Chapter 5
Eliza bit her lip as Lord Ashcombe walked away, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her skirt across her lap — once, then again. The hum of conversation did nothing to soothe her, her anxiety returning with a rush.
"I certainly did not expect that," her aunt murmured, coming to stand a little closer. "I did find myself a little relieved, I must say."
"As am I," Eliza replied, glancing to her aunt. "Do you think that he was genuine?"
Her aunt smiled warmly. "Yes, my dear, I do think so.
It is not often that a gentleman stoops as low as he did in making such a fine apology.
I can promise you that for him to lower himself in the way that he did means that every word he spoke was from the heart.
Your forgiveness was easily given too, I must say. "
Eliza's smile was wry. "What else can one do when a gentleman makes so fine an apology? I could not say I would not forgive him."
Her aunt laughed brightly, and Eliza's smile grew.
It was the first time she had relaxed all evening, and hiding here, in the corner of the room, she felt safer than when she had first entered.
Looking around, she drew in a slow breath and then released it just as carefully, telling herself that all would be well.
Not one but two gentlemen were going to dance with her, which she had not expected.
All the same, she could practically feel the whispers darting towards her, threatening to jab at her with sharp points that would pierce her skin.
Whilst the room itself was warm and welcoming with the candles flickering in their gilded sconces and a warm glow cast over the guests from their light, her own arrival had held no welcome.
Even now, she could see the heads turning in her direction, could see the eyes that flicked towards her and then pulled away again.
Evidently, the ton knew of her inheritance.
Her aunt stepped closer and put a hand briefly at Eliza's elbow. "You must ignore the whispers, my dear. I did warn you that there would be some."
"I do not understand their upset," Eliza answered, looking around the room, her breath faltering as some familiar faces quickly turned their heads away from her gaze. "What is it they think I have done?"
Her aunt sighed and put a hand on her arm.
"There is usually a reason for someone to be given an inheritance — particularly one as large as you have been offered.
Whether they know the reason or not, the ton will whisper suggestions and reasons as to why such a thing might be, and not all of them will be kind. "
Her fingers tightened around the fan in her hand. "What can I do?"
"Nothing as yet," her aunt said. She kept her voice low.
"Keep your head held high, show them that you have nothing to be ashamed of.
Once the connection between yourself and Lady Warrington is discovered, you will be able to prove to them all that there is no shame for you to bear.
That is all you can do at present — so in light of that, shall we take a turn about the room? "
With a deep breath and trying to summon a confidence she did not truly feel, Eliza stepped out of the corner, her aunt alongside her.
She knew in her heart that all Aunt Letitia had suggested was good and right, but to make her way about the ballroom again was somewhat terrifying.
Turning her steps in the direction of those she had been previously acquainted with at the one, single ball she had attended after her debut, she pinned a smile to her lips and hoped her eyes were bright.
"Miss Everton," she began, only for the lady to look her slowly up and down before answering.
"Miss Fairleigh." Miss Everton sniffed, her hard, affected tone laced with a barely concealed disdain.
Her smile was brittle, sending shadows into her eyes as she tilted her head to one side.
"How... lovely it is to see you again." The way her eyes darted around the group as she spoke told Eliza there was no true kindness there.
"We were just speaking of your new circumstances.
Your somewhat questionable circumstances, I believe. "
Eliza felt a sharp sting across her cheek, as if the lady herself had slapped her.
The judgement was clear, the unspoken shift so complete, it was as if every other young lady in the group had taken a step back from her.
Her chest tightened as tears burned in her eyes — tears she refused to shed.
Looking around the group, she saw each and every one of them, in turn, look away from her as if she had become nothing more than an ethereal spirit, invisible and unseen.
She lingered, wondering if she should say something more, if she ought to respond or if it was best to take her leave — when another voice broke in.
"Thankfully, not all of us are as inclined towards believing gossip as you are, Miss Everton."
