Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“You look utterly exhausted, Elspeth,” Verity observed, taking a sip of her tea. “But also happier than I have seen you in a long time. I cannot quite put my finger on it. You are a most complicated character!”
Elspeth sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It is a strange sort of happiness. The children are wonderful, truly. And seein’ the difference we are makin’, even in small ways, is incredibly rewardin’. But the rest of it, Society, the expectations, the Duke…”
Later that week, Elspeth gratefully found herself enjoying a rare moment of peace with Verity and Marion in a quiet tearoom in the heart of London.
A delicate plate of cucumber sandwiches and warm scones with clotted cream and jam sat between them, accompanied by a fragrant pot of Earl Grey tea. The walls were painted a crisp white, adorned with vibrant paintings of floral patterns.
Light and happy conversations rang up from the tables, occupied by ladies such as themselves in desperate need of some tea. The chaos of the orphanage preparations, while exhilarating, was also draining, and she was glad for the respite.
Elspeth savored the scents and the sounds.
“Ah, who could forget the Duke?” Marion teased with a knowing look on her face. “Still the curmudgeon?”
“As sure as it will rain this week in London. But how about ye, Marion? How are ye farin’?”
“I must admit, me bairn has been equally demandin’ of late. Just like his grump of a faither,” Marion said with a tired laugh.
Elspeth smiled widely at the mention of her friend’s growing family. “I can only imagine! Is the lad still turnin’ yer house upside down?”
Marion’s eyes sparkled with motherly affection. “Oh, absolutely. Lachlan gets into everythin’; I hardly sleep a wink. I ken I should rely more on the maids, but that is just nae me way. Aye, me days are a whirlwind of tiny shoes and loud demands, but I wouldnae have it any other way.”
Then, a twinkle entered her eyes.
“But back to more important things—more divertin’ things. Would ye say that ‘curmudgeon’ is an understatement for yer Duke? What is he really like, Elspeth?”
“Aye! He is exasperated, infuriated, and utterly bewildered by the chaos of me plannin’ and havin’ the lads over to the townhouse frequently.
But he has also been helpin’ and been surprisingly understandin’ at times.
He even was there with the boys the other day when we were testin’ recipes. It was hilarious!” Elspeth chuckled.
“Oh, do tell,” her friends chorused, before laughing.
“Would ye believe, one of the boys threw flour right at his nose!”
“Oh my!”
“But what ye willnae believe is that he actually laughed. A real, true laugh. Nae forced, nae fake.”
“I cannae believe it,” Marion breathed as she took a sip of her tea.
“Aye, I havenae heard him laugh like that before. I wouldnae imagine he has laughed like that in some time… I think he needed it.”
Verity’s eyes widened as she set down her teacup. “The Duke of Arrowfell laughing? Good heavens, Elspeth, you are performing feats no author could hope to conjure. This surpasses even the most scandalous passages in my latest novel!”
“I dinnae ken ye’ve already started on the next one.” Marion let out a low whistle. “Ye’re so fast.”
“You have to keep the readers engaged,” Verity said with a wink. “The whole industry is terribly fast-paced.”
“Do tell, then!” Elspeth urged, her curiosity piqued.
Verity leaned forward conspiratorially. “My hero, Donald MacLeod, is a Highland warrior who fears nothing on the battlefield, but the feisty governess who is caring for his young ward has him completely unraveled… in all the right ways.”
“Ye have me attention,” Marion said, taking a large bite of her cucumber sandwich. “Go on.”
“I daenae see what the problem is.” Elspeth gave a small laugh. “Sounds like a great start!”
“Well, he is meant to be brooding and protective, yet every time I attempt to write from his perspective, he ends up staring at her with nothing more than a thoroughly perplexed expression. Hardly romantic. I must devise some means of stirring proper drama. Some inner musings that reveal his thoughts and make him feel more… alive.”
“Lady Inverhall,” a familiar voice suddenly called, and Elspeth spun around to find the source. “It is nice to see you out and about town, and with such fine company.”
“Yer Grace!” Elspeth exclaimed, rising to her feet and bobbing a small curtsy. “It is so nice to see ye! Would ye like to join us? I am sure they can pull up a chair—”
“Oh, I dare say you ladies have far more pressing matters to discuss than whatever I might add. Besides, I am due to meet an old acquaintance over there. Lady Featherstone. You know her, of course.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes flicked to the corner, her lips twitching almost imperceptibly.
