Authors: Lucy Muir
“Oh Jane,” Elisabeth said, her voice trembling. “How shall I
bear it?”
Jane squeezed Elisabeth’s hand and spoke firmly. “You must
do your duty to your family. You must be strong, Elisabeth. We shall not lose
our friendship. We shall correspond, and once you are actually wed you will be
able to return here for visits.
“And think, going to London will give you opportunities one
does not have here—think of all there is to see and learn, the great cathedrals
to visit, the museum. It will give us much to talk about when we do meet
again.”
“But I know nothing of Lord Sherbourne! Perhaps he may be
dictatorial or will not indulge my interests—perhaps he will dismiss them.”
“I cannot think that,” Jane replied, releasing her friend’s
hands and pouring her another cup of tea, adding a lump of sugar for strength.
“Drink this,” she pressed, handing Elisabeth the cup of sweetened tea. “It will
calm your nerves. Remember that Lord Sherbourne is widely traveled and has
lived in India these many years, as has his sister. One must believe such
travel and experience has had a broadening effect on the mind. You must hope
for the best,” she counseled.
“I know you have the right of it,” Elisabeth agreed, sipping
at the hot tea. “It is only that it was so unexpected—Mama and Papa have never
before even suggested a possible suitor despite my advanced age. And my leaving
is to be so abrupt. I could wish I had some time to accustom myself to the idea
before I depart to London.”
“I doubt that would make it any easier, but would only give
you more time to fret,” her friend counseled wisely. “Will your maid Molly
accompany you? She would be one familiar face.”
“Yes, Molly is to accompany me,” Elisabeth acknowledged.
“And with no reluctance whatsoever! She views it as an adventure and a chance
to advance to the status of lady’s maid.”
“You must also view it as an adventure and opportunity,”
Jane said firmly. “You must brace yourself and face this with fortitude and
firmness.”
Elisabeth found fortitude and firmness difficult to achieve
as the hired yellow chaise swayed into London a brief few weeks later. The
journey itself had been comfortable enough, for Lord Sherbourne had arranged
for her to go by post-chaise, generally acknowledged to be the fastest and most
comfortable way to travel. However the long hours confined in the chaise with
only her maid to converse with had given her more time to fret than she could
have wished. What would Lord Sherbourne and his sister be like? What if she and
Lord Sherbourne did not suit? She might be stuck in an unhappy marriage for the
rest of her life. Or what would she do should Lord Sherbourne and his sister
find her provincial? They had both traveled halfway around the world to live in
a strange and different land. Would they find her quiet upbringing had made her
dull? A thousand questions and worries tormented her the miles to London.
“How elegant those town houses look, miss. Do you think we
will live in one?” Molly asked excitedly, bringing Elisabeth back to the
present moment.
Elisabeth looked out the window and saw they had come to a
street of bow-fronted townhomes built of gray Portland stone and differing only
in the color and style of the front doors. Decorative iron railings separated
the townhomes from the walks and street. Elisabeth found the elegance cold and
missed the views of hills and forest.
“Perhaps. I do not know,” Elisabeth answered her eager maid.
Molly proved correct in her surmise, for the post-chaise
soon rolled to a stop before one of the street’s town houses. The postillion
jumped down to announce their arrival, the front door opening at his approach.
A liveried footman accompanied the postillion back to the post-chaise, the
steps were let down and Elisabeth was handed from the chaise. The time is here,
she thought, looking up at the cold, though elegant, residence. Gathering her
courage, Elisabeth climbed the three short steps to the front door and,
stepping over the threshold, entered a black-and-white tiled hallway.
“This way, Miss Ashwood,” a liveried servant said, opening a
door to what Elisabeth supposed was a drawing room. “If you will wait here I
will inform Lady Parker of your arrival.”
A lower servant intercepted Molly as she followed behind
Elisabeth and led the maid off in a different direction as her mistress entered
the drawing room. Alone, Elisabeth looked around the room in wonder. It was
filled with modern mahogany furniture, much of it inlaid with brass. An earthy
smell rose from the profusion of jardinières filled with potted plants. Strange
brass ornaments—figures of elephants and other exotic animals and odd-looking
idols—sat on tables and brackets. A sweet scent overlaid the earthy one of the
plants as curls of smoke rose from a small brass burner and slowly dissipated
through the room. Feeling almost as though she had stepped into a different
world, Elisabeth cautiously took a seat on one of the low-backed gilded
mahogany chairs.
As Elisabeth settled her skirts around her, quick steps
sounded in the hallway and a moment later a woman of medium height with dark
eyes and fair hair showing from under a cap of fine lawn entered the room.
