Chapter 2 #2
Georgie spoke, her tone brisk. “Lizzie, I can understand why this has been a huge crisis for you, but as the adage goes, there is no use crying over spilt milk. Whatever you said, there is no taking it back. I am sure he is not thinking about your words.”
“I hope you are right,” Lizzie muttered.
Anna stood. “We should help Lizzie with her hair. Georgie, is this costume too dark for my complexion?”
“It’s fine,” Georgie returned. “Lizzie, as exciting as his rescue must have been, he is a de Warenne and you are only a Fitzgerald.” Her tone was gentle.
Anna put her hands on her hips. “And sixteen,” she added. She flashed a smile. “We are not trying to be mean, Lizzie, but if a man like that is thinking about anyone, why, it is some beautiful courtesan that he is currently courting.” Anna stood. “We are all going to be late!”
Lizzie stiffened. Anna’s words were like a splash of ice water.
And suddenly she realized that all of her anxiety had been in vain.
Her sisters were right. He was a de Warenne and she was an impoverished Irish gentlewoman—not to mention sixteen to his twenty-four years.
He had undoubtedly forgotten all about their encounter the moment he had left her at St. Mary’s.
If he saw her again, it was unlikely he would even recognize her.
He would be chasing some terribly beautiful noblewoman—or a notoriously seductive courtesan.
Oddly, she felt far more dismayed than before.
“Are you all right?” Georgie asked, seeing her distress.
“Of course,” Lizzie said, eyes downcast. “I am doubly the fool, to think he would even think about me for a moment.” The thought hurt, very much, but then she pulled herself together, standing and smiling.
“I am sorry. Because of my lapse into hysteria, you will have to wait for me and we will all be late.”
“Don’t apologize,” Georgie said, also rising. “You have loved him from afar forever. Of course such an encounter would distress you. In any case, we can help you dress and we will hardly be late at all.”
Anna had gone to the bureau. “I will curl your hair,” she said, “as I am the best at it. Let me heat the tongs.”
Lizzie managed another smile, turning her back to Georgie so she could be helped out of her dress.
But she wasn’t fine, she was on a whirlwind of emotion, first thrust high, then dragged low and lower still.
But it was best this way, wasn’t it? It was best that he would never recall her again.
It was best that he should remain her secret fantasy lover.
And then she gave up. Whirling, she seized Anna’s hands, knowing she must be mad. “Make me beautiful,” she cried.
Anna regarded her with obvious surprise.
“Do something special with my hair—I want to wear rouge—and coal on my eyes!”
“I can try,” Anna began hesitantly with a glance at an equally surprised Georgie. “Lizzie? What are you thinking?”
Lizzie swallowed and prayed. “I am thinking that tonight I have a second chance and I must try to win his admiration, even if only for a single night.”
As they went up the wide limestone steps in front of the house, a mansion the size of the grandest homes in southern Ireland, Mama prattled on.
Clad as a Georgian lady from just a few decades ago, she cried, “I have never been more pleased! Lizzie, seeing you dressed so, why, you can stand up proudly with your sisters now. You have given me so much hope! I would not be surprised if you did not find a husband tonight!”
They followed several other guests inside, all beautifully garbed in costumes of silk and velvet.
Lizzie could not respond and she could not smile.
She was breathless and almost in a daze, as she still did not quite know how this had happened.
The velvet dress was the most exquisite garment to ever touch her body—and the most sensual, as well.
Her sisters had insisted that she stand before the mirror, once she had pulled the costume on.
The dark green velvet enhanced her fair complexion, the color of her hair and her eyes, which had never been more striking.
Rouge highlighted her lips, which seemed oddly full, but not her cheeks; her sisters had insisted she didn’t need more color, as she was rather flushed from excitement.
Even her figure had somehow improved. The gown’s bodice was lower than Lizzie had expected, drawing the eye upward to her bare décolletage, her long neck and face.
Anna had spent almost an hour curling her hair.
Lizzie had expected to wear it up, but instead, she wore it hanging to her waist. Lush strawberry waves framed her face, etching into her cheekbones and accentuating them.