Lady Featherstone sat framed by a swirl of satin and lace, the rich purple of her feathered hat catching the afternoon light.
Glittering ribbons cascaded from its brim, brushing her shoulders as she lifted a gloved hand in a delicate, rehearsed wave.
She shifted, preparing to rise, and the rustle of her gown drew every eye in the room.
I dinnae have the patience today.
“I shall be along,” the Dowager Duchess said with a small wave to her friend, then gave Elspeth a sly wink.
“Lady Featherstone is not everyone’s cup of tea, but there is much to be gleaned from a woman like her.
She is singular, uncompromising… rather like someone else I know.
In her youth, she found the cleverest way to secure a husband and her place in Society.
And one discovers, in advanced years, that certain freedoms present themselves quite delightfully. ”
“I understand completely, Yer Grace,” Elspeth said with a small smile. “Enjoy yer tea. And thank ye.”
“Good day, ladies,” the Dowager Duchess said with a wave as she sauntered away, the epitome of mature elegance.
I havenae thought of Lady Featherstone like that before.
Surely once she was a lass, just like me, in search of a good match.
And as she grew older, a certain independence came, allowin’ her to do as she pleases.
Perhaps I would do well to remember that when dealin’ with the likes of Lord Middleby, plain as he is.
“What were we talkin’ about?” Marion asked, bringing them back to the moment.
“Well, we were talking about my novel. I am at a bit of a block on my hero. Please, ladies, I will take any advice from me Highlanders!”
“Perhaps I could inspire ye,” Elspeth said as she refilled her cup.
“Right after His Grace laughed in the kitchens, and his facade seemed to be fadin’ like the mist of Loch Ness in the sunshine, Lord Middleby arrived to call on me,” she recounted, a wry smile on her face.
“And I must say, he practically chased him out. It was quite amusin’, actually.
Nae the behavior I’d expect from someone who wishes to be rid of me. No?”
“He sounds rather… protective of you,” Verity mused, a thoughtful expression on her face. “But the note is taken; perhaps I need some sort of third party to move the plot. Make my hero realize just what he stands to lose… Aha, a love triangle!”
Elspeth scoffed. “No, I dinnae mean that! All of this is in His Grace’s head.”
“Doesnae seem that way,” Marion said quickly.
“And he’s nae protective. He is merely tryin’ to ensure I daenae embarrass him too much before he can marry me off. He still insists on finding me a husband, ye ken. He even tried to flirt with other women the other night, from what I have heard around town. And failed miserably.”
“He told you that?” Verity squeaked.
“Heavens, no,” Elspeth hissed. “I happened to overhear some men in a local bookshop and put the rest together meself. Sounds like quite the scene…”
Marion giggled. “Poor ol’ curmudgeon Duke. If ye ask me, he sounds utterly smitten with ye, even if he doesnae ken it yet. Seems ye daenae see it either!”
“Smitten?” Elspeth snorted, though a faint blush touched her cheeks. “He is a man who fears losin’ control more than anythin’. And I, apparently, am the greatest challenge to his control. We bicker constantly. And then then we keep almost kissin’.”
“I kent it!” Marion yelped as she took the last bite of her sandwich. “I kent there was more happenin’ between ye two!”
Elspeth confessed the entirety of it then, the near-miss in the kitchen. “It is maddenin’, ladies. I despise him for his arrogance, for tryin’ to dictate me life, but then he does somethin’ kind, or he laughs, or he looks at me… and I feel things I shouldnae. I feel powerless.”
Verity reached across the table and took her hand.
“It is complicated, my dear. But remember your goal. This competition, the children… it is all leading you to your freedom. Do not let anything, not even an impossibly handsome, infuriating duke, distract you from that. You must be true to yourself first and no one else.”
“I cannae say anythin’,” Marion said with a small laugh. “I have been in yer shoes with a formidable duke of me own. And look at me now!”
“You are not helping,” Verity huffed, pursing her lips, her gaze steady and unamused.
“Verity is right,” Marion conceded. “If ye are not good to yerself, ye are not good for anybody. Ye must forge yer own path. I have never kent anyone as unique, strong, and independent as ye. Daenae change that for anyone.”
