Chapter Four
Elizabeth watched out the carriage windows as one grand house after another passed by. Helene’s invitation had been nothing short of a godsend.
“But why should Elizabeth be asked?” Mary demanded to know for the hundredth time. “She is not yet out. First the park, and now this. It is utter nonsense.”
Mother patted Mary’s hand. “Mr. Pinnelle is a man of tremendous importance; your father told me as much, though he was unaccountably vague about the reasons for Mr. Pinnelle’s consequence. We must make a good impression on him, as I do not believe he has taken much notice of our family.”
Elizabeth doubted anyone who had crossed paths with Mary had failed to take notice of her, but not for any flattering reason.
“Besides all that,” Mother continued, “Helene has known Elizabeth all her life and likely feels some obligation to include her, even if she would not normally do so.”
Elizabeth didn’t care if Helene had sent for her out of pity. She was simply grateful for yet another temporary escape from her imprisonment. Julian, no doubt, had found a way to make this evening happen.
“Do you suppose Pinnelle House has a library?” she asked no one in particular.
“I certainly hope you do not mean to embarrass the family while we are there,” Mother said. “Reading when you are supposed to be socializing with the other guests.”
“But then, she is not out,” Mary said. “Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t socialize.”
The carriage pulled up at just that moment.
They had arrived. Elizabeth bit back a grin of delight.
A single evening’s entertainment was not precisely a dream come true, but it was a taste of freedom.
The anticipation of it was nearly her undoing.
Somehow she maintained her composure right up until the moment Julian himself met them at the front door.
“Ladies,” he greeted.
Mother and Mary executed perfect curtsies.
Elizabeth clapped her hands together and exclaimed, “Oh, Julian, this is the most wonderful thing.”
He smiled at her antics, as always.
Mother, also as always, was horrified. “Elizabeth! I certainly hope you know better than to address a gentleman so intimately.”
“I have called him by his Christian name all his life.” Yes, she was in the wrong, but the promise of the evening had made her rather bold.
Julian stepped near her side. “Actually, I believe you generally called me Jules during our childhoods.”
“Mother would simply love that, now wouldn’t she?” Elizabeth said.
He lowered his voice, his gaze lingering a moment on her face. “I would love that, which ought to count for something.”
Something in his expression, in his closeness, left her quite upended. She covered her confusion with a quick change of topics. “Did you arrange for all of this?”
“It was Helene’s idea.” He motioned toward the doorway through which they were all to step. “But I will happily take credit. I did promise to help you escape your imprisonment, after all.”
“You did, and I expect you to make my evening away as pleasant as possible.”
Her teasing didn’t have its usual effect. Rather than meet her jest for jest, he simply watched her more closely. He looked as though he was searching for the answer to some unspoken question.
Helene approached them, arms outstretched to take Elizabeth’s hands. “My dear, old friend,” she said. “I am so pleased you were able to come this evening. I feel as though we have not seen each other in ages.”
“Thank you for the invitation.”
Helene shook her head. “None of that. We are nearly family, after all.” She hooked her arm around Elizabeth’s and, without ceremony, walked with her further into the elegant drawing room.
Almost as an afterthought, she glanced over her shoulder at Mother and Mary.
“And you are, of course, most welcome as well.”
“We always feel welcome amongst your family.” Mary latched onto the words like a terrier pulling a fox from its den. Her eyes quickly turned to Julian. “We are practically family, as your sister said. Or soon will be, at least.”
Elizabeth fought to keep her expression neutral. If she laughed, her family would make her life a misery for the rest of the evening and beyond. That would be a shame and a waste of a once-in-a-lifetime— she very much feared lifetime wasn’t an exaggeration— opportunity.
Julian kept a noticeable distance from Mary without being outright rude. “I see Mr. Gillerford was not able to join us this evening. Is he at his club?”
“Father is indisposed this evening,” Elizabeth said. “Gout being the persistent monster that it is.”
“Elizabeth Mildred.” Mother looked horrified. “A lady does not use the word ‘gout’ in public.”
“At least I didn’t say ‘Jules,’” she muttered.
If the sudden combination of coughing and clearing his throat was any indication, Julian overheard.
