Page 22 of His Illegitimate Duchess

The normally icy Charlotte was laughing in delight as she hugged her brother, not letting go of him even as he put her down to clasp her husband’s hand.

“I missed you so much, Nicholas,” she sighed.

“I missed you, too,” he admitted.

Elizabeth ran her tongue over her teeth to get rid of the suddenly-too-thick saliva in her mouth. Her smile felt like a grimace. What a disgusting person she was, unhappy to see her own sister!

“We were travelling back to London and decided to surprise you,” the Earl of Pembroke said.

Everyone exchanged greetings and exclamations of joy and surprise.

Introductions were made, belated felicitations on their nuptials were offered, compliments were given, and even Elizabeth received something that resembled a peck on the cheek from the sister she hadn’t seen since before her wedding.

The group slowly made their way back to the drawing room, but Elizabeth lingered in the entrance hall.

She wanted nothing more than to go home. She suddenly felt the weight of the last two years, no, the last ten years, dragging her down. She was exhausted. She closed her eyes and leaned her back against the wall.

“Is aught amiss?”

Talbot was looking at her from the drawing room door, his face carefully blank, and it seemed to her that his gaze was the only thing keeping her upright.

“This is improper,” she said in a weak voice.

Talbot’s lips curled slightly, “I’m sure the distance between us would speak for itself if anyone were to stumble upon us.”

He was right. They were on opposing ends of the entrance hall.

“Were you affected by your sister’s arrival?” he tried again.

Why does it matter? Elizabeth thought wearily.

“I was,” she admitted, intending to let him think her nerves were taxed by the surprise arrival.

“Ah," he said knowingly. "You have to understand that the two of them grew up together and shared almost twenty years without you in them.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flew open. She couldn’t comprehend how or why he'd correctly guessed the source of her reaction. Hot shame coated her throat, and her mind mistook it for anger.

“All I do is understand!” she hissed as she roughly wiped her eyes.

Talbot’s head jerked back in surprise.

“Usually, such fits of temper would have been trained out of one by the age of ten.”

“My governess was preoccupied with other matters,” she snapped, and then closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was sad again. “I know I’m supposed to be this poor relation that is grateful because she was saved from destitution, but I sometimes find myself feeling indignation above all other things… Does that make me wicked?”

“No, not wicked,” Talbot said thoughtfully. “Human, perhaps.”

She nodded, then squared her shoulders.

“You’d best leave now. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Shall we play snapdragon?” It was the first thing she heard upon re-entering the drawing room.

“No!” Isabella sounded horrified. “Our cousin got terribly burnt playing that game.”

Miss Caroline quickly offered an alternative. “Blind man’s buff?”

“You can play the seated version,” Isabella’s mother interjected, probably eager to protect her furniture. “Buffy... something ?”

“Buffy Gruffy! Yes!” Charlotte clapped her hands in excitement. “I haven’t played in forever.”

“Please, do explain the rules to the others, Lady Isabella,” Caroline urged.

“Listen, everyone,” Isabella’s clear voice rang across the room.

“We shall play a game now. Chairs will be put in a circle and we’ll all sit down.

One person is to be blindfolded and spun around while the rest of us quietly trade places.

When the blindfolded person stops spinning, we all sit down.

The blindfolded one must approach a chair and ask the person in it three questions, which must be answered in a disguised voice and very vaguely. ”

“Clearly, you cannot ask them who they are,” Caroline added in a shrill voice.

“And then you must guess who it is!” Isabella concluded.

“What happens if we guess correctly?” Elizabeth asked, while the Corporal at the same time asked, “What happens if we guess incorrectly?”

They exchanged a glance and smiled at each other.

“Usually there is a forfeit,” Lady Helena said while raising her eyebrows suggestively. “One can be made to do a silly task or answer a personal question…”

“The person who guesses correctly will get a florin from the person they identify,” Sophie’s mother interjected again, her voice calm but stern.

There would be no inappropriate forfeits under her roof.

Lizzie’s stomach was seized by an old, familiar dread. A florin! As much as she disliked wasting it on such a silly game, she at least could afford to do so. Her eyes sought out Elinor, who looked very pale.

“Perhaps we’d better play cards,” Elizabeth tried suggesting, but was met with refusal. “Alright, let’s at least agree to settle the payment tomorrow? I haven’t put any money in my reticule.”

“Of course,” Sophie’s mother agreed. “You’ll excuse me and the Viscount, we’ll be content to merely watch you young people amuse yourselves.”

The younger Slaymaker was the first person to volunteer for the blindfold, and he seemed to intentionally use his knees as battering rams against the ladies’ skirts. He eventually correctly identified Miss Caroline, whose excitement had prevented her from disguising her voice very cleverly.

Miss Caroline, then, failed to identify Amelia, who failed to identify Mister Pratt, who, very easily, identified Nicholas, who failed to identify Mister Powell. Mister Powell stopped spinning right in front of Elizabeth and Elinor. Elizabeth’s heart was beating in her throat.

This game was, indeed, very exciting. On one hand, there was the elation of hiding, deceiving, and trying to misdirect the blindfolded person.

