Author: Beverley Oakley
Category: Nonfiction
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Theo didn’t interrupt her though the pressure at his temples increased and a haze blurred his vision a moment. He blinked, partly to forestall his anger, then, to his surprise, noticed that a wicked gleam appeared in Lizzy’s eye as she added, “So, what is your crime, Mr McAlister? Should I be warning the young lady you intend making up to this weekend? Who is she, by the way? I’m very interested to see her falling all over herself to please you, since there must be a great deal of feeling between the two of you for you to be so dismissive of me when I come with such a tidy fortune.”
The sight of her staring up at him with no idea how appealing she looked—both adorably innocent of the world and, in truth, her own charms, yet at the same time dangerously so—was like a knife in the gut.
“Do you know how unladylike and…childish you sound?” He regretted the words the moment they extinguished the light in her eye and the playfulness in her tone. For he had spoken out of a need to protect himself.
Lizzy’s mouth dropped open and hurt flared in her eyes. She pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin. “Clearly she is very important to you and I have offended you. My apologies. Please excuse me for I must dress for dinner.” Tossing her head, she brushed past him on the way back up the hill without another word.
Theodore was left staring after her, wondering what on earth had possessed him to speak so unkindly when, in truth, he hand’t enjoyed himself in more than a year as much as he had in Lizzy Scott’s company.
Lizzy flounced up the hill in high dudgeon. She knew that’s what she was doing because Mrs Hodge was forever accusing her of flouncing out of the room in high dudgeon when all Lizzy had done was found a flaw in the woman’s reasoning or accused her of being overbearing and unfair. Which she was. Frequently.
Yet, on all those past occasions, Lizzy had felt nothing but the deepest indignation at her rough treatment for a woman who made no secret of the fact that she considered Lizzy a burden, and had done from the moment Lizzy had stepped across her threshold five years before.
She drew her shawl about her more closely and crossly brushed at the damp coldness on her cheeks.
Initially, Lizzy thought Mrs Hodge’s antipathy was due to the threat she assumed Lizzy posed to her natural daughter, Susan. However, Susan had been married off very nicely within six months of Lizzy taking up residence.
Taking a shaky breath that wasn’t from exertion, Lizzy stopped in the middle of the path and contemplated the grand house with its terraced walkways and carefully manicured gardens.
These were all a blur, of course. A shimmering mirage through her tears. What wasn’t blurry or shimmery was the white-hot rage that burned in her breast at Mr McAlister’s unfair treatment of her.
She was used to it from Mrs Hodge because Mrs Hodge was small-minded and a bully.
But she’d thought differently about Mr McAlister. He had no good reason to deride her as he had done, for he had no intention of making anything serious of their relationship. He had made that clear, and so Lizzy had felt comfortable in extending that, to what she’d felt, was a sort of friendly camaraderie.
Yet, just now, he’d shown his true feelings towards her. Clearly, while she had enjoyed the time they’d shared beneath his roof, he’d found her nothing but a burden. A drain on his limited resources of patience and forbearance.
Just as Mrs Hodge made clear Lizzy was.
The thought made her bottom lip quiver and she brushed the back of her hand across her face.
“Lord, is that you, Lizzy? You’re not crying, are you?”
The last person Lizzy expected to see at that moment was the bland, wishy-washy young woman whom she had never really come to know, despite living under the same room for six months—Mrs Hodge’s daughter Susan.
She dropped her hand, hoping no telltale moisture glistened on her cheeks. “My, Susan, don’t you look grown up?”
Susan laughed, the taut, worried look that seemed a permanent feature disappearing from her plain, pale face. “You always spoke just as you thought. I’d forgotten that about you.”
“Your mother hates it.” Lizzy glanced about to see if Susan’s husband was bringing up the rear, but the white-covered hillside was empty right up to the house surrounds where several more carriages had just drawn up by the portico.
“I find it…refreshing.” Susan stroked the muff that encased both her hands. “And I daresay I would look grown up since I’m long married now, and my husband spares no expense when I go forth and represent him in public.”
