepped forward. “Mama, there must have been a mistake. We all know Lord Tyrell is very fond of extreme beauty. There were many pirates at the ball. I do not think we should read too much into what Mrs. Holiday has said.”

  “Nonsense!” Mama said flatly. “Tomorrow at noon we are going up to the house to call on the countess.”

  Lizzie cried out.

  “And I do not want to hear a single protest from you,” Mama said with a warning look. “Or from anyone, and I mean it.”

  “I can’t,” Lizzie whispered, about to suffocate from dread. No nightmare could be worse! Mama intended to march her daughters up to Adare and embarrass the entire family. Lizzie already wished to die of shame. Worse, Tyrell would somehow appear, Lizzie just knew it, and he would not recognize her. Oh, no, he would look at her dumpy figure and spectacles and there would be no interest, nothing at all.

  And Mama would do something terribly humiliating, she always did. She would present Lizzie in one way or another, hinting at the prospect of marriage. Lizzie was ready to curl up and die.

  “Tomorrow at noon,” Mama commanded. “I shall not change my mind.”

  “Mama, I cannot do this,” Lizzie pleaded frantically.

  “Of course you can!” Mama went to her and patted her shoulder as if that gesture could soothe her. “We must thank the countess for her hospitality, must we not?”

  Lizzie moaned and turned to look at Georgie for help.

  She stepped firmly forward. “Mama,” Georgie said in a calm, sensible tone. “We have never called on the countess before. We have always sent a very proper thank-you note. I rather think we should stick to tradition.”

  “I am starting a new tradition,” Mama said.

  “Mama, Georgie is right. And perhaps the countess will be indisposed,” Lizzie pleaded frantically. But she knew that no amount of begging would change Mama’s mind.

  “If she is indisposed, we will call again the next day.” Mama smiled at her.

  Georgie shook her head. “Mama, I know what you are wishing. You hope that Lizzie will snag Tyrell de Warenne. But it is impossible. They are too far above us. Even though he evinced an interest in her, he did not know who she was. A de Warenne is not about to marry a Fitzgerald.”

  “May I be excused?” Anna suddenly asked.

  “Aren’t you excited for your sister?” Mama asked.

  Anna nodded. “Yes, I am very excited for Lizzie, but I am ill, Mama. I feel poorly, and I cannot go.” And with that, she turned and went up the stairs, not waiting for permission to do so.

  Surprised by such odd behavior, Mama was, for once, speechless.

  Lizzie was too miserable to react to Anna. “Mama, please do not do this. There has been a terrible mistake. Tyrell de Warenne did not pursue me. I would know if he had! Please do not make me go up to the house!”

  “I am going to get ready for supper,” Mama said pleasantly, as if she had not heard. About to ascend the stairs, she paused. “Oh, and Lizzie? Do wear the green-sprigged dress with the green silk pelisse. Green is one of your best colors!” She smiled then. “And frankly, it is for the best that Anna is ill, don’t you agree? We really don’t need her with us when we call upon the countess.”

  Dumbfounded, Lizzie watched Mama disappear up the stairs. She did not turn as Georgie came and put her arm around her. “Oh, dear,” Georgie murmured. “I do not think there is a way to get out of this situation.”

  “What am I going to do? Mama will embarrass us all, and if Tyrell appears—” Lizzie felt her cheeks flush with heat. She could not go on.

  “Perhaps you can become ill?”

  “Mama will never let me off the hook, not even if I were really sick!” Lizzie cried.

  “We need a miracle,” Georgie decided.

  Lizzie moaned. She did not believe in miracles, oh, no.

  But the next day changed her beliefs entirely, for not only was the countess not in residence, but the entire family had left the estate the previous afternoon. Even now, they were en route for London. No plans had been made for their return.

  Amazed at her good fortune, Lizzie could only hope that Mama’s interests would turn elsewhere before they returned.

  It was a cold, rainy November day. Lizzie had been about to clean the parlor when the novel she had ordered from a Dublin bookstore arrived. Her broom still in hand, she tore the wrapper from the parcel, grinning when she saw the title. Sense and Sensibility. Her chores forgotten, Lizzie sat down, instantly beginning to read.

