Chapter Five
Throughout the ride, Elizabeth was quiet and withdrawn. Even Jane, the maid Helene had sent along for propriety’s sake, watched Elizabeth closely. Though Julian hadn’t overheard the sisters’ conversation, he knew enough of the older sister to be certain that her words hadn’t been kind.
The carriage arrived and a footman handed them all out. Julian followed in Elizabeth’s wake as she made her way up the front walk and stayed near her after she stepped inside. Jane, at the housekeeper’s invitation, went down to the kitchen for a warm posset.
Upon reaching the front entryway, Elizabeth did not quite look him in the eye. “Thank you for seeing me home,” she said quietly. “I hope the dinner is lovely.” She turned and walked up the stairs.
Watching her slow ascent— shoulders slumped, head a bit bowed— Julian ached for her. She so seldom let Mary’s unkindness affect her, but clearly it had injured her this time. He took the stairs two at a time and caught up with her in the corridor.
“Beth. Wait, please.”
She stopped but didn’t look back.
He stepped around to face her. “I’m sorry that Mary—” His words ended abruptly. Tears hovered on her lashes even as one escaped in a trickle down her cheek. “You’re crying.”
“Only a little.” She pushed out a deep breath.
He motioned for her to slip into the sitting room. He knew that Beth severely disliked showing emotions; she would be mortified if any of the staff came upon her while she was tearing up. She took the handkerchief he offered and wiped away the tears hovering at the corners of her eyes.
“Was Mary particularly vicious?” he asked.
She sighed. “She said I would never escape the shadows because I’m too inferior to belong anywhere else.”
“Did she?” What an utter termagant Mary was.
“And that I’m plain and poor company. That no one other than my books would ever wish to spend an evening with me.” She’d put on a brave face, but the slight quiver of her chin betrayed her upended emotions.
“Mary never was terribly bright.” He set a reassuring hand on her arm, watching her for any signs of recovery.
That her own sister could be so cruel was heartbreaking.
“Her lies are so transparent, one can only assume she realizes that were your parents to come to their senses and allow you a Season, you would cast her into a shadow from which she would likely never emerge.”
“You are saying that only to make me feel better.”
“No, Beth. Truly.” She needed to know the truth of her worth. “You are lovely, and your company and conversation would be coveted by everyone with whom you’d interact during the social whirl. You would be in demand in a way Mary never has been, and that frightens her.”
She shook her head. “You are obligated to say nice things like that; you’re practically my brother.”
Brother. That word carried a flavor he could not like. They’d always been something a bit deeper than mere friends, but brother didn’t hit the mark at all.
He reached out and took her hand. That simple, familiar touch had always carried with it a feeling of comfort and peace, almost as if he’d returned home.
“Your sister will be wondering what is keeping you,” she said.
“And, as Mary pointed out, only my books are missing me. I should really get back to them.” She pulled her hand from his.
“Thank you for arranging this evening, even if it didn’t work out quite as I’d hoped. The gesture meant a great deal.”
A moment later, he was alone in the sitting room. He missed her the instant she was gone. It had ever been that way with Beth. Yet, there was something more to his longing for her this time. He ached for her to return, could hardly countenance climbing back inside the lonely carriage without her.
He returned to Helene’s home every bit as lonely as he had been upon leaving Elizabeth. Dinner had been held for him, but he had no appetite for it. He merely picked at the food whilst thoughts spun and collided in his mind.
Upon the gentlemen rejoining the ladies after port, Damion launched directly into the topic foremost in Julian’s mind.
“It is a shame Miss Elizabeth could not remain this evening,” he said. “I was hoping to make her better acquaintance.”
I wager you were. Julian sat a little apart from the others, eyeing his friend with growing suspicion. Was Damion the real reason Elizabeth was so distraught at missing the dinner?
“Yes, a shame.” Mary’s sincerity was nonexistent.
Helene patted Damion’s arm as she passed. “We’ll have Miss Elizabeth over again sometime and will be sure to invite you as well.”
Julian did not like that idea at all. Helene sat beside him and turned her head toward him, a triumphant gleam in her eye. The rest of the room took up individual conversations.
“Is this not remarkable?” Helene said. “Damion is quite smitten with Elizabeth; I can tell.”
“How could any gentleman not be?” His compliment was likely clouded by the monumental pout he couldn’t seem to wipe from his face.
Helene apparently noticed. “Are you not happy for your friend? He and Elizabeth got on famously.”
