It was hard on Lizzie whenever she was confronted with one of the less charitable aspects of Ria’s nature, which were bred no doubt by the selfish and privileged life she’d led in England. Lizzie had seen glimpses of it from time to time in the things Ria had said or done in Australia, but she was only now beginning to realize how deeply ingrained it had been.
James, for all his good-natured jests and fine manners, seemed as staunchly uncaring about the lower classes as anyone of his station. He was her avowed friend now, but what if he knew she’d held no higher station in life than the women they had just passed, or the servants whose “feelings” he’d dismissed so casually? She shivered at the thought.
“Are you cold?” James asked with concern.
She shivered again, this time intentionally. “I’m just dreading the prospect of accompanying Grandmamma on her calls.”
He grinned. “I understand. I am sure I would find it perfectly dreary to listen to women’s idle chatter all afternoon.”
Lizzie reminded herself that she must not allow her feelings about Ria—good or bad—to sway her from her goal of finding out all she could. James’s remark about idle chatter helped her approach the question she most wanted to ask. “Perhaps I should just spend the afternoon below stairs, like you used to do. I believe you once said that servants’ gossip was much more interesting than anything discussed in drawing rooms.”
James gave her a sidelong glance. “So I did. I still feel that way.”
“But didn’t that get you into trouble sometimes? Like the time you repeated something you’d overheard about Father’s valet? Do you remember that?”
“Let me see… I am an absolute repository of servants’ gossip…” He made a show of thinking very hard. “Yes,” he said finally, with a nod. “I do remember. It seemed the man had gotten a young milliner with child, and the two ran away to London together. The servants said they had been guilty of criminal conversation. I thought, of course, that meant they’d been speaking with criminals! But when I asked Auntie about it, she made me wash my mouth out with soap and told me never to utter those words again.”
“A good thing,” Lizzie said. She tried to say it in jest, but she truly meant it. Those terrible words had once been cruelly leveled against her, too. “Did Father know—about the woman, I mean?”
“I have no idea. By the time I heard about it, which was seven or eight years later, he had just passed away.”
“Is it possible that when he died, and people were reviewing his life the way it normally happens after a person dies, that something might have brought that gossip back into people’s minds?”
“Ah,” he said. “Are you worried there is a connection—that the servants’ gossip was not entirely correct, and that perhaps he was somehow personally involved in the affair?”
“Might he have been?” Lizzie asked, trying not to show how desperately she wanted to know. “I was only seven when he died. You remember him better than I do. Might he have been that sort of man?”
He took both her hands in his and gave her an encouraging smile. “Don’t you worry—no one ever accused Sir Herbert Thornborough of being less than the most blameless and stalwart member of society.”
Lizzie looked at him askance. “You always have a way of not answering questions while appearing that you are.”
He laughed. “You are more perceptive than you used to be, cousin. But why are you trying to dredge up bad things about your father after so many years? Surely you have enough good memories of him to dwell upon?”
Phrased as it was, the question took Lizzie off guard. She had only the one memory of her father, and it was not a good one. But Ria had adored him.
James’s bright blue eyes were actually twinkling. Did he enjoy her evident discomfiture? Probably, she thought wryly. It was part of his teasing nature.
“Let us not dwell on such things now,” he said. “Here is something far more interesting to talk about.” He led her around a bend in the path and pointed across the Serpentine.
The worries on Lizzie’s mind receded for the moment as she took in the sight before her: it was the largest building she had ever seen.
A building made entirely of glass.
It was shaped like a cross. The shorter section had a rounded roof, giving the appearance of an oblong dome. The longer section seemed to stretch for a mile. The building gleamed in the sun, its roof higher than the surrounding trees and trimmed with hundreds of colorful flags.
“It’s like something from a fairy tale,” she said with awe. “Is it truly made of glass?”
“It is.” James smiled at her thunderstruck expression. “It’s called the Crystal Palace.”
“But how does it keep from collapsing?”
“A steel framework holds it up. Inside there are wooden floors, balconies, and even whole trees. There was such an outcry against the possibility of our stately elms being cut down that they simply erected the building around them.”
“You’ve been inside?” Lizzie hurried up the path to find a better view.
“Indeed I have. It’s filled with hundreds of displays, from heavy machinery—tedious, although it is the best in the world—to exquisite gems. You’ll be interested to know that two of the largest diamonds in the world are in there.” He looked at her askance. “Did you not hear anything about the Great Exhibition while you were living in the wilds of Australia?”
“I don’t know when I last saw a newspaper. It must have been at least six months ago. I remember reading about an exhibition that was spearheaded by Prince Albert, and that there was some controversy surrounding it. I don’t remember any details.”
“That ‘controversy’ you speak of was the decision to hold the Exhibition in Hyde Park. It was vehemently opposed by many of the fashionable set. They gave dire predictions that the building would be hideously ugly and leave our beautiful park a treeless, barren landscape. But as you see, the result is—”
“Dazzling,” Lizzie finished for him, staring at the building with admiration. “When were you there?”
