CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
However much Sir Lucius might have wanted to visit Mount Street that very afternoon, he controlled his natural inclinations.
It was thus the following afternoon when he handed his card to Ribston, with a request to see Lady Chalford and the young ladies, should they be at home.
The response, had he been privileged to see it, would have both amused him and given him cause for hope.
When Ribston presented the card for her ladyship’s perusal, Lady Chalford read out the name and smiled enigmatically, Miss Amelia gave an involuntary squeak and dropped her copy of Moral Tales over which she had been yawning, and Miss Elizabeth ran her embroidery needle into her finger, and was heard mumbling agitatedly whilst sucking the injured digit.
‘I am come to enquire after Miss Ashling after yesterday’s “mishap”, though I can see that she looks very well.
’ He gave her the ghost of a smile as he was invited to take a seat.
‘But also to ask whether you might consider joining a party I am putting together for Derby day next week.’ He paused as Lady Chalford blinked in surprise, and played his masterstroke.
He was well aware that neither Lady Chalford nor her daughter were interested in horses so he had to make the day appeal to them as a social event.
‘The Godmanchesters are engaged to come and Lady Micheldever and her daughter, Miss Wingate, and both Lord Nuneaton and Lord Carbrooke hope to join us.’
Sir Lucius knew a moment of panic. If Lady Chalford declared they were otherwise engaged, he had spent the last twenty-four hours scrambling around to make up a party of persons, excepting the Godmanchesters, whom he barely knew.
The potential for a disaster hung in the air.
Elizabeth looked unashamedly delighted at the prospect, but her approbation was not what counted.
‘That is a very generous offer, Sir Lucius.’ She waited, enjoying the moment. ‘I believe we are not engaged upon that day, and it would be a high treat for the girls. Assuming the weather is not terribly inclement, we will be delighted to come. Do but tell us the hour by which we must be ready.’
Details were given, and Amelia and Elizabeth added their thanks. Sir Lucius, fighting the urge to gaze only at Elizabeth, addressed Amelia, recommending she bring some pin money so that the gentlemen might place small bets on her behalf.
‘Oh, but I will need guidance, I am sure. One horse looks much like another to me. It is Elizabeth who will make educated choices, based upon their grandmother winning something in Yorkshire, or whether the turf is too bouncy for them.’
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. It gave Sir Lucius the opportunity to look directly at her, and for a moment he thought the smile in her eyes deepened, though whether it was from more than gratitude for the promise of a day out, and his circumspection over the incident in the park, he was unable to judge.
‘I will be interested to hear your selections, ma’am.’
‘Oh dear, I fear my cousin has given you a false idea of me, Sir Lucius. I am not some Delphic oracle of the Turf.’ 227She did not look very perturbed, but blushed delicately.
‘I will limit myself, therefore, to hoping you are not a Cassandra, who will tell me that every horse I have backed is doomed to be boxed in on the final turn, or stumble at the vital moment.’
‘Ah, to do that, sir, would be both pointless, since the bet would already be laid, and ungracious, since we owe you so much,’ and she gave a slight stress to the phrase before adding, ‘for arranging the expedition.’
She could not thank him openly for his services the day before, and hoped he understood her covert gratitude; she thought that he did. The constrictions upon them, which she would until so recently have welcomed, now chafed as fetters.
‘I assure you, Miss Ashling, no thanks are needed.’
Amelia frowned slightly, hearing yet not understanding the subtext. Her mama, with years of experience, made a decision, and when, after a few minutes of polite but non-committal conversation, Sir Lucius rose to take his leave, she waited until he had just left the room and then exclaimed, ‘Oh no!’
‘Mama?’
‘I forgot to tell Sir Lucius that we must definitely be home before eight in the evening. Elizabeth, my dear, do go after him and make sure he knows.’
Elizabeth got up and hurried to detain Sir Lucius as he went downstairs. He turned at her voice, looking up at her, his expression surprised but pleased.
‘My aunt says that I must tell you that we have to be back by eight in the evening, Sir Lucius.’
228‘Oh yes, that will be no problem.’
Elizabeth was now at his side, and dropped her voice. ‘I could not say, could not tell you how truly grateful …’
‘Please, Miss Ashling. As I said, no thanks are necessary. I am only sorry that you were exposed to upset.’
‘And your hand, sir?’
He held it for her inspection. The swelling had largely disappeared, but there were still red grazes. She reached out to touch it with her fingers.
‘You see, nothing of note.’
‘It looks sore to me, Sir Lucius.’