On the other hand, there was the overwhelming physical closeness between the participants - as they traded places in the circles trying to avoid the spinning blindfolded person, bodies brushed against each other, collided with each other, a hand would catch your elbow or waist to keep you from falling…

And then there was the blindfolded person, like a hunter, reaching out with their leg to find a seated person, sometimes roughly shoving it into your skirts, sometimes gently brushing your knee with theirs… Elizabeth felt that both her eyes and cheeks were feverish.

It was also an opportunity to observe people without them being aware of your gaze.

Mister Powell looked like a dangerous animal, strong and eerily still.

Lizzie could have sworn she saw him sniff the air before taking a step forward and settling his foot between Elinor’s slippers.

Her friend wasn’t breathing. She kept her head down, as if afraid to look up at the man, despite his blindfold.

Elizabeth couldn’t fault her for that. Powell’s air was overwhelming, and the thought of all of it being focused on her made Elizabeth shiver.

“How many siblings do you have?” he demanded in that cool, dry tone of his.

Elinor pressed her gloved hand to her mouth to muffle her words, “Three sisters and a brother.”

Elizabeth saw the exact moment on Powell’s face when he realised who he was talking to, and she felt a pang of sympathy for her friend, who was about to lose funds she didn’t have.

“What are you most afraid of?” Powell now asked , his tone almost… warm.

Elinor swallowed. “History repeating itself,” she whispered.

Elizabeth closed her eyes at the rush of sympathy she felt. Lizzie knew that Elinor’s mother had been miserable with her gambler husband and her countless pregnancies, until she finally died after giving birth to her youngest child.

Sometimes it seemed as if the world was divided into women who wanted to be exactly like their mothers and those who wanted to be nothing like them. Elizabeth wanted to grab her friend’s hand, but was aware of everyone’s eyes on them.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“America,” Elinor said with a smile that could be heard despite the gloved hand.

“Miss… Louisa,” Powell guessed incorrectly, and Elizabeth had to fight tears for the second time that evening.

She was the only one in the room who realised what the taciturn man had done. And she knew why he’d done it. She watched him take off the blindfold and suppress a smile at Elinor’s delighted face.

For the rest of the evening, Elizabeth could not stop thinking about that almost smile, and how deep and silent love could be.

*

All those thoughts were forgotten the next morning, when the household was awoken by Powell’s fury. He’d gone into his daughter’s room to lead her downstairs for breakfast and found a note on her bed, saying that she was eloping to Gretna Green with none other than George Slaymaker.

He was outraged and almost called out the Baron, eager to destroy anyone from that family.

The men managed to calm him down and took him to the library, whereas the women gathered around Sophie’s mother, trying to comfort her.

She was understandably upset over such an inappropriate thing occurring under her roof.

“Who knows what has been going on, and for how long!” she hissed, as Isabella and Violet exchanged amused glances.

“ Maman , she is out, has a generous dowry, and he is an earl’s son. I don’t think there is much of a scandal there. They probably thought her father would disapprove because she is so young and thus decided to elope,” Violet said calmly, obviously used to dealing with her mother’s moods.

Elizabeth briefly wondered what it would be like to have a father whose love you felt so secure in that you believed he’d forgive you for eloping.

And then she wondered what it would be like to have a social standing so solid that you didn’t have to worry about such a scandalous incident marring it.

She shook her head, knowing that both of those things were beyond her reach.

“Is there no longer any respect for one’s parents? If her father disapproved, he most likely had good reason to do so! Mayhap he had a more advantageous match in mind, one that might further his business or his political connections?”

“I think his business is fine, Maman,” Violet said patiently. “In a few months, it shall all be forgotten, and Mister Powell and Lord Slaymaker shall be good friends. And Miss Caroline shall be very happy, so don’t endanger your health over it, please.”

Elizabeth barely suppressed a smile and turned to the other women in the room to see whether they sported a similar amusement on their faces.

Instead, she came face to face with Louisa, who looked despondent.

Lizzie vaguely remembered seeing the younger Slaymaker walking with Louisa the day before.

Had the young woman been hoping for something?

Had he given her an indication that there was reason for hope?

“Isn’t her father in trade?” Lady Helena asked, not bothering to hide her distaste.

“As a matter of fact, he is, Lady Helena,” Sophie’s mother said.

“I say Lord Slaymaker should have married a titled lady; he is, after all, the son of an earl ,” Lady Helena said, and the heart of the problem finally revealed itself.

Another lesson learnt , Elizabeth thought.

Their last day at Winchester was more silent and solemn than it would have been without the elopement. Both the Baron and Mister Powell left immediately to try and retrieve the young woman before she reached Scotland.

Ian and Charlotte continued on to London after breakfast. Elizabeth and her friends thanked their hosts, said their goodbyes, and left soon after that.

“I hope all house parties I attend are this eventful,” Amelia said dreamily as their carriage left the gates of the manor. “I’ve gotten so many good ideas for my writing.”

“I hope they aren’t,” Elinor replied.

Elizabeth just smiled.