Chapter 1 #2
Mama burst into tears. “I have devoted my entire life to finding you and your sisters husbands! And now you refuse to go to Adare! Now you speak of marriage to—” she shuddered “—the lowest sort of man! Georgina May!” Weeping, she rushed from the breakfast room.
A silence fell.
Georgie actually looked somewhat guilty.
Papa gave her a reproachful glance. “I will leave you two to sort things out,” he said to both sisters. To Georgie, he added, “I know you will do what is right.” He walked out.
Georgie sighed and faced Lizzie, her expression resigned and grim. “You know how I hate these society fêtes. I thought I would at least try to avoid this one.”
Lizzie walked over to her beloved older sister. “Dear, didn’t you tell me just the other day that marriage serves a very distinct social purpose?” No one could rationalize a subject to a more proper conclusion than her oldest sister.
Georgie closed her eyes.
“I believe you also noted that it is mutually beneficial to both parties involved,” Lizzie said, knowing she was repeating her sister’s exact words.
Georgie looked at her. “We were discussing Helen O’Dell’s engagement, Lizzie, to that old, foolish fop, Sir Lunden!”
“Mama is so devoted to her duty to us,” Lizzie said softly. “I know she is silly and a bit absurd at times, but she always means well.”
Georgie went to the table and sat down, appearing glum. “I already feel terrible, do not rub my nose in it.”
Lizzie sat beside her, taking her hand. “You are usually so stoic! What is this really about?”
Georgie faced her seriously. “I merely thought to avoid this one event. I was hoping to spend the evening with Papa’s Times. That’s all.”
Lizzie knew that was not all. But it could not be that she wished to avoid Mama’s matchmaking, because on two occasions Mama had brought a marriage prospect home for her and Georgie had been dutifully polite when another woman would have cringed.
Georgie sighed. “I will never meet anyone at Adare. Mama is mad to think so. If anyone can snag a husband there, it is Anna, as she garners all the attention, anyway.”
That was true. Anna was so beautiful and carefree, not to mention very flirtatious. “You’re not jealous?” Lizzie asked in surprise, suddenly sensing that was the case.
Georgie folded her arms across her chest. “Of course not. I adore Anna, everyone does. But it’s true. Anna will have any high-born suitors tomorrow night, not you and not I. So what is the point?”
“If you really wished to stay home, you should have pleaded a migraine, or even worse, extreme indigestion,” Lizzie said.
Georgie looked at her, finally smiling. “I never have migraines and I have the constitution of an ox.”
Lizzie touched her arm. “I think you’re wrong. Yes, Anna is a coquette, but you are so clever and so proud! You’re also the handsome one, Georgie, and one day you will find true love, I am sure of it.” She grinned. “And it could even be at Adare!”
Georgie shook her head, but she was smiling. “You have read too many ha’penny novels. You are such a romantic! True love doesn’t exist. Anyway, I am taller than almost every man I meet, and that is a serious offense, Lizzie.”
Lizzie had to laugh. “Yes, I suppose it is—but only until you meet the right gentleman. He could be a head shorter than you and, trust me, he will not care about your height.”
Georgie sat back in her chair. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Anna did marry very, very well?”
Lizzie stared and their gazes held. She could read her sister’s mind. “You mean, someone terribly wealthy?”
Georgie bit her lip and nodded. “Mama would be so pleased and our financial worries would be eased. I shouldn’t mind too much if I were to remain a spinster. Would you?”
“I know you will find a beau one day!” Lizzie cried, believing her words deeply.
“I am plain and fat and I have no choice but to remain unwed. Not that I mind!” she added quickly.
“Someone will have to take care of Mama and Papa in their older years.” She smiled again, but Tyrell de Warenne’s image had come to mind.
“I have no delusions as to my fate—just as I am convinced of yours.”
Georgie was quick to protest. “You aren’t fat—just a wee bit plump—and you are very pretty! You simply refuse to think about fashion. In that way, we are very much alike.”
But Lizzie was thinking about Tyrell de Warenne and his fate. He deserved to find true love and surely he would, one day. She wanted him to be happy, very much so.
Her mind veered. She had been told that last year Tyrell had attended the ball as an Arab sheikh. She wondered what costume he would wear tomorrow night.
“Well, I never really thought I could get out of the ball,” Georgie was saying.
Lizzie looked at her. “Do you like my costume?”
