Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“What do I say to her?” Elspeth asked, wringing her hands.
“Well, perhaps you will finally meet your match then,” Hugo said as he ushered her through the iron gate. “You will behave yourself, which is a start. I think you will find there is much you can learn from such a lady.”
“Aye.” Elspeth swallowed thickly. “Anythin’ to get me out of this mess is worth a shot, I suppose. I will play yer games.”
A couple of days had passed without incident since the bewildering encounter in the drawing room. Elspeth had come to expect his coldness and sought reprieve in solitary walks around the garden and books.
She found particular comfort in Verity’s latest novel, The Highland Husband.
It had a delicately woven plot, where a Scottish lass found love with an English lord who was in reality an adopted Scottish royal.
A case of mistaken identity that was highly improbable and extremely entertaining, but it helped Elspeth forget her troubles for a few hours.
This afternoon, Elspeth was once again being escorted by Hugo, somewhat against her will. This time, they were entering a new territory, an imposing residence.
As she inhaled deeply, Elspeth caught the scent of old books and dried lavender.
This was the stately home of none other than Lady Letitia Sinnett, the Dowager Duchess of Tarwood, and Hugo’s intimidating grandmother.
They were shown by the butler to a sunlit sitting room, where the Dowager Duchess sat perched by the window, engrossed in a book. She was a woman of elegant bearing, with sharp, intelligent blue eyes that Elspeth knew missed nothing.
She also noted that, as Hugo entered the room, her face softened. There was a genuine warmth in her smile that could not be feigned.
“Hugo, my dear boy,” the Dowager Duchess said, closing her book and extending a hand toward him. “Come closer! Oh, yes, it is good to see you. You look… preoccupied.” Her gaze flickered to Elspeth behind him, and her expression became more formal. “And you have brought a guest.”
“Grandmother,” Hugo replied, kissing her hand and then motioning to Elspeth.
“May I present, more formally, Lady Elspeth Fraser, the Dowager Marchioness of Inverhall. We had much else going on at the party for proper conversation.” He then turned to Elspeth.
“Lady Inverhall, you recall my grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Tarwood.”
Elspeth curtsied deeply, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity.
“Lady Inverhall,” the Dowager Duchess acknowledged with a crisp nod. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Hugo cleared his throat. “Grandmother, I have brought Lady Inverhall to you as well, as a matter of some urgency. Finding her a suitable husband has proven to be more difficult than anticipated.”
“Of course it has,” the Dowager Duchess snorted, her eyes sweeping over Elspeth. “A woman who has spent her life in the wilds of Scotland, and who, I gather, has already managed to scandalize half of London Society, is hardly a simple charge.”
Hugo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Elspeth noted a silent understanding pass between them.
Aye, she kens him well.
“I would be happy to lend a hand, Hugo,” the Dowager Duchess continued, her gaze fixed firmly on Elspeth. “Indeed, it sounds like a challenge I might actually enjoy. It has been a long time since I have been able to properly employ my rather particular set of skills.”
“I had a feeling that may be the case,” Hugo said as he went to sit down on a settee.
The Dowager Duchess raised an eyebrow at him. “Now, if you would be so kind, dear boy, I believe Lady Inverhall and I require some privacy. Our lessons will begin immediately.”
“Very well,” Hugo relented, turning around. “I will return later to retrieve her.”
“Lessons?” Elspeth sputtered, a protest rising to her lips. “Yer Grace, I assure ye, I am perfectly capable of composin’ meself and—”
“Hush, child,” the Dowager Duchess commanded, her tone firm but not unkind. “When one is in the presence of a professional, one listens. I can tell straightaway that you are an independent sort, but even you must see the pragmatism in this. Hugo, you may take your leave.”
Hugo bowed slightly. “As you wish, Grandmother. Lady Inverhall.”
He gave Elspeth an amused look, then exited the room, leaving her alone with his formidable grandmother.
Elspeth stared at the Dowager Duchess, momentarily struck dumb as she sank onto the settee. The older woman’s face still bore the unmistakable vestige of youth, the kind of beauty that did not fade so much as become refined with time.
High cheekbones lent her an air of aristocratic grace, while her eyes, startlingly clear and aquamarine, glimmered like sea glass in the morning light streaming through the window.
Her white hair was drawn back with impeccable care, lending her an almost ethereal quality, as though she belonged to some otherworldly realm of elegance.
She wore a gown of soft lilac silk, perfectly tailored to flatter her slender figure—tasteful, refined, and wholly befitting a lady of her rank.
She was everything Elspeth had once imagined a true grand dame to be.
The Dowager Duchess turned her full attention to Elspeth, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, Lady Inverhall. Let us begin with a little interview, shall we? I need to gauge precisely how much work lies ahead. First, tell me, what is your opinion on the latest fashion from Paris?”
“Me opinion, Yer Grace, is that Parisian fashion is often impractical, uncomfortable, and designed more for display than for the comfort of the wearer,” Elspeth replied, more sharply than intended.
But she was still smarting from Hugo’s departure, as well as the Dowager Duchess’s haughtiness. “I much prefer a practical dress.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed. A most unconventional opinion for a lady of your age. And what, pray tell, are your thoughts on the intricacies of the English social season? The dances, the calls, the endless small talk?”
“A tedious charade,” Elspeth declared, warming up to the subject as she realized how starved she had been for good conversation.
“Designed to ensnare innocent lasses into marriages or social schemin’, rather than affection.
Oh, and daenae get me started on the small talk!
