Chapter 3
A Crisis of Severe Proportions
Lizzie lay in her bed, unable to get up.
Through the parted curtain, she could see that the sun was shining, promising yet another pleasant day.
But after the extraordinary night that had just passed, the day could be nothing but ordinary and disappointing.
Lizzie stared at the ceiling, recalling her amazing encounter with Tyrell last night. Beside her, Anna lay sleeping soundly.
In the light of a new day, Lizzie was filled with so much confusion and so much regret.
Maybe she should have stayed at the masque and made a rendezvous with Tyrell.
But how could she have disappointed Anna?
As she lay there, she kept recalling the way he had leaned against the wall, almost pinning her there, so dangerously seductive in his pirate’s costume.
Her body was vibrantly alive, and in that moment, it felt as if nothing could alleviate the feverish desire she was afflicted with.
In her sleep, Anna sighed.
Lizzie also sighed, her gaze still on the plain, whitewashed ceiling above, although she did not really see it.
She had not been able to sleep at all last night, tossing and turning, thinking of him and his body and what his kisses might be like.
Anna had returned with the rest of the family several hours after midnight, and Lizzie had heard her moving about the bedroom they shared.
She had finally asked her how the rest of the ball had been.
“Oh, just wonderful,” Anna had said, her tone odd.
Lizzie had sat up. “Anna, are you all right?”
Anna had chosen not to light an oil lamp and she held a single candle. She did not turn, facing the mirror over the dresser. “Of course I am all right. Why do you ask?” She set the candle down and began to disrobe.
Lizzie did not lie back down. The three sisters were very close. She knew something was amiss; she could feel some kind of strain. “Didn’t you enjoy the evening?”
“Yes, I had a wonderful time,” Anna said. “Why are you questioning me?”
Lizzie was taken aback. She apologized and that was the end of that.
Now she thought not about her sister, but about Tyrell’s strange interest in her.
She reminded herself that if she had dared to rendezvous with him, he would have asked her to unmask herself and he would have quickly lost interest in her.
How many times, year after year, had she seen him at the St Patrick’s Day lawn party, surrounded by beautiful women?
His reputation was well known—he was no outlandish rake, but it was obvious to her that he preferred beauty to brains, as almost every man did.
And even if, somehow, he had not been disappointed with her after unmasking her, nothing could have come of their tryst. He would never court her.
A man like that would never marry so far beneath him—and Lizzie did not think herself capable of an affair.
Still, she could imagine what it would be like.
And suddenly he was with her in her bed, running his hands up and down her legs, her waist and then her breasts. Lizzie turned to him for his kiss….
But he was not there and her lips brushed her pillow, instead.
She flopped onto her back, trembling. There was not going to be an affair, even if she was amoral enough to want one!
He was too much of a gentleman to toy with a young, well-bred lady like herself.
The most she could have hoped for were a few heated kisses at the masque.
Suddenly Anna whimpered in her sleep.
Lizzie sat up with some concern. “Anna? Are you dreaming?”
She thrashed and murmured to herself, and it almost sounded as if she were speaking to someone. It was the custom in the Fitzgerald household to sleep in after the de Warenne ball. Still, Lizzie reached over and tugged on her arm. “Anna? You are having a bad dream,” she said.
Anna’s eyes flew open and for one moment, she did not seem to see her sister. Even disheveled from sleep, her hair in a simple braid, Anna was gloriously lovely.
“Anna? It is only a dream,” Lizzie soothed.
Anna blinked and finally saw her sister, attempting a slight smile. “Oh, dear. Thank you, Lizzie. I was having a nightmare.”
Lizzie decided to get up. “What were you dreaming about?” She walked over to the bureau, beginning to unbraid her hair.
“I don’t recall.” Anna pulled the covers up to her chin. “I danced all night—I am exhausted,” she said. And she closed her eyes, effectively ending the conversation.
Lizzie gave up and slipped from the bedroom. After using the privy, she bumped into Georgie in the hall, who was fully dressed, her hair pulled severely back. “Good morning,” she smiled.
Georgie smiled back at her. She was wearing a plain, pale blue gown with no adornment whatsoever, not even a cameo pin. “You left before we had a chance to discuss the evening,” she exclaimed.
