Chapter Four #2
“Never mind.” Elizabeth had no desire to spend her one and only dinner party arguing with her sister. “I will do my utmost to be well-behaved.”
“See that you do.” Mary’s possessive gaze settled on Julian. “I believe Julian means to press his suit tonight.”
“Do you?”
“Why else would he be acting so skittish? The dear man is nervous.”
Elizabeth was certain that Mary was not at all the reason for his behavior, though she couldn’t quite decipher the real one.
Perhaps Julian had realized Mary’s expectations for the evening and was unhappy at the prospect of spending the night dodging her efforts to force a courtship.
That very well might be precisely the cause of his sour mood.
Fortunately, Elizabeth could help with that predicament.
She’d acted as a buffer between her sister and Julian many times over the years; she could certainly do so again.
“I believe I will further my acquaintance with Mr. Carson,” Mary said firmly, pulling them both back in the direction of the other guests. “Being on friendly terms with the closest friend of one’s intended is crucial, after all.”
Poor Damion. “Will you not be stretched a bit thin, paying attention to two gentlemen? And you would do well to not neglect your hostess, either.”
That brought Mary’s glare back around. “Do not presume to tell me how to conduct myself in Society. I know more of it than you ever will.”
“Something I have you to thank for,” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” It was a rhetorical question if ever Elizabeth had heard one.
“Do not act as though I am the reason for your lack of opportunities. You, Elizabeth, would never make a splash in Society. You are too plain, too unrefined. You are in the shadows not because of me but because that is where you best fit. Enjoy this evening away from your books; it is likely the last you will have. Few people will take pity on you the way Helene and Julian have.”
Mary could cut deep when she chose to, tonight piercing even Elizabeth’s fortified armor.
They were but a step from the other guests. Mary took a moment to add one more jab under her breath. “Do not monopolize Julian’s time the way you always do. It was sweet when you were ten, but you are no longer a child, and he cannot be expected to continue enduring you.”
Enduring.
Certainly Julian more than merely endured her. They were friends, good ones. Had he not vowed to help her have some enjoyment in London? Had he not taken her for a carriage ride despite the inconvenience of Mary’s company?
Still, the word seeped into her, filling the most vulnerable cracks in her heart.
But, if Elizabeth could but tolerate Mary, she could spend a nice evening away from home and in Julian’s company. That would be worth all of the barbs and angry glares.
“Dearest Helene,” Mary said, approaching their hostess with an overdone look of worry. “I am afraid my sister is not feeling well. She is too shy to say so herself; indeed, I fully expect her to deny the state of her health, but she is doing poorly.”
Quick as that, Mary had brought Elizabeth’s evening to an end. Mary had even circumvented any attempt Elizabeth might make to reveal the deception.
Mother jumped in, putting the final nail in the coffin. “She did feel under the weather earlier today,” she insisted. “I knew she should have remained at home.”
Helene didn’t look entirely convinced. And yet, manners didn’t allow her to contradict her guests, especially when one of the bald-faced liars was a mother speaking on behalf of a daughter who was not yet out.
Helene gave Elizabeth an unmistakably apologetic look. “I suppose there is little for it but to call up the carriage and see to it that you are returned home.”
“I suppose not.” Elizabeth was too disappointed, too frustrated, too angry to say more. She spun on her heel and marched from the room. She might be forced to leave, but she would do so alone and without the feigned attentions of uncaring family members.
She stood in the entryway for several long minutes, waiting for the carriage to be brought around. The driver had likely only just finished unhitching the team for the evening. Mary never did care who she inconvenienced.
One of the maids stepped into the entryway, buttoned in a light coat.
“Have you been commissioned to accompany me home?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, miss.” The maid offered a curtsy.
“I hope doing so does not cause you too much inconvenience.”
“No, miss.” Any well-trained servant would say as much, whether or not it was true.
“And what if it causes me too much inconvenience?” Julian asked from a few feet away. The butler handed him his outer coat.
“Are you coming along, as well?” Her heart skipped about in hope.
“No gently bred young lady should be forced to traverse London entirely unprotected.” He winked at her. “A great number of questionable areas of Town lie between here and your home, you realize.”
There weren’t any, actually.
“Why do I get the feeling you are using this as an excuse to flee a certain matrimonially minded lady?”
“Because you know me better than anyone.”
And yet, you know so little of me.