Although the woman might not have been considered beautiful, Elisabeth found
the contrast of the woman’s fair hair and dark eyes very striking,
“Miss Ashwood, I am Lady Parker,” the woman said, smiling
warmly. “Welcome to my home. I trust the journey was not too fatiguing?”
“Lady Parker,” Elisabeth said, rising from her seat and
giving a curtsey. “Thank you, my journey was very pleasant.”
“Will you take tea? I always find tea revives me after a
journey. And please sit down.”
“Thank you,” Elisabeth agreed, sinking back down into her
seat and daring to scrutinize Lady Parker more closely as her hostess turned to
ring the bell. Lord Sherbourne’s sister was apparently older than Elisabeth had
first thought, for fine lines were visible at the corners of her eyes and mouth
when her face was in repose. Still, Elisabeth thought Lady Parker was of
exceptionally fine appearance in a dress of an unusual, brightly striped silk,
accented with equally unusual gold jewelry.
“My brother, Lord Sherbourne, will not come to meet you
until tomorrow,” Lady Parker informed Elisabeth as a maidservant entered with a
tea service which she placed on a low brass-rimmed table. “That was not his
wish, so please do not think him discourteous,” she added with a sparkle in her
eyes. “I thought you would prefer to rest after your long journey before
meeting him, so I took the liberty of so ordering things. My brother resides
only a short distance away on Curzon Street, so it is convenient for both of
us. Milk?” she inquired as the maid left and Lady Parker prepared to serve
their tea.
“Thank you,” Elisabeth said with a smile, both charmed and a
bit overwhelmed by her unconventional hostess.
“When I returned from India I did not bring my furnishings
from there so I either had to purchase all new furnishings here or take a
townhome already furnished,” Lady Parker said conversationally as she handed
Elisabeth her cup and then poured herself one. “The current taste for gilt
furniture and brass decorations reminds me a bit of my home so…” Lady Parker
made a graceful gesture indicating the room with its profusion of ornaments.
“Your home, Lady Parker?” Elisabeth inquired.
“Yes, I think of India as home still,” Lady Parker replied
with a rather wistful expression. “I went out with my brother thirteen years
ago—for the adventure—and it became my home. I must confess it seems odd to be
back in England—it is so gray and cold. I daresay I shall become accustomed to
it again but for the time being my position here is not dissimilar to yours—I
also am a stranger in London.” Lady Parker smiled at Elisabeth, understanding
in her dark brown eyes.
“Miss Ashwood, please allow me to be frank,” Lady Parker
continued. “This cannot be the easiest situation for you, nor is it for me. We
shall both be having a first Season here in London later this spring, I as a
chaperone—for which I feel dolefully unqualified —and you as a young lady
making your come-out.”
Elisabeth smiled back, feeling herself warming toward her
hostess. She was about to respond when she heard a meow and turned to see a
long-haired cat entering the room, head and tail held high.
“What an enchanting cat!” she exclaimed. “So unusual with
that long fur, but so beautiful!”
Lady Parker laughed as the cat jumped on the back of the
sofa and arched her back for Lady Parker to stroke. “She is my tie to home. She
and my cook were the only ones who accompanied me from India, although Revati
here was actually from Paris to begin with. My other servants declined to leave
their warm home for the cold shores of England. I do not know how I could have
done without my cook, for I confess I developed a taste for many of the foods of
India. My cook cannot make them correctly with the ingredients available in
London, of course, but she does her best. Try one of these sweets,” she urged
Elisabeth, offering her a plate of paste-like squares.
Curious, Elisabeth took one and bit into it cautiously. The
texture was more pleasing than she had expected and it was of a flavor both
sweet and vaguely spicy. “It is very good,” she said in surprise.
“That is made with almonds and cardamom. I am so glad you
have an adventurous spirit,” Lady Parker laughed. “You will find one necessary
in my household. But we can talk more later, I am sure that now you would like
to rest and remove the stains of travel.”
“I would indeed, Lady Parker,” Elisabeth replied gratefully
as her hostess reached for the bellpull. “I find the journey was more fatiguing
than I expected.”
“Please show Miss Ashwood to her room,” Lady Parker
instructed the footman who came in answer to the summons.
“I shall have supper served in your room tonight that you
may rest without the necessity of dressing for dinner, Miss Ashwood, but I
shall look forward to becoming better acquainted with you tomorrow,” Lady
Parker said as Elisabeth stood to leave.
“Thank you, Lady Parker. I too shall look forward to
becoming better acquainted tomorrow,” Elisabeth replied. She followed the
footman upstairs to her bedchamber, feeling rather bemused. Lady Parker was
nothing like she had imagined she would be. As Elisabeth entered the bedchamber
she had been given Molly turned from the trunk she was unpacking.
