Page 14 of His Illegitimate Duchess
As this Lady Georgiana approached the seat behind her, Elizabeth noticed that her dress, while clearly expensive and well-made, reflected a style no longer en vogue. However, the woman’s jewels more than made up for it. Especially striking were the sapphires of her earrings.
Gifted by a man, to go with her eyes, Elizabeth thought and was struck by the romantic silliness of the idea. The eyes in question seemed to be sizing her up shrewdly.
Luckily, Elizabeth’s courses were almost at their end, so she didn’t have to worry about staining her dress accidentally as she sat down again.
“I’ve been told you’re Duke Hawkins’s illegitimate sister,” the old woman said, her whole posture rigid, as if she half expected Lizzie to slap her for the words.
Elizabeth could see it cost Lady Georgiana a lot of effort to overpower her innate good manners, so she decided to nod. She was Nicholas’s baseborn sister, and it was a relief to hear someone acknowledge it directly.
“It is rarely conveyed to me in those words, but yes, I am.”
Lady Georgiana relaxed slightly, although Elizabeth was certain that her back remained straight even in her sleep.
“You have your father's eyes,” the older woman said, “but none of his presence.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
“How do you like the Opera? I’ve always been partial to Figaro myself.”
“I find myself very moved by the plight of the poor servant girl.”
“You are aware that this is an opera buffa , no?”
“I’m sorry to say that I’m not familiar with the term,” Elizabeth admitted bravely.
This woman wasn’t Lady Burnham, but she didn’t seem the jeering kind.
“Ah,” Lady Georgiana pursed her lips in distaste but patiently explained, “it means comic opera. It’s meant to be amusing.”
“Ah,” it was Elizabeth’s turn to feel distaste.
She’d heard too many stories of young women tormented by the unwelcome advances of their employers to consider it a source of amusement.
“I must not have a good sense of humour,” she said with a small conciliatory smile.
“You don’t need a sense of humour when you have those dimples,” Lady Georgiana waved her fan at Elizabeth’s face. “I imagine you are very popular this Season?”
“Unfortunately, the company is scarce and the invitations are few.” Lizzie decided to be honest with this odd woman.
“Even with that face of yours?”
“I’m sure an impoverished gentleman or a third son will take notice of my superior symmetry soon.”
Lizzie relaxed in her seat. It felt so good to act like herself for once.
“What a peculiar choice of suitor,” Lady Georgiana said as her eyes took in Elizabeth’s face with a calculating sharpness.
“I’ve been told that’s what is available to those of my station.”
“Ah,” Lady Georgiana nodded in understanding, and they were both silent for a while.
Elizabeth was thirsty.
“What prompted you to come out into Society?” the intruder broke the silence.
“My brother wished it.” Elizabeth saw no reason to prevaricate.
“And what is your wish?”
“I wish to be part of my father’s side of the family and to maintain friendly relations with my brother and sister.”
“What about matrimony?”
“Matrimony is a natural part of life,” Elizabeth said, adding, “and I shall endeavour to enter it with a good, honest man, if it please God.”
“I see,” Lady Georgina said and sighed before finally looking away from Elizabeth’s face. “You know, Miss Hawkins, what I’ve learned is that age gives you a new set of eyes. Tell your brother he can pick up the vouchers next week.”
As Lady Georgiana stood up, Elizabeth also stood and said goodbye.
She didn’t dare venture out of the box to search for a drink because she wasn’t keen on earning another one of Isolde’s lectures.
Luckily, the thought seemed to conjure her aunt, who pulled her outside and towards the refreshment stand.
As they sipped on their drinks, Isolde interrogated Elizabeth on every detail of her conversation with Lady Georgiana. Lizzie faithfully recounted everything Lady Georgiana said, but kept her own side of the conversation as vague as possible, especially her lack of opera knowledge.
Isolde was trembling with excitement. “I can hardly believe it! You’ve been given a boon, my girl. A Godsend! Lady Georgiana is the Marchioness of Sefton!”
Elizabeth had heard the title, but she couldn’t remember the context, and her face must have shown it, because Isolde continued, “She is one of the Patronesses of Almack’s!
They are extremely particular about who they allow to attend their Wednesday balls.
Being approved for one of their vouchers is more than just a ticket to a dance; it’s a statement about your position in society.
You are officially accepted into the Ton now, so don’t squander it. ”
Her dancing master, Mister Chivers, had talked at length about the exclusivity of Almack’s during their early lessons on ballroom etiquette.
He’d said that being granted admittance could greatly affect a young lady’s chances of finding a suitable husband.
Elizabeth felt gratitude and resentment warring inside of her, as they often did these days, but she reminded herself that this brought her one step closer to her goal and was thus a good thing.
“I shall do my best to be worthy of it,” she replied.
“You know, your mother’s people were distant relations to the late Marquess. That was why I accepted her into my employ.”
Age gives you a new set of eyes. Elizabeth remembered the older woman’s words before, thankfully, the lifting of the curtain prevented her from continuing to think about it for the rest of the evening.