by Merry Farmer
“Until the election is over and we can go home,” he said and kissed her. “To where we belong.”
Relief, and the feeling that things would work out as they should after all, filled Elaine. She snuggled closer to Basil, resting her head on his shoulder. “In that case, I accept. I’ll pack up and leave Uncle Daniel and Aunt Abigail this afternoon. But let’s just stay here like this for a while longer.”
“Let’s stay like this forever,” Basil said, circling his arms more tightly around her.
Chapter 16
The London streets were crowded with businessmen and the working class returning from their labors by the time Elaine and Basil left Lady Stanhope’s Belgravia flat. Basil refused to let Elaine walk back to Uncle Daniel’s house or to take a cab on her own.
“There’s no time to lose,” he said, his eyes alight with mischief as they reached the house. “Let’s get inside, pack your things, and be gone.”
“Stop right there,” she said, placing both hands on his chest to stop him from leaving the carriage. “You’re not coming in with me.”
As expected, Basil balked. “I’m not letting you go in there alone.”
Elaine made an impatient noise and shook her head. “Most of the things I want to take home are already packed. I don’t plan on keeping any of these torture chambers disguised as fashion. I can get up to my room, retrieve my real clothes, and be back here within five minutes, most likely without being detected. But if you come with me, it will cause a scene.”
“I don’t care. Turpin is dangerous.”
Elaine pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “He’s my uncle. He’s not going to hurt me. Besides, he probably isn’t even home.”
“I won’t—”
She stopped him with a look, holding up a hand. “You won’t change my mind.”
Basil clenched his jaw and rubbed a hand over his face. “I swear, Elaine, you are going to drive me to an early grave.”
“I certainly hope not,” she said with a smile, scooting toward the carriage door.
“I’ll wait here,” Basil said in defeat. “But if you take too long, I’ll come in after you.”
“I won’t be but a moment.”
She kissed him one last time, then pushed open the carriage door. The cab driver helped her to step down, and she scurried up the front steps to knock on the door. She managed to send a reassuring smile over her shoulder to Basil before the butler opened up and let her in. Basil watched until she was safely inside.
Elaine was too elated to be disappointed that her uncle and aunt were home or intimidated by the uproar that her return caused.
“And just where have you been?” Aunt Abigail accosted her the moment she made it inside and removed her hat. “Certainly not walking around the park, you wicked child.”
“Good evening, Aunt Abigail,” Elaine replied with an airy smile, knowing that it would irritate her aunt to no end. “My, you’re looking lovely this evening.”
In fact, her aunt’s flabby face was splotched with color, and her dull, brown eyes were glassy with fury. “This is the final straw,” she said, voice quavering. “No well-born lady goes out without an escort. No respectable woman disappears in the middle of the day when she is required at home.”
“I went to visit a friend,” Elaine told her, carefully failing to mention which friend. As bold as she felt, she wasn’t one to go poking tigers with sticks.
“Lady Stanhope is no friend,” Aunt Abigail snapped, surprising Elaine. “You must think I am prodigiously stupid,” Aunt Abigail went on with a sly smile. “The very moment I realized you’d disappeared, I set off for the Prior house. Lady Lavinia claimed to have no knowledge of where you’d gone, but her mother and I soon wheedled it out of her.”
“That was rude of you,” Elaine said. She could only imagine what “wheedling” looked like in the hands of Aunt Abigail and Lady Prior. Poor Lavinia. Elaine was seized with the urge to go to her friend to apologize.
Aunt Abigail’s smile continued to grow as she gloated. “You should know that you are now forbidden from any intercourse with Lady Lavinia at all.”
Elaine’s blissful confidence evaporated. “That’s not fair. Lavinia is my friend.”
“Lady Lavinia is a good girl who will not be corrupted by the likes of you.” Aunt Abigail narrowed her eyes.
Elaine tilted her chin up as she marched into the front parlor. “You can’t stop me from seeing my friends if I don’t want you to.”
“Do you think so, you ignorant, country slut?”
