“Something I have you to thank for,” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” It was a rhetorical question if ever Elizabeth had heard one. “Do not act as though I am the reason for your lack of opportunities. You, Elizabeth, would never make a splash in Society. You are too plain, too unrefined. You are in the shadows not because of me but because that is where you best fit. Enjoy this evening away from your books; it is likely the last you will have. Few people will take pity on you the way Helene and Julian have.”
Mary could cut deep when she chose to, tonight piercing even Elizabeth’s fortified armor.
They were but a step from the other guests. Mary took a moment to add one more jab under her breath. “Do not monopolize Julian’s time the way you always do. It was sweet when you were ten, but you are no longer a child, and he cannot be expected to continue enduring you.”
Enduring.
Certainly Julian more than merely endured her. They were friends, good ones. Had he not vowed to help her have some enjoyment in London? Had he not taken her for a carriage ride despite the inconvenience of Mary’s company?
Still, the word seeped into her, filling the most vulnerable cracks in her heart.
But, if Elizabeth could but endure Mary, she could spend a nice evening away from home and in Julian’s company. That would be worth all of the barbs and angry glares.
“Dearest Helene,” Mary said, approaching their hostess with an overdone look of worry. “I am afraid my sister is not feeling well. She is too shy to say so herself; indeed, I fully expect her to deny the state of her health, but she is doing poorly.”
Quick as that, Mary had brought Elizabeth’s evening to an end. Mary had even circumvented any attempt Elizabeth might make to reveal the deception.
Mother jumped in, putting the final nail in the coffin. “She did feel under the weather earlier today,” she insisted. “I knew she should have remained at home.”
Helene didn’t look entirely convinced. And yet, manners didn’t allow her to contradict her guests, especially when one of the bold-faced liars was a mother speaking on behalf of a daughter who was not yet out.
Helene gave Elizabeth an unmistakably apologetic look. “I suppose there is little for it but to call up the carriage and see to it that you are returned home.”
“I suppose not.” Elizabeth was too disappointed, too frustrated, too angry to say more. She spun on her heel and marched from the room. She might be forced to leave, but she would do so alone and without the feigned attentions of uncaring family members.
She stood in the entryway for several long minutes, waiting for the carriage to be brought around. The driver had likely only just finished unhitching the team for the evening. Mary never did care who she inconvenienced.
One of the maids stepped into the entryway, buttoned in a light coat.
“Have you been commissioned to accompany me home?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, miss.” The maid offered a curtsey.
“I hope doing so does not cause you too much inconvenience.”
“No, miss.” Any well-trained servant would say as much, whether or not it was true.
“And what if it causes me too much inconvenience?” Julian asked from a few feet away. The butler handed him his outer coat.
“Are you coming along, as well?” Her heart skipped about in hope.
“No gently bred young lady should be forced to traverse London entirely unprotected.” He winked at her. “A great number of questionable areas of Town lie between here and your home, you realize.”
There weren’t any, actually.
“Why do I get the feeling you are using this as an excuse to flee a certain matrimonially minded lady?”
“Because you know me better than anyone.”
And yet, you know so little of me.
Chapter Five
Throughout the ride, Elizabeth was pale and withdrawn. Even Jane, the maid Helene had sent along for propriety’s sake, watched Elizabeth closely. Though Julian hadn’t overheard the sisters’ conversation, he knew enough of the older sister to be certain that her words hadn’t been kind.
The carriage arrived and a footman handed them all out. Julian followed in Elizabeth’s wake as she made her way up the front walk and stayed near her after she stepped inside. Jane, at the housekeeper’s invitation, went down to the kitchens for a warm posset.
Upon reaching the front entryway, Elizabeth did not quite look him in the eye. “Thank you for seeing me home,” she said quietly. “I hope the dinner is lovely.” She turned and walked up the stairs.