“I am to sleep in your dressing room, miss, for now. Isn’t
the room beautiful? And look, miss,” Molly added in wonder, going over to the
large mahogany wardrobe and opening the door. “This wardrobe has a rod for me
to hang your gowns instead of folding them, so they don’t get wrinkled.”
Elisabeth smiled at her maid’s delight in the wardrobe and
surveyed the rest of the room. Like the drawing room, the furniture was
mahogany, gilded and inlaid with brass. No comfort had been left out, from
latticed breakfast cupboard to washstand, chairs and a bench at the foot of the
bed. Most delightful was the charming bed itself, which was covered with
brightly colored curtains which hung over it in tentlike fashion. Lady Parker
was indeed a gracious and kind hostess, Elisabeth mused. She only hoped the
brother she was to meet on the morrow was as kind and thoughtful as his sister.
Impatiently, Sherbourne tossed a third neckcloth to the
floor of his dressing room. His valet handed him a fourth, his impassive
expression giving no hint of his inner perturbation at his master’s unusual
ineptness.
“Dash it, I must be more nervous at the thought of meeting
Miss Ashwood than I realized,” Sherbourne said wryly to Earlywine, who reclined
in a chair, watching his friend’s sartorial struggles with amusement. “I cannot
manage to make the simplest knot with these stiff cravats. At the station it
was too hot and humid to bother with starch.”
“Tie it in the maharatta as you usually do instead of
attempting a more complicated knot,” Earlywine suggested.
“I am grateful you are accompanying me to my sister’s this
morning,” Sherbourne continued as he took his friend’s advice and wrapped the
fourth cravat around his neck in the simpler maharatta style. “I feel the need
of support.”
“Must confess I am nearly as curious to make Miss Ashwood’s
acquaintance as you are,” James admitted. “You will need to remove that frown
before we get there though —you are supposed to be pleased to meet your
betrothed.”
“Do I look that formidable?” Sherbourne inquired as his
valet assisted him into his morning coat. The viscount spared himself a brief
glance into the cheval mirror. Buff trousers tucked into the new Wellington
boots, well-fitting blue morning coat, plain waistcoat and simply tied cravat.
Although Sherbourne knew he did not have the casual elegance that James
achieved without the least effort, he felt he appeared neat and gentlemanly, if
rather more weathered than his friend. Years in India tended to have that
effect upon a man.
“I shall depend upon your aid to supply any lack of polish
in my manner, Earlywine,” Sherbourne confessed as they descended the stairs to
the hall, where they donned their greatcoats. “I am no longer accustomed to the
drawing rooms of London.”
“Do m’best,” James agreed as the butler handed them their
hats, and the friends exited into the chill February morning.
Elisabeth made an early breakfast of tea and bread in her
bedchamber, too nervous to sample any of the more unusual delicacies the maid
had brought. Today was the day she would meet the man she was to marry. Meet
him as an adult, that was. She doubted he would have much likeness to the young
gentleman of fourteen years past. She sighed. How could things change so
rapidly in one’s life? How could one be going on in a settled and happy routine
with family and friends one month and be uprooted and sent to spend the rest of
one’s life with strangers the next?
“Which gown did you wish to wear, Miss Elizabeth?” Molly
asked, interrupting Elisabeth’s thoughts.
“I think perhaps my day dress of dark orange and yellow
stripes,” Elisabeth answered after a moment, feeling that, although
out-of-fashion, both the colors and the crisscross styling of the bodice were
the most flattering of the morning gowns she owned. She needed the confidence
that knowing she looked well would give.
Molly assisted her mistress into the chosen gown and then
arranged Elisabeth’s soft brown hair into neat coils at the sides of her face.
“You look that fine, miss,” Molly assured Elisabeth as her
mistress viewed the results of her toilette in the glass.
“As fine as I may appear, I grant,” Elisabeth agreed, noting
how the dark earth-colored tones of her gown brought out the russet tones in
her light brown hair. “I look well enough but I am no beauty, nor ever have
been,” she sighed.
“That’s as may be, miss,” Molly responded, “but you are a
lady through and through and that’s more than can be said for some beauties.”
Her confidence bolstered by her maid’s genuine compliment,
Elisabeth ventured out of her bedchamber and found her way to the drawing room.
Lady Parker was already situated at her desk, close to a cheerful fire.
Elisabeth was again struck by her hostess’s unusual beauty, a beauty enhanced
by the brightly colored fabrics she appeared to prefer for her gowns.
“Good morning, Lady Parker,” Elisabeth greeted her hostess.
