Chapter 9 #2
"Miss Fairleigh," Lady Ravenshill said, her grey eyes darkening, "I am surprised to see you out in society still.
How fortunate you are to be given such a generous inheritance.
" She paused, glancing at the other ladies, all of whom had now trained their eyes upon Eliza.
"One cannot help but... wonder at such a boon. "
"I am certainly very grateful for it," Eliza answered, the words sticking tight in her throat, knowing that the lady meant more by such words. "It was an unexpected gift."
"Such fortunes usually follow family lines, do they not?
" Lady Ravenshill's eyes glinted maliciously, and Eliza shrank back inwardly.
"Old families, established names and the like are of great importance to those of us in the gentry.
To have received such wealth without any obvious connection to Lady Warrington is extraordinary, is it not?
" Her lips curved into a smile, but it was not one of welcome nor of genuine warmth.
"Unless, of course... " She said nothing more, leaving the half sentence hanging in the air and allowing everyone else to fill it with whatever came into their mind.
Eliza knew at once what the lady was suggesting.
Unless, of course, her parentage was not what everyone believed it to be.
If she was not truly the daughter of Lord Harding.
Perhaps she was the granddaughter of Lord or Lady Warrington.
Her chin came up — a fraction too high, the effort visible in the stiffness at the base of her neck — but the defiance came too late.
She could hardly believe such a thing had been spoken, not only aloud but in public with others around who could hear that particular insinuation.
Her thoughts scattered and then collided as her aunt came to stand directly beside her, with Sarah still on the other.
Eliza blinked, her throat tightening painfully as the pressure built behind her eyes. Why could she not speak for herself? Why could she not summon the strength to refute such arguments?
"Your silence is certainly interesting, Miss Fairleigh." Lady Ravenshill's tone had taken on a slightly mocking quality, making Eliza's face sear all over again. "Might it be that there is some truth in what has been said?"
Beside her, Sarah made a small sound, half protest, half disbelief. She made to step forward but Eliza, grasping her arm, held her back. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to be mired in what were Eliza's own difficulties.
She took a breath.
"That is hardly a fair remark," she managed to say, despite the tremble that was so obviously apparent in her voice. "I can assure you that my silence came from the shock of your suggestion."
"Oh, it is not my suggestion," Lady Ravenshill responded quickly, as the other ladies tittered lightly behind their hands, as if Eliza had said something truly foolish.
"It is only what the gentry have been speaking of.
As we all know, society so often spreads out the truth to every listening ear, whether one wishes it or not. "
Something shifted inside Eliza. It was small and sharp, like a bone settling back into place — not courage, exactly, but the stubbornness of a woman who has been shamed past the point where shame can hold her still.
She lifted her chin.
"Lady Warrington was a woman of great discernment," she said, and her voice did not tremble.
It was low and clear, and it surprised her, as if someone else had spoken through her mouth.
"If she chose to name me in her will, then I must believe she had reason for it.
I do not yet know what that reason is — but I know enough of her character to trust that it was not given lightly, nor without purpose. "
The words landed. For a single, breathless moment, the group was silent. Sarah's grip on her arm tightened. One of the younger ladies at Lady Ravenshill's elbow exchanged a glance with another, and Eliza thought — hoped — that she had found her footing.
She had not.
"Her character?" Lady Ravenshill's eyes narrowed and then widened, as if Eliza had handed her something precious.
"You speak of Lady Warrington's character as though you were intimately acquainted with her.
How very telling, Miss Fairleigh." She turned to the group with a slow, thin smile that went nowhere near her eyes.
"It would seem the connection runs deeper than any of us had supposed. "
The laughter was immediate and sharp, cutting through the afternoon air like a whip crack.
Not all of them laughed — one or two looked away, uncomfortable — but enough did, and the sound of it landed in Eliza's chest like a physical blow.
She had tried to defend Lady Warrington's legacy and, in doing so, had given Lady Ravenshill exactly the ammunition she needed.
Intimately acquainted. The words would be repeated.
They would travel from this park to every drawing room in London by nightfall, twisted into something she had never meant, carrying a meaning she could not now reclaim.
She could not unsay it. The words were out, loose in the world, and they belonged to Lady Ravenshill now.
The tears that came were not of sadness but of fury — at herself, at her own clumsy attempt to fight back with words that had been turned against her. She brushed at them with the back of her glove, her jaw tight, her breathing ragged.
"Truth, Lady Ravenshill?" A hard laugh made her start in surprise, twisting her head around to see none other than Lord Ashcombe standing to one side, his arms folded over his chest and a flush of color in his face.
"You astonish me, truly! Whatever has given rise to this belief that society so often speaks truth? "
Just how long has he been standing there?
"Lord Ashcombe." Lady Ravenshill, evidently previously acquainted with the gentleman, adopted a supercilious tone. "As a gentleman of good standing, I am certain you will agree with me when I state that society so often shares what is not expected."
"But it is not truth, and nor can it be guaranteed to be," he remarked, coming closer to the group now.
His gaze went to Eliza first — to the dampness in her eyes, the set of her jaw, the back of her glove still pressed against them — and something in his face shifted, a crack in the careful composure she had always seen him wear.
Then it was gone. His chin lifted, his eyes swept the group — Lady Ravenshill, the ladies behind her, the onlookers who had gathered at the edges — and when he spoke again, his voice was measured, every word placed with deliberate care.
The other ladies with her had now lapsed into silence, their eyes lingering on his broad frame.
To her utter astonishment, he came to stand directly in the space between herself and Lady Ravenshill, as if he wished to shield her from the other woman's view.
"Besides which, speculating on such a thing aloud and in such a place as this is most certainly improper and entirely inappropriate.
I am astonished that you would think it fit, Lady Ravenshill. "
Sarah gripped Eliza's hand as she did her best to steady her breathing, both relieved and embarrassed that she had required Lord Ashcombe's help.
He was risking a good deal in speaking as he was, placing himself squarely at her side and coming to her defense, despite what society might then begin to whisper about him.
"It was an observation that I thought best to share," Lady Ravenshill's voice was a fraction louder now, as if she wanted to make sure that all those who had been listening — whether part of the conversation or eavesdropping — heard what she had to say.
"I think it fair that the lady knows what is being suggested. "
"It was an insinuation and hardly the right place to do it," countered Lord Ashcombe as Eliza lifted her head, standing taller than she had done in some minutes. "Any such remarks should be made in confidence, surely? It ill becomes you, Lady Ravenshill, to speak as you did."
A murmur of what Eliza hoped was agreement rang around the onlookers and, as Lord Ashcombe took a step to the side, she was finally able to see Lady Ravenshill again.
Gone was the confident lady who threw such sharp words in Eliza's direction.
Instead, there was an uncertainty there as the lady darted her gaze to one person and then the next, perhaps seeing that those who had heard both her remarks and Lord Ashcombe's rebuttal were now firmly on Lord Ashcombe's side.
No longer was the attention upon Eliza, no longer were they thinking poorly of her.
Instead, they thought only of Lady Ravenshill and her unkind words spoken aloud.
Calculation flickered behind Lady Ravenshill's eyes, rapidly assessing the social risk that would come from saying anything more.