“Almack’s? Lucky you!” Elinor exclaimed, and Elizabeth’s joy was marred by the guilt she felt.
She didn’t want her friend to be jealous of her or resent her, but she could understand it if that happened.
Elinor was a gentleman’s daughter, but had neither the money nor the connections to be admitted into such an exclusive establishment, even though her family's future depended on the match she would secure. And here was baseborn Elizabeth, who, through no merit of her own, was being given all this money and all these opportunities.
“Are you excited?” kind, good-hearted Elinor asked her, and Elizabeth wanted to cry.
“More than anything, I’m scared,” she admitted in an uncharacteristically open way.
“What is there to be scared of?” Isolde scoffed, but Elinor nodded thoughtfully.
“I think I’d be scared, too. All these unfamiliar, elegant people… I’d worry myself sick about saying or doing the wrong thing.”
“I worry about somehow proving myself unworthy of the opportunity I’ve been given,” Elizabeth said, ignoring her aunt and talking only to her friend now. “I feel like there are so many people counting on me to be accepted, to find a good match, and sometimes it feels…”
“Like a boulder sitting on your chest,” Elinor finished, her eyes glistening with tears.
The two young women shared a look of understanding. Isolde cleared her throat.
“I’m sure it will be wonderful,” she said, and Elizabeth knew that, for her aunt, this was akin to a hug.
“Thank you, Aunt Isolde.”
Her aunt opened her mouth to respond, but then glanced behind Elizabeth and nodded at someone. Elizabeth heard footsteps approaching.
“Good evening, ladies,” a deep, dark voice said, and Elinor sat up straighter.
The newcomers moved into their line of sight and bowed. All three of the women stood and curtsied to Duke Colin Talbot, Mister Gideon Powell, and a third man who was introduced as Sir William Stone.
“May we join you for some refreshments?” Mister Powell asked, and Isolde magnanimously gave her permission.
“Of course, Mister Powell, please do sit down. Were you also at the Opera tonight?” she then asked, playing the hostess of their supper box.
“No, Lady Isolde,” Talbot replied. “We spent an evening at White’s and then spontaneously decided on a stroll.”
“Walking is very good exercise, I always tell my Elizabeth.”
Talbot looked at Elizabeth, who was sickened by her aunt’s ingratiation but hoped she was hiding it well.
“That is sound advice, Lady Isolde. How lucky your niece is to have you with her to impart wisdom and guidance.”
Aunt Isolde bloomed under the insincere attention, and Elizabeth felt her lip curl.
“Young women today are getting further and further away from the real values that helped shape my generation. Luckily, there are still a few beacons of class and manners, such as Lady Helena Grey. I take it you’re acquainted with her? Her mother is such a dear friend of mine.”
“Yes, I am,” Talbot replied, seeming confused by the direction of this conversation.
Lizzie was starting to feel cramps in her stomach from the mortification at her aunt’s behaviour.
“Now, that is a young woman after my own heart. The daughter of a peer, handsome, and so very accomplished,” Isolde said dreamily.
“Well, yes, it is good for young ladies to be accomplished,” Talbot replied conversationally. “Speaking of accomplished ladies, pray tell, how is your lovely daughter doing? She is in Kent, from what I remember?”
Elizabeth wanted to cry and thank him, but instead she discreetly pinched her forearm as much as her gloves allowed, and took several deep breaths as Isolde proudly discussed every minute detail of her daughter’s life.
Meanwhile, Powell never took his feverish eyes off Elinor. To Elizabeth, they resembled a wolf and a lamb, and the lamb was right to be frightened.
“Do you come to the Gardens often, Miss Woodhouse?” he asked her.