Lizzie had been stunned to realize that she was, for the first time in her life, rather pretty.
And more important, she even felt attractive, as if she had somehow become Robin Hood’s fair lady.
Papa now squeezed her hand. “My little girl has become a beautiful woman,” he said proudly. But his eyes were red and teary.
Lizzie decided not to refute him, not tonight, not when they were going up the steps of Adare.
“Mama, I think the fact that Lizzie has embraced high fashion is a single step in the right direction,” Georgie said. “But she is only sixteen. You should not have too high hopes from her very first entrance into society.”
Lizzie silently agreed.
But excitedly, Mama continued, “Did I mention that all of the earl’s sons are in residence, including one of his stepsons, the younger one, Sean O’Neill, although I have no idea where his brother, Captain O’Neill, might be.
” Mama grinned slyly. “Lizzie, he is young—not too much older than yourself.”
“I believe you mentioned it several times,” Papa said.
“Now, Mama, Georgie is right. Leave Lizzie alone before you give her an apoplexy.” Papa was firm, Mama’s hand tucked under his arm.
Then he smiled at her as they entered the huge front hall with its stone floors and high ceilings.
This part of the mansion, Lizzie knew, dated back centuries, and the floor remained the original one.
“Have I told you how handsome you are tonight?” he asked in a quieter tone.
Mama smiled at him. “And you, sir, are an enviable escort. I do like you in a wig, I confess.” Papa was also dressed from the early Georgian period in a frock coat, stockings and a long, curly wig.
Lizzie realized she had halted near the door.
Her family was now moving through the entry and toward a reception room that was quite the size of their entire house.
She touched the white mask she wore, one that covered her eyes but revealed the lower half of her face. She was queasy with her excitement now.
Lizzie saw that Anna had just stepped into the reception room, her grace such that she almost floated as she walked.
Of course, two British soldiers instantly looked her way.
They were officers and suddenly they were at her side, bowing; Lizzie knew that Anna would be blushing and demurely giving her name.
Georgie looked back at her. She held her eye mask and now she moved it aside, both brows lifted as she strode back to her. “Come, Lizzie.” Then she smiled and added, “I promise you will be fine.”
Lizzie hesitated, suddenly overcome. It felt as if she had waited her entire life for this night, but was she truly being a fool?
Tyrell was always chased by many beautiful women, heir to the earldom that he was, and he would be occupied tonight.
As Anna had suggested, surely he was courting some lady.
What made her dream, even for a moment, that he might notice her?
Two gentlemen were striding past her, one obviously dressed as a musketeer, the other as a colorful macaroni.
They both glanced at her and Georgie as they passed, only to join the group now surrounding Anna.
The tension in Lizzie rose, becoming quite unbearable.
Why was she doing this? She was actually, in a desperate and hopeless way, thinking to compete for Tyrell’s attention!
She strained to glimpse him but did not see him anywhere in the front hall.
“Lizzie,” Georgie said with warning, “do not back out now!”
It was as if her sister had read her mind, for she was almost ready to do just that. But her desperation won. She wanted a glimpse of Tyrell de Warenne, and she wanted a chance to undo their previous encounter. She prayed for courage when her knees felt oddly weak.
Georgie took Lizzie by her hand rather decisively, pulling her forward.
She hurried through the hall with her sister, past Anna’s group of eager suitors.
The macaroni seemed to turn as she passed.
In the reception room, huge columns held up the high ceiling, from which numerous, magnificent crystal chandeliers hung.
The floor was a streaked marble, and a hundred guests mingled as they made their way into the ballroom.
Mama appeared beside her and Georgie. “That macaroni tried to speak with you and you cut him, Lizzie!”
Lizzie blinked. Had that really happened?
Georgie squeezed her hand. “Look, Anna is already surrounded with beaux. Isn’t that nice, Mama?”
Mama turned and suddenly she put aside her eye mask, her gaze widening. “Ooh! Isn’t that Cliff de Warenne?”