Julian slumped lower in his chair. “I plan to toast their happiness at the first possible opportunity,” he muttered.
“You are in a sour mood this evening.” She eyed him scoldingly. “Are you jealous?”
He sputtered. “Jealous? Of Damion?”
Helene shrugged a shoulder. “He seems happy. Perhaps you would like to be happy as well.”
“I am happy. Very happy. Deliriously happy.”
Helene’s eyebrows arched. “Your dry tone and dead eyes are truly convincing, Julian.”
He pushed out a puff of air. “I don’t even know why I am feeling so ill-tempered tonight. Although you did serve lamb this evening, and you know I prefer beef. Perhaps that is the reason for my bad mood.”
“You like lamb well enough, Julian. My menu is not to blame.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “Now that I reflect back on dinner, you weren’t glaring at your plate, but at Damion. Have the two of you come to blows over something?”
The answer that first jumped into his head was “Not yet,” but that made absolutely no sense, so when he spoke, he amended it to a simple “No.”
Helene made a sound of pondering even as her gaze took in the rest of the guests. “It is a shame Elizabeth couldn’t stay. She is such a delight, far more so than her mother or sister.”
“It was a lie, you realize. She wasn’t actually ill.”
“Of course it was a lie. Mary cannot bear the fact that her younger sister outshines her at every turn. But what could I do?” Helene always had possessed the kindest of hearts. “We may simply have to kidnap Elizabeth and sneak her into a ball or two.”
Dancing with Beth at a ball. The idea was surprisingly pleasant, not that he’d ever thought that dancing with her would be unpleasant. He was remarkably confused.
“I have known Elizabeth and Damion for many years now,” Helene said. “I cannot believe that I didn’t realize sooner how utterly perfect they are for one another. Did you?” There was something a little too pointed in the question, as if Helene wasn’t actually asking the question she’d voiced aloud.
“I never would have put the two of them together if you hadn’t,” he said. “Why did you, by the way?”
The question appeared to surprise her. “Is there some reason why I shouldn’t have?
Damion is young and unattached. He has a lovely little estate and a tidy income.
And he is a fine gentleman. Elizabeth is also young and unattached.
She comes from a good family with more than respectable connections.
And she is a simply lovely person. How could I not encourage a match? ”
“Because they— because I—” He couldn’t seem to come up with a good reason. At least not a logical one. “They wouldn’t suit.”
“I had my suspicions, but this confirms it.” A sudden smile lit her face. “Oh, heavens, Julian. Good heavens.”
“Good heavens, what?”
She pressed a hand over her mouth, looking at him wide-eyed.
“I do not like that look.” He’d seen it too often growing up, usually preceding either tears or a scheme that later got him into tremendous amounts of trouble.
“I had hoped, but now I know,” she said from behind her hand. Helene often failed to get to her point.
“Know what?”
She patted his hand. Her brow furrowed in something very much like pity. “That you are in love with her.”
Julian nearly choked, despite not having anything in his mouth or throat. “I am not in love with her,” he insisted under his breath. “She’s Beth. She’s my friend.”
Helene was already shaking her head. “She is Beth, though only you call her that, and she is your friend, but she is far more than that as well. There’s such a fondness in your eyes when you look at her, a fondness that has grown considerably of late.
And newly arrived in the picture is a surprisingly murderous glint when you look at Damion.
The puzzle is not difficult to piece together, dearest brother. ”
Julian opened his mouth to object but was silenced by his own thoughts.
His heart had broken for her. His temper had risen on the instant in response to her family’s unkindness.
Even before that evening’s events, he’d thought about her when they were apart.
His day improved on the instant when he was with her.
He was happier in her company than in that of any other person he knew.
But that wasn’t love. Fondness, certainly. But not love.
“Tell me, Julian, what would you do if Damion were to come over here right now and declare himself madly in love with her? If he were to insist upon riding to her home and declaring his passion, kissing her senseless, and pleading with her to marry him with all possible haste?”
Julian didn’t have to think about it. “I’d kill him.”
“Why?” Helene asked on a laugh. “You like them both, and Elizabeth is, by your own declaration, only a friend.”
“Beth is my friend. She’s my Beth. Damion doesn’t know her the way I do. He doesn’t understand her or cherish her like I do. He doesn’t—” His words ended as the realization of what he was saying truly settled on him.
“He doesn’t love her like you do?” Helene finished for him. “Ponder on that, Julian. Your mind and your heart have not been listening to each other. I, for one, think it is about time they start.”