“Did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?” he whispered.
“Several times.”
He smiled. “Then I have not done it enough.”
Since she had first met him, he had done nothing but compliment and encourage her. She would not have put much stock by the compliments of other men, but he was different. Elizabeth knew that he meant every word. As she sat there by his side, her heart began to swell painfully from all the tenderness she felt for him. It was at that precise moment that she began to regret ever having agreed to enter into this arrangement.
It has put me in a most a difficult position. Had I known of his character beforehand, I would have run in the opposite direction! How was I to possibly know that men such as him existed? All the men that Mama entertained in our home or those that I met elsewhere have been dull fools with no single thought between them other than the norm. I must guard my heart, or he will leave me broken-hearted while he rides off into the sunset with Diana.
Elizabeth had never experienced a broken heart before, but judging by her mother's experience, it was not something she would ever want to go through. The problem was, how was she going to keep herself from falling in love with him?
Chapter 10
The men and women separated after the concerto with the women moving to the parlour and the men remaining in the drawing room. Elizabeth did not want to leave Anthony, but she did not have much of a choice. Cecilia, who had been engrossed in conversations with the other women of the dinner party, came rushing towards her, face alight with glee.
“Eliza! This dinner is splendid. I am so glad that you convinced me to come.”
“I do not remember any convincing on my part, Ceci. I could not have stopped you for all the world.”
Cecilia rolled her eyes. “Never mind that, just come along – Beatrice is saving a spot for us.”
“Beatrice?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
Yes, a big problem. Beatrice had been one of the women who had attempted to 'put her in her place' at the opera, openly showing her dislike of Elizabeth. Why would she keep a place for her? Elizabeth believed she knew the answer. This would be Beatrice's opportunity to attack her without Anthony or Felton nearby.
“Nothing for you to worry about. Come, let us find our seats.”
They entered the parlour arm in arm, Elizabeth feeling the tension in the room as soon as her foot crossed the threshold. Cecilia obviously did not sense a thing because she was all smiles heading straight to Beatrice who was sitting with Catherine.
Let the snide comments begin.
“Elizabeth! Cecilia!” Beatrice called. “Come, sit. We have saved you two spots beside us.”
I would much rather have lunch with the devil, but there you go, thought Elizabeth, painting on a smile, hoping it did not look like a grimace. She noted that she and Cecilia were the last people to sit down, so all eyes were on them.
“We were just talking about you, Elizabeth,” said Catherine. “About you and Anthony.”
“Oh? I did not think that we were much of a topic to talk about.”
Beatrice laughed. “Well, this is our Anthony. Whatever he does is of concern to us.”
“You are wonderful friends to want to take care of him in such a way.”
She hoped that they could hear the sarcasm in her words. Cecilia did because she shot her a warning look.
Do not despair, sister dear, I shall not shame you. But I shall put them in their places.
"Oh yes," added Catherine. "We are most protective of him. Of course, with Diana, we never had to worry because we knew her well enough already having all grown up together. Do you know Miss Diana Lambert, Elizabeth? She is the daughter of a well-known man – the Viscount of Somersby. You must have heard about her – she is Anthony's great love. Oh, excuse me – was his great love. I keep on forgetting that you have replaced her."
She heard her sister suck in her breath, but Elizabeth made no outward action of showing her anger. If she were to do that, then they would have won.
“She could not have been such a great love if she ran away from him. You do not humiliate the one you profess to love.”
Beatrice and Catherine exchanged a look, their eyebrows raised. Yes, Elizabeth did have a sharp tongue. Beatrice shifted in her chair before speaking, almost as though she were preparing for battle.
“They have known each other for quite some time. Six years, I believe.”
Oh, so they were ignoring Anthony's rejection, and here Elizabeth thought they were all such good friends.
“Then I suppose she knew what she was doing when she humiliated him in front of you all.”
The room filled with low-pitched murmurs, but Beatrice and Catherine said nothing. They merely stared at her with cold eyes and false smiles.
“That was misunderstanding,” Catherine finally said.
“A misunderstanding that took her all the way to Paris? I think not.”
“Do you know what I find amusing, Beatrice?” Catherine asked.
“Yes?”
“When people have opinions above their station. There are reasons as to why there are different social classes. Do you know what they are, Elizabeth?”
“No, but I do believe that you will inform me.”
Catherine smiled. “Well, it is quite simple really. It is so that we are not soiled by the stench of the lower classes.”
Cecilia suddenly stood up, but Elizabeth took her hand and shook her head. “Sit down, Ceci. We are not done here.”
“But, Eliza –”
“I understand.”
