Kit and Elizabeth

by Tuft, Karen

  “And how is your brother, Phillip, these days?” the duke asked, turning his attention to Kit.

  “Phillip? Well enough, I suppose,” Kit said. “He’s practicing law in Lincoln, but, then, you probably already know that. I expect to see him at the christening of Halford and Lady Halford’s baby when that blessed event occurs.”

  “Ah, yes; a blessed event indeed. Well, I see Castlereagh is here and is beckoning to me for some infernal reason. The man simply cannot separate business from pleasure, I’m afraid. I will leave you, Lady Elizabeth, knowing you are in good hands.”

  “Thank you, Duke, and thank you so much for your kind words,” Elizabeth said with feeling.

  “I am at your service.” He smiled and bowed before sauntering off.

  Kit said nothing, so Elizabeth simply sipped her drink and watched the other guests mingle and converse with one another.

  “Why would he ask about Phillip? He hardly knows him,” Kit finally muttered.

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, feeling a bit cross.

  It felt rather good to feel cross, she thought, which, admittedly, was something of a contradiction. Elizabeth couldn’t remember the last time she had actually felt cross. It had felt good to have the Duke of Aylesham flirt with her. It had felt good to hear heavenly sounding music. It felt good to dress in a lovely gown and be out amongst others and not squirreled away at Marwood Manor.

  She liked all of it. And except for the change in Kit’s mood, she was enjoying herself.

  She also realized that whatever it was that was bothering him, now was not the time to ask him about it. She would allow him to have his bad mood and not let it encroach upon the good humor she herself was feeling. It was a strangely insightful thought: that his bad mood was not her responsibility. She had always felt responsible for her parents’ foul moods.

  At any rate, she and Kit were good enough friends that she could speak with him about it later.

  In the meantime, she had new things to add to the list in her notebook.

  ***

  Kit knocked on the roof of the carriage, giving the coachman the command to proceed. The musicale had come to an end, and he was ready to be done with the entire evening. To Elizabeth’s credit, after speaking to the duke, she had seemed more energized and had quietly made her way through the crowds to greet and converse with a few of her acquaintances rather than passively wait for them to approach her.

  Although some people had been coolly polite, others had been warm and welcoming—which had been what they all had hoped would happen. And several gentlemen, including Aylesham’s crony, Viscount Whitley, and that rake the Earl of Cosgrove had managed to ingratiate themselves with her.

  Kit wanted to go home, tear off his strangling neckcloth, and pour himself a stiff glass of brandy.

  “What a night this turned out to be!” Lady Walmsley exclaimed as the carriage rumbled along. “Such heavenly music. And you, my dear! You were a smashing success!”

  “People were very kind,” Elizabeth said. “Calling it a ‘smashing success’ is a bit generous, I think.”

  “Well, perhaps a few people kept themselves conveniently occupied with others, even if the Duke of Aylesham—the Duke of Aylesham, my dear!—conversed with you. I imagine they wanted to see if others would follow his lead before doing so themselves. Well, those who are your true friends showed the others, now, didn’t they?”

  “The duke was indeed very gracious. I am grateful to him.”

  “His mother was a close friend of Lady Bledsoe, you know,” Kit said and then wished his words back again.

  “What are you implying, Cantwell? That Lady Bledsoe would have asked Aylesham to make a show of accepting our Elizabeth?” Lady Walmsley asked him in a voice that crescendoed the longer she spoke.

  “Only that—” Kit had no idea what he could say that would dig himself out of the hole into which he’d just put himself.

  “I can assure you that Lady Bledsoe would never do such a thing,” she said. “In the first place, no one tells the Duke of Aylesham to do anything. He does as he pleases.”

  Kit had never seen Lady Walmsley agitated like this before. “I only meant that—”

  “He makes people shrivel on a regular basis with that studied glare he’s perfected,” she continued. “He probably keeps a daily tally of those who shrivel, just to make sure his skills stay honed. I can assure you, Cantwell, no one, not even his mother’s bosom friend, would dare tell him to do anything.”