And suddenly Lizzie had to tell all. “Let me dress, then meet me downstairs!”
She had never dressed with more speed. As she raced downstairs, her hair still unbound, she tried to imagine Georgie’s reaction to the events of the previous night.
Georgie was already sipping tea and nibbling on toast at the dining table when Lizzie raced breathlessly in.
“You will simply not believe it—and I fear I have missed the opportunity of a lifetime!”
Georgie raised her elegant brows. “Did you meet someone?”
Lizzie hesitated as she sat down, thanking the maid, who also served as cook and laundress, as she handed her a plate of toast. Pushing the plate aside, she said, “Did you have any luck in finding a new suitor?”
Georgie smiled in a rather self-deprecating manner. “Who am I fooling, Lizzie? It’s not just my height. I am too political for my own good. No man wants a wife who can debate the Catholic question or the issues associated with the Corn Laws, the tithe or the union. No, I had no luck.”
And Lizzie hesitated. Then she reached out and gripped her sister’s hand. “You are the most loyal, sincere person I know. I want you to be happy, Georgie. Please do not settle for a toad like Peter Harold.”
Georgie grimaced at her. “We shall see.”
Lizzie had a dreadful feeling then.
“But you are bursting with news.”
Lizzie could not contain her smile and she proceeded to tell Georgie almost every detail of her encounter with Tyrell de Warenne. “And he insisted I meet him in the gardens at midnight,” she ended breathlessly.
Georgie gaped at her, stunned. It was a moment before she could speak. “I think he must have been taken with you!”
Lizzie shook her head. “He was taken with Maid Marian—a daring wench who flirted shamelessly with him!”
“But that was you,” Georgie said, clearly making an effort to remain calm, her gaze wide.
“I don’t know who she was,” Lizzie said frankly. “I have never engaged in such a manner with any man before. I was rather in shock—it was almost as if I were outside of myself, listening to my own repartee!”
Georgie stared in real concern. “But you did not go. You went home, leaving your costume with Anna.”
Lizzie bit her lip. “I was terrified he would unmask me and be sorely disappointed. Still, if I had gone, there would have been a kiss, and Georgie, I so want to be kissed by him.”
“You did the right thing,” Georgie said in her usual brisk tone. “Nothing could ever come of such an association—unless you welcomed an illicit one.”
Lizzie was about to insist that she would never do such a thing, but remembering her secretly bold dreams, she found she could say nothing.
“You did the right thing,” Georgie repeated. She began to smile, while Lizzie wondered if her sister was right. “But you did succeed, Lizzie. You impressed him, and if he did think you foolish before, now, he clearly admires you.”
“Yes, he did seem to admire me,” she said softly. Oddly, any pleasure in that triumph was outweighed by Lizzie’s regret.
“Where is Anna?” Mama said sternly.
Lizzie had just come inside after a long morning walk down a nearby country road.
She had hoped for distraction from her far-too-vivid daydreams. Before, Tyrell had been a pleasant fantasy whom she had summoned up at will.
Now he haunted her at every turn. Shoving his image aside, she faced her mother.
Carefully she said, “Is something wrong, Mama?”
“Yes, something is wrong.” Mama marched to the bottom of the stairs. “Anna! Please come down this minute, as I wish to speak with you and Lizzie.”
Lizzie had the distinct sense that they were in for a serious comedown.
Anna came down the stairs in her white lawn nightgown, white cap and a lawn robe. “Mama?” She exchanged a worried glance with Lizzie.
“The two of you, into the parlor, if you please.” And Mama marched ahead of them into the room.
Exchanging more glances, both sisters followed rather meekly. Mama was waiting near the door, which she solidly closed and placed her hands on her hips. “Is it true, Lizzie, that you were flirting with a pirate?” she demanded, her cheeks high with color.
Lizzie blinked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anna flush. Of course, she could not lie. “Yes.”
Mama’s eyes were wide. “Mrs. Holiday saw you in the game room! She said the most extreme flirtation was in place!”
“I thought you wanted me to flirt,” Lizzie said very cautiously.