Elizabeth saw the hurt in her sister's eyes. Never before had they been so insulted, and Cecilia did not know how to handle it. Well, Elizabeth did, and it did not involve running away. Cecilia sat down, but stiffly so. Elizabeth made a point to look at her, shaking her head slightly. She hoped that her sister understood what she was trying to say. Cecilia nodded, her eyes a little misty. When Elizabeth saw the hint of tears in her sister's eyes, it made her angrier. A deathly calm came over her as she turned to look at the two women who had upset her sister. It did not matter that they had been beyond nasty, but it did matter that Cecilia was tearful.
No one upsets my sister and gets away with it.
"The problem with the so-called upper social classes is that they tend to have an opinion of themselves that is neither accurate nor true. It is amusing how they choose – the operative word being choose – to look down upon others, and yet they are the ones to be pitied. Not all of them are alike – Anthony and Felton are excellent examples of men who are worthy of respect." She smiled. "The others... not so much. Come, Cecilia, it is time that we were going."
Elizabeth stood up and held her hand out to her sister, who readily took it. Both Catherine and Beatrice looked ready to argue when their eyes widened as they looked behind her.
“Oh, Anthony!” Catherine exclaimed. “Did you hear what this woman said to us?”
Anthony was here? Elizabeth felt too nervous to turn around, not certain of how much of the conversation he had heard.
“I heard everything, and I must admit that I am disgusted and shocked.”
Elizabeth's shoulders sagged. Anthony was a wonderful man, but he was still a social class above her. It would be natural for him to take the side of those he knew better. A quick glance at Catherine and Beatrice showed her their smug expressions. They were obviously certain that he had taken their part. She did not think that she could take his disapproval.
“Come, Cecilia, it is time to go home.”
"Yes, run along home to where you belong," said Beatrice. "Your kind is not welcome here."
Elizabeth tugged on her sister's hand and looked down as she exited the room, but when a male arm barred her way at the door, she stopped.
“Let us pass, please.”
“No, not until I have had my say,” Anthony replied.
“You have said enough, Lord Cavendish. Please, let us pass, we wish
to return to our residence.”
“Let them pass, Anthony,” Beatrice urged. “Let us not prolong their humiliation.”
“As I was humiliated, you mean?” he asked.
Elizabeth's head shot up. Anthony gave her a side smile before turning a stony gaze on the women behind her. Relief flooded her body.
“Uh, that is not what I meant, Anthony – surely you know that?”
“I do not know, Beatrice. You sounded quite clear just now.”
“Anthony, darling, this is not about us,” argued Catherine. “You can hardly blame us for defending ourselves from this woman. Did you hear what she said to us?”
He nodded. “I did, and I agree with her.”
A collective gasp sounded behind her. Cecilia was quite brave as Elizabeth watched her turn around and look at the women. Elizabeth would not do it for fear of her own reaction upon seeing their faces.
“You cannot mean that –”
"I do, Catherine," he said. "I heard what you and Beatrice said to her. Elizabeth was only defending herself. Surely it is not a crime to defend yourself?”
“You do not understand –”
"Oh, I understand perfectly, Beatrice. What was it that you were talking about? Oh yes, social classes. Let me tell you something, ladies. Elizabeth is the most beautiful, talented, intelligent and honest woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. That is why I have chosen to court her. Diana made me a fool before all of you, and you said not a word. Not a word. In fact, you all had a laugh at my expense."
Elizabeth could hear the pain in his voice, and her heart went out to him. Without thinking, she put her hand in his.
“You do not have to say anything further, Anthony. They are not worth it.”
Anthony looked deep into her eyes, and brought her hand to his lips, bringing colour to her cheeks. Such a public display of affection was hardly proper, but nothing in the world could make her look away from his sea-green eyes.
“But you are worth it, Elizabeth. You are worth a thousand of these women. But let us not waste any more of our time here. You and your sister are welcome in the drawing room if you can handle the chatter of men.”
“We would be delighted.”
“Wonderful.”
He linked arms with Elizabeth and her sister on either side of him and escorted them to the drawing room. There was silence behind them, indicating the shocked state of the women.
“You spoke beautifully, Elizabeth,” he said. “You put those women right in their places.”
“As did you. You did not have to stand up for me, Anthony.”
“But I am most glad that he did, Eliza,” said Cecilia. “You should accept that Lord Cavendish came to our rescue this evening – he was our very own knight in shining armour.”
Anthony laughed, a lovely rumbling sound that vibrated throughout her body. “I am not sure about being a knight, but perhaps your champion.”
“What prompted you to come to the parlour?” Elizabeth asked.
