Chapter Twenty
“Miss Battlemore, this is my daughter Lady Liberty.”
She was reading in her room… well, actually Liberty was once again thinking about the perfidious Lord Corbyn and wishing she wasn’t, when the door was thrown open.
In walked her mother and a woman she’d heard about but never met.
Short, round, and with an expression that would curdle custard.
Miss Battlemore wore a beautiful peacock-blue dress, and she styled her blonde hair perfectly atop her head.
“She needs an entirely new wardrobe,” her mother added.
“I don’t need an entirely new wardrobe,” Liberty protested, rising. Her peace was over, it seemed.
“It is time,” Miss Battlemore said.
Seeing as they’d never met, and she’d not seen any of the clothes Liberty wore, she wasn’t sure how the woman had come to that conclusion.
“My clothes are fashionable,” Liberty protested. “Elegant even,” she added when both women looked at her.
“I know they are, dear, but still you are unwed.”
“Mother!” Liberty protested.
“Good luck, Miss Battlemore,” her mother then whispered on her way back out the door.
“Remove your dress if you please. I wish to study your figure.”
There was a trace of an accent there, but Liberty didn’t think it was French like a lot of the seamstresses in London.
Helen started unbuttoning her dress from behind. “She looks like a right one,” her maid whispered.
“You will not leave me alone with her,” Liberty whispered back while Miss Battlemore opened her large bag after lowering it to a side table.
“Clothing should enhance not hide,” Miss Battlemore declared, coming to study Liberty now clad in only her chemise. She then walked around her twice, and then did so again the other way, her eyes running up and down Liberty’s body. “You will wear my creations adequately,” the woman then declared.
Over the next thirty minutes she was measured, looked at from all angles, and draped in materials. Helen was enlisted and any fear she’d had of Miss Battlemore had soon eased, and she was happy to discuss styles with the woman.
“Do I get a say in any of this?” Liberty felt she needed to ask.
“Tell me, Lady Liberty, when you were last fitted for your dresses, did you tell them you wished for colors that accentuated your lovely hair?”
“I do dress in colors that suit my hair,” Liberty protested.
“My dresses will promote it, as they will your lovely figure.”
It was not often someone said her hair was lovely.
She nodded, unsure what to add to that. Ten minutes later Miss Battlemore had gone, promising to have a dress ready in time for the Talbot ball.
“Mother wants to speak to you in Father’s office,” Edward said, appearing in her doorway.
“About what?”
“I don’t know, but brace yourself. She looks angry. My guess is she heard about the chess game.”
“Botheration,” Liberty muttered. “I thought I’d got away with that as it was two days ago now.”
“Yes, well, good luck. I’m for the kitchens. I believe biscuits have just been baked.”
“You don’t want to support me?”
“Definitely not,” her brother said.
“At least bring me a biscuit back. I’ll likely need it,” Liberty muttered.
He kissed her cheek and left. Liberty sometimes wished she had Edward’s life. He’d marry whomever he wanted one day, and could really do as he wished without repercussions.
“Such is the life of a woman,” she muttered, heading for her father’s study.
The door was open, and her mother stood behind her father, who was seated at his desk. The picture was one of solidarity, which didn’t bode well for Liberty.
“You wished to see me?” Liberty said as she walked inside.
“Close the door, daughter,” her father said.
She did as she was asked.
“Sit, please,” he then added, giving her a smile.
“Do not smile at her.”
“She is my daughter, wife. I can surely smile at her.”
“Liberty, you were seen playing chess with your glasses on!” her mother shrieked with more force than necessary, as she was seated close enough to hear should she wish to whisper. “How could you make a spectacle of yourself like that where anyone could have seen you… and did!”
“Most people would be proud of what I achieved by beating Mr. Hasslebach who has yet to be beaten in his tournament,” Liberty said.
“Proud! You wore your glasses in public, and played chess… with men!” her mother shrieked.
“And won.”
“And that is supposed to appease me?”
The shrill tone made her wince. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what to do with you. Perhaps you could step in, my lord?”
“Liberty, we only wish for what is best for you, and your mother thinks what you are doing is not that. Personally, I’m happy you beat that Hasslebach. He’s been lording it over everyone at the chess club for—”
“Happy?” his wife demanded. “Your daughter embarrassed herself and us. I want you to censure her. It will be a miracle if all of society doesn’t find out. Marrying her off is hard enough, but—”
“Yes, well, thank you for reminding me I’m not up to society’s high standards, Mother. At least I can rely on you, my own parent, to ensure I know my limitations.”
“Liberty—”
“Perhaps, for once in your life, you could accept me as I am, like you do Edward,” she interrupted her mother. “But of course he’s your son, so he can do whatever he wishes,” she added bitterly.
She’d fought hard to be everything her parents wanted her to be when in society, but it was exhausting, and clearly, she failed.
“We are not discussing Edward, Liberty. I forbid you to wear your glasses again in public.”
“Calm down,” her father said.
“I have a headache every night,” Liberty said. “I can’t see where I walk, or read anything. I have tripped over so many things I am now thought of as clumsy. Is this what you wish for me, your daughter, Mother?”
“I wish for you to be married!” her mother shrieked.
“And the cost doesn’t matter?” Liberty said, all fight leaving her. She was suddenly tired of all of this.
“What cost? You are a duke’s daughter and live in luxury,” her mother demanded.
“That will do,” her father said.
“And because I have all of that I am therefore happy, and expected to wed a man whom I have no wish to spend the rest of my life with?” Liberty asked.
“What man?” her mother demanded. “From where I am standing, no one is offering for you, and considering—”
“Enough!” Her father cut his wife off.
