Chapter 2
The Masquerade
Anna was already dressed for the ball when Lizzie walked into the bedroom they shared.
Lizzie was in a state of extreme anxiety.
She had not recovered from her encounter with Tyrell de Warenne the day before, and could barely believe what had happened.
After replaying the afternoon a hundred times in her mind, at least, she was convinced that she had behaved like a besotted fool and a witless child and that he knew just how infatuated she was.
She wasn’t certain she dared go to the ball now. However, she could never let Mama down.
Lizzie had come home yesterday pleading a headache and had retired to her room without telling a soul about the encounter. She paused, holding on to the door, her intention to ask Anna for advice and reassurance. But Anna was so shockingly lovely that she forgot her own worries momentarily.
Anna stood in front of the mirror, critically eyeing herself in a low-cut red velvet gown in the Elizabethan style, a white ruff and a garnet pendant around her throat.
She had never been lovelier. It had been hard to have such a stunning sister while growing up.
Even as a child, everyone flattered Anna to no end, and Lizzie had always been ignored or simply patted on the head.
Mama, of course, had been so proud to have such a beautiful child, and she had praised Anna to anyone who would listen.
Lizzie hadn’t been jealous—she loved her sister and was as proud of her—but she had always felt plain and, more importantly, left out.
It had been just as difficult to be Anna’s sister as a young woman, for when they strolled in town, it was quite the same.
British soldiers would chase after Anna, eagerly trying to learn her name, but Lizzie was always invisible—unless one of the men wished to solicit her to gain Anna’s attention.
Lizzie had played matchmaker for her sister more times than she could remember or count.
The irony was that Lizzie did resemble her older sister, just a bit, but every perfect feature Anna had been given was somehow dulled on Lizzie.
Anna’s hair was honey-blond and naturally wavy, unlike Lizzie’s frizzy copper-blond tresses; her eyes were a striking blue, whereas Lizzie’s were a startling gray; her cheekbones were higher, her nose straighter and more classic, her lips fuller.
And she had a perfect figure, slim yet curved.
Anna caused gentlemen to turn and take a second or third look; no rake or rogue had ever looked at Lizzie even once, but then, she seemed to have the amazing ability to disappear in any crowd.
Now, with the high white ruff framing her face, her waist impossibly narrow, Anna was breathtaking. She was adjusting her bodice when Lizzie walked into the room.
Some women their age accused Anna of being vain.
Lizzie knew that was untrue, but Anna could give that impression, especially when other women were already jealous of all the attention she received.
Some of Mama’s friends even whispered rudely about her behind her back, calling her “the wild one.” But they were jealous, too, because Anna could attract any suitor she wished, when their own daughters could not.
That was because she was so carefree and so merry, not wild or improper.
Now Anna was frowning, clearly displeased with some feature of her costume. Lizzie could not imagine what flaw she had found. “It’s perfect, Anna,” she said.
“Do you really think so?” Anna turned and instantly her interest in her costume vanished. “Lizzie? You haven’t begun your hair! Oh, we will be so late!” she cried in dismay. Then she hesitated. “Are you upset?”
Lizzie bit her lip and somehow smiled. When she appeared at the ball, Tyrell was going to notice her.
After all, they were now acquaintances. Would he laugh at her again?
What did he think of her? “I’m fine.” She inhaled, shaking.
“That costume is perfect and you are so beautiful in it, Anna. Maybe tonight Mama will get her wish and you will find a beau.” But while she wanted her sister to marry for love, not just rank and wealth, she could barely think about that now.
Anna turned back to the mirror. “Does this color make me look sallow? I think it is too dark!”
“Not at all,” Lizzie said. “You have never been more fetching.”
Anna looked at herself a moment longer, then faced Lizzie again. “I do hope you are right. Lizzie? You are very pale.”
Lizzie sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can go to the ball—I am not that well.”
Anna stared in disbelief. “Not go? You would miss your very first ball? Lizzie! I am going to get Georgie.” Stricken, she hurried from the room.
Anna was only a year and a half older than Lizzie and the two sisters were close, but not simply because of their ages.
Lizzie admired her sister because she was everything that Lizzie was not.
She could not imagine what it must be like to be so beautiful and so generally admired.
And of the three sisters, Anna was the one who had been kissed, not once, but several times.
