Chapter Six
“Ihaven’t the slightest idea what you wish me to tell you.” Elizabeth looked from each of her parents to the other several times. “I am sorry for Mary that Julian didn’t press his suit last evening, but I am not privy to his thoughts or intentions.”
“Elizabeth said something to him on the drive home; I am certain of it.” Mary sent her a look of such hatred that it nearly stole Elizabeth’s breath.
Mary had disliked her more and more over the past few years, but had never been so openly hostile.
“What did you say in the carriage that changed his mind?”
“We didn’t say anything. You can ask the maid who was in the carriage as well. It was a silent drive.”
“Then what did you say after the drive?” Say what one might about the state of Mary’s compassion, there was no denying her sometimes infuriating tenacity.
Elizabeth chose to be honest, if incomplete, in her response.
“He asked if I needed anything before he left, and he said he was sorry I wasn’t able to remain for dinner.
” She shrugged as though his words, his touch, from the night before hadn’t been equally heavenly and torturous.
“Then he left. It was nothing of significance.” How she hoped that wasn’t truly the case.
“Elizabeth,” Father said, using the stern voice reserved exclusively for her, “Julian Broadwood has been dragging his feet where Mary is concerned. You ought to be doing everything in your power to help convince him that the time has come to fulfill the expectations he created.”
“Expectations he created? What has he ever done to convince you that he has any intentions?” Her temper had been piqued, and she couldn’t seem to calm it.
Julian did not deserve such besmirching.
“Does he call regularly? Insist on claiming her for every supper dance? Has he declared himself in any capacity whatsoever?”
“That is quite enough, young lady.” Mother’s lips all but disappeared. “Do not speak so boldly of matters about which you know so little.”
“And how much do you truly know of it?” Her indignation sent her to her feet, too agitated and upset to sit any longer.
“While the three of you have spent the past decade and more scheming and planning and assuming, I have spent those years coming to know the object of your designs. Julian Broadwood is decisive and determined, without being unfeeling. He would never allow a decision of this importance to be made without him, but neither would he lash out at anyone attempting to force it on him. He is a good man, and you” —she turned to Mary— “do not deserve him.”
“How dare—” Mary stopped quite suddenly. Her narrowed eyes widened. “Oh.” Her shock turned to disgust as she uttered the word again. “Oh. You are in love with him. You. Plain little Elizabeth, whom he has likely not given a second thought, are in love with him.”
“That is not at all what this is about.”
Mary’s gaze grew calculating. “I notice you don’t deny it.” She turned to their parents. “Now we know the truth of it.”
“Have you been sabotaging your sister’s courtship?” Father demanded. “Is that the reason Julian hasn’t offered yet?”
“Of course not,” she said. No one was truly listening to her any longer.
“How long have you been nursing this ridiculous tendre?” Mary laughed through the words. “Look at the way she blushes, Mother. There is no question; she is in love with him.”
Now they were both laughing, and Father was watching her quite as though she were a stranger to him.
“Does Julian have any idea of this, do you think?” Mary asked Mother, both ladies grinning as if they’d never heard anything so amusing in all their lives.
Mother gave it a moment’s thought. “It may explain why he has been reluctant to undertake his suit; he fears hurting her feelings. Bookish girls always are the most easily overset, being too little acquainted with the world.”
Mary nodded her agreement. “I think we had best send her to stay with Gregory in the country.” Mary’s triumphant look in Elizabeth’s direction told her, in no uncertain terms, that her sister knew such a thing was hardly necessary, but she didn’t mean to pass up the opportunity.
“We do not wish to risk a repeat of this outburst when others are present.”
As if on cue, the drawing room doors opened, and the butler stepped inside. “Mr. Julian Broadwood,” he announced.
Elizabeth had never before wished to simply sink into the ground, but in that moment she would have happily procured a spade from the gardener and dug her way straight to the center of the earth. “Please, Mary,” she quietly pleaded. “Do not spill your speculations into his ears.”
But Mary stepped past Elizabeth and closer to the door. “Why, Julian, how wonderful to see you.”
“And you, Miss Gillerford.”
Elizabeth turned enough to watch Mary lead him farther into the room. Please don’t say anything, Mary. Please.
“Do sit with us,” Mary invited, indicating a seat very near the one she then lowered herself onto.
He didn’t take the chair, however, first stopping to offer his bows to Mother and Father, and then he turned to face Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth.” He offered her a bow as well.
She somehow managed the appropriate response despite her heart being firmly lodged in her throat. Mary looked far too pleased with herself for Elizabeth’s peace of mind.
Julian was watching her a touch too closely. “You are pale,” he said. “Is anything the matter?”
She looked quickly in Mary’s direction, rather desperately hoping that her sister had softened. If anything, Mary seemed even more jubilant. The worst, Elizabeth was quite certain, was yet to come.
“Beth?” Julian whispered. “What is wrong?”
“Julian,” Mary cooed. “We have been having the most diverting conversation. Your arrival could not have been better timed.”
He didn’t look back at Mary but kept his searching gaze on Elizabeth— on her. She had no doubt he could see the abject misery in her eyes. Mary wouldn’t hesitate to humiliate her.
“Please don’t do this, Mary.” Begging wasn’t likely to prevent humiliation, but Elizabeth had to try.
“Do what, sister? I simply wish to include our dear friend in our very entertaining discovery.” As innocent as a viper, she was.
Elizabeth stepped closer to her sister. “I will stay with Gregory for the remainder of the Season, if that is what you wish. I will stay there until your future is firmly decided, if need be. Only, please, do not do this.”
Mary simply arched an eyebrow. Elizabeth looked to her parents but could see that she would get no help from that quarter. Too many years they’d spent making plans for Mary and Julian; Elizabeth’s concerns had never been as important to any of them, and not always even to herself.
“We uncovered the most comical secret this afternoon,” Mary said, obviously addressing Julian.
“Please don’t,” Elizabeth whispered.
“My dear little sister is in love. How very quaint, don’t you think?” There was a viciousness in Mary’s declaration that robbed it of any degree of sweetness.
Elizabeth’s heart shattered.
“Is she?” Julian didn’t sound amused. He didn’t even sound convinced.
“Oh, yes,” Mother said. “She certainly is.” Her voice added to the declaration would make it more convincing. “But I suppose every girl must have her hopeless fantasy. It is certainly nothing for the family to be ashamed of.”
It was always about the family.
Don’t read in public, Elizabeth. You’ll embarrass us.
You can’t have a Season until your sister is married; how would it look for us?
Keep to your quiet corner, Elizabeth, where no one will eye us sidelong upon hearing your impertinent questions.
“Would you care to hazard a guess who it is she fancies?” Mary offered to Julian.
Elizabeth couldn’t bear it. She fled the room, not caring that doing so would only add fuel to her family’s complaints about her lack of manners. She wasn’t quite fast enough to miss Mary’s next words.
“It’s you, Julian. How adorably ridiculous is that? She is in love with you.”
Whether he believed Mary’s declaration, Elizabeth didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The next time he saw her, he would see the truth of it in her eyes. He would see how hopelessly she loved him.
And he would either find her ridiculous or pitiful.
She couldn’t bear either one.