Georgie blinked. Then she smiled, slyly. “You know, many women would die to have your figure, Lizzie.”
“What does that mean?” Lizzie asked with some heat, knowing her slender sister was referring to her voluptuous figure.
“Mama might have an apoplexy when she sees you in that costume.” Georgie snickered with some glee, then grasped Lizzie’s hand. “You look lovely in it.”
Lizzie hoped Georgie was being truthful. She reminded herself that Tyrell would never glance her way, not even once. But if he did, she did not want to look like a cow. She prayed he would not notice her and think her a sorry sight indeed.
“Well? Are you going to tell me why you are blushing?” Georgie demanded, laughing.
“I am hot,” Lizzie said abruptly, standing. “I am not blushing.”
Georgie leapt up. “If you think I have been fooled for one moment, then you are wrong! I know you are on pins and needles because you are going to your first ball at Adare.” She was smiling.
“I am not infatuated, not anymore,” Lizzie insisted.
“Of course not. I mean, last St. Paddy’s Day you did not ogle Tyrell de Warenne for hours on end.
Oh, no. You do not prick your ears and redden every time his name comes up in social conversation.
You do not gaze out of the carriage window when we pass Adare as if you are attached to it!
Of course that silly schoolgirl crush is over. ”
Lizzie hugged herself, silently admitting the truth of Georgie’s words.
Georgie put her arm around her. “If you think to claim that you are not in love with Tyrell de Warenne, then think again. Mama and Papa may believe your childish infatuation over, but Anna and I know better. We are your sisters, dear.”
Lizzie gave up. “I am so nervous!” She wrung her hands. “What should I do? Will I look like a fool in that costume? Is there any chance he will notice me? And if he does, what will he think?” she cried.
“Lizzie, I have no idea if he will notice you in the crush of a hundred guests, but if he does, he will think you the prettiest sixteen-year-old debutante there,” Georgie said with a smile and a firm tone.
Lizzie didn’t believe her, but Mama chose that moment to enter the room. She glared at them both. “Well? Has your sister talked some sense into you, Georgina May?”
Georgie looked contrite as she stood. “I am sorry, Mama. Of course I will attend the ball.”
Mama cried out in delight. “I knew I could count on Lizzie to save the day!” She beamed at Lizzie, then went to Georgie and embraced her.
“You are the most loyal and deserving of daughters, my dear Georgina! Now, I do want a word with you about your costume—and Lizzie needs to get ready to go to town, anyway.”
Lizzie gasped, realizing that time had fled and it was almost ten o’clock.
She devoted five or six hours every week to the sisters at St. Mary’s, never mind that the Fitzgeralds had not been Catholic in two generations.
Her work was with the orphans there, and as Lizzie loved children, she looked forward to it.
“I must be off,” she cried, racing out of the room.
“Ask Papa if he can drive you,” Mama called after her. “It will save you the walk!”
Lizzie was on her way home. It had rained for several days and the streets were ankle-deep in mud.
She did not give a fig for her appearance, but it was a five-mile walk back to the house and the journey would take her twice as long as usual.
The family could only afford a single horse and had but one two-wheeled curricle.
While Papa had driven her to town, he was not able to pick her up, as Anna had some calls to make that afternoon.
Instead of fighting for her turn or spending a precious shilling on a hired coach, Lizzie preferred to walk home.
Now the gray skies were brightening and Lizzie felt certain that tomorrow would be a remarkably pleasant day—perfect for the masked ball. She was about to step into the mud to cross the street when she felt a tug on the hem of her gown.
Lizzie knew it was a beggar before she looked down at the old woman, damp and wet and shivering from the cold.
“Miss? Spare a penny?” The woman pleaded.
Lizzie’s heart broke. “Here.” She emptied her purse, giving the woman all of her coins, never mind that Mama would be distressed to no end. “God bless you,” Lizzie whispered.
The woman gaped. “God bless you, my lady!” she cried, hugging the coins to her chest. “God will bless you, for you are an angel of mercy!”
Lizzie smiled at her. “The good sisters of St. Mary’s will find you a bed and a meal if you go to their door,” she said. “Why don’t you do that?”
“Yes, I will,” the woman nodded. “Thank you, my lady, thank you!”
Hoping the woman would do just that, and not go to the closest inn for a pint, Lizzie stepped into the street. The moment she did, a horse-drawn coach careened around the corner. Lizzie heard it first, then quickly looked that way.