Elaine’s jaw dropped at the name-calling, but her chest squeezed with panic at the truth of her aunt’s words. She had the terrible feeling that, in fact, Lady Prior could prevent Elaine from ever seeing or speaking to Lavinia again. Yet another thing to add to her list of reasons she hated London.
“Well, you will be happy to know that I shan’t be plaguing you with my objectionable presence for much longer,” she said, turning to face her aunt.
“You most certainly will not,” her aunt replied.
There was a coldness and calculation in her narrowed eyes that struck fear into Elaine’s heart. She did her best to ignore it, the way she ignored everything she didn’t like, but unlike the slights of Brynthwaite folk or the inconvenient truths of her failure to fit in with the world, her aunt’s calculating expression was sinister.
All the same, Elaine charged on. “I’m going back to Brynthwaite,” she said. “As soon as possible. I plan to pack my bags and leave tonight.”
“And how do you propose to get there?” The question came not from Aunt Abigail, but from Uncle Daniel, who strode into the room, dressed in his smart evening clothes, ready for supper.
An anxious shudder went through Elaine. Something wasn’t right about the benign way her uncle studied her as he came to stand by his wife’s side. Elaine’s determination not to be intimidated started to slip. She cleared her throat and tried not to fidget. “Basil and I are going home.” It didn’t come out with nearly the strength she wanted it to.
“Basil?” Aunt Abigail’s brow shot up so fast and so high Elaine thought she might fall over. “As in Lord Waltham?”
“Yes,” Elaine answered, wishing she didn’t feel like everything was about to fall apart. “We’re in love, and we’re going to go back to Brynthwaite to build a life together.”
“This is….” Aunt Abigail shook, her face going bright red. “You can’t…leave with him. Not without being married.”
“It hardly matters as this point, does it?” Elaine shrugged.
“Hardly matters?” Aunt Abigail squeaked the words out, but was unable to say more. She burst into a wordless shout of distress, sinking into the chair beside her. “The scandal will ruin us,” she managed at last, bursting into tears.
Elaine pursed her lips, feeling as though her aunt was overreacting. “I don’t see why anyone should care what Basil and I do, particularly since we plan to do it three hundred miles away in Brynthwaite.”
Aunt Abigail stared at her as though Elaine had just defecated at her feet. “Not care? You ridiculous strumpet, the man is an earl. Of course people will care.”
Elaine huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, they shouldn’t.”
“Indeed, they shouldn’t,” Uncle Daniel echoed. Elaine sent him a wary, sideways glance, but he went on, sliding closer to her. “Have I told you how much I admire your independence of spirit, my dear?”
Prickles broke out down Elaine’s back. “No, you haven’t, uncle.”
“Well, I do.” His smile was as false as a painted puppet, but it stayed firmly in place as he placed a hand on Elaine’s arm and attempted to steer her toward the sofa. “I’ve come to admire you very much.”
Reluctantly, she let herself be maneuvered into sitting. Aunt Abigail stared at both her and Uncle Daniel as though the world had been turned upside down. The urge to run welled up in Elaine’s gut.
“I think you’re a very clever girl for winning the heart of a man as important and well-posi
tioned as Lord Waltham,” Uncle Daniel went on. “He has a great deal of influence in political matters, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Elaine said, hoping she wasn’t playing into whatever trick her uncle had up his sleeve.
“Which means that you could have a great deal of political influence yourself by extension,” Uncle Daniel went on.
Elaine caught her breath. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Well, you should.” Uncle Daniel nodded. “The Countess of Waltham would be hailed as a powerful political force. He does plan on marrying you, doesn’t he?” There was a gleam in his eye that suggested he didn’t believe for a moment that Basil would marry her. “Especially since you received this while you were out.”
He gestured to the butler, who hovered just on the other side of the doorway to the hall. The frighteningly stiff man nodded, disappeared around the corner, then returned with a silver salver moments later. The salver bore a single envelope, which he presented to Elaine. She took it, turning it over. The seal had been broken, but the fact that it had an old-fashioned and elaborate seal to begin with snagged her attention. Especially since the seal in question was in the shape of a rose.
