Page 23 of His Illegitimate Duchess

E lizabeth had hoped the three Wednesdays she’d already spent at Almack’s by now would have inured her to the awe of being there, and yet here she was, overwhelmed once again. All the air had been kicked out of her lungs when she entered the ballroom and saw what had to be hundreds of people.

Will my nerves ever be able to bear this? she thought as she laid a hand on her stomach. Her aunt Isolde swiftly knocked said hand away with her elbow, which also had the unintended effect of prompting Lizzie to be mindful of her posture.

At least she no longer worried herself ill about dancing – not only was there always a steady supply of gentlemen to dance with, but she worried less about the steps and enjoyed the movements more.

People knew her now, and she knew them – as she made her way around the room with Isolde, they exchanged greetings and pleasantries with others who had been allowed into this sanctum, referenced family members and earlier conversations, and, despite the underlying stiffness of it all, Lizzie was beginning to feel like, perhaps, she belonged.

In the middle of her conversation with Amelia, they were interrupted by Isabella and a wretched-looking Louisa.

“Good evening! I was hoping we would see the two of you here,” Isabella exclaimed as they exchanged greetings.

Elizabeth hadn’t seen either of them since the house party ten days ago. Isabella explained that they had returned from Winchester only the day before and that they had made plans to meet up with some of her relatives here.

“Oh, there they are!” She waved to someone excitedly.

A plump young woman and a stern-looking man approached them. After they exchanged greetings, Isabella introduced them as Miss Theodosia Pilkington and her brother, Mr Bartholomew Pilkington. The pair had apparently just arrived from Sussex that day.

Both Amelia and Louisa wilted in the man’s presence.

He nonetheless secured a dance with all of them, before Isabella’s husband came over and claimed a dance with everyone but his wife, which Elizabeth continued to find ridiculous, despite Lady Burnham having assured her several times that not dancing with one's spouse was the proper thing to do.

Then Baron Waldegrave came over to their group, accompanied by Duke Talbot, and the two of them claimed the two remaining dances on Elizabeth’s dance card, which happened to both be waltzes.

And just like that, my dance card is full, Elizabeth thought, mightily pleased with herself, but also wondering where this vainglorious sentiment was suddenly coming from.

She glanced around at the other young women and noticed that Louisa was still looking unwell. Elizabeth wondered whether it would be too presumptuous of her to ask whether aught was amiss.

She has Isabella for that; better not to appear intrusive, she decided.

While dancing with him, Elizabeth discovered that Mr Pilkington was as stern as he had seemed.

He spoke negatively about a number of things, including women’s fashion these days , which Elizabeth couldn’t even properly resent him for because she was too busy turning her face away from his as they moved in order to avoid being assaulted by his rancid breath.

Nonetheless, she was happy that she had felt uninspired and had chosen a blush gown for the evening, certain that one of her more vibrantly coloured dresses would have given the poor man a fit.

His poor sister must feel so restrained by his views, Elizabeth thought, before she realised that she was no better off than Miss Theodosia. Then she chastised herself for thinking so ill of her only brother and for being so ungrateful, which caused her mood to sour.

When Mister Pilkington led her to the refreshments after their dance, he saw an old friend, who turned out to be Mister Paul Goulding.

It is no surprise that these two are friends, Elizabeth thought as she looked for the lemonade. As the two men conversed in equally monotone voices on her right, an unfamiliar gentleman walked up to the table and stood on her left. She didn’t look up.

“I cannot believe they let you prance around these rooms like you’re not the daughter of a whore,” he whisper-hissed at her and promptly disappeared in the crowd.

Elizabeth’s hands started shaking, and she had to lean on the table for support. Pilkington and Goulding were obliviously nattering away as she tried to breathe through the humiliation and fear.

She hadn’t even seen the man’s face. Who was he? Why was he so offended by her mere presence? Would she, at some point, be introduced to him, and would she unknowingly dance with him and touch him, a person who hated her that much?

Such thoughts kept buzzing around her head for the rest of the ball. Not even Isabella’s husband, who had been blessed by the same animated temperament as his wife, had managed to lift her spirits.

Luckily, the Baron seemed to be equally gloomy.

“Please forgive me, Lady Hawkins,” he told her sincerely.

“I am here tonight solely to try and catch some of my brother’s friends who may know of his whereabouts.

Our father is threatening to disown him for marrying bene -” he stopped himself and straightened up.

“I apologise. I am under a lot of pressure at the moment. I should not be burdening you with this.”

“It is understandable,” Elizabeth told him gently.

She found his worry for his reckless younger brother endearing and chose to ignore their father’s sentiments about Miss Caroline. Elizabeth was aware of how the world worked. Wishing it were different didn’t change anything or give her false hope.

“We don’t have to converse. You can look around to see if any of your brother’s friends have arrived.”

Nathaniel thanked her, and they both spent the rest of the dance looking around. Several times, Elizabeth saw Talbot’s dark head leaning closer to Lady Helena’s shiny blond one, and she saw them smiling while they were engrossed in lively conversation.

A perfect match , she thought. Complementary in all aspects. Her Grace, Helena Talbot, the Duchess of Norwich, who is not the daughter of a whore.

Her mood was still despondent when the aforementioned duke took her hand for the second waltz. She looked everywhere but at his face.

“You seem to be having another fit of temper, Miss Hawkins,” Talbot said knowingly when she said nothing for a while.

“It seems to be that kind of day,” she said, not eager to tell him the truth. “I noticed you weren’t late this evening, which was rather unusual for you.”

“I’ll have you know that no one is permitted to enter the rooms after 11 pm.”