  “Are we speaking of the same person?” Kit said, feeling a bit defensive, although he had seen Aylesham make people shrivel before. “I have never felt the need to grovel to Aylesham, nor has he ever made me shrivel; he’s always been completely amiable, if a bit aloof. I was merely saying—”

  “I know what you were trying to say—that he would not have spoken to our lovely Elizabeth tonight had he not been put up to it by Lady Bledsoe, and I am stating emphatically that she would not have done such a thing.” Lady Walmsley huffed loudly and then patted Elizabeth’s hand repeatedly.

  Kit realized that Elizabeth’s head was down, her face mostly shielded from his view by her bonnet, and she was biting her lower lip. He hadn’t meant to make Elizabeth feel bad. But when Aylesham and then Cosgrove, of all people . . .

  “The duke spoke to you out of his own free will, my dear, and Society will follow his lead,” Lady Walmsley added emphatically.

  “I was merely—” Kit attempted again.

  “I am quite put out with you, Lord Cantwell!” Lady Walmsley exclaimed. “I expect you to make up for your lack of manners to Lady Elizabeth. It is too late tonight for you to do so properly, however, so we will expect you to call tomorrow afternoon to pay your respects and make amends.”

  “Certainly, my lady,” Kit said as meekly as possible.

  The remainder of the carriage ride was silent. Elizabeth continued averting her gaze from him and biting her lower lip. Lady Walmsley sat rigidly, glaring at him with her arms crossed.

  That brandy was sounding better and better by the minute.

  Chapter 13

  Elizabeth awoke much earlier the next morning than she’d thought she would, considering how late they’d stayed at Lady Bledsoe’s musicale. Not only that, but she awoke feeling refreshed and liberated. The world hadn’t come crashing down around her feet. The people she had chatted with after the violinist’s performance had been agreeable. Most of those who had chosen not to speak to her at least hadn’t given her the cut direct.

  She stretched her arms and yawned before rolling to the side of her bed and sliding her legs off the edge.

  The part of the evening that had caught her by surprise had been the attention she’d received from some of the eligible gentlemen present. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised. Despite the ignominy with which her father had left the country before his death, he had still been a duke, and that undoubtedly carried weight with some of the gentlemen. Lord Cosgrove, for example—Lady Elizabeth knew he had a rather unsavory reputation. Whatever the gentlemen’s motives, it had felt good to have them pay her court. She’d never experienced it before.

  Not even with Alex. Alex had been dutiful.

  She’d had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as they’d ridden home last evening, after Kit had gotten indignant about the Duke of Aylesham. Lady Walmsley had been so upset with him! And he’d only made the situation worse for himself every time he’d opened his mouth.

  Lady Bledsoe could have easily asked the duke to be genial with her, even if only for the sake of her other guests; Elizabeth wouldn’t have been surprised at all. A hostess didn’t want extra problems while entertaining, and it had been kind of her to include Elizabeth in the invitation in the first place. Elizabeth wouldn’t hold it against the duke, even if Lady Bledsoe had encouraged him, although she suspected that Lady Walmsley had also bee
n correct—that no one told the duke what to do without experiencing the shriveling glare of his gaze.

  Last night had lifted her heart and given her more hope than she’d had in a long time.

  Sally wouldn’t expect her to be awake so early, and Elizabeth hated to bother her, so she slipped into a dressing gown and sat at the writing desk in her room and then picked up her notebook and pencil. She could dress and break her fast later. Right now, she wanted to reflect further on last night and add to her lists.

  Violin music, especially when performed by a virtuoso.

  Mozart.

  Flattering words from attractive gentlemen.

  Lemonade.

  Cool night air.

  Freedom.

  Some time later, Sally entered the room, bearing a tray of hot chocolate and toast. “Oh, my lady! You should have rung for me. I didn’t know you would be awake so early, or I would have come right away.”