Watching her slow ascent— shoulders slumped, head a bit bowed— Julian ached for her. She so seldom let Mary’s unkindness affect her, but clearly it had injured her this time. He took the stairs two at a time and caught up with her in the corridor.
“Beth. Wait, please.”
She stopped but didn’t look back.
He stepped around to face her. “I’m sorry that Mary—” His words ended abruptly. Tears hovered on her lashes even as one escaped in a trickle down her cheek. “You’re crying.”
“Only a little.” She pushed out a deep breath.
He motioned for her to slip into the sitting room. He knew that Beth severely disliked showing emotions; she would be mortified if any of the staff came upon her while she was tearing up. She took the handkerchief he offered and wiped away the tears hovering at the corners of her eyes.
“Was Mary particularly vicious?” he asked.
She sighed. “She said I will never escape the shadows because I’m too inferior to belong anywhere else.”
“Did she?” What an utter termagant Mary was.
“And that I’m plain and poor company. That no one other than my books would ever wish to spend an evening with me.” She’d put on a brave face, but the slight quiver of her chin betrayed her upended emotions.
“Mary never was terribly bright.” He set a reassuring hand on her arm, watching her for any signs of recovery. That her own sister could be so cruel was heartbreaking. “Her lies are so transparent, one can only assume she realizes that were your parents to come to their senses and allow you a Season, you would cast her into a shadow from which she would likely never emerge.”
“You are saying that only to make me feel better.”
“No, Beth. Truly.” She needed to know the truth of her worth. “You are lovely, and your company and conversation would be coveted by everyone with whom you’d interact during the social whirl. You would be in demand in a way Mary never has been, and that frightens her.”
She shook her head. “You are obligated to say nice things like that; you’re practically my brother.”
Brother. That word carried a flavor he could not like. They’d always been something a bit deeper than mere friends, but brother didn’t hit the mark at all.
He reached out and took her hand. That simple, familiar touch had always carried with it a feeling of comfort and peace, almost as if he’d returned home.
“Your sister will be wondering what is keeping you,” she said. “And, as Mary pointed out, only my books are missing me. I should really get back to them.” She pulled her hand from his. “Thank you for arranging this evening, even if it didn’t work out quite as I’d hoped. The gesture meant a great deal.”
A moment later, he was alone in the sitting room. He missed her the instant she was gone. It had ever been that way with Beth. Yet, there was something more to his longing for her this time. He ached for her to return, could hardly countenance climbing back inside the lonely carriage without her.
He returned to Helene’s home every bit as lonely as he had been upon leaving Elizabeth. Dinner had been held for him, but he had no appetite for it. He merely picked at the food whilst thoughts spun and collided in his mind.
Upon the gentlemen rejoining the ladies after port, Damion launched directly into the topic foremost in Julian’s mind.
“It is a shame Miss Elizabeth could not remain this evening,” he said. �
��I was hoping to make her better acquaintance.”
I wager you were. Julian sat a little apart from the others, eyeing his friend with growing suspicion. Was Damion the real reason Elizabeth was so distraught at missing the dinner?
“Yes, a shame.” Mary’s sincerity was nonexistent.
Helene patted Damion’s arm as she passed. “We’ll have Miss Elizabeth over again sometime and will be sure to invite you as well.”
Julian did not like that idea at all. Helene sat beside him and turned her head toward him, a triumphant gleam in her eye. The rest of the room took up individual conversations.
“Is this not remarkable?” Helene said. “Damion is quite smitten with Elizabeth, I can tell.”
“How could any gentleman not be?” His compliment was likely clouded by the monumental pout he couldn’t seem to wipe from his face.
Helene apparently noticed. “Are you not happy for your friend? He and Beth got on famously.”
Julian slumped lower in his chair. “I plan to toast their happiness at the first possible opportunity,” he muttered.
“You are in a sour mood this evening.” She eyed him scoldingly. “Are you jealous?”
He sputtered. “Jealous? Of Damion?”
