Page 36
Story: An Improbable Scheme (Courting the Unconventional #1)
A s the soft rays of the morning sun crept into her bedchamber, Elsbeth fastened the latch on her final trunk and sighed, her heart heavy with indecision. “That should do,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.
Clara, busy tidying the dressing table, paused and looked over. “Are you certain you wish to leave after breakfast?”
Elsbeth sank onto the trunk. “I don’t know what to think. Charles is insistent we leave, and I can’t say he’s wrong.”
Clara tilted her head thoughtfully. “Have you told your mother yet?”
Elsbeth winced. “I haven’t. I was hoping Charles would break the news.”
A knowing look crossed Clara’s face. “She will be quite upset that you’re missing the soiree tonight.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Elsbeth asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “Wait here until Alfred succeeds in whatever he’s planning? I can’t risk staying.”
Clara approached and perched on the edge of the bed. “ You’re certain it’s Alfred? What if the falling planter was just an accident?”
Elsbeth shook her head. “No. It wasn’t an accident. And if not Alfred, then who? I truly don’t believe Charles means me harm. Which begs the question: who else would want me dead?”
Clara hesitated before asking, “And what of Lord Westcott? Can you truly leave him behind?”
“Lord Westcott and I are just friends,” she said, her voice firm, though she couldn’t even fathom her own lie. Whatever they were, it was certainly more than friendship. But he would eventually leave her.
Clara raised an eyebrow. “Yet you risked sneaking out last night just to see him?”
“It was to say goodbye,” Elsbeth said defensively. “That’s all it was. Nothing untoward happened.”
Clara didn’t look convinced. “You risked your reputation.”
“My reputation is already in tatters,” Elsbeth replied. “Lord Westcott would never be interested in someone who has fallen so far in Society.”
“You’re still the daughter of an earl, with an impressive dowry. You shouldn’t discount yourself so easily.”
Elsbeth wished it was that simple, but it wasn’t. It was much more complicated than that. “It doesn’t matter. We said our goodbyes. I’m leaving this village, and that’s that.”
“Are you truly giving up on Lord Westcott so easily?”
Pressing her lips together, Elsbeth rose and adjusted the folds of her traveling habit. “Clara, I would rather not talk about him.”
Before Clara could respond, the door swung open to reveal her mother. She stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the packed trunks with a frown of confusion. “What is going on here? Why are your trunks packed?”
Drat. Charles hadn’t spoken to her mother yet. In a voice that she hoped sounded more confident than she felt, she revealed, “Charles and I are departing for his country estate after breakfast.”
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “When was this decided?”
“Last night,” Elsbeth replied.
“And you’re only telling me now?” her mother demanded. “What of the soiree tonight? Do you intend to embarrass me by abandoning your family’s obligations?”
“It’s not like that. Charles feels it’s safer if we leave immediately.”
Her mother crossed her arms, her posture as rigid as her expression. She turned to Clara. “Leave us.”
Clara curtsied and quickly exited, shutting the door behind her.
Elsbeth’s mother turned back to her, her eyes glinting with a mix of hurt and frustration. “And I don’t get a say in any of this?”
“I’m sorry,” Elsbeth murmured, lowering her gaze.
Her mother’s voice rose. “Do you wish to humiliate me? What will people think when my own daughter is absent from the soiree?”
Elsbeth bit her lip, guilt gnawing at her. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”
“Then stay,” her mother said. “Attend the soiree, at the very least.”
Elsbeth nodded, knowing she had no desire to hurt her mother. “I’ll speak with Charles.”
Her mother exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you. I’m disappointed you’re leaving, but I understand. Perhaps some time away will give you a new perspective.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Elsbeth had a few questions that she needed to know the answers to. “Are you happy with Alfred? ”
Her mother blinked, appearing surprised by the question. “Of course I’m happy with Alfred.”
“But you weren’t happy with Father?” Elsbeth pressed.
Her mother’s face fell, sadness shadowing her features. “Your father was… a difficult man to love.”
Elsbeth swallowed hard before saying, “I know he hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”
Her mother sat beside her, taking her hand gently. “You couldn’t have done anything, my dear. I didn’t want him to turn his anger on you. I endured it so you wouldn’t have to.”
Tears welled in Elsbeth’s eyes as she listened to her mother’s words. “I should have known. I should have done something.”
Her mother squeezed her hand. “You were a child. It wasn’t your burden to bear.”