“Not even a duke?”

“The Duke of Wellington himself was turned away from these doors once for tardiness.”

“The war hero?” Elizabeth’s bad mood was slowly being pushed to the back of her mind.

Talbot nodded gravely. “That very one. Speaking of war heroes, I don’t see your Corporal in attendance tonight.”

“He wrote to tell me he had some urgent matters to attend to at his estate.”

“You gave him permission to write to you?”

Elizabeth looked at Talbot’s face for the first time.

“Should I not have done that? Lady Burnham said -”

“No, that is quite right,” Talbot hastened to explain. “I was simply surprised at the progress of your courtship. Do go on, where is this estate of his?”

“Wexcombe, in Wiltshire, he said. I don’t know much about the area.”

“It’s a lovely county, Wiltshire, I’ve purchased some fine horses there. Perhaps you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth smiled conspiratorially.

“I’m sorry to report that they do not possess an establishment as exclusive as Almack’s.”

“There is no ballroom to turn away tardy dukes?”

“You jest, but I hope you’re aware what a privilege it is to be here.”

Elizabeth drew her brows together. “Do you think it’s a privilege simply because they are so strict about who they allow in?”

“Precisely.”

“What if that’s the only thing that elevates it over other ballrooms?”

“It is.”

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief.

“You don’t think that’s important enough?” Talbot asked. “I distinctly remember a conversation during which someone complained that people do not appreciate the beauties of Vauxhall due to having seen them too many times. And now you criticise exclusivity and the value it affords things?”

“It’s not the same thing,” she exclaimed.

“How so?”

“No one is being denied entry into Vauxhall or being made to feel unworthy of it.”

“Except for those who cannot afford a ticket,” he said victoriously.

“It’s still not the same.”

“So you say, but you haven’t managed to convince me.”

Elizabeth looked away from his face and didn’t reply. She felt agitated and a little angry with herself for her inability to better express and defend her thoughts against his logic.

“A few days ago, I had a thought,” she started saying.

“What a novel concept,” he mocked, but it didn’t seem malicious, so Elizabeth didn’t let him discourage her.

“I thought about how some people can only consider themselves clever if they make others feel stupid. Some can feel rich only if they make others feel poor. I don’t think that's good or impressive. And I don’t idolise a place only for turning people who are not me away from its doors.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, Miss Hawkins.”

“Would you be so kind as to enlighten me as to why you would say it like that?” It was Elizabeth’s turn to mock.

“We have already established you harbour a tendre in your heart for America, the land that provides the freedom and opportunity for the dregs of mankind to rise above the muck they were born in. You most likely think it progress that nowadays merchants and people of trade are proudly parading their daughters’ dowries in front of impoverished nobility, diluting the noble bloodlines of England! ”

His entire face was twisted in distaste as he pointed around them with his chin.

Elizabeth wanted to take a step back, but was locked in the embrace of the waltz.

Dear God, does this man hate me, too? She shook the thought off, realising that she hadn’t really expected a different answer from him. She was aware of who he was and what he stood for.

“Why don’t you propose matrimony to an impoverished gentleman’s daughter, then?” Elizabeth said, thinking of Elinor, who was desperate for a rich husband.

“Ah,” he said. “Marrying a girl like that almost guarantees that your house will become a sort of caravanserai for her relations and you shall become the Bank of England.”

“I don’t know what a caravanserai is,” Lizzie admitted.

“It’s a sort of inn in the East,” Talbot clarified without any judgment on his face.

“I’ve never stayed at an inn,” she said stupidly, then took a deep breath and returned to the topic at hand.

“It is said that grace is God’s unmerited favour, and I view titles and being nobility like I do that grace.

These things are not the result of hard work, unlike a successful merchant’s hard-earned money,” she said and lifted an eyebrow, attempting to affect the same haughtiness she’d seen on his face so many times.

Talbot’s nose twitched, but the music stopped, and he thus lost his chance to reply. Elizabeth felt elation and apprehension warring in her stomach.

“Where to?” he asked as he started escorting her off the dance floor.

“The refreshments, please.”

For all its exclusivity, the refreshments at Almack’s were, quite frankly, sad. Tea, lemonade, some stale-looking cake, bread, and butter – that was all they offered.

“Do you think the refreshments are better at Wiltshire balls?” she asked Talbot, who actually had to bow his head to hide his laughter at Lizzie’s dejected face.

“Are these not to your liking?”

“I could eat a wheel of cheese right now.” Elizabeth sighed and shook her head at herself as she took a glass of lemonade. “I’m glad my aunt isn’t here to hear me say that in front of a duke.”

“I’ll lead you to her right away.”

Elizabeth shook her head with an affectionate smile.

*

Three days later, Mary led a confused Elizabeth to the kitchens of the Mayfair house.

“I’m telling you, Ma doesn’t know what to do with it. It said Miss Elizabeth Hawkins on the packaging, which was weird since you don’t make the orders at the shops.”

When Elizabeth saw the wheel of cheese in the middle of the large wooden table, she burst out laughing. Mary frowned.

“What is it?” She asked impatiently.

Elizabeth briefly explained the conversation she’d had with Talbot at Almack’s regarding the food, but Mary’s frown remained fixed.

“I don’t know, Lizzie. Why is the rude dukeling sending you gifts all of a sudden?”

“He’s mocking me, that’s just his way. Don’t worry about it.”

Her friend wasn’t convinced.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Just be careful, alright?”

“When did you start worrying so much? You know better than anyone how careful I am with these people. Now, let’s taste this cheese.”