“I must not have a good sense of humour,” she said with a small conciliatory smile.
“You don’t need a sense of humour when you have those dimples,” Lady Georgiana waved her fan at Elizabeth’s face. “I imagine you are very popular this Season?”
“Unfortunately, the company is scarce and the invitations are few.” Lizzie decided to be honest with this odd woman.
“Even with that face of yours?”
“I’m sure an impoverished gentleman or a third son will take notice of my superior symmetry soon.”
Lizzie relaxed in her seat. It felt so good to act like herself for once.
“What a peculiar choice of suitor,” Lady Georgiana said as her eyes took in Elizabeth’s face with a calculating sharpness.
“I’ve been told that’s what is available to those of my station.”
“Ah,” Lady Georgiana nodded in understanding, and they were both silent for a while.
Elizabeth was thirsty.
“What prompted you to come out into Society?” the intruder broke the silence.
“My brother wished it.” Elizabeth saw no reason to prevaricate.
“And what isyourwish?”
“I wish to be part of my father’s side of the family and to maintain friendly relations with my brother and sister.”
“What about matrimony?”
“Matrimony is a natural part of life,” Elizabeth said, adding, “and I shall endeavour to enter it with a good, honest man, if it please God.”
“I see,” Lady Georgina said and sighed before finally looking away from Elizabeth’s face. “You know, Miss Hawkins, what I’ve learned is that age gives you a new set of eyes. Tell your brother he can pick up the vouchers next week.”
As Lady Georgiana stood up, Elizabeth also stood and said goodbye. She didn’t dare venture out of the box to search for a drink because she wasn’t keen on earning another one of Isolde’s lectures. Luckily, the thought seemed to conjure her aunt, who pulled her outside and towards the refreshment stand.
As they sipped on their drinks, Isolde interrogated Elizabeth on every detail of her conversation with Lady Georgiana. Lizzie faithfully recounted everything Lady Georgiana said, but kept her own side of the conversation as vague as possible, especially her lack of opera knowledge.
Isolde was trembling with excitement. “I can hardly believe it! You’ve been given a boon, my girl. A Godsend! Lady Georgiana is the Marchioness of Sefton!”
Elizabeth had heard the title, but she couldn’t remember the context, and her face must have shown it, because Isolde continued, “She is one of the Patronesses of Almack’s! They are extremely particular about who they allow to attend theirWednesday balls. Being approved for one of their vouchers is more than just a ticket to a dance; it’s a statement about your position in society. You are officially accepted into the Ton now, so don’t squander it.”
Her dancing master, Mister Chivers, had talked at length about the exclusivity of Almack’s during their early lessons on ballroom etiquette. He’d said that being granted admittance could greatly affect a young lady’s chances of finding a suitable husband. Elizabeth felt gratitude and resentment warring inside of her, as they often did these days, but she reminded herself that this brought her one step closer to her goal and was thus a good thing.
“I shall do my best to be worthy of it,” she replied.
“You know, your mother’s people were distant relations to the late Marquess. That was why I accepted her into my employ.”
Age gives you a new set of eyes.Elizabeth remembered the older woman’s words before, thankfully, the lifting of the curtain prevented her from continuing to think about it for the rest of the evening.
Chapter 7
Dear Miss Woodhouse,
My brother has unexpectedly gifted me three tickets to the special opening of the Vauxhall Gardens for Twelfth Night. His idea was for me and a friend to go, accompanied by my aunt Isolde. I thought of you because you once mentioned that you’ve never been.
If you’d be so kind as to accept my invitation, we can go to the Opera first (my brother has a box), and then enjoy a walk and some refreshments in Vauxhall.
I eagerly await your answer,