Lizzy managed an awkward smile for she didn’t know how to respond to this. Susan had never spoken much to Lizzy when Lizzy herself was finding her feet in the household. Susan had seemed to her a timid, cowed creature whom Lizzy had dismissed for never standing up to her mother.
“And how is my mother?” Strangely, Susan obviously felt the need to continue the conversation for Lizzy was definitely not in a talkative mood, and Susan was hardly a bosom friend. She’d probably carry every tidbit Lizzy divulged back to her mother, if Mrs Hodge only asked it of her.
“She is exactly the same as when you lived with her.” Lizzy sent a quick glance over her shoulder in case Mr McAlister was still by the lake.
Susan gave a small laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. And she has arranged a fine match for you, I hear?”
Lizzy nodded.
“Mr Dalgleish is very handsome. Do you like him?”
“Well enough.” Lord, such persistent quizzing was unlike Susan, thought Lizzy, unaware she was frowning until Susan said, “Forgive me for prying. It’s just that I should hate to think Mama is pushing you into something that your heart rebels against.” Impulsively, she put out her hand and her manner was almost urgent suddenly. “You may think it will solve your problems, simply to be away from her. Away from my mother, that is. You may think it’s a step towards…freedom. But Lizzy, think carefully.” She bit her lip. “Your husband will be your master far more effectively—and possibly unkindly—than my mother. It is a union that will last a lifetime.” There was a rosy hue to her cheeks that was not on account of the cold, and her eyes were very bright. For the first time, Lizzy actually thought her pretty, even as she grappled with what Susan was telling her.
“Um…I know that,” she whispered.
Susan’s urgency did not abate. “Do not accept any man to be your husband unless you are very sure he is a good man,” she went on. “You may not love him, and you may know he does not love you, but love doesn’t matter. Mama was right about that. But you must know that he is a good man.” She paused. “Will you think long and hard about that?”
Lizzy pressed her lips together and nodded. What else could she do? What else could she say?
“Good.” Susan’s usual slightly anxious expression replaced her earlier fervour. And when Lizzy volunteered nothing further, the other young woman inclined her head. “It was nice to see you again, Lizzy. I hope you enjoy your few days here and that whatever decision my mother presses you to take will make you happy. Good day.”
Finally, Lizzy was on her own, and the freedom was liberating. With as much decorum as she could manage, she hurried up the front stone steps and into Quamby House, up the carpeted stairs to her bedchamber—along one of the myriad of corridors that would forever confuse her—and then finally was able to fling herself upon the rich gold and scarlet counterpane of her massive four-poster, trying not to cry as she wondered why her breast was so full of conflicting, turbulent thoughts and why her earlier pleasure had quite evaporated.
Chapter 10
Lord and Lady Quamby’s house party was for the duration of five days with dinner followed by a ball each evening, culminating in the grand and lavish Christmas Ball on the final night.
Lizzy had missed the first evening’s festivities, so was quite mesmerised by the festive atmosphere achieved by their hostess as she waited in the withdrawing room between the saloon and the card room, both of which were empty now since most guests were dressing for dinner
.
Mabel had helped Lizzy into her gown of silver net over a white underdress, arranging her curls somewhat hastily since Mrs Hodge had woken from a late-afternoon nap and immediately demanded Mabel’s services. She’d sent Lizzy downstairs and instructed her to wait for her in the withdrawing room.
So, Lizzy, with no choice but to be obedient, did as she was told, enjoying the silence and the crackle of the yule log that burned brightly in the saloon’s enormous fireplace, and the cheerfulness of the mistletoe’s merry red berries that nestled cheerfully amongst the green foliage that was strung along the mantelpiece and over the doorway separating the two rooms.
She was deep in thought, staring up at a large portrait of beautiful Lady Quamby that hung above the mantelpiece, when a young lady in pale blue sarcenet crossed her line of vision. The girl, who appeared only several years older than Lizzy, was wearing full evening dress, her brown hair arranged in a surprisingly untidy high topknot; and Lizzy would have said nothing had it not been for the fact that three of the tiny pearl buttons at the back of the young lady’s dress were unfastened, causing Lizzy to clear her throat to attract her attention.