Helene shrugged a shoulder. “He seems happy. Perhaps you would like to be happy as well.”
“I am happy. Very happy. Deliriously happy.”
Helene’s eyebrows arched. “Your dry tone and dead eyes are truly convincing, Julian.”
He pushed out a puff of air. “I don’t even know why I am feeling so ill-tempered tonight. Although you did serve lamb this evening, and you know I prefer beef. Perhaps that is the reason for my bad mood.”
“You like lamb well enough, Julian. My menu is not to blame.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “Now that I reflect back on dinner, you weren’t glaring at your plate, but at Damion. Have the two of you come to blows over something?”
The answer that first jumped into his head was “Not yet,” but that made absolutely no sense, so when he spoke, he amended it to a simple, “No.”
Helene made a sound of pondering even as her gaze took in the rest of the guests. “It is a shame Elizabeth couldn’t stay. She is such a delight, far more so than her mother or sister.”
“It was a lie, you realize. She wasn’t actually ill.”
“Of course it was a lie. Mary cannot bear the fact that her younger sister outshines her at every turn. But what could I do?” Helene always had possessed the kindest of hearts. “We may simply have to kidnap Elizabeth and sneak her into a ball or two.”
Dancing with Beth at a ball. The idea was surprisingly pleasant, not that he’d ever thought that dancing with her would be unpleasant. He was remarkably confused.
“I have known Elizabeth and Damion for many years now,” Helene said. “I cannot believe that I didn’t realize sooner how utterly perfect they are for one another. Did you?” There was something a little too pointed in the question, as if Helene wasn’t actually asking the question she’d voiced aloud.
“I never would have put the two of them together if you hadn’t,” he said. “Why did you, by the way?”
The question appeared to surprise her. “Is there some reason why I shouldn’t have? Damion is young and unattached. He has a lovely little estate and a tidy income. And he is a fine gentleman. Elizabeth is also young and unattached. She comes from a good family with more than respectable connections. And she is a simply lovely person. How could I not encourage a match?”
“Because they— because I—” He couldn’t seem to come up with a good reason. At least not a logical one. “They wouldn’t suit.”
“I had my suspicions, but this confirms it.” A sudden smile lit her face. “Oh, heavens, Julian. Good heavens.”
“Good heavens what?”
She pressed a hand over her mouth, looking at him wide-eyed.
“I do not like that look.” He’d seen it too often growing up, usually preceding either tears or a scheme that later got him into tremendous amounts of trouble.
“I had hoped, but now I know,” she said from behind her hand. Helene often failed to get to her point.
“Know what?”
She patted his hand. Her brow furrowed in something very much like pity. “That you are in love with her.”
Julian nearly choked, despite not having anything in his mouth or throat. “I am not in love with her,” he insisted under his breath. “She’s Beth. She’s a friend.”
Helene was already shaking her head. “She is Beth, though only you call her that, and she is your friend, but she is far more than that as well. There’s such a fondness in your eyes when you look at her, a fondness that has grown considerably of late. And newly arrived in the picture is a surprisingly murderous glint when you look at Damion. The puzzle is not difficult to piece together, dearest brother.”
Julian opened his mouth to object but was silenced by his own thoughts. His heart had broken for her. His temper had risen on the instant in response to her family’s unkindness. Even before that evening’s events, he’d thought about her when they were apart. His day improved on the instant when he was with her. He was happier in her company than in that of any other person he knew.
But that wasn’t love.
“Tell me, Julian, what would you do if Damion were to come over here right now and declare himself madly in love with her? If he were to insist upon riding to her home and declaring his passion, kissing her senseless, and pleading with her to marry him with all possible haste?”
Julian didn’t have to think about it. “I’d kill him.”
“Why?” Helene asked on a laugh. “You like them both, and Elizabeth is, by your own declaration, only a friend.”