“What in heaven’s name?”
She lifted the envelope’s flap and drew out a folded invitation. It from Lady Royston on behalf of the May Flowers. She scanned it quickly, fighting off disbelief. But the invitation was right there, in fine, neat handwriting. She, Elaine Bond, had been invited to an afternoon of music, lectures, and conversation at Spencer House that would be attended by the queen herself. Tomorrow. The invitation even specified that the May Flowers were intrigued by the Artistic Dress movement, and Elaine was requested to wear her artistic clothing, and that she might be called on to speak about it. And at the very bottom of the invitation was the single word, “lisianthus.” Lady Royston had informed her which bloom the May Flowers would be wearing to the event. The paper in her hands was an invitation in more ways than one.
“The queen,” Elaine said, her voice barely more than a whisper due to her surprise. “I didn’t think she attended social events with normal people.”
“Oh, she does, she does,” her uncle insisted, leaning toward her. “And it is an incredible honor to be invited to anything hosted by the May Flowers.” His eyes gleamed with cunning, as though he had plans to use her acceptance to his advantage.
Elaine tried to stay on her toes so that she could foil whatever he was plotting. She scanned the invitation once more. “But why would Lady Royston invite me into her group like this when I’ve only been in London for such a short time?”
“As I said, you’ve made quite a name for yourself here in London society,” Uncle Daniel said.
“And what sort of a name is it?” Aunt Abigail fretted.
Uncle Daniel sent her a quelling look, then turned back to Elaine. “Of course, if you’re intent on returning home to your precious Cumbria,” he said, shrugging. “I suppose you could send the May Flowers and the queen your regrets.” He plucked the invitation from her hands and stood. “Wilson,” he said, crossing the room to where his butler had retreated.
“Wait.” Elaine stood, holding out a hand to her uncle. She pressed her lips together and huffed through her nose. Nothing about the situation felt right. Perhaps Lady Royston and Lady Tavistock approved of her, but far more of the May Flowers didn’t, she was sure. And she still wasn’t convinced the queen socialized with London society without a distinct reason. And yet, if there was even a chance that the invitation was a sign of genuine acceptance….
“Yes, my dear?” Her uncle put on an expression that was far too innocent to be genuine.
Elaine gritted her teeth over the conundrum in front of her. Uncle Daniel might not have sent the invitation or had anything to do with it, but he most certainly saw a way he could use it for his own devices. But what exactly were those devices? Surely he had caught on to the fact that she was on Basil’s side, not his. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she would speak on his behalf to the May Flowers. Why was he so pleased for her? If she were sensible, she would ignore everything he said and march out the front door and back into the carriage with Basil.
Basil. A light of hope sparked in her chest.
“I have to speak to Basil about this. He’s waiting outside in a carriage for me.” She started toward the door.
Uncle Daniel sidestepped into her path, blocking her. “There isn’t time, my dear,” he said. “We have been invited to supper at Lord Prior’s house.”
“We have?” Aunt Abigail gasped, sitting straighter. “After what Ursula said this afternoon?”
“I had a little word with Lord Prior,” Uncle Daniel went on with a frown for his wife and a smooth grin for Elaine. “This whole misunderstanding should not keep you apart from your dearest friend.”
Elaine clenched her hands into fists at her sides. She was being maneuvered as surely as if she were a chess piece. Her uncle had some sort of ulterior motive for everything he did, and he was clearly trying to keep her from speaking to Basil. And yet, she had the distinct impression that her uncle was also dangling Lavinia in front of her as a bribe. She was no fool. The message was clear. Play her uncle’s game and she could continue to be friends with Lavinia. Cross him and she would be kept apart from Lavinia in every way that her Aunt Abigail and Lady Prior could devise. But could she really sacrifice Basil to maintain a friendship that had only begun a week or so ago?
She let out a breath, her head aching. The real question might as well have been how much did she trust Basil? If she bowed to her uncle’s wishes for one night, would he understand? And would he be able to set things right if she made the wrong move? Basil was a grown, experienced man and could take care of himself and her, but Lavinia was at the mercy of whatever machinations her mother and father and Uncle Daniel subjected her to.