  She had no idea how long she sat there, immersed in the romance, but she had read several chapters when she heard the sound of a horse and carriage outside. Lizzie was jerked back to reality. Closing the book, she went to the window and winced when she saw the bulky figure of Peter Harold alighting from the carriage.

  He had called upon Georgie each and every week of that month, much to Lizzie’s dismay. Georgie seemed resigned, although she spoke little in his company, a firm smile in place, allowing him to hold up an endless monologue. Lizzie went to the kitchen. “Georgie, Mr. Harold is here.”

  Georgie had been plucking a chicken. Now she stilled and slowly looked up.

  It hurt Lizzie to see her sister so resigned. “Let me send him away,” Lizzie cried. “I will tell him you are in love with some radical young man from Dublin!”

  Georgie went to the sink, removing her apron as she did so. “He is my only suitor, Lizzie. And even you have heard Mama complaining about how hard it is for her to breathe.”

  “Dr. Ryan said she is in a fine constitution,” Lizzie objected. “I am beginning to wonder if these spells of hers aren’t a means of forcing you to her will.”

  Georgie left the sink. “I have wondered that myself, but does it really matter? We all thought Anna would be engaged by now, and she isn’t. We are five mouths to feed and it is simply too great a burden for our parents. Someone has to do the deed, don’t you agree?”

  Lizzie scowled as Mr. Harold knocked on the front door. “Anna will be wed before summer. She merely needs to set her sights on one of her suitors.”

  “Anna is flighty,” Georgie said, dropping her tone as she spoke. She hesitated and added, “Mr. Harold confessed to me that he makes a profit of five hundred a year.”

  Lizzie blinked. That was a fine sum, indeed! “But he sells wine,” she tried, “and he isn’t even a Protestant, he is a Dissenter.”

  Georgie left the kitchen. “That may be so, but at least his political views are not offensive.”
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br />   Lizzie was on her heels. “He has no political views!” She had witnessed Georgie’s attempts to draw him into political conversation, but all he could say was that the war was good for his business—not that he was a warmonger, but wine prices had never been better.

  Georgie ignored her, plastering a smile on her face as she opened the front door. Lizzie turned away, downcast but not resigned to her sister’s fate.

  As the chill days of November were replaced by the frigid cold of winter, an amazing twist of fate occurred. For in early December, a handsome young British soldier appeared at the Fitzgerald door to call upon Anna. Lieutenant Thomas Morely was stationed outside of Cork, but apparently he had met Anna at the All Hallow’s Eve ball and had been writing to her ever since—which explained the dreamy smile she had been wearing for some time. Having a week’s leave, he remained in Limerick the entire time, calling upon her each and every day. Mama quickly made some inquiries and learned that he came from a fine old family and that his pension was eight hundred pounds a year. Anna could live well on such a sum. And there was no doubt that the young lieutenant was seriously courting Anna. Lizzie crossed her fingers, hoping for the best, aware that this might alleviate the pressure on Georgie. When Thomas returned to his regiment, Anna wept and then moped about the house for a week.

  And then Thomas Morely returned on Christmas Eve.

  “Anna!” Lizzie exclaimed from where she stood at the window, watching the lanky blond officer dismounting. “Hurry, it is Lieutenant Morely!”

  They were in the parlor. Anna had been sewing and she froze, turning white. Then she leapt to her feet, her needlework forgotten. “Are you certain, Lizzie? Is it truly Thomas?”

  Lizzie nodded, thrilled for her sister.

  Anna cried out and fled upstairs to change her gown and make certain every strand of hair was in its place. That night, Lieutenant Morely proposed.

  At the announcement of their engagement to the family, a champagne bottle was uncorked. Anna and Thomas held hands, both flushed with pleasure, and there were smiles all around. “To a long, joyous union,” Papa declared, lifting his glass. “And to a peaceful one.” He winked at Lizzie.