“Bother,” was all the girl muttered, turning with a scowl when Lizzy alerted her to the wardrobe misadventure. “My companion has taken ill with a megrim. I knew I should have asked Lady Quamby if I might borrow the services of one of her staff, but everyone is so busy.” She gave a tight smile. “I’m Miss Amelia Harcourt. Thank you for telling me.”
“And I’m Miss Lizzy Scott, and I’d be happy to let you have my maid for half an hour before the ball tomorrow if your companion is still not feeling chipper.”
The girl pondered this a moment, but instead of brightening, she sighed. “I daresay I should accept since I may have no one to help me, otherwise.”
Though Lizzy thought her response somewhat ungrateful, she kept up the note of enthusiasm. “Then I shall tell my maid, Mabel, to ask where to find you when she’s in the servant’s hall having her dinner. But now, shall I fasten your buttons since there is no one about?”
“You’re very kind,” said Miss Harcourt, presenting her back to Lizzy, before nodding her thanks and excusing herself.
She’d just left the room when Lizzy was disturbed by a noise behind her and turned to see Mr McAlister quietly backing from the saloon.
“So, you do not wish to speak with me…alone, Mr McAlister?” Lizzy asked, staring pointedly around at the empty chairs. “Or were you in fact seeking me out to atone for your harsh words earlier?”
“I was and then lost courage, but now you’ve saved me the trouble of a wrong-footed approach to doing just that,” he said, a smile erasing the momentary awkwardness as he crossed the room to stand beside her in front of the fire.
“Does that mean you don’t really think me childish? And what was the other word you used?”
“Unladylike,” he supplied, turning his hands to warm the backs of them in front of the flames.
She nodded, her smile faltering in the silence as she tried to concentrate on a burst of flaming embers rather than Theo’s wonderfully twisted half smile, which made his lips look so desirable she wanted to reach out a hand and trace their outline. Instead, she cleared her throat and managed, “So, you’re here to atone by telling me you were completely in the wrong for speaking like that to me?”
“I was completely in the wrong, Miss Scott.”
“Lizzy.”
“Lizzy,” he repeated, his smile so heart-melting she was about to forgive him when he added, “Though I do think you too young to know what you’re doing by even considering a man like Mr Dalgleish.”
“Well then, Theo, what gives you the right to decide whom I should consider as a husband?”
“Nothing whatsoever, other than that you remind me of my sister, and I’d have cautioned her against such an action in a similar situation.”
“Did you ever?” Lizzy couldn’t help herself. She thought of poor dead Miss McAlister, snuffed out just like her own sisters, and wondered if the girl had ever been in love.
He shook his head. “Jane never formed an attachment, though…” he hesitated, “she knew the danger of a poorly considered one.”
“Indeed. An oracle on love, then.” Lizzy waited, hoping he’d elaborate, but when he did not, she asked, “And what of you, Mr McAlister? Has your intended made her grand entrance yet?”
“A grand entrance is not her style. She is shy and modest and—”
“Most unlike me which is why you like her so much.”
“You mistake the matter. I respect her for her shyness and modesty for it is part of her charming character. You, on the other hand, I applaud for your courage and daring.”
Lizzy felt a fluttering in the region of her heart. No one had ever said anything half so nice to her. She was about to blurt this out, in fact, before remembering that one of her greatest faults was her unladylike habit of doing just that—speaking her thoughts before she properly considered them. So she just inclined her head and said as demurely as she could, “You are very kind, Mr McAlister.”
He burst out laughing. “What a queen of the stage you would make. That’s not at all what you were really thinking, was it?”
“Actually, what I was really thinking,” she said, completely forgetting her self-imposed stricture to consider her words, “was how happy it made me feel when you complimented me because the truth is, only Mabel compliments me, and she’s paid a wage—" She stopped and sighed. “I shouldn’t run on like this. Mrs Hodge will be here soon and no doubt you are wondering how you can take your leave.”