“Good morning, Miss Ashwood,” Lady Parker rejoined. Lady
Parker’s cat, who had been curled up on the sofa, rose and sauntered over to
Elisabeth, rubbing against her skirts and purring. Elisabeth reached down to
stroke the silky fur.
“You are honored, Miss Ashwood. Revati does not bestow her
attention upon many people,” Lady Parker said, smiling at Elisabeth’s obvious
admiration of the cat.
“Revati? Is that an Indian name?”
“Yes, in their myths Revati was the wife of a star. Usually
the name is given because of the connotation it has with wealth. I chose it
because of the wealth of beautiful fur she has, and the wealth of company she
has brought me. Did you leave any belovedanimals
behind at Thornhill?”
“My horse and my favorite milk cow, Daisy,” Elisabeth
admitted as she ceased stroking the cat and took a seat near the window.
“I do not think your milk cow would be happy in the city,
but perhaps your horse might be sent to Longwood.
“You are looking pale, Miss Ashwood,” Lady Parker added in a
concerned tone. “Did you not sleep well? Come sit closer to the fire.”
“Thank you, Lady Parker, I am quite well,” Elisabeth protested.
“It is only that—” She began and stopped, a blush suffusing her cheeks.
“I understand,” Lady Parker said gently. “It is not an easy
situation for you and this morning must be the most difficult, meeting again a
person you have not seen for many years. I am partial to my brother, of course,
so my opinion cannot be considered objective, but let me assure you, Miss
Ashwood, that Richard is truly steady and reliable and has no vices such as
excessive gaming or drinking.”
Elisabeth’s agitation did not visibly decrease with the
assurance and Lady Parker continued to talk, trying to ease her guest’s
nervousness with light chatter. “I believe Sherbourne plans to arrive fairly
early this morning so you may meet with privacy before the morning calls begin
this afternoon. Strange, is it not, that morning calls begin after the noon
hour? I suppose it began because everyone sleeps so late after staying up after
midnight during the Season that afternoons have become mornings.”
Elisabeth murmured indistinct replies as Lady Parker chatted
on. Revati, desiring more attention, jumped into Elisabeth’s lap. Finding the
cat’s presence oddly reassuring, Elisabeth began stroking her again, eliciting
a rumbling purr.
The drawing room door opened. “Lord Sherbourne, Mr. Earlywine,”
the butler announced, standing aside for them to enter.
Elisabeth’s breath quickened and she glanced up swiftly
before returning her gaze to the cat, receiving a quick impression of two
gentlemen attired similarly in morning coats, trousers and shiny boots, one
with curly brown hair and the other with fair hair and darker skin. The latter
must be Lord Sherbourne, she concluded. He was much older-looking than she
remembered, of course, his hair lighter and his skin darker, no doubt a result
of years of exposure to the Indian sun.
Lady Parker rose and advanced to her guests. “Mr. Earlywine,
I am pleased to see you. Miss Ashwood, my brother Lord Sherbourne, and his
friend, Mr. Earlywine.”
“Miss Ashwood,” Lord Sherbourne greeted Elisabeth. “I trust
you have recovered from the fatigues of your journey?”
“Yes, thank you, Lord Sherbourne.” Elisabeth replied
briefly, feeling too nervous to expand upon her answer, but was saved by Mr.
Earlywine’s easy manners.
“Miss Ashwood, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,”
James said with a warm smile that was reflected in his blue eyes. “I see you
have made a friend already,” he added, gesturing toward Revati, still curled
purring in Elisabeth’s lap. “You are honored. Revati does not bestow her
attentions on everyone.”
“So Lady Parker tells me,” Elisabeth responded, instantly
feeling at ease with the friendly Mr. Earlywine. “I think she knows how
beautiful I find her.”
“Cats always recognize those who find them beautiful,” James
agreed.
Envying his friend’s easy assurance, Lord Sherbourne took a
seat on the sofa. He was surprised to find himself somewhat at a loss. This
first meeting was not going quite as he had expected. He had expected Miss
Ashwood to be quiet, eyes downcast, shy even, but also grateful. In appearance she
was not unlike the miniature—soft brown hair and gray eyes, expression grave
and sweet, but there was a stubbornness and resolution about her chin that he
had not expected and she certainly showed no sign of being grateful for his
offer of marriage. What had he expected? he asked himself wryly. That she would
gaze at him adoringly in gratitude for saving her from a life of spinsterhood?
“How do you find London, Miss Ashwood?” Sherbourne asked as
James took a seat on the sofa, feeling a fool for failing to manage anything
but the most common civilities.