A clear, refreshing voice broke through Eliza's upset, a breath of relief escaping her as none other than Lady Sarah stepped into the group.
She and Lady Sarah had been acquainted for many a year, being that they were distant relations, but Eliza had never realized just how much loyalty her friend had for her.
The gratitude in her heart was overwhelming.
"I was delighted to hear of your news, Eliza," Lady Sarah continued, addressing Eliza with that same warm manner that she had always had. "How very kind of Lady Warrington. Her generosity was known to many, and there is none more deserving."
"I thank you, Sarah," Eliza answered, her voice weak with a lack of confidence in front of the other young ladies, all of whom were now either staring at Lady Sarah or scowling at her. "You are very kind."
"You must tell me all about it," Lady Sarah insisted, stepping towards Eliza.
"Come, let us away from these naysayers.
" She spoke louder now, her words sharp but clearly meant for all those who had pushed Eliza away.
"Their ears itch for gossip, their tongues are desperate to wag with falsehoods — and I have every certainty that the gentlemen of London, the highly respected, aristocratic gentlemen of society, will have no interest in such creatures. "
Eliza could not help but giggle as she took her friend's arm and stepped away with her, the relief making her laughter all the more vibrant. "I cannot ever imagine speaking in such a way, Sarah. You do very well."
"I will defend you to the end, my dear friend," came the reply.
"Goodness, I am glad to see you. In the last two days, I have heard nothing but Miss Fairleigh and her inheritance from Lady Warrington — and I confess, I have not known what to make of it all.
" Her eyes flickered with interest, but Eliza offered her a rueful smile.
"Then you find yourself in the very same position as I," she said softly.
"I do not know why Lady Warrington did such a thing.
It is astonishing to me." As she and Lady Sarah walked around the ballroom, her aunt following closely behind, Eliza told her friend all that had taken place, up until that very evening with Lord Ashcombe's apology.
"He told me he wishes to continue our conversation — that he wants very much to hear what I have to say, to listen instead of simply speaking his own mind. "
Her friend's eyes brightened. "A private walk and a private conversation?" she said, leaning in slightly. "How intriguing! I hope you are going to attend, yes?"
Eliza licked her lips, feeling her pulse quicken at the thought of walking alongside Lord Ashcombe. "I could not find a way to refuse."
"Excellent!" her friend exclaimed. "You must tell me all that is said. I am very eager indeed to help you secure your inheritance, Eliza."
With a smile that did not linger, Eliza looked at her friend and then let her gaze settle back over the ballroom, aware that many of the conversations would most certainly be about her.
A wave of resolve washed over her, settling into her heart as she walked arm in arm with her friend.
Perhaps this conversation with Lord Ashcombe would, in fact, offer her some insight into her connection to Lady Warrington.
Perhaps it would bring a clear path for her to walk, offer her the next step forward — and in doing so, she might be ever nearer to having society view her as unscathed, untainted and entirely without fault.
"There is a certain coolness to the morning air that one does not find in the afternoon."
Eliza nodded, darting a glance towards Lord Ashcombe as he walked alongside her through St James' Park, fully aware that this tentative beginning of conversation was nothing more than an idle remark made to dissolve the tangible tension between them.
The morning light flickered through the branches of the trees above them, casting dappled shadows over the gravel path as they walked slowly side by side, her aunt a few steps behind her.
The silence that fell between them now was strained, making her fingers find the edge of her sleeve and grip it, her mind trying to find something to say that would dispel it.
Lord Ashcombe cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back, then turned his head to look at her.
For a moment, Eliza thought he might speak, that he would say something to bring their conversation towards his aunt, but instead, he shook his head and turned his gaze away again.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the way his jaw tightened, noting the stiffness in his gait, in the way his back was held ramrod straight.
Clearly, he felt just as awkward and anxious as she.
Licking her lips, Eliza took in a breath and then tried to speak with strength and confidence in her voice, frustrated when her words came out weak and breathless. "You wish to speak about your aunt and the will, I believe."