Chapter 3 #2
"Lady Warrington's will," she repeated, her voice little more than a breath. "Might I ask if you were there at that meeting? I felt so confused and unsettled, I am afraid I scarcely lifted my eyes to take note of the others present."
He gave her a sharp nod, one thumb pressing slowly into the opposite palm where his hands rested against his knee.
Eliza looked away. "I am not at all acquainted with Lady Warrington, I am afraid.
I was introduced to her many years ago, but aside from that, there was nothing of note between us.
" The words were true but sounded strange and brittle in her own ears.
She was still asking the very same questions that were flickering in his eyes.
How could it be that his great-aunt, whom Eliza had only been introduced to, would have had any interest in her?
Lord Ashcombe's eyes narrowed slightly. He rose to his feet and began to walk the length of the room, his head bowed, his hands clasped behind his back — his right thumb pressing into his left palm, slow and deliberate.
"You state that you were only ever introduced?
" he asked, a whisper of accusation in his words. "You are quite certain?"
Eliza lifted her chin — a fraction too high, the tendons in her neck pulling taut — as she looked to her aunt, seeing how Lady Newark's brows shot upwards.
This was no simple inquiry; this was an examination.
The room felt smaller than it had, and she willed her hands to stillness as she clasped them tightly in her lap.
"I am certain," she said quietly, her gaze meeting Lord Ashcombe's as he spun on his heel to face her.
"I have no acquaintance with Lady Warrington aside from an introduction some time ago. "
"And you have no understanding as to why she singled you out in such an extraordinary fashion?"
Closing her eyes, Eliza shook her head. "No.
" Her voice wavered. "I cannot understand why she would have any reason to grant me such a generous boon.
" She did not, for the moment, inform him about the condition attached to the inheritance, thinking to herself that it was not something he was required to know.
Lord Ashcombe did not move, his eyes never straying from hers.
For a long moment, he said nothing, but Eliza could almost feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down upon her.
His gaze flicked briefly to Lady Newark, as if he were measuring her aunt's response, wondering whether or not she had anything further to add to this particular conversation.
She only looked back at him steadily, and Eliza, breathing hard, did her best to keep herself outwardly composed even though, inwardly, she felt herself shudder.
"I am afraid that I do not believe you," Lord Ashcombe said at last, his voice cold, his words clipped. "I cannot believe you."
Eliza stiffened at once, her lips parting in surprise at his accusation.
Her aunt, who had remained largely silent thus far, now made her presence known with a quick, sharp movement towards Lord Ashcombe, rising from her chair at once.
"Forgive me, Lord Ashcombe, but I believe my niece has made herself quite clear.
" Her voice was low and firm, no measure of argument in her tone.
"There is no reason to press her further. What she says is the truth."
Lord Ashcombe turned to Lady Newark as Eliza caught the slight tightening of his jaw.
Evidently, he was not a man accustomed to being spoken to in such a sharp manner.
"There must be something more to the acquaintance, something that would explain her extreme generosity.
" His head lifted a little, his gaze fixed on hers.
"I would appreciate it if you were forthcoming. "
Eliza's breath swirled in her chest. The pressure was becoming unbearable, the room too small, the air too thick for her comfort.
She wanted to protest aloud, to say that she had told him the truth — but clearly he was waiting for more.
What could she say to him? There was nothing more to give.
Tugging her eyes away from his, her fingers gripped all the more tightly together as she drew in a slow, steadying breath.
Her thoughts swirled, emotions churning in her chest like a storm gathering strength.
"I am sorry, Lord Ashcombe." A sudden, strange forcefulness pushed through her as she compelled herself to look back towards him, seeing now that the only relief she was to get from this suffocating presence was for him to take his leave — willingly or otherwise.
"There is nothing more for me to say. I have already told you the truth and told it to you in its entirety.
I believe," she finished, her chin lifting a fraction, "that it may be time for you to take your leave. "
The words were gently spoken but all the same, left a strange taste on her tongue. To speak with such force was not at all how a young lady ought to behave, she knew, but the pressure of his company was too great, the weight of his scrutiny unbearable.
Lord Ashcombe's face registered astonishment, his eyebrows lifting as Eliza swallowed at the tightness in her throat.
For a brief moment, she feared he would press her further, would continue to insist on some answer she could not give despite both her own and her aunt's words, only for him to dip his head and grimace.
"As you wish, Miss Fairleigh, Lady Newark," he said, a hint of frustration echoing in his words. "I shall take my leave."
Without another word — and much to her relief — he turned, his dark coat sweeping behind him as he quit the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a long moment, Eliza remained where she sat, closing her eyes and leaning forward, breathing long, slow breaths as she quietened her heart.
"Goodness." Her aunt's light tone demanded that Eliza smile, albeit ruefully. "That was an interesting introduction, was it not?"
"It was indeed."
"An unforgettable one." Her words were laced with a quiet amusement. "Lord Ashcombe is, I think, a most interesting gentleman — determined, forthright but still willing to be respectful. I am glad that he took his leave when we asked it of him."
"Indeed."
Her aunt smiled sympathetically. "I presume his visit did nothing to ease your confusion and upset, my dear Eliza?"
Eliza could not bring herself to answer, giving her aunt only a small shake of her head in response. Her thoughts were still a tangle of chaos, fear, and frustration. She did not know what to make of this encounter or of the strange, unsettling figure that Lord Ashcombe had revealed himself to be.
Her fingers found the seam of her glove again, tracing the stitching with her thumbnail. "You do believe that I have no notion as to why Lady Warrington did such a thing, do you not? You trust that I spoke the truth?"
"Of course I do!" Her aunt's eyebrows lifted gently.
"There is not even a single flicker of doubt in my heart when it comes to you, my dear.
" Her head tilted to one side. "And whether Lord Ashcombe believes it or not is of no relevance.
" With a lift of her shoulders, she smiled warmly.
"I do not think that we will ever see Lord Ashcombe again. You need not worry about that."
"I must hope so," Eliza murmured, rubbing at her forehead as her brow furrowed. "I have confusion enough already."