They are right. I cannae allow meself to be influenced by Hugo any longer. I must stay true to meself and to me purpose. The lads depend on me, and through that, I will find me own source of freedom… Somehow, some way.
Elspeth squeezed her friends’ hands, a renewed sense of purpose settling over her. “Ye are right. I ken ye are right.”
“Naturally,” Verity said with a wink.
“This is about St. Jude’s, and it is about me future. Nothing else.”
Elspeth took a deep breath, the scent of fresh tea leaves filling her senses. She grabbed a cranberry scone and slathered a thick layer of clotted cream on it, then took a bite.
“Now, tell me, what have I missed while I have been covered in flour and surrounded by frogs?”
“I have been hearing quite a bit about Lady Paddlefoot’s ball for the Benefactress of the Year competition. I trust we will all be attending this week?” Verity asked.
“Unfortunately,” Elspeth replied, “I have been so focused on organizin’ me own event that I daenae ken what to wear.”
“I have just the gown, if you would like to wear it. I have only just bought it, but it is a bit too tight around the chest. You would look lovely in it,” Verity suggested. “And it is emerald green, of course.”
“Oh, well, at least that is settled.” Marion smiled. “No one looks grander in that shade than our Elspeth. Ye will be the belle of the ball.”
“One can only hope,” Elspeth said, dunking a scone into her tea. “Although somethin’ tells me that this willnae be as easy as ye are sayin’.”
“What do you mean, Elspeth?” Verity asked.
“I have been workin’ so hard to ingratiate meself with polite society, especially for this competition and even with the Dowager Duchess of Tarwood’s help, I fall short.” Elspeth shook her head.
“Ye will say nothin’ of the sort.” Marion poked her playfully in the ribs. “That is me formidable Highland lass!”
Elspeth shed her cloak in the foyer, the heavy silk a stark contrast to the lightness she felt.
The afternoon had been a whirlwind of polite conversation, subtle jabs, and unexpected camaraderie. Her friends, Verity and Marion, had been her pillars.
“Abby?” she called softly, her voice echoing in the quiet townhouse.
A moment later, her maid emerged from the back of the house, a half-empty basket of laundry in her arms.
“Back so soon, My Lady?” Abby asked, her voice soft and sweet. She set the basket down and took Elspeth’s cloak. “And looking brighter than I have seen you in a month! I will make sure that this is laundered, My Lady.”
Elspeth smiled, a tired but genuine curve of her lips. “Could ye fetch me a glass of warm milk, please? Me head is spinnin’ a bit.”
Abby nodded, already on her way to the kitchen. “Of course, My Lady. I will be but a moment!”
She returned with a tray bearing a glass of warm milk and a plate of biscuits, ushering Elspeth into the drawing room.
She set it on a small table beside the couch as Elspeth sat down.
After looking around to make sure Mrs. Whipple was not there, she sank into the chair opposite her with a small sigh.
Elspeth took a sip of the milk, letting its comforting warmth soothe her. “Ye ken, Abby, I am so very lucky to have them. Verity and Marion. I daenae ken what I would do without them.”
“You would find a way, My Lady. But I do agree. They are good ladies, from what you have shared. They have been such a comfort to you since… well, since you came here.”
“They are, and I have kent them both for some time,” Elspeth agreed, her voice full of emotion.
“It is like… they just ken what I am thinkin’, what I am feelin’.
They daenae even have to ask. They just show up with tea and scones and a perfectly timed bit of advice, encouragement.
” She shook her head in wonder. “And they are so different. Verity, with her books and her wild imagination, and Marion, so grounded, so real. They both have given me the confidence to stand up for meself in a world that would rather see me on me knees.”
“That is friendship for you,” Abby said simply. “A rare and precious thing, especially in this city. I am lucky to have my sister, Meg. It is hard to find people who see you for who you truly are, not for who your husband is or was, or how much coin you have.”
Elspeth nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She took another sip of milk. “I miss them already. I think I will write them a letter first thing in the mornin’, to thank them again. And perhaps invite them to tea here. A proper, quiet tea.”
“A fine idea, My Lady.” Abby smiled.
Elspeth nodded and took another sip from her cup. She’d had a long day, and tomorrow was a whole other beast. She’d need her strength to face Hugo again.
Though perhaps she was not so opposed to that, now that she had her friends to help her.