Chapter 13 #2
Eliza managed a weak smile and glanced about her once more, only to see two other ladies darting their glances away from her.
Her shoulders stiffened. "Perhaps this was unwise," she whispered, fear coiling like a snake, ready to strike.
"After all that Mr. Ashcombe said, the ton are all the busier whispering about me. "
To her very great surprise, Sarah only shrugged.
"Let them speak," she said. "Mr. Ashcombe spoke badly and with great cruelty, Eliza.
It is he who ought to feel ashamed, the one who ought to be hiding himself away.
Not you." Releasing Eliza's arm, she took her hand instead, looking straight back into her eyes.
"I am sorry for the way I simply stood there, silent and unsupportive," she said, a tiny catch in her voice.
"I was overcome with shock at Mr. Ashcombe's manner, but you...
well, I cannot imagine what it is you felt in that moment. "
Eliza smiled briefly, taking Sarah's hand. "There is nothing to forgive, I assure you."
Her friend smiled, but it wobbled as it spread across her face. "I regret my silence," she said softly, as Eliza turned towards a small display of masks, wishing to take her mind from what had happened at Almack's. "But no longer. I am determined to be just as much your champion as Lord Ashcombe."
Eliza pressed her lips together, her fingers reaching out to trace along the lines of the first mask, one that would hide almost the entirety of her face. "I am still unsure about my attendance, although I have said I will be there."
Frowning, Sarah studied Eliza carefully, her expression softening. "You are afraid," she said, not unkindly.
Eliza exhaled the word, shame pushing her gaze low again. "Yes."
They stood in silence for a heartbeat, the murmur of the shop pressing in around them. Then, Sarah broke the quiet, taking a tiny step closer to Eliza, still holding her gaze. "What are you afraid of?"
Surprise forced her eyebrows to lift. "I would have thought that obvious."
"I know you are concerned about the ton and their whispers, yes," Sarah said, her voice barely a whisper, "but what of your feelings for Lord Ashcombe? Do they chase you back from him also?"
Eliza's hand stilled, and she returned her gaze to the masks, aware of just how sharply the pain returned to her at the thought of him. "I have decided to set him aside," she said at last, releasing a slow breath as she did so.
Sarah arched an eyebrow. "Have you indeed?"
"Yes." The word came out more firmly than Eliza truly felt, as if she were trying to convince herself as well as her friend. "My affection for him is best forgotten."
"And why is that?"
Eliza turned then, meeting Lady Sarah's gaze squarely.
"You know my reasons," she said, her voice low but resolute, aware of the trembling that began to work through her fingers.
"He cannot afford to be seen championing me.
I have told him so, and he will not agree with me.
" Her firmness faltered. "He does not want me to set us apart. "
"Eliza." Sarah sighed and shook her head.
"Why must you deny your heart such a thing as this?
" Seeing Eliza's surprised look, she shrugged.
"The inheritance is one matter, but this affection for Lord Ashcombe is quite another — and it is the latter which matters most." She tilted her head.
"Have you considered that your paths may have been meant to twine together as one?
That Lady Warrington herself meant for this to happen? "
Confused, Eliza looked away from the silk fan she was studying. "What do you mean?"
"What if Lady Warrington intended or hoped that Lord Ashcombe would draw near to you? Mayhap she knew of his determination to protect the family name, knew that he would do all he could to find out the truth — meaning that he would be forced to stand at your side."
Eliza shook her head slowly, trying not to allow the flare of hope to ignite her soul once more. "I cannot be sure of her motivations, Sarah. I dare not even allow myself to imagine it."
Sarah smiled. "There is no requirement for you to know it for certain, Eliza but why not allow yourself the possibility that this was her hope?"
Moving away from her friend, she forced her thoughts to think only of the mask she was to wear to the masquerade, trying not to allow herself to return to any consideration of the gentleman who had invited her to it in the first place.
After a short while, Eliza stopped before a particular mask, considering it.
The color of ivory, it had delicate silver filigree tracing its edges and would, she thought, hide her face rather well. She lifted it carefully.
"This one," she said, a knot tying itself in her stomach as she thought of wearing it, of stepping out into his ballroom, of seeing him again. "I think this would be suitable."
Sarah came nearer, her eyes brightening.
"It is quite perfect. Though you will have to inform Lord Ashcombe about the type of mask you are wearing so he can find you.
Either that or speak to him directly so he knows who you are.
" She touched Eliza's hand. "Remind yourself that he is eager indeed to see you, to speak with you again. "
For a moment, the knot in her chest loosened, and a hint of a smile brushed across her lips. "It will have to be our final conversation," she whispered, the smile fading just as quickly as it had come.
"Only if you decide it must be," her friend reminded her.
"He knows who you are, Eliza, just as I do.
He does not want you to fade into the background, does not desire for you to crumble under the weight of society's cruelty.
" She smiled as Eliza nodded slowly, her chin held level without effort — though the yearning had not, in truth, left her.
"He wants to be close to you; he cares not for his own reputation nor what society thinks.
It is you who has decided it must end. Why not permit him to make such a decision himself? "
Eliza swallowed, her thoughts a tangle of fear and longing. Was she being too hasty? Was she permitting society to dictate her future by their sharp words and incessant whispers?
Or was she doing what was right?