Helene invited Elizabeth to the settee near the low-burning fire. Despite not being the coldest part of the year, the weather had been unfortunately damp and overly chill. Helene had ever been kind, but there seemed to be a pointedness to her attentions.
Julian saw Mother and Mary seated on the sofa facing the settee, and then, to Mary’s obvious shock, he chose to sit beside Elizabeth.
“This is not the way to win Mary’s affection,” she warned.
“Is it not?” He didn’t look worried. “What is the way, then?”
“The key, my friend, is opera.”
Julian eyed her questioningly. “She will fall madly in love with me if I attend the opera with her?”
Elizabeth shook her head solemnly. “She will fall hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you if you sing opera to her. All the time. No words, only singing.”
He leaned a touch nearer. “You have heard me sing, Beth.”
She pretended to think deeply about that. “Actually, I believe I meant that if you sing to her every day you will prevent her from falling in love with you. Yes. That’s what I meant.”
“Excellent. I will never speak to her again.” He sat up straight once more. “Helene’s dinner will be ruined and that, my dear Beth, will make my evening an utter delight. And we will have you to thank for it.”
“I will do my utmost not to embarrass you or your sister.”
“That sounds like Mary talking, and I will not stand for it.” His was not an entirely joking tone. “You have never embarrassed me, not even when you were little and followed my friends and me all over the neighborhood while we were home on school holiday. Not then. Not now.”
Not being embarrassed by her was a few too many steps away from loving her, but it was at least inching in the right direction.
A quick knock at the door announced the arrival of another guest.
“Who else has Helene invited?” she asked Julian. She knew only that it would not be her brother, as Gregory was in the country, enjoying a quiet stay at the family’s estate.
“Damion,” he said.
“Your friend from the park? But why have you not gone to greet him as you did us?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Damion is a grown man. He can find his own way inside.”
Julian seemed to have been seized by a case of the doldrums. It had often been her task to tease him out of a difficult mood. So she took it upon herself to do so again.
“Are you calling me an incapable infant?”
He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he watched his friend’s entrance with precisely the look Elizabeth had always imagined Hamlet had given his uncle after piecing together the older man’s role in the late king’s death.
“What has Mr. Carson done to earn your wrath?” she asked.
Julian slumped a bit lower on the settee. “He accepted Helene’s invitation to come tonight.”
Damion, having stepped inside, seemed to sense Julian’s glare of death, and, oddly enough, appeared surprised by it.
Whatever complaint Julian had with his friend, the feeling was not mutual.
As Damion made his bows to the ladies and Mr. Pinnelle, his gaze continually returned to Julian.
After a moment, he came and stood near the settee.
“Miss Elizabeth, a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Mr. Carson.” Though Elizabeth didn’t think of herself as slow-witted, she did have an unfortunate tendency to let her mouth run away at times when she ought to hold her tongue.
That tendency reared its head once more.
“Perhaps, sir, you would be so good as to tell me why our friend here”—she indicated Julian with a brief wave of her hand— “is in such a sour mood this evening.”
“Elizabeth,” Mother hissed.
But Damion did not appear shocked by her lack of demureness. “I would wager his mood was perfectly pleasant whilst only the two of you were conversing.” The devilish glint in his eye brought a smile to her face.
“Very perceptive, Mr. Carson. Though that means you are the culprit behind his disgruntlement.”
“It would appear so.” He made a bow to Julian. “Am I to expect pistols at dawn?”
Julian allowed the smallest softening of his expression. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Elizabeth was happy to see something of his usual cheeriness return, but she didn’t like to see him act so unlike himself. She set a hand on his. “Are you feeling unwell, Jules?”
Mary quite suddenly appeared at her side. “Take a turn about the room with me, dearest sister.” The request was made through clenched teeth; Elizabeth knew better than to deny her in such cases.
Mary pulled Elizabeth’s arm through hers and dragged her away. They’d only moved a handful of steps from the group before Mary launched into a harshly whispered rebuke. “You are acting far too familiar with the gentlemen, Elizabeth. You are embarrassing us all.”
Julian had said quite the opposite.
Mary squeezed her arm harder and a little painfully. “If this is the way you behave in Society, it is little wonder you’ve not been given a Season.”
“I rather think you are demonstrating the reason far more clearly than I am.”
Mary’s steps fumbled a moment. “I suspect I should be offended.”