“Please, Your Grace, sit down and I'll call for tea,” her mother said, and they all found their places on the worn furniture. Nicholas looked so out of place in their home, with his shiny, soft leather boots and his expensive, fashionable clothes. When he took off his gloves, she briefly felt ashamed of her own calloused, dry hands that bore marks of the harsh winter that was finally behind them.
Lizzie wondered what he thought of their circumstances, but refused to feel bad about the life she had made for them.
No one said anything for a while. Then Jane came in with the tea. Elizabeth wondered how much the delicacies on the traymust have cost, how many nights she'd have to work her fingers bloody to pay for them. Typically, her mother cared about appearances more than about her. Her face set into a scowl without her realising it, but then she noticed Nicholas studying her intently and forced her features to relax.
“I trust you've been well since the last time I saw you, Your Grace,” her mother said.
“I have, Miss Williams. How is your health?”
Elizabeth was stunned at the address. The staff had always addressed her mother asMadam, most likely at Catherine’s insistence, and since she never went anywhere, her daughter had never had the chance to hear her calledMiss.
“I've been well, too.”
Silence enveloped the room again. Elizabeth thought about what Nicholas must have been feeling. Sitting in the room with the woman his father betrayed his mother with. And the daughter who was born from that betrayal.
She started remembering that day in the Park, but quickly diverted her thoughts to the difficult piece of embroidery she had been working on that day at work. It was intricate and beautiful, and Elizabeth couldn't help but run her hands over it lovingly as she worked, knowing she'd never wear a dress like that. No, such things were not for the likes of her. She was lucky to even work on it with her rough hands.
“You must be wondering why I'm here,” Nicholas finally said.
Lizzie tilted her head slightly before taking a sip of her tea to indicate that, yes, she was wondering. She got a secret thrill from not picking up the conversational ball like she knew both hermother and her brother expected her to. Nicholas cleared his throat.
“I was made aware of your existence after our father's death five years ago. I was,” he broke off and took a deep breath before continuing, “dealing with my own feelings on the matter, and I apologise for not reaching out to you sooner. I've recently come to the realisation that you are absolutely blameless in the matter and I'd love to forge a brotherly relationship with you, if you're so inclined?” he looked at her hopefully and she gave him a little smile.
“I'd very much like that.”
“Excellent,” he smiled at her, and suddenly everything was right with the world. “There is a house I'd like to gift to you in Mayfair, and I'd like to provide you with the same dowry as our sister, Charlotte,” he kept talking, but Elizabeth heard nothing afterour sister, Charlotte.
Charlotte had to be the little blonde cherub from the Park. Her chest constricted painfully. Did she remember Elizabeth? What was her memory of that day?
“Elizabeth, dear,” her mother prompted. “What do you think?”
“That all sounds lovely,” Elizabeth stammered before taking a sip of tea. This wasn't their usual blend. This was the expensive kind. She frowned at the unnecessary expense before remembering to add, “Thank you so much, Nicholas.”
“Very well,” Nicholas seemed pleased. “Everything is ready for you to move in. The staff left for Scotland with their mistress, so you can bring your own,” he said cheerfully, and Elizabeth wanted to burst out laughing. Surely he didn't think they had anentire staff? Hadn't he noticed the frayed edges of the tablecloth his teacup currently resided on?
“That is preferable to us,” her mother said, her composure regal and utterly artificial.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to avoid showing her contempt for the act.
“I'll talk to Charlotte and my mother about arranging for you to meet the two of them. And my wife, Sophie, I'm very much looking forward to the two of you meeting,” Nicholas said, and from the way he said it, Elizabeth immediately knew she would like Sophie very much.
That night, in her bed, Elizabeth reviewed the entire visit in her head and decided that she would do her best to be a good and worthy sister to Nicholas. With that thought and a small smile on her face, she fell into the sweet embrace of sleep.
*
A month later, Elizabeth (who was now in possession of an account at The Bank of England) and Catherine had somewhat settled into their new Mayfair life. There had been a lot to do in that first month – furniture needed to be bought, rooms had to be decorated, and there was staff to be hired. Catherine had tapped into some (to Elizabeth) hitherto unknown persona as she commandeered the move and the obligations that came with it. Not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered about her mother's upbringing and the future she had to have forfeited in order to spend itnot livingbetween her father's visits.
Elizabeth tried not to view giving up on her own dreams of a new life in America as forfeiting something. Instead, she viewed it aschoosingto be part of her paternal family, the only familyshe had left. All she knew about her mother’s side was that her grandfather had been a Shropshire gentleman who, at some point, had gambled away his fortune, after which her mother had to find work as a governess. Catherine always said that she had no relatives left. Elizabeth didn't dare think about whether that was true or whether the family in question had been another casualty of her parents' love.
One thing was certain: no move was going to separate Lizzie from her extended family – the Barlows. Mister Ed would be driving the brougham pulled by the pair of horses her brother had so graciously gifted her to facilitate her moving about town. His wife would resume her rightful place as queen of the kitchen.
Mary stopped working at the salon and became Elizabeth's lady's maid – a development they both shared a good laugh about- and her husband, Robert, thanks to Lizzie’s investment, opened his own carpenter’s shop in their old Church Street residence. Their maid Jane took over the housekeeper duties, and Lizzie, who, as much as she hated it, was indeed Catherine Williams’ daughter and thus worked very hard at pretending that nothing had changed, got to move without really moving.
It’s all going to end today anyway, she thought to herself.Why would Nicholas do this to me?
“Are you sure you'll be alright, Lizzie?” her mother asked as she threatened to wear their new, expensive carpet thin with her pacing.
“I just don't understand why he would do this! Why would he arrange for me to meet them while he's out of town?”