They had stayed up many nights discussing her sister’s shocking and very bold experiences; Anna in some rapture, Georgie rather disapproving, and Lizzie wondering if she would ever be kissed, even once, before she became an old maid.
Lizzie looked at the emerald-green velvet gown on her bed that was her costume.
It was a beautiful but simple dress, with long bell sleeves and a square, modest neckline.
Still, it clung to her figure rather provocatively.
Lizzie sat down besides it. She pulled a freshly laundered linen handkerchief from her bodice and stared at the boldly embroidered initials on it: TDW.
Gripping the kerchief, she closed her eyes, wishing she could redo their encounter of the day before.
But no amount of wishing would change anything, she thought dismally.
She had been given a single chance to impress Tyrell de Warenne and she did not need any experience at all to know she had not succeeded.
Anna returned to the bedroom with Georgie.
Dressed as a woman from Norman times, Georgie wore a long purple tunic with a gold sash, her hair in a single braid.
She faced Lizzie, her stare direct and searching.
“Anna says you are behaving oddly. But then, you have been acting strangely since you came back from St. Mary’s yesterday.
What is it? I do not believe you are ill! ”
Lizzie slipped the kerchief back into her bodice. “He rescued me yesterday outside of St. Mary’s,” she whispered.
“Who rescued you?” Georgie demanded. “And from what?”
Anna sat down beside her as Lizzie spoke. “I was almost run down by a coach. Tyrell de Warenne rescued me,” she said.
Both sisters gaped.
Georgie cried, “And you are telling us this now?”
Anna was as stunned. “Tyrell de Warenne rescued you?”
Lizzie nodded. “He rescued me—and he was so kind! He swore he’d chase those scoundrels down and give them his mind. He wanted to see me home.” Lizzie looked up at her incredulous siblings. “I acted like a child. I told him he was kind, heroic and handsome!”
Georgie seemed amazed, and Anna remained quite disbelieving. Georgie finally said, carefully, “So what, exactly, is wrong? Haven’t you been waiting for a genuine encounter with him your entire life?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Lizzie cried. “He must know exactly how I feel!”
“Well, you could have been more discreet,” Georgie agreed sensibly.
Anna stood with a little laugh. “Men love to be told that they are strong and brave and handsome. I can’t believe he rescued you. Lizzie, you must tell us everything!”
“You could tell a gentleman that the sky is falling on his head and he would swear you are right.” Lizzie refuted.
“You could tell a man that his pockmarks are adorable and I feel certain he would get down on one knee! I am sure I did not flatter Tyrell de Warenne in a sophisticated manner. In fact, I saw him start to laugh at me. I acted like a child.”
“He laughed at you?” Anna asked. Then, “He must have realized you are only sixteen!”
Georgie came to the rescue. She sat down on Lizzie’s other side and put her arm around her.
“I am sure you are grossly exaggerating, Lizzie. I am sure he did not mind being told that he was handsome. As Anna has said, men love to be admired. Just think of it! He rescued you—why, that is the stuff of the novels you read!”
Lizzie moaned. “I have yet to tell you the worst part! I was a muddy mess, Georgie. I had mud all over my dress and even in my hair.” She did not add the very worst part—that she had been thinking about being in his arms and that she suspected he had guessed.
“He is a gentleman and he played the role perfectly, but I feel certain he does not think highly of me at all.”
“No gentleman would fault a woman for her appearance, not in such a circumstance, Lizzie,” Georgie said calmly.
Lizzie looked at her. “I was as foolish as Mama, prattling on. Maybe I am a foolish woman—after all, I am her daughter.”
“Liz! You are nothing like Mama,” Georgie said with some small horror.
Lizzie wiped her eyes. “I am sorry for being such a ninny. But he was so heroic. He saved my life. What am I going to do when I see him tonight? If only I had the courage to tell Mama I am not going, but I can’t possibly let her down.”
“Are you telling us everything?” Anna asked.
“Of course I am!” Lizzie hugged herself. She would not admit to either sister just how shameful her thoughts had been.
“Did he kiss you?” Anna asked, apparently sensing all was not quite revealed.
Lizzie gave her an incredulous look. “He is a gentleman!”
Anna studied her. “I don’t understand why you are so upset,” she finally said.