Elizabeth hoped that was his usual way of dealing with life. It would make for a peaceful and enjoyable marriage.
“Why only now?”
“Well, after the war I needed time to adjust to my new-old life,” he said with a wistful smile. “Then my uncle passed away and I inherited his estate, the management of which was utterly unfamiliar to me.”
“Was learning estate management very strenuous?” Elizabeth decided to ask about the war some other time.
“Nothing is too hard if one is willing to adapt to changed circumstances,” Oliver said, and the words struck a bell inside Elizabeth, causing her to feel the vibrations throughout her body.
“Indeed,” she agreed in an almost-whisper.
They danced without speaking for a while.
“Did you grow up in the country?” The Corporal broke the silence.
“No. I’ve never even visited the country until two years ago.” Elizabeth halted, unsure of how to proceed.
Neither Fordyce nor the Lady of Distinction treated the matter ofbastardyin their works. Corporal Harding seemed equally uncomfortable.
He must have been made aware of my background and is worried I shall start discussing it,she realised.
“I’ve been to my brother’s estate in Berkshire several times. I’m afraid that is my only contact with country life.” Elizabeth settled on that explanation, and the Corporal seemed relieved.
“How did you find it?”
“It was lovely. The air was so clean it was actually harder to breathe at first,” Elizabeth said seriously, but the Corporal laughed.
In her peripheral vision, she saw a few heads turn towards them and feared her face would betray her unease with the attention.
“My estate is in Wexcombe, and I know exactly what you mean about the difference in the air.”
“I take it you are not particularly fond of London?”
“The capital is necessary, but not enjoyable, if you ask me. I prefer the forest and open fields.”
“It does sound like a more peaceful existence,” Elizabeth admitted after hearing a bit more about his estate.
“Do you think you might enjoy spending more time in the country in the future?” he asked as he led her off the dance floor.
“I think I might,” Elizabeth said, still smiling as Oliver bowed and turned away from her.
She looked to the right and saw Duke Talbot escorting his own partner off the floor. He glanced at her smiling mouth andimmediately looked away.
*
That night, as she sat at the big workbench that doubled as a kitchen table, she told the women of the house about her first night at Almack’s in great detail. As she talked, she let her fingertips wander over all the marks on the well-loved object, which was the first piece of furniture she had ordered for her new home, and which Robert had made exactly the way she’d envisioned. This table was a silent witness to every change and event in her new life. She sometimes foolishly liked imagining the tree it had belonged to, and was certain it had been a tall, old, stoic one.
She was asked to describe every dress, coat, slipper, and hair ribbon she’d noticed, and she managed to name most of the guests, thanks to Aunt Isolde’s incessant monologue whenever they had been side by side at the ball.
Her audience laughed at her imitations of the self-loving Lord Slaymaker and the brother-loving lawyer, and they gasped with excitement at the Corporal’s hints about her future visits to the countryside. Mrs. Barlow shook her head and told her she’d been wise not to further engage with a man as good-looking as Slaymaker.
The only event that Elizabeth deliberately glossed over was her dance with Talbot. She told them they spoke of colours that were in fashion, Corporal Harding, and the layout of the building. She didn’t lie, not really. But she also hadn’t revealed that she’d made him laugh and how proud she’d been because of it. Or that they were… friends, in a way. It was so fatuous that it was better left unspoken.
Chapter 9
When they went to Covent Garden a week later, Elizabeth dared hope that she might enjoy her evening, despite having started her courses the night before. She discreetly readjusted her belt before exiting the carriage and prayed that the play being performed tonight was better than the one and only opera she’d seen.
Lady Burnham had told her that the play,The Distrest Mother,was a tragedy, and that Lizzie shouldn’t have trouble following the plot since it was entirely in English. Lady Burnham always strived to make her feel better about her intellectual inadequacies, but Elizabeth liked honesty and calling things by their proper name.