“I have not been here long enough to form an opinion, Lord
Sherbourne,” Elisabeth replied.
“London is thin of company at this time of year,” James said
conversationally, once again stepping into the breach, “but I trust you will
find things to enjoy. What pastimes give you pleasure, Miss Ashwood?”
“Reading, riding, conversing with my friends Reverend
Fairacre and his wife, and music,” Elisabeth answered frankly. “Simple
pleasures.”
“No balls, Miss Ashwood, or fashions? They are all my
sisters speak of.”
“We are not so often gay in the country, Mr. Earlywine.
Occasionally we attend balls, and we do try to keep up with fashion but we have
only a small draper’s shop in the town so our selection of fabrics is limited,”
Elisabeth replied at length, responding to Earlywine’s friendliness. “Do you
have many sisters, Mr. Earlywine?”
“Three—the plague of my life,” James answered, his fond look
belying his words. “Have you sisters, Miss Ashwood?”
“No, only a younger brother, now away at public school.”
“Which school does he attend, Miss Ashwood?”
“Eton.”
“Eton! That is where Sherbourne and I were. We’ve been
friends since.”
Elisabeth smiled, clearly pleased to learn her brother was
attending the same school as had Lord Sherbourne and Earlywine.
“If you enjoy reading, Miss Ashwood,” Lord Sherbourne
interposed, thinking to please his intended by discussing her first-mentioned
pastime, “perhaps you will enjoy having a subscription to the circulating
library. I understand it has all the most recent novels.”
Elisabeth darted a quick, sharp glance at Lord Sherbourne.
“Thank you, my lord,” she answered, “but I do not particularly care for novels,
except as a very occasional diversion.”
Sensing a faint hostility in Elisabeth’s tone, Sherbourne
wondered what he had said that could possibly have been offensive. “What, then,
do you prefer to read, Miss Ashwood?”
“I enjoy biographies and histories, and I found Mr. Godwin’s
Enquiry Concerning Political Justice and its Influence on Morals and
Happiness
very thought provoking,” Elisabeth answered.
Lord Sherbourne could not prevent the smile that briefly
touched his lips at the long title that issued forth with such seriousness from
the young woman. “I see,” he answered. “No doubt the circulating library also
has copies of Mr. Godwin’s and other political and philosophical works as well
as the more popular novels, Miss Ashwood. I am sure you will be able to find
works to your taste.”
Brief as it was, Elisabeth had seen the half-smile and the slight
mortification she had felt upon realizing how pompous her answer must have
sounded increased. Worse, she had to acknowledge to herself that she very much
wished she had made a good impression on Lord Sherbourne. Did he not understand
how awkward she felt at this meeting? Where were the compassion and
understanding she saw in Mr. Earlywine’s eyes? Anger began to replace her
embarrassment. Lord Sherbourne was no Reverend Fairacre to guide her education
and taste but a gentleman who found her interests in pursuing a course of
improving reading laughable. She willed herself to regain her composure.
“Thank you, Lord Sherbourne. I am certain I will find
volumes of interest at the circulating library,” she forced herself to answer
politely, if coolly.
“Do you enjoy the opera, Miss Ashwood?” Lady Parker asked,
entering the conversation in an evident attempt to steer the discussion in a
new direction.
“I have never had the opportunity to attend, Lady Parker,”
Elisabeth answered, gratefully turning her attention to her hostess, “but I
have found pleasure in hearing songs from operas sung during musical evenings
at our assembly rooms.”
“Then an appreciation of fine opera music is something we
all share,” Earlywine stated. “Perhaps Sherbourne will obtain a box at the
Lyceum for the Season and you will be able to see an entire opera performed.”
“An excellent idea,” Lady Parker concurred. “Richard, will
you see to it?”
“It will be my pleasure,” Sherbourne replied. “Now, if you
will forgive us, we must take our leave. Mr. Earlywine and I have business
still to attend to this morning.”
“You will both return this evening to dine with us, of
course?” Lady Parker invited as the gentlemen rose from their seats.
“Thank you, Lady Parker, I shall be delighted,” Earlywine
said with a bow. “Miss Ashwood,” he added, bowing to her also.
As Sherbourne and Earlywine exited Lady Parker’s town house
and began walking down the street the viscount looked at his friend ruefully.
“I seem to have muffed it royally. I have no doubt Miss Ashwood
is at this moment wishing with all her heart that you were the one to whom she
is to become betrothed.”
“You need not have smiled when she mentioned Godwin’s work,”
James reprimanded his friend. “Now she most likely feels you do not take her
interests seriously, or worse, find them amusing. Nothing is more likely to set
a woman’s opinion against you.”