Liberty rose from her chair and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
*
After a few hours spent in her room, with her door locked, Liberty climbed into the Talbot carriage that was to take her to book club. Her mother awaited her inside. They then spent the journey in strained silence.
Relieved when they arrived, Liberty stepped down first, and entered the townhouse leaving her mother to follow, or not, as was her wish.
They were greeted with sweet, faintly musky smelling kisses on the cheek by the three women who lived here, after being escorted through a house with more furniture than required, and each delicate side table or cabinet full of figurines and topped with vases of flowers.
Her mother slipped past her when they stepped into the parlor and found a seat beside Lady Petunia.
“Hurry it along, Lady Liberty. No point in standing about the place when there is excellent seating before you.” A firm shove followed these words in Liberty’s back. Turning, she found Alice and her aunt.
“Aunt, must you herd everyone about the place? They are not pieces on your chess board.”
Mrs. Hamner was tall, broad shouldered, and never walked anywhere.
She stomped. Her husband, Alice’s uncle, was built the same way.
No-nonsense people who didn’t have a gentle bone in their body.
Liberty felt sorry for her friend having to live with them.
But then Alice was no shy, retiring debutante, either, and could stand up for herself.
“Good evening, Mrs. Hamner, Alice.”
“Uncle beat her with a move she’d never seen before, which annoyed Aunt,” Alice said.
Mrs. Hamner sniffed. “You must come and play us both, Liberty. I heard about your victory in the park.”
Liberty shot her mother a look to see if she’d overheard. Her lips were in a hard, disapproving line which suggested she had.
“My advice is keep your distance from my aunt, Liberty, as she will simply want to interrogate you about chess,” Alice said, tugging Liberty toward a sofa.
“Lady Liberty,” Lady Petunia called from her place beside Liberty’s mother. “There is space here for you.” She then patted the seat beside her.
“Oh, ah… I had thought—”
“At once, dear,” Lady Petunia said, and there was no doubting the threat in those words.
Liberty shot Alice a wide-eyed look. Her friend smirked and walked to the sofa alone.
“There now, isn’t this comfortable?” Lady Petunia said after Liberty had taken the space beside her.
“Lovely,” her mother agreed through her teeth.
“I was talking with our nephew’s friend, Lord Corbyn, and remembered that you live minutes from him, Lady Liberty.”
“We do,” her mother agreed.
“Lovely boy Tobias. Kind, sweet natured, and extremely handsome,” Lady Petunia added. “And to have taken on that dear sweet little Florence without a thought shows his true character.”
“Child?” her mother asked.
Lady Petunia then launched into a detailed explanation as to why Florence was now living with Tobias.
“What a kind-natured young man. He and my daughter were close as children,” her mother said, thawing slightly.
“Well now, how lovely.”
Lady Petunia then proceeded to talk about Tobias for a further ten minutes with her mother dropping in her own compliments about the boy she’d once known. Of course, her parents were not aware of everything that had happened between her and him. Even so, a bit of loyalty here would be nice.
“Well past time he married,” Lady Petunia added.
Oh, hell no.
“Well past time my daughter was married,” her mother muttered, which she and Lady Petunia heard.
“Yes, thank you, mother,” Liberty said, mortified.
“Ladies, if I could have your attention,” Lady Agatha, Lady Petunia’s sister said, clapping her hands, much to Liberty’s relief. “It is time to discuss the book.”
For three seasons she’d muddled along doing what had to be done, or more importantly what her mother wanted her to do, and now suddenly, this year, everything was changing.
Tobias had reentered her life… reluctantly.
Not only that, suddenly she needed to have a complete new wardrobe, and her parents were pushing for her to marry.
There were also the goings on in Bidham to worry about.
Why now?
“I for one thought it repetitive, and were I many years younger, perhaps then I may have enjoyed it,” Mrs. Hamner said.
Alice looked pained. “You cannot be serious, Aunt. It was a delightful read, with humor and touches of seriousness that had me close to weeping.”
Liberty’s friend never wept, so that was said purely from a theatrical standpoint.
“Poppycock!”
“If I may interject, Mrs. Hamner.”
And so it began. A heated debate that lasted through two pots of tea, and several plates of dainty sandwiches and cakes.
“I believe the dialogue and character development is the best I have read in many years,” Liberty added after she’d swallowed the mouthful of truly delicious lemon tart. “Elizabeth Bennet is wonderful—”
“Hardly realistic,” Mrs. Hamner cut in.
“Very realistic, and for many of us,” Alice snapped.
“Agreed,” Liberty said, glaring at her mother.
“Well, I do believe it is your turn to select the next book, Mrs. Hamner,” Lady Petunia said quickly, looking nervous.
“The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe,” Alice’s aunt said.
“I hope it is not too scary,” Liberty’s mother said.
“It is a work of fiction, Mother,” Liberty muttered.
“Wonderful. I love a robust discussion, and tonight’s was that,” the third of Lord Hamilton’s aunts, Lavinia, said.
“And you’ll keep in mind what I said,” Lady Petunia added as she escorted Liberty and her mother to the door.
She looked at the woman, trying to remember of all the things she’d said tonight, which one she should keep in mind.
“Lord Tobias. Wonderful man and just perfect. Plus, there’s the child now, so his need is greater.”
“Perfect for what?” Liberty asked. Her mother tittered at that. Clearly, she knew what he was perfect for, and if he married her daughter, then nothing else mattered. Not even the fact he’d treated her terribly.
“Why, for a marriage to you, of course, Lady Liberty. Have a safe trip home.”