  Elizabeth closed her notebook and set it and the pencil aside. “Not to worry, Sally; neither did I. But I am feeling energized this morning. Thank you for the chocolate. It smells delicious.”

  Sally poured a cup of steaming chocolate for Elizabeth and placed it on the corner of the desk, along with a small plate of toast. Elizabeth picked up the cup and saucer and held it to her nose, breathing in its wonderful, warm aroma.

  Hot chocolate.

  She set the cup down and reopened her notebook to add it. She also added Sally’s name. She liked Sally a great deal.

  “Sally,” she said, “you know that as the personal maid to a member of the nobility, you deserve to be referred to by others referred to. What is your surname?”

  “Sterling, my lady,” Sally replied.

  “Sterling. How lovely and dignified that is! Sally Sterling!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I shall inform Lady Walmsley’s staff that they are to refer to you now as Miss Sterling. I want you treated with respect. It will also sound much grander when you show your wares to the modistes in Town. I shall be proud but sad on the day you leave me for one of them.”

  Sally—Miss Sterling, that was—clutched her hands to her breast. “Oh, my lady! Thank you! It’s already such an honor to serve you, and I’m so grateful that you allowed me to come with you to London, and now this! Oh my goodness, what would my parents think?”

  “I hope they will be pleased. I should have thought of it sooner.” And she should have, Elizabeth thought as she took a bite of toast. It was badly done of her. “Well, Miss Sterling—”

  “Oh, my lady, pardon me for interrupting, but you must still call me Sally. I don’t think I should like for you to call me Miss Sterling—at least when we’re alone like this.”

  “I would like nothing better. Thank you.” Elizabeth liked what Sally said. Referring to her maid by her Christian name rather than her surname, as though they were friends would also go into her notebook. Her father would never have countenanced the idea of a servant also being a friend. It was a wholly egalitarian attitude, especially for the daughter of a duke.

  It was an idea that deserved more thought.

  “Sally,” she began again. “I discovered that I enjoyed walking the grounds of Marwood Manor and have not had the opportunity for a good walk since arriving in London. I think I should enjoy going for a walk this morning. A nice stroll through Hyde Park would be just the thing, but I suspect Lady Walmsley will sleep soundly for a while yet, and I need a companion, for respectability’s sake. Can I count on you to join me?”

  “Gladly, my lady.”

  “I think my blue day dress would suit.”

  “It would, indeed, my lady. Excellent choice.”

  There. It was settled, Elizabeth thought. She was going to venture out into Town on her own for the very first time.

  It was silly to think that a grown woman could feel nervous at the idea of walking in a public park with only a maid as escort. Ladies did it every day. But she never had. And then, of course, there was what her father had done to Amelia. Bad things could happen. And so she couldn’t help that as she ate her toast and finished the last of her chocolate, she had a difficult time keeping her cup from rattling in its saucer from the tremor in her hands, despite feeling quite proud of herself that she had decided to do this.

  ***

  The cream of the ton tended to gather at Hyde Park in the late afternoon, and while Elizabeth had felt more sure of herself after last night’s musicale, she hadn’t felt so bold as to set off to the park during that particular time of day. In the morning, she expected there would be nursemaids shepherding children, with the occasional person looking for a moment of respite from the daily routine. It seemed the perfect time to push herself further. When she and Sally reached the gate, Elizabeth took a deep breath and strode into the park.

  Oh, but it felt wonderful to be in a world of green again! She nodded to strangers who strolled past her and who were also out enjoying the scenery and the summer weather this morning.

  As she neared the Serpentine, she could see a small group of children feeding the ducks and a couple of young boys racing their toy boats near the banks, all being watched over carefully by vigilante nursemaids. The children laughed and squealed at the ducks, and one little girl with ringlets shrieked and ran when one particularly quarrelsome drake started after her, squawking and flapping his wings. One of the boys shouted that he’d won the boat race, and demanded they race again.

  Bread for ducks! She wished she’d thought to bring bread to share with the ducks. She’d never fed ducks before and thought she might like it.