“Why, Miss Scott, there you are!” another masculine voice intruded, and they both raised their heads to look at the tall, handsome figure in the doorway, looking very fine in his sharply cut black coat over a flamboyant green and gold waistcoat and tight-fitting inexpressibles. Nevertheless, Lizzy thought she preferred Theo’s more sober attitude to fashion. He, at least, didn’t look as if he might cut himself on his collar points. “I hope your flirtation with the fireplace isn’t a symptom of catching a chill from your recent terrible encounter.” Now Mr Dalgleish was striding across the room, glancing with disdain at Theo as he took Lizzy’s hands and brought them to his lips. “I beg that you will stand up with me for the first dance and, in the meantime, tell me how you are enjoying your time here.”
Lizzy inclined her head, her eyes flickering to Theo’s face to gauge his reaction as she responded, “I would be only too delighted, Mr Dalgleish.”
To her chagrin, however, Theo quirked an eyebrow and, instead of putting in a counteroffer, merely nodded his intention to excuse himself with a parting look that conveyed only scorn of what he’d seen.
“And might I say how charming you look tonight.” Mr Dalgleish moved a little closer. So close, in fact, that Lizzy could smell the cologne he used. It was both disconcerting and, she had to admit it, exciting since the closest she had been to a man was on the dance floor at the few provincial balls and assemblies she’d attended in Norfolk.
That is, until the twenty-four hours she’d spent under Mr McAlister’s roof and, of course, and she wasn’t really alone now since she was in the midst of a grand entertainment surrounded by people in the next room, no doubt.
“You’re very kind, Mr Dalgleish,” she said, attributing her sudden nervousness to the fact that she wanted very much for everything to go well now that Theo had made clear his disinterest. Mr Dalgleish would have to be the man who’d save her from a life of torment with Mrs Hodge.
Mr Dalgleish applied a gentle pressure to her fingers and put his head close to Lizzy’s. “You have no idea how much I’ve been anticipating Lady Quamby’s Christmas Ball after I received so much encouragement during our meeting in Norfolk all those months ago.” His eyes flicked to the mistletoe above the lintel and, observing they were still alone, he whispered, “Encouragement which emboldens me to ask, in the tradition of Yuletide festivities, whether I might be permitted a kiss beneath the mistletoe?
”
Lizzy was still digesting what encouragement she had given him in Norfolk all those months ago when he put his hand on the small of her back, manoeuvred her a few steps towards the doorway and, cupping her cheek with his other hand, lowered his lips to hers.
The sensation was extraordinary. She gasped, stiffened, then allowed her lips to soften sufficiently so that when they broke apart and he asked, beaming and confident, “Did you like that, Miss Scott?” she was able to answer honestly with a nod, “I did, Mr Dalgleish.”
“And a fine piece of horseflesh it was too,” came the booming voice of a couple of red-faced country squires who chose that moment to make their noisy entrance, leaving Lizzy unsure as to whether she was relieved or otherwise that Mr Dalgleish should leave trysting aside and as he said, go and see to the comfort of his mother, adding that Mrs Dalgleish was highly desirous of seeing Lizzy too, and that she must go with him to the card room where she was waiting, in order to avoid appearing impolite.
“Of course,” said Lizzy obligingly, frowning at the proprietorial hand Mr Dalgleish put upon her forearm as he steered her through the crowd towards his mother, who sat upon a love seat on the periphery of the eager card players, deep in conversation with an old dowager.
Mrs Dalgleish was a stout woman with a round face from which a pair of very dark assessing eyes appeared like raisins, Lizzy thought. Tonight, she was elegantly attired in a feather-plumed, purple-velvet toque that matched her round gown.
She nodded when she saw Lizzy standing beside her son and said, “I hope you will not make it a habit to embroil yourself in drama, young lady. Word of your escapade has spread far and wide. Why, imagine plunging into a river! I was most displeased to hear of it.”
Lizzy blinked in surprise and was about to object that she was hardly at fault when Mr Dalgleish interjected, “I think you are a brave heroine, Lizzy.” He smiled and lowered his voice. “Do you not agree that certain events this evening indicate you do not mind a greater familiarity in my form of address?” he murmured. “The main thing is that dear Lizzy is well and uninjured.”