“Oh, I’ve been several times. I bought a season ticket, of course. It was the only way to get in for the grand opening last month.”
She turned to him eagerly. “Can we go there now?”
James laughed. “I’m afraid not. You will need at least a full day to see everything. Auntie wants you home in time for luncheon. I’ll take you there soon, if you feel strong enough for such a venture.”
“I’m sure I shall.”
“I’m so glad you have returned to London,” James said. “What fun we shall have.”
Lizzie tried to envision whole trees inside a building filled with fine objects on display. She was sure it would be grander than anything she could imagine. How she wished Tom could have seen it. He had loved London, with all its crowds and business and majestic monuments; he’d even loved its dirt and fog. How thrilled he would have been to see this incomparable sight. At these thoughts, the Crystal Palace seemed to blur before her. She blinked several times and murmured, “He would have loved it.”
“How thoughtless of me,” James said. “Here I was thinking only of the joy of having you back, and not of the sad circumstances which brought you here.” As he turned to pluck a bloom from a flowering bush, he added, “I know I am no match to your dear Edward for company.” He presented it to her with a flourish. “Will you forgive me?”
She accepted the bright red bloom with an attempt at a tiny smile, and took a moment to savor its delicate scent, not trusting herself to speak.
“Oh, dear,” James said, glancing down the path. “Just when I thought I had succeeded in brightening your mood, here comes Geoffrey.”
Lizzie looked up. He was about fifty yards away, moving in their direction. His tall form stood out among the reeds that grew along the water’s edge. He caught sight of them and quickened his pace, causing Lizzie’s heart to quicken as well. It was her anger over yesterday’s events causing it, she knew. She had not for
gotten his harsh words.
Yet she could not help noticing how well he looked in his dark coat and cravat. Black might look drab on other men, but it seemed to suit Geoffrey’s jet-black eyes and hair better than any bright color could have done. She would have preferred it for her own composure if he had not looked quite so handsome.
As his long strides rapidly closed the distance between them, Lizzie found herself locked in that intense gaze of his, rooted to the spot, unable to move and strangely light-headed.
Chapter 12
Geoffrey had caught sight of them just as James had been presenting her with a flower.
Even from a distance he could see the dramatic gesture James had used, as flowery as the bloom he’d been flourishing. But it was the grace with which Ria had accepted it that most riveted him.
What was the point of James’s overwrought gallantry? Geoffrey hoped James was not sincerely wooing her. Ria was too good for James. Startled to find himself thinking this after the way she’d irritated and unsettled him, he amended to himself that, despite her many faults, she was too good for James.
James was a womanizer and a wastrel. He did not know how to keep two shillings in his pocket. It was rumored that his family fortunes were low and James would have to procure a rich wife in order to maintain the lifestyle to which he was accustomed. That would leave Ria out of the running. Ria had clearly returned from Australia without a shilling to her name. She was due an inheritance from her father, but it would not be large enough to support opulent living.
Ria stood still as a statue as he approached. The bright red flower in her hand set off the dark gray gown she wore. Behind her, the Crystal Palace glinted in the sun. She had been smiling at James, but as her eyes met Geoffrey’s, the smile had faded, to be replaced with the same wariness he had seen yesterday. He had the impression that he was literally watching walls spring up around her.
When he reached them, James shook his hand. “I should have known you’d be up early, rambling about the park.”
“I must say I never expected to see you,” Geoffrey replied. “Isn’t it a bit early for the smart set to be out?”
The implied criticism rolled off James as smoothly as the water off the ducks in the Serpentine. “It makes no difference nowadays,” he said easily. “All the hubbub from the Exhibition has ruined the afternoon walks on Rotten Row. And in any case, I am sacrificing myself for our dear Ria. We thought a walk might be good for her health.”
Geoffrey turned to Ria and gave her a bow. He wanted to speak, but even the commonplace pleasantries managed to escape him. Seeing her made each scar on his heart hurt afresh. And yet she stood there so still, so beautiful. Not looking at all like a woman capable of bringing scandal and heartache to two families.
She nodded in return, but said nothing.
The frostiness of this exchange did not appear to escape James. “Come, come,” he said. “You two cannot still be angry with one another?” He gently disengaged Ria’s arm and held it toward Geoffrey. “You must at least shake hands.”
Geoffrey took her hand. She seemed reluctant to leave it there, but made no move to pull away.
“I decree,” said James, “that from here on out, we shall remember the dearly departed with love and reverence, but we shall not let it interfere with what we are about today. Life goes on, you know.”
Geoffrey did not trust himself to look at Ria’s face just then, so he studied her hand. The black glove upon it was new, and the workmanship was fine. Even through his own gloves he could feel the leather was soft and supple. The thought crossed his mind—wildly inconsequential to this moment—that Lady Thornborough’s visit to Regent Street had yielded excellent results.
He raised his gaze and found himself once again captive to those violet-blue eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Life goes on.”
The tense wariness holding her body seemed to subside a little.