“Beth is my... friend. She’s my Beth. Damion doesn’t know her the way I do. He doesn’t understand her or cherish her like I do. He doesn’t—” His words ended as the realization of what he was saying truly settled on him.
“He doesn’t love her like you do?” Helene finished for him. “Ponder on that, Julian. Your mind and your heart have not been listening to each other. I, for one, think it is about time they start.”
Chapter Six
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you wish me to tell you.” Elizabeth looked from each of her parents to the other several times. “I am sorry for Mary that Julian didn’t press his suit last evening, but I am not privy to his thoughts or intentions.”
“She said something to him on the drive home, I am certain of it.” Mary sent her a look of such hatred that it nearly stole Elizabeth’s breath. Mary had disliked her more and more over the past few years, but had never been so openly hostile. “What did you say in the carriage that changed his mind?”
“We didn’t say anything. You can ask the maid Helene sent along. It was a silent drive.”
“Then what did you say after the drive?” Say what one might about the state of Mary’s compassion, there was no denying the quickness of her mind.
Elizabeth chose to be honest, if incomplete, in her response. “He asked if I needed anything before he left, and said he was sorry I wasn’t able to remain for dinner.” She shrugged as though his words, his touch, from the night before hadn’t been equally heavenly and torturous. “Then he left. It was nothing of significance.” How she hoped that wasn’t truly the case.
“Elizabeth,” Father said, using the stern voice reserved exclusively for her, “Julian Broadwood has been dragging his feet where Mary is concerned. You ought to be doing everything in your power to help convince him that the time has come to fulfill the expectations he created.”
“Expectations he created? What has he ever done to convince you that he had any intentions?” Her temper had been piqued, and she couldn’t seem to calm it. Julian did not deserve such besmirching. “Does he call regularly? Insist on claiming her for every supper dance? Has he declared himself in any capacity?”
“That is quite enough, young lady.” Mother’s lips all but disappeared. “Do not
speak so boldly of matters about which you know so little.”
“And how much do you truly know of it?” Her indignation sent her to her feet, too agitated and upset to sit any longer. “While the three of you have spent the past decade scheming and planning and assuming, I have spent those years coming to know the object of your designs. Julian Broadwood is decisive and determined, without being unfeeling. He would never allow a decision of this importance to be made without him, but neither would he lash out at anyone attempting to force it on him. He is a good man, and you” — she turned to Mary— “do not deserve him.”
“How dare—” Mary stopped quite suddenly. Her narrowed eyes widened. “Oh.” Her shock turned to disgust as she uttered the word again. “Oh. You are in love with him. You. Plain little Elizabeth, whom he has likely not given a second thought, are in love with him.”
“That is not at all what this is about.”
Mary’s gaze grew calculating. “I notice you don’t deny it.” She turned to their parents. “Now we know the truth of it.”
“Have you been sabotaging your sister’s courtship?” Father demanded. “Is that the reason Julian hasn’t offered yet?”
“Of course not,” she said. No one was truly listening to her any longer.
“How long have you been nursing this ridiculous tendre?” Mary laughed through the words. “Look at the way she blushes, Mother. There is no question; she is in love with him.”
Now they were both laughing, and Father was watching her quite as though she were a stranger to him.
“Does Julian have any idea of this, do you think?” Mary asked Mother, both ladies grinning as if they’d never heard anything so amusing in all their lives.
Mother gave it a moment’s thought. “It may explain why he has been reluctant to undertake his suit; he fears hurting her feelings. Bookish girls always are the most easily overset, being too little acquainted with the world.”
Mary nodded her agreement. “I think we had best send her to stay with Gregory in the country.” Mary’s triumphant look in Elizabeth’s direction told her, in no uncertain terms, that her sister knew such a thing was hardly necessary, but she didn’t mean to pass up the opportunity. “We do not wish to risk a repeat of this outburst when others are present.”
Sarah M. Eden British Isles Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology Book 15) Page 21
