Twice Shy

CHAPTER ONE

Elizabeth Ashling took up the pearl drops from their blue velvet bed to fix in her ears, while her maid slid the final pins into her hair.

She reflected upon how different she felt from the first time she had sat before this same mirror, only three years previously, and suppressed a sigh.

She had been anticipating her first ball, and been so excited that her maid had shaken her head and claimed it was all but impossible to dress her hair properly for all her fidgeting.

Tonight Ditcham was beseeching her mistress to abandon the long face that she said would have suited a wake rather than a come-out, and did so with all the authority of one who had been her mother’s tirewoman and had known her from infancy.

‘Well, it is not my come-out, thank goodness. My cousin will be the focus of attention, but I promise I shall not give anyone the opportunity to say that I am not delighted to be present.’

‘I sincerely hope you are wrong. It would put both Cousin Amelia and my aunt’s noses very much out of joint.

Besides, Amelia is an exceedingly pretty girl, and I am sure my aunt has very reasonable expectations of her making a most advantageous match before the Season is over.

Amelia, at least, will not disappoint her.

’ There was a bitter stress upon ‘at least’.

‘It was never your fault, not one bit of it, as I said then and will say now, for all that you frown at me.’ The maid clasped the single string of pearls about her mistress’s neck. ‘Cruel it was, and unfair, and—’

‘Thank you, Ditcham, that will be all. I shall do very well.’ Elizabeth softened the dismissal with a smile, and a hand on her maid’s arm as she rose. ‘You mustn’t wait up for me.’

Ditcham sniffed, and declared she would be ready to attend her mistress at whatever hour of the morning she retired. She then twitched the folds of the spangled gauze scarf that draped over Elizabeth’s elbows, and gave a nod indicative of approbation at the final effect.

Lady Chalford viewed her niece with eyes equally as critical.

Her approval was tempered by the fact that she had no wish that her niece should detract from her daughter’s launch into Society.

She had chaperoned Elizabeth with what could even be described as pleasure, those three years past, 9when Amelia was still firmly in the schoolroom, and there was every chance of Elizabeth making a reasonable match for which she could take no small degree of credit.

After all, it had been she who had taken the girl into her own home when she was a quiet thirteen-year-old, immured in the schoolroom at Dowlands.

She had given her the benefit of worldly wisdom and how to go on, without which, in the absence of a mama, she would have been singularly unprepared to take her place in grown-up society.

That it had ended as it did, with the embarrassment, the pitying looks, made her doubly determined that Amelia would be a hit.

Not that this was unlikely, she told herself.

She smiled indulgently upon her elder daughter, as she watched her self-consciously adjust the pearl and diamond-chip bracelet, a gift for this special occasion, about her wrist. Miss Amelia Ashling had, at just gone seventeen, a figure womanly enough to appeal to the most demanding of gentlemen, without being buxom, and which owed nothing to padding or wax enhancements.

Her face was heart shaped, her complexion, despite some fears during the previous year, was flawless, and her features attractive.

She beamed at her mama and cousin, and squeezed that damsel’s hand quite tightly in her excitement.

Lady Chalford looked at the pair together, her daughter golden-haired, her niece a contrasting brunette.

Amelia had a thrilled glow about her that the more experienced Elizabeth lacked.

Elizabeth, thought her aunt, looked elegant, cool and composed, though it might make Amelia seem gauche, and her ladyship had a lingering doubt that she should have permitted Elizabeth to wear the 10plain three-quarter dress of bluebell-coloured silk over a straw satin underdress.

It was certainly appropriate to a young woman not in her first Season, but it did not make Amelia’s faintest shell pink appear to advantage when they stood together, and tonight she wanted her daughter to outshine every other girl present.

It was not a foolish aspiration, given her looks.

Lady Chalford had the honesty to admit that although she herself had been accounted a remarkably good-looking girl in her day, her daughter’s beauty owed much to her sire.

Lord Chalford, though now rather more solid in build than twenty years previously, was frequently described as ‘distinguished-looking’, and had been remarkably handsome.

All three Ashling brothers had been thus blessed, and it had been no surprise when the second son, Edward, with little beyond good lineage and good looks, had married well.

Cecilia Dowty might have had her pick of suitors.

Lady Chalford cast a glance at her niece’s profile; how Elizabeth looked like her mama.

Dear Cecilia had brought, with her hand, the Dowlands estate and ten thousand pounds a year.

Her gentle, calm good sense, added to the obvious affection in which Edward held her, had proved a very steadying influence upon one whose youthful excesses had caused some concern.

He had proved a model husband, but when Cecilia and their son had been carried off within a week of each other by diphtheria when Elizabeth was ten, he had become reclusive, and turned increasingly to intoxicating liquor.

His friends and family had shaken their heads and done what they could, but to no avail.

He had shunned everybody, including his 11daughter, and drunk himself slowly but inexorably into the grave.

It had been the Christian thing to do, taking the poor girl under her wing, and Edward Ashling’s morose inebriation was something that was discreetly forgotten.

At least Elizabeth’s chances of matrimony had not been harmed by it.

What damage, other than to himself, might the poor man do?

Lady Chalford permitted herself a sigh. Little had they known.

His sudden death, when Elizabeth was on the very verge of a respectable alliance, had been ‘most inopportune’ in Lady Chalford’s view, since it ruined any plans for a lavish wedding, which would have reflected upon her good taste.

Worse was, however, to follow. It became apparent that he had been persuaded into some highly risky investments, which had failed and left his daughter with an encumbered estate and no capital.

At this point Lady Chalford had resorted to her vinaigrette and feared the worst.

Elizabeth’s grief was tempered by the fact that her father’s abandonment of her after her mother died had made her feel orphaned long before he actually died.

She had wept often enough in those lonely years, and had no tears left.

Cast into full mourning, she had expected her anticipated engagement to be longer, and her wedding a quieter affair, but not that the Honourable Henry Freshford would pay a visit of condolence, murmur about ‘changed circumstances’ and thereafter ignore her completely.

It had all been the whisper of the week in Society, and Lady Chalford had been forced to accept some most unpalatable insincere commiserations from ladies who had been expecting to make just as insincere felicitations.

12Elizabeth had withdrawn briefly to Sussex with a heart, if not broken, then at least severely bruised, and in the knowledge that everyone was aware she had been jilted.

Henry had not been courting her for her wealth, she knew, for his family were not poor.

He had seemed genuinely taken with her, and, after a period of natural caution, she had moved swiftly from surprised delight to infatuation.

He was everything a girl could wish for: handsome, thoughtful, just a trifle dashing.

Then everything had changed. Whatever he had felt for her was so shallow that he abandoned her when she was no longer ‘a good match’.

He had proved beyond doubt what she had already feared, that men spoke of love and affection, but they could not be trusted.

One loved, laid oneself open, but to them it was no more than words.

First Papa had rejected her, then Henry.

Disillusioned and dejected, Elizabeth had had nothing to do but contemplate the disaster that had befallen her, and the perfidious nature of the male of the species.

Her aunt, insistent that she should not be left alone, had brought her to reside once more at Marden Hall, whilst her uncle and Wimborne, the family man of business, struggled to rescue what they could from the financial disaster that was her legacy.

By the following summer, it looked very much as if the creditors would compound no more, and even the house and home farm would have to be sold.

What they had not accounted for was a rescue from an unexpected source.