“All right,” she said, praying that she was clever enough to navigate the stormy waters she’d been thrown into. “If you say we are expected at supper immediately, so immediately that I cannot have one word with Lord Waltham, who is waiting mere yards outside your front door, then I will accept that.”
“I knew you’d see things the right way,” Uncle Daniel grinned, rather like a wolf about to pounce into a sheepfold.
“But,” Elaine went on, raising her voice. “I insist you let me pen a quick letter to Basil apprising him of the situation.”
She braced herself, ready to argue until she got her way, but Uncle Daniel smiled and nodded. “Of course. You may use my stationary, right through here in my office.” He stepped to the side, gesturing for Elaine to follow him. “And I’ll deliver your letter personally, straight into Lord Waltham’s hands.”
Elaine hesitated, clenching the tight folds of her skirts. She was walking into a trap, she knew it. But too many things were at stake, too many possibilities loomed before her, to abandon all hope of seeing Lavinia again, or foregoing even the ghost of a chance of speaking before the queen. She knew there was a fair chance she would regret everything she was about to do, but there didn’t seem to be a better choice. She followed her uncle through the hall to his office.
Basil worried from the moment the door closed behind Elaine that he’d made a mistake in letting her go into Turpin’s house alone. Those worries continued to grow with each minute that ticked by, until they were so huge he couldn’t sit still. He wriggled against the cab’s shabby seat, inching forward as he decided to leap from the carriage to bang on Turpin’s door, only to sink back, determined to trust Elaine to come back to him. She’d come all the way to London to be with him, and he had full confidence that she would move heaven and earth to leave London as quickly as possible to be with him again.
But time passed and she didn’t come. Turpin’s carriage pulled up behind his and waited, which made him that much more uneasy.
“Bugger it,” he muttered at last, shifting toward the cab’s door.
His feet had barely touched the pavement when Turpin’s fron
t door opened and the man himself stepped out. He noticed Basil instantly, but didn’t seem at all surprised. Elaine exited the house with her Abigail Turpin a moment later, only she marched straight toward Turpin’s carriage, not his. Dread filled Basil’s gut.
“Elaine,” he called launching out of the carriage, ready to rescue her if he had to.
She met his eyes with fierce determination. “It’s all right, Basil. Read my letter,” she said before her aunt pushed her on and into Turpin’s carriage.
“Your what?” He tried to go after her, but Turpin blocked his path. Basil glared at him. “I swear, if you’ve harmed her in any way, I’ll have your hide,” he said.
“Your beloved is perfectly well,” Turpin said, his smile downright obscene. “She has this for you.” He presented Basil with an unsealed envelope.
Basil snatched it from his hand, the feeling of danger growing. He glanced to the carriage, debating throwing caution to the wind and tearing the vehicle apart to get to Elaine, then studied Turpin with narrowed eyes, certain that the man was celebrating some sort of victory. He didn’t dare to imagine what that could be.
The letter grabbed his full attention, though. “Dearest Basil,” it read. “I don’t know what game is being played around me, but I’ve received an invitation from the May Flowers to an event tomorrow at Spencer House which will be attended by Queen Victoria herself. The invitation hinted that I might be asked to speak about the Artistic Dress movement. I don’t know what to make of the invitation, but if there is any chance that it is genuine and that the May Flowers wish to accept me into their fold, I have to take it. Lady Royston herself penned the invitation.”
A knot formed in Basil’s gut. Elizabeth wasn’t a social viper, like so many other society women. But the idea of her and Elaine being friends didn’t sit easy with him.
“Additionally,” Elaine’s letter went on, “my dear friend, Lady Lavinia, is being held for a sort of ransom in this whole matter. I have been threatened with the possibility of never seeing her again if I don’t play along with my uncle’s plans tonight. I don’t know what to do other than to attend supper at Lord Prior’s house this evening and this event with the queen tomorrow. But be ready to whisk me away immediately following the event. I will be more than ready to go. Your most darling one, Elaine.”