“So, you bore it alone?”
“That is a mother’s job. To protect her child, no matter the cost.” Her mother’s voice was firm, the pain of past sacrifices evident in her tone.
A tear slipped down Elsbeth’s cheek, and she hastily wiped it away, though it did nothing to stem the flood of emotions coursing through her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I was so consumed by my own pursuits, my own trivial concerns, that I failed to see what was right in front of me.”
Her mother’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “You did nothing wrong. Please know that. I wanted you to live a carefree life, untouched by the burdens I bore.”
“I have been difficult since you married Alfred,” Elsbeth admitted, turning to face her mother fully. “And I am so sorry for that. You deserve to be happy, and I should have supported you.”
Her mother’s expression was tinged with curiosity. “Where is this coming from?”
Elsbeth shifted uncomfortably, the words catching in her throat before she pushed them out. “Because it’s true. You deserve happiness, Mother. More than anyone.”
“As do you, my darling. Which is why I cannot understand why you are leaving Lord Westcott.”
The mention of Niles made Elsbeth’s heart ache, but she forced herself to meet her mother’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter the reason, Mother. I have to leave.”
Her mother’s hand fell away, and she studied Elsbeth intently. “Did something happen between you and Lord Westcott?”
“No,” Elsbeth replied quickly, not wishing to reveal the real reason as to why she had to leave. “We are merely friends, but he did ask permission to write to me. And I granted him leave to do so.”
Her mother’s lips pursed. “That is a dangerous path, Elsbeth. You are not betrothed, and allowing such correspondence could ruin what remains of your reputation.”
“I no longer care about my reputation,” Elsbeth stated. “It is already in tatters. What harm could come of it?”
“Much harm,” her mother countered. “Lord Westcott may mean well, but the world will not look kindly upon such behavior, especially from the daughter of an earl.”
Elsbeth felt the stirrings of anger rise within her, though she pushed it down. “I cannot deny him. He is the only one who has stood by me through all of this.”
“Because he cares for you,” her mother said. “And I think you care for him as well.”
The words struck a chord deep within Elsbeth, and she felt tears prick at her eyes once more. “I don’t know what I feel. I only know that leaving is the right thing to do.”
Her mother studied her for a long moment, then reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Elsbeth. But strength does not mean running away from what scares you. Sometimes, it means staying and facing it.”
Elsbeth bit her lip, her resolve wavering. “Perhaps,” she whispered. “But I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that.”
Her mother’s smile was warm. “You are brave enough for anything. You always have been.”
Elsbeth was touched by her mother’s words and thought it might be a good time to ask her a few more questions. This was the moment to press forward. “What do you know of Father’s death?”
Her mother’s smile vanished, replaced by a guarded look. “Why do you ask?”
“I have been thinking about it lately, and I wonder if it was truly an accident,” Elsbeth replied, studying her mother closely.
Her mother abruptly rose. “Why would you ask such a thing? It was an accident,” she snapped as she moved towards the door. “Nothing more. Now, let us go down for breakfast.”
But Elsbeth wasn’t willing to let the conversation end. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the bed. “If that’s the case, then why is Alfred asking questions about Father’s death?”
Her mother froze, her back stiffening. Slowly, she turned, her face paler than Elsbeth had ever seen it. “Why would you think that?” she asked, her voice strained.
This was her chance. Elsbeth took a deep breath, deciding to risk the truth. “Because I found newssheet clippings in his desk. Articles about Father’s death.”
Her mother’s expression hardened, her lips thinning. “You broke into his desk?”
“Yes,” Elsbeth admitted. “I knew Alfred was hiding something, and I needed to find out what it was.”
“You shouldn’t have done such a thing. You’ve no idea what you’ve meddled in,” she chided .
“I had no choice,” Elsbeth countered. “He’s keeping secrets, and I need to know what they are. What else is Alfred hiding?”
“You don’t understand,” her mother said sharply. “You’re chasing shadows, things that don’t concern you.”
“Then make me understand,” Elsbeth demanded, rising to her feet. “Stop treating me like a child and tell me the truth.”
Her mother’s composure cracked, a flicker of panic crossing her face. “You are a child in this,” she said, her voice trembling. “And we’ve been trying to protect you. You don’t know the dangers of the answers you’re seeking.”
“I can handle the truth, whatever it is,” she asserted.
Table of Contents
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- Page 36 (Reading here)
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