Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her hot chocolate.
“I used to teach children in my old neighbourhood to read and write,” she said.
“I never knew that,” her husband said, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes, well,” Lizzie smiled awkwardly. “Mary’s father, Mister Ed, once confessed to me that, ever since his son joined the ship's crew, he found himself wishing that he didn’t have to wait for others to read his letters to him, or pen his responses.”
Her husband’s lips pressed together in almost imperceptible disapproval at the mention ofthe sailor, but he was otherwise engrossed in her story.
“He told me he’d learned to recognise most letters as a child thanks to some Methodists, but never learned to sound out words or write legibly. He was an adult man, you see, and I feared it wouldn’t be productive to attempt to teach him the same way I did the children,” she explained, and Talbot nodded.
“I then remembered that he always had Robert read to him from old newspapers he brought home, or from whatever pamphlet he could get on the street, so that was clearly the material that was most enticing to him. And that’s how he learned. Then, when we all moved to Mayfair, I got subscriptions to all the newspapers for us as a household.”
“You sound like an exceptional teacher,” he said, and her stomach felt soft, like a sponge.
She looked away, saying, “Thank you. I enjoyed teaching a great deal.”
“It shows in the way you talk about it.”
It was as if they were both suddenly struck by timidity.
“What did your brother think of your seditious reading material?” he teased in an attempt to break the tension.
“It was one pamphlet, Talbot. And we stopped reading those when we learned about the new government acts against seditious libel. But yes, you are right to assume that Nicholas wanted me to read nothing butLa Belle AssembléeandAckermann’s.”
“And did you?”
A slow, sly grin spread across her face. She ran her tongue over her teeth in an attempt to subdue it. When she couldn’t, she simply shrugged.
“I always got the impression you were subservient to your brother,” he said with a surprised lift of his left eyebrow.
“I care about my brother, and I wanted him to be happy and pleased with me. That isn’t subservience, but love, isn’t it?” Elizabeth replied defensively.
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Talbot replied quietly.
Elizabeth had a hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but she was too afraid to voice them. Had he ever loved a woman? Did he think he might grow to love her? What did he think the definition of love was?
“Have you corresponded with your brother lately?” he asked, a note of wariness in his voice.
“Some,” she replied reluctantly.
She had replied to a third of Nicholas’s letters, always in a polite, brief, and cold manner. She couldn’t bring herself to ignore him completely because that would mean severing her relationshipswith Sophie and Emma, but she felt like her earlier feelings for him were dead or at least numb.
“I’m sorry that I have caused a rift in your relationship with your brother. He has his reasons for not considering me a good-enough match for his sister, but I believe that, in time, he will accept it.”
Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. Hadn’t Nicholas hit him and forced him into this match? Why would he now be upset about Talbot’s compliance?
“You saidyou allmoved to Mayfair,” Talbot broke the silence that had ensued between them. “Who were the people who moved with you?”
“My mother, our maid Jane, Mrs. Barlow, who used to be our cook when…” Elizabeth was still thinking about what Colin had said about Nicholas and couldn’t formulate a coherent reply.
“Wait. I need to start at the beginning. See, before my,” Lizzie stopped abruptly, then looked down into the cup that she was holding, and then continued more slowly, more cautiously, “before my father died, we used to live in a lovely home in Belgravia. Mary’s mother was our cook, that’s how we first met. Mister Ed, her father, was our driver. Jane has been our maid ever since I can remember. We had other staff, as well.Mamanwas in charge of my education, and there was talk of getting me a tutor the following year.”
Elizabeth set the cup back on the table and put her hands in her lap, one gripping the other, to conceal their trembling.
“A man came to the house one day, and he was in the parlour with my mother for over an hour. When he left, she had to be taken to bed; she was just so utterly devastated. I heard theservants whispering the entire day, but no one said anything to me directly. The next day,Mamancalled me into her room and told me Papa had died.”
“That must have been quite a blow for a young girl,” her husband said compassionately. “How old were you?”