  No, you may not go to the barn to see the kittens. Those animals catch mice, for heaven’s sake, and I won’t have you tramping about in all that mud and hay. The daughter of a duke does not get dirty.

  She decided not to wait for another opportunity to present itself.

  “Good morning,” she called as she walked toward the nursemaid attending to the children with the ducks. The maid curtsied when she saw Elizabeth. “I hope you will pardon my interruption, but I wonder if you would be willing to share your bread. I would dearly like to have a small piece so that I may feed the ducks as the children are doing. I didn’t think to bring any for myself.” It was selfish of her, she knew, to ask for some of the bread they were using, but she couldn’t resist trying.

  “Certainly, my lady,” the nursemaid said, curtseying again, her mobcap fluttering. The children all stopped what they were doing and stared at Elizabeth.

  “I hope you will allow me to join in your fun,” she said to the children. “Perhaps you will show me the best way to feed these hungry ducks. Can you do that for me?”

  “There’s nothing hard about feeding ducks,” one boy said, looking at her as if she were feebleminded. “You break the bread into bits and then you toss it at them.”

  A couple of the girls giggled.

  “Master Oliver,” the nursemaid whispered. “You mustn’t speak to a lady of quality that way.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Elizabeth assured the maid. “But you see, Master Oliver, I have never fed ducks before. Will they snap at my hands?”

  “Not if you’re careful,” Oliver said. “You just throw it at them if you don’t want to get bit.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth answered seriously, trying not to smile.

  “Sometimes the nice ones will take it from your hands, but that can be tricky,” he added.

  “That is good advice, sir,” she said. “Perhaps I shall only throw the bread crumbs to them this time.”

  The nursemaid gave her a generous piece of the loaf she was holding, and Elizabeth broke her portion in half and then handed one of the halves to Sally.

  “Oh, no, my lady,” Sally said and tried to hand the bread back.

  “But I would like it so much if you would join me with the children,” Elizabeth replied. “The more the merrier, as they say.”


  “Very well, then. Thank you, my lady.”

  Elizabeth tore part of her portion into little pieces, crouched near the children, and flung the pieces out to the ducks. Sally stood nearby, doing the same.

  “That one over there is the mean one,” the little girl with ringlets said to Elizabeth, pointing to the duck that had chased her.

  “Perhaps he’s merely hungry and impatient,” Elizabeth said. She broke off a bigger piece of bread than she’d been doing and tossed it directly to the drake, who immediately dove at it and gobbled it up. “There, you see? He’s a hungry rascal.”

  “Maybe.” The girl thought about it for a minute. “But I think I like that little one over there better. It doesn’t want to chase me.” She hopped over to where the smaller duck was and began to feed it. “See, my lady,” she crowed. “This one likes me!”

  “Indeed, it does,” Elizabeth said. She tossed the remaining bits of bread she was holding toward the largest group of ducks and brushed the crumbs from her gloved hands. “Master Oliver, I thank you for your instruction on the finer points of feeding ducks.”

  “Bow to the lady, Master Oliver,” the nursemaid said, prompting him to remember his manners.

  He bowed deeply and ran over to watch the latest race between the toy boats.

  “And see you don’t get wet!” the nursemaid called after him.

  Elizabeth laughed, feeling thoroughly entertained. “Thank you for allowing me this short time with the children. It was a special treat for me.”

  She left them and began her stroll again, noticing that Sally stopped and visited with the nursemaid briefly before hurrying to catch up with her.

  “And what was that about?” Elizabeth asked casually, feeling curious.

  “She wanted to know who you were,” Sally said. “And so I told her that she’d had the privilege of conversing with Lady Elizabeth Spaulding, daughter of a duke and duchess and as fine a lady and person as she could ever hope to meet.”

  “Thank you, Sally,” Elizabeth said, blinking back tears that suddenly threatened—tears of gratitude: for ducks, for children, and for having a friend.