James grinned his approval. “Thank goodness that’s done,” he said. “Now, Geoffrey, give her your arm.” He took Ria’s hand and placed it on Geoffrey’s arm.
They began once more to follow the path by the Serpentine, with Ria walking between the two men.
“It is so pleasant to walk together,” James remarked to no one in particular. “Don’t you agree?”
Geoffrey was keenly aware of Ria’s nearness. Every nerve telegraphed how close she was to him. It was the same curious sensation he’d felt when he’d taken her arm in Lady Thornborough’s parlor. This time, however, his limbs managed to function, and he was grateful for it.
He was barely conscious of James’s animated remarks about some aspect of the Great Exhibition and the effect of the crowds on Hyde Park. He was glad Ria was making enough replies to James so that the conversation could continue without his help.
He was startled back into the conversation when James said, “Do you have a carriage nearby, Geoffrey?”
“Yes. I told my driver to meet me beyond Kensington Gardens.”
“Excellent.” James stifled a yawn. “I have reached my limit for walking today. I must find my bed before I keel over from exhaustion. Ria is still filled with energy, however. I’m sure she would love to walk with you as far as Kensington Gardens. Might I prevail upon you to drive her home?”
“James, you cannot be leaving me,” Ria protested. No doubt she preferred James’s company to his. After yesterday, he could not blame her.
James was already extricating himself from her grasp. “You two have much to talk about, and I would only be in the way.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, my dear,” James interrupted with a smile. “You’ll be in good hands. He’ll protect you from the teeming masses.”
Yes, Geoffrey thought, but who will protect me from her?
They watched him stride swiftly down the path that led back to the eastern entrance to the park. “James seems to have a great deal of energy for a man that is exhausted,” Geoffrey remarked.
“I’m sorry if he has put you out,” Ria said. “He is a dear, but he is a bit like a shooting star—taking you by surprise, delighting you, and then disappearing.”
Despite the weightier things pressing on his mind, Geoffrey found himself amused at this description. “I’m well aware of this quality of his, although I’m sure I never heard it described quite like that.” Perhaps James’s joie de vivre was something Geoffrey should cultivate, too.
Although he had wanted to talk to Ria, he thought he would have more time to organize his thoughts beforehand. Perhaps it was for the best, however. They could speak privately now, without interference from Lady Thornborough or James.
He was intensely aware of Ria’s hand on his arm as they walked. The scent of her hair was sweeter than any of the flowers trimming the path. This would have been far easier, Geoffrey reflected, if they had been sitting in a parlor at a respectable distance from each other.
It had been easier to think of Ria in the abstract, when he could picture her as a headstrong girl who needed to be reined in. It was far more difficult when he was confronted with her in person, walking placidly beside him.
“Ria,” he began. “I’m glad we have a few minutes to speak together. I was planning to call on you today.”
She tensed, her walls rising back into place. She kept her eyes focused across the river, on the people coming and going from the Crystal Palace. “I’m sure you have many questions. I am willing to answer them, of course. But first, I hope that you will allow me to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”
Geoffrey looked down at her, startled. This conversation might go more easily than he had imagined.
“Please understand,” she continued, “that I do not apologize for our decision to go to Australia.”
Naturally not. “I see.”
“However, it was rude of me to speak so harshly. I know you cared deeply for your brother.” She regarded him earnestly. “I’m sorry that we began our acquaintance on such a sour note. Edward was so desirous t
hat you and I should be friends.”
“Yes, that sounds like Edward. He always wanted to be friends. With everyone.”
“Are you implying it was a failing? As faults go, it’s not such a terrible one to have.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Geoffrey acknowledged. Friendships came so easily to Edward. Geoffrey had secretly envied him for that. Geoffrey was more guarded about whom he took into his circle of friends.
“Edward often spoke proudly of you and William,” Ria said. “He believed his own life had fallen far short. He wanted to be worthy of your love and admiration.”
“He always had my love,” Geoffrey pointed out.
“But not your admiration.”
Geoffrey did not answer. Ria’s point was true enough, although there were qualities in Edward that Geoffrey might have wished he had in stronger measure.
“He wanted to prove that he could be successful on his own merits, without help from the family,” Ria said. “He wanted to make you proud.”
“Well, it was an insanely foolish way to go about it,” Geoffrey said. “He would have made me much more proud if he had—”
“Please.” Ria took both his hands in hers. “Let us not quarrel about the past. We cannot change it.”
Her eyes searched his, her face open and appealing, and any further words of recrimination died in Geoffrey’s throat. Perhaps she was teaching him about forgiveness. The silence lengthened, broken only by a soft rustle of leaves in the trees overhead. Geoffrey sighed. “You are right. And I must apologize to you for speaking in anger yesterday.”
She smiled. A cool breeze moved across the Serpentine and teased a stray curl of hair at her neck. Once again Geoffrey had the same absurd notion as he had at yesterday’s meeting: that it would be hard to deny this woman anything.
He stepped back, dropping her hands, although not in anger as he had done the day before. This time he moved away because it was too difficult to think clearly when she was so close.
An Heiress at Heart Page 9
