“Men don't think about these things, my dear girl,” her mother told her in a tone that indicated she was somehow supposed toknow this already. “He’s too focused on what a great thing he’s doing to consider all the details.”
“But they’re not details! I just don't want them to hate me,” Elizabeth admitted, and all the agitation bled from her body. As she slumped in the armchair, she suddenly felt a hundred years old.
“Don't forget to behave properly with them, they are both ladies.”
“Isn't it time you left, Ma?”
Her mother sighed a weary sigh that was meant to convey to an invisible audience how put upon she was by her child, before she got up and made her way to hide out upstairs until their guests left.
They finally had a proper parlour. And a drawing room. And another one. A morning room. And a formal dining room. And all kinds of other rooms Elizabeth had no use for. Despite the unease she felt a lot of the time, she had to admit that it was nice not having to worry any more, not to mention not having to work her fingers bloody while Miss Euphemia yelled at her.
The maid soon announced Lady Madeline and Lady Charlotte Hawkins. Mother and daughter were both stunningly handsome. Elizabeth was ashamed of herself, even though no one knew that she had been secretly imagining her father’s wife as an unattractive old crone, and it made her feel even smaller in her presence.
As for seeing Charlotte again... the stab to Lizzie’s heart could not have been prevented. It took all her strength to keep the day at the Park in the past where it belonged. Her ringlets were as lovely as ever.
Blonde and lithe, both women seemed to be gliding rather than walking. But there was a coldness in their eyes, a shield of a sort, that immediately put Elizabeth on alert.
She curtsied as she welcomed them. The glance they exchanged was intentionally obvious. As Lady Madeline was sitting down, her whole body looked coiled tight, and her lips were pursed in distaste. She seemed unwilling to touch any of the furniture. Elizabeth wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
No one said anything for a while, and they most likely didn’t know where to start. Etiquette books said nothing about meeting your half-sister or your late husband's illegitimate daughter.
“Thank you both for coming,” Elizabeth said when tea was served. Given her limited experience with high society, she relied on instinct to lead her. “I am sorry that these are the circumstances that brought us together.”
Something seemed to loosen in the older woman when Elizabeth apologised. It was almost imperceptible, just a slight exhale which helped lower her shoulders a bit. The daughter was much harder to read.
Elizabeth looked at Charlotte’s hands and noticed that she had gripped one of them with the other so tightly that it looked painful. Elizabeth's heart longed to comfort her sister. It made sense that they should lean on each other, since no one but the two of them had directly witnessed their father’s deception. But Elizabeth feared that Charlotte mistakenly attributed a role in the betrayal to her.
After all, had Elizabeth not spent years hating the little girl from the Park? The one who’d held their father's hand with such entitlement? Who called himPapa, and had not been ignored?Nicholas had told her that Charlotte had been devastated when she learned of their father's secret life.
“Nothing to be sorry about, Miss Elizabeth,” Lady Madeline said, and she seemed sincere. “None of us in this room has done anything wrong.”
The message was clear:I don't blame you, but I do blame your mother. And your father.That was how Elizabeth heard it, and she felt her face heat with shame that she knew shouldn't be hers.
“The most useful thing we can do now is make a plan on how to move forward. Nicholas wishes for you to be a part of the family,” Lady Madeline said, leaving out thebut we don't, “as well as London society. I'm not sure the Ton is ready to welcome someone like you with open arms, but we'll try our hardest, won't we, Charlotte?”
Was it possible to nod petulantly? If so, Charlotte did it in response to her mother's question. Although they were both 17 (which, in itself, was disturbing to think about), Elizabeth felt a hundred years older at that moment. Charlotte could afford to be petulant without losing her place in the family.
“I'm not sure how familiar you are with our circles?”
“Not very much,” Elizabeth had to admit, and the older woman nodded with her lips pressed together, the gesture managing to convey that she hadn’t expected much from Elizabeth but was disappointed nonetheless.
“Well, let me explain a few things to you then,” she started, almost gently, and Elizabeth wanted to cry, not for the first time that day. “My son will do his best to make you an enticing match to a young man in need of funds, one with a lesser title even,but I will not let him risk my daughter's marital prospects in the process.”
Elizabeth was no fool and had no fantasies about her station in life. Fantasies were her mother's domain. Despite her firm grip on reality, she failed to see how her mere existence would endanger her sister's potential marriage.
“I don't understand.”
“Charlotte is making her debut this Season. We cannot have any whisper of anything scandalous mar her introduction to society. Until she is married, your debut will have to wait.”
Elizabeth didn't particularly care one way or the other, and she told them so. They seemed satisfied.
“As long as I'm still allowed to,” she halted a bit and feigned a little cough to explain it away, “can I still spend time with Nicholas and Charlotte privately while we wait?”
Lady Madeline glanced at her with something between compassion and pity.
“Of course.”
“Then that is all I care about.”