It is like wadin’ through mud, all politeness and no real substance. ”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes widened, a faint gasp escaping her lips. “Good heavens! You truly are a wild one, are you not? Despite your sharp tongue, I must say you intrigue me. Now, tell me, Lady Inverhall, do you often speak your mind so… bluntly amid polite company?”
“Only when I believe it is necessary,” Elspeth retorted, a defiant spark in her emerald-green eyes. “Honesty, I believe, is a virtue that should be revered above all others.”
“A virtue, perhaps, but a social liability in London,” the Dowager Duchess countered, though a hint of something akin to admiration flickered in her gaze.
“This is not the Highlands. Even so, you have potential, child. You are bright and beautiful despite the wiles of your curls. A fiery spirit, certainly. I feel that it just needs a bit of refinement.”
“And ye believe ye can refine the likes of me?” Elspeth challenged, crossing her arms in defiance. “I assure ye, Yer Grace, I am quite content as I am.”
The Dowager Duchess leaned forward, her expression serious.
“You may scoff, Lady Inverhall, and you may act out as much as you like. That is your prerogative. But the simple truth is this: you are a young widow, with a questionable reputation, and without a powerful male protector. You will end up as a lord’s wife, whether you want to or not.
You could suffer a far worse fate, you know. ”
Just then, a maid entered with a pot of tea. She served Elspeth a cup, and Elspeth savored the hot bergamot liquid. The maid poured a second cup for the Dowager Duchess, then exited without a word.
“The question is,” the Dowager Duchess continued as she picked up her cup, “will it be a lord of your own choosing, one who might at least tolerate your unconventional nature, or will it be the most desperate and despicable fellow who will take you simply because no one else will?”
Elspeth’s shoulders slumped, and she set down her teacup. She pursed her lips, hating how utterly right the Dowager Duchess was. The stark reality of her situation, stripped bare of all romantic notions, was undeniable.
She sighed, a long, defeated sound. “Ye are right, Yer Grace,” she conceded. “I think I needed to hear that.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes softened. “Good, that is a proper start. Now that we have established that, we can truly begin. And we shall start with your posture.”
Elspeth groaned inwardly. Her mother had always chastised her for not keeping her shoulders back, especially when she was upset.
Oh, Maither, if ye could see me now…
“Stand up, child,” the Dowager Duchess instructed, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Shoulders back, chin up, spine straight. Imagine a string pulling you from the crown of your head.”
Elspeth stood up on command and tried. She walked about the room, humoring the Dowager Duchess, but after a few paces, she swayed, her shoulders hunching forward before she threw them back again.
“Like this?” she asked, feeling ridiculous.
The Dowager Duchess clicked her tongue. “No, not like that. You look as if you are about to collapse. You roll your shoulders so far back that you look like a lady of the night, child. Especially with your curves!”
“I cannae help the way I am shaped, Yer Grace,” Elspeth groaned.
“Enough excuses, child. Again. Shoulders back, Elspeth. Imagine you are carrying a basket of eggs on your head without spilling a single one. Why, imagine you are in the Highlands, walking about a farm!”
Elspeth swallowed her pride and tried again, her movements stiff and awkward as she tried to imagine a pile of eggs on top of her head. She wobbled as she turned around a table, nearly losing her balance.
The Dowager Duchess sighed dramatically and clicked her tongue.
“We shall be here all day, I see.” She rose to her feet and gracefully crossed the room to the far shelf before reaching for a book. “Try again, but with this book on your head. Relax your shoulders and straighten your back. Breathe. Now, imagine you are a queen walking into her throne room.”
Elspeth closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the proud lairds of her homeland. She could see the strong, upright women of the Highlands, goddess warriors of ancient times. She could see Mother Earth herself, lording over them all.
She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and consciously relaxed her shoulders instead of just rolling them back. She lifted her chin with a newfound resolve.
When she opened her eyes, she stood taller, her posture surprisingly elegant.
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes widened, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “There! Excellent! You see? You have it in you, child. Now, hold it. Walk across the room, but without the tome,” she encouraged as she removed the book from her head.
Elspeth walked, her steps more graceful, her head held high.
A strange sense of satisfaction bloomed within her. She was as powerful as any English lady, and it was time she showed it. She would not cower in front of anyone. While it was a small victory, it was a victory nonetheless.
For the first time since arrivin’ in London, I feel that perhaps I will be able to navigate this world on me own terms.
“Well, Yer Grace,” Elspeth said as she turned back to her, her arms hanging loosely by her sides. “What is our next lesson? Do yer worst.”
“How do you feel about holding your skirts when moving about town, elegantly and with one hand?” The Dowager Duchess did a little demonstration. “Like this?”
“Are ye kiddin’ me, Yer Grace? With all due respect, there are ways to make sure I daenae get me gowns all muddied?”
“My dear girl, you will soon learn that there is a lesson for everything,” the Dowager Duchess said with a wink.
“However, they may prove more efficient than you think. A good posture saves the back later in life. You will not believe the complaints I receive from some of my contemporaries. Additionally, your laundress will thank you for taking better care of your garments. And they will last longer!”
“Oh, I see.” Elspeth mirrored the movement. “And thank ye. Me maither has long since passed, as well as me faither. Me grandparents long before that. It is refreshin’ to be in yer company, Yer Grace.”
“Indeed,” the Dowager Duchess said, not echoing nor denying the sentiment.
She rang a bell then, and the butler appeared in the doorway moments later.
“Please send word to my nephew that we will send Lady Inverhall home in a carriage after she has dined with us this evening. And inform the cook that we have a guest for dinner tonight.”