“When Wellesley was called back, my father stayed with Sir John Moore, and ultimately they both perished in the same battle.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lizzie said. “You were only eighteen then?”
“Not even eighteen yet,” he finally looked at her. “I had to leave Eton in the middle of the term and come back here to fulfil my duty to my title and my estate.”
“Did you like being at Eton? How long were you there for?” Lizzie asked as she settled into one of the comfortable-looking armchairs.
Talbot sat down as well, in the one across from hers.
“I was sent there when I was thirteen. I loved it. It was during that time that I becameme. Eton and the people there shaped me into the man I am now.”
Elizabeth understood only too well how certain people and events had the power to mould you and to alter you irrevocably, so she nodded.
“Were they terribly strict with all you boys?”
“Sometimes. And sometimes, I was grateful for it. It prepared us for life. Our days were very regimented, and discipline reigned supreme. We only went home for a few weeks each year, so Eton was ourde factohome during those formative years.”
Elizabeth thought about his words for a few moments.
“People always say that family has the biggest influence in shaping a child into the adult they become.”
“For most people, that may be true. For me,” Talbot stood up and walked over to one of the big windows, “it was school, my friends, and London society.I still remember the first time I saw Beau Brummel – he was the most impressive man that I’d ever seen. I soon began emulating him in the way I dressed, and I even began bathing daily and cleaning my teeth. His examplealso taught me not to gamble,” he grinned at his wife, who’d only vaguely recognised the notorious dandy’s name.
“I still say that bathing daily is an unnecessary indulgence – heating all that water, having someone drag it up the stairs,” she huffed.
“It’s their job,” he retorted, and Lizzie bit her tongue.
“Who were your closest friends at school?” she went back to their earlier topic of conversation.
“My core group consisted of Brandon, Pratt, Stone, and Hawkins,” he said, and then it was his turn to change the topic. “I wanted to show you this,” he gestured towards a book displayed in a glass case between two windows.
Elizabeth stood up and joined him as he removed the glass and opened the book.
“This is the Talbot family prayer book, and here, in the back, you can see records of all the births and marriages going back generations,” he said as he turned the pages reverently.
Elizabeth gazed at the yellowed pages filled with lines of different penmanship and marvelled at the sense of continuity and belonging someone like Colin had to be feeling whenever he looked at it.
“Nicholas has one of these in Ashbury,” she said quietly, “and it contains, in my father’s hand, the records of his and Charlotte’s births.”
She went back to her armchair and started biting the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from crying. Her husband remained by the window.
She soon heard him moving about the room, and he then sat at one of the desks. He then brought the book over to her to show her an entry.
June 24, 1820, the marriage of Colin Talbot, the 8th Duke of Norwich and Lady Elizabeth Hawkins
Even through her tear-filled gaze, she managed to find his hand and grab hold of it, using it to steady herself during the emotional turmoil that overcame her.
Her name was officially a part of something bigger, part of a family. Colin knelt down next to her and gently wiped the tears from her face.
“Shall I find us a book to read?”
She nodded.
“Is there any particular kind of reading you’re in the mood for this evening?”
She shook her head.
“Very well.”