“Instinct, I suppose. I sensed that you were in trouble, and I came.”
“Ooh,” exclaimed Cecilia. “I have heard about this before. When a couple truly love each other, they can sense when the other is in danger. You must care for our Eliza quite a bit, Lord Cavendish.”
"Ceci!" she warned. "Do not speak such tomfoolery. We have only just started courting – do give us an opportunity to become better acquainted before you start throwing the word 'love' carelessly about."
Elizabeth was beyond embarrassed.
Perhaps he thinks that I have said something to Cecilia? What must he think of me? Suppose he believes that I have a tendre for him? But I do, and that is the problem.
“Do not scold your sister, Elizabeth,” he said. “What she has said does indeed happen to some couples. My parents were a perfect example of this theory. Whenever the other had hurt themselves somehow, the other would instinctively know something was wrong.”
“You parents must truly have been in love, Lord Cavendish.”
“Yes, Cecilia, they were. Very much so. Love like that is rare.”
Anthony's face became thoughtful. Elizabeth assumed he was thinking about Diana, for she was never far from his mind. She hoped that Diane realised what a good man he was and that she would come back and make him happy.
*
Anthony's mind was a place of confusion. Overhearing Beatrice and Catherine speak those vile words to Elizabeth had made him see red. The rage that had exploded within him had only been reined-in by his thoughts of her, what she may be feeling. More than anything, Anthony felt guilty, because he knew he was the cause of it. Those women were jealous, jealous that he had dared to go out of their social class and find another woman unlike them. It was a significant blow to their pride, and she was suffering for it. When she had stood up for herself, his heart had swelled with pride. Elizabeth had not needed him to help her, but he could not stand by and watch her be humiliated.
I may have made things worse for her. Who knows what those women are likely to say or do now? They are not above seeking revenge, and that worries me.
Bringing Elizabeth and Cecilia into the drawing room was not exactly the proper thing to do, but even Felton had seen reason. In fact, he had been the one to encourage him to bring them back. The men would just have to rein-in their tongues for a while until the women were ready to go. As soon as they entered the drawing room, Felton came towards them and linked arms with Cecilia, guiding her to a chair. Philip, one of their good friends, was the first to comment favourably on their presence.
“Two roses amongst the thorns. Thank you for giving this dreary bunch some colour. I was growing weary trying to keep the conversation going.”
“Then it is our pleasure, gentlemen,” said Elizabeth. “Although I do hope that we are not intruding in any way. Lord Cavendish insisted that we accompany him here. It appears that going home is not yet on the cards.”
Anthony could have never let them go home until he knew that Elizabeth was fine, that she was not terribly affected by the horrendous words spoken moments before. He could not bear to see the pain in her eyes.
“The night is young, why return home?” Felton asked. “Unless you do not enjoy my hospitality?”
Anthony knew that his friend was merely teasing, but Elizabeth did not know him well enough yet.
“Heavens no, Lord Nicholson. You have been a splendid host.”
“Firstly, it is Felton to you. And secondly, thank you kindly. I suppose I inherited my mother's penchant for parties.”
“I second that,” Anthony added. “I know of no other man who can throw such a lavish affair, and with no womanly help in the background. Well, except for your servants.”
Felton did an exaggerated bow, earning giggles from the women.
"Why, thank you, sir. I shall take that compliment to heart. Now, what shall we do for music, for I am sure that our musicians are far too tired to play another song?"
Anthony had seen Elizabeth's eyes travel to the pianoforte, stare at it wistfully, and then look away. He was about to suggest that she play when her sister beat him to it.
"Eliza, you play the pianoforte beautifully. Surely you can be the one to entertain us all?"
He watched Elizabeth's surprised look, followed by a quick shake of her head. “Oh no, I could not do that.”
“Why ever not, Eliza? You have been whining these past few days about not being able to play. Yet now you have the opportunity, but refuse to take it. It makes no good sense to turn this down.”
“Your sister is right, Elizabeth,” he said. “Go on, play something for us. I have been longing to hear you play.”
She sighed. “Oh, all right. Shall I play something jovial and light?”
They all agreed, and she took her place at the instrument, her back straight and her graceful hands poised above the keys. The minute her fingers touched the instrument, beautiful music flooded the room. Anthony knew talent when he saw it, but this was simply far b
eyond what he had ever encountered.
No wonder she wishes to pursue music. She is a genius.
To say that he was bowled over by her talent and skill would be putting it lightly. There were no words to describe the feeling that the music created within him. When her first piece came to an end, he was the first to stand and applaud her.
“Wonderful! Simply magnificent!”
A Courtship to Remember: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 16