He could not say he did not care how sore it was if it meant the touch of her hand. They stood for a moment, then the spell broke and she pulled back her hand as if scalded.
‘You should put salve upon it, you know.’ She tried to sound practical and matter-of-fact.
‘I will bear that in mind, ma’am,’ he answered, as formally, hearing the butler’s approaching tread in the hallway.
They continued down the stairs, at the bottom of which Sir Lucius made his bow, and was shown out by Ribston, who concealed his interest admirably.
Elizabeth returned upstairs, and informed her aunt of the successful delivery of the message before seating herself once more with her embroidery.
Lady Chalford noticed, with satisfaction, that she actually did not set many stitches, and that she frequently had difficulty in controlling the urge to smile.
It was only an hour later when Lady Godmanchester paid a call, and she too noticed a change in Elizabeth.
Lady 229Chalford, aware that confidences were best exchanged in private, absented herself after the first few minutes under the pretext of a slight headache, and sent Amelia for her hartshorn.
Left alone, Helen Godmanchester raised an eyebrow.
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘No, do not pretend with me, Elizabeth. Godmanchester was irritatingly cryptic yesterday evening, but I gather Lord Easby was in some manner offensive, and that Sir Lucius possesses a sore fist. Now am I, or am I not, your best friend?’
‘You are, Helen.’
‘Then tell me everything, from the beginning.’
Elizabeth did, diffidently at first, fearing her friend might say ‘I told you so’, but Helen Godmanchester was a true friend and did not.
Gradually, she forgot herself and let out the emotions she had pent up in her family’s presence: the outrage, the anger, fear and then relief, when matters were taken into Sir Lucius’s capable hands.
‘I know that I would not have come to serious harm, Helen, because, after all, we were in Hyde Park, and he could not have made off with me. But his behaviour; it was repellent. To take advantage of a lady in such a way! I am sorry if I sound heated but …’
‘No, no, I quite understand. How awful for you.’
‘At least I took some action in my own defence. His lip bled quite profusely when I hit him with the butt of the whip.’
‘Brava!’ Lady Godmanchester actually clapped her hands.
230‘Helen!’
‘I think it admirable, oh I do.’
‘Well, it was not as effective as Sir Lucius’s knocking him to the ground. I actually thought for a moment that he might take him by the throat and shake him as a terrier does a rat.’
‘That would have been appropriate, if nothing else,’ remarked her ladyship unsympathetically. ‘Ghastly man.’
‘I … Sir Lucius …’
‘You like him, do you not?’
‘Lord Easby? Why of course not!’
‘No, ninny, Sir Lucius.’
Elizabeth looked at her hands, which were working in the fringe of her shawl and frowned, though her mouth twisted in a smile. ‘I should not, I know.’
‘Why “should not”, Elizabeth?’ Lady Godmanchester looked puzzled and perturbed. ‘Surely you know nothing to Sir Lucius’s detriment? I am sure I have never heard anything other than good things about him as a man.’
‘But that is the nub of it, Helen. He is a man.’
‘Er, yes, obviously.’ The confusion was more pronounced.
‘In the end, men let you down. You let yourself love them and they desert you.’ Elizabeth looked at her friend sorrowfully. ‘I am sorry. I know you will not understand. You have been so very fortunate.’
‘You mean like Henry Freshford? But surely you can see Sir Lucius is not at all like him? And your heart cannot still be broken over that.’
‘Oh no, he is not, and my heart is not.’ She paused. ‘I thought it might be, but it was but the memory of pain and 231disillusionment.’ She sighed. ‘I do like Sir Lucius. I tried so hard not to.’
‘My dear friend’ – Helen Godmanchester laid a hand upon her arm – ‘you said you “let” yourself love, but love is not something that requires permission. It happens, or it does not. You cannot make yourself love someone for whom you feel nothing, nor feel nothing for someone whom you love. Oh dear, that sounds terribly profound, but it is true.’
‘No.’ Elizabeth shook her head. ‘It is true for you, Helen.’
‘It is true for you also.’
‘But I will end up hurt again, if I give in to it. History proves it so. Papa, then Henry.’
Lady Godmanchester felt tears prick her eyes. ‘Oh Elizabeth, I am so sorry, I never thought … Your father … of course.’ She squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. ‘But you must not let the past determine your future. Sir Lucius, I am convinced, entertains the most honourable and tender of feelings for you.’
‘I have wondered. He … Helen, sometimes I think he does, and yet …’
‘I am not sure a man who was not interested would have been so bellicose, my dear. Mr Escott, for instance …’