Chapter 7 #2
Lady Hargreaves shook her head. "No, no more than I, my dear.
The only reason he did such a thing was that he was standing near me when Lady Warrington made the request. When I said to her that I was not acquainted with the family, he stepped in and offered to do so.
" She smiled gently, her eyes full of memories.
"Susanna was always so considerate," she continued, her voice softening.
"When I asked her as to why she had such an interest in your company, she told me that she was concerned for you, for she had heard of your situation at that time. "
Lady Newark set her tea cup down on the saucer with a clink. "You speak of my brother's debts."
"Yes, although... " Lady Hargreaves frowned and looked away from them all, her gaze going to the window as if somehow, it would offer her answers she did not have at present.
"When Lord Graves went in search of you, Miss Fairleigh, Susanna remarked that she was glad to know your father's situation had improved of late, knowing that it would also bring you some relief.
I believe she hoped you would do well in society and that your father's debts would not be a weight to pull you down. "
Eliza blinked, taken aback by the straightforward manner with which Lady Hargreaves had spoken.
"I — I did not know... " Her thoughts began to tumble through her mind, memories slowly rising to the surface and catching her off guard.
Pausing, she put a smile on her face that she did not truly feel, telling herself that such things could be considered when she was no longer in Lady Hargreaves' company.
"I thank you, Lady Hargreaves. That is profoundly helpful. "
"Is it?" The lady beamed at her as Eliza looked to her aunt, seeing Lady Newark's brow furrowed in thought. "I am so very glad."
As the conversation turned to other things, Eliza lapsed into silence, praying that they would soon be able to take their leave so she could talk with her aunt.
How had Lady Warrington known of her father's financial standing?
Yes, there were ways and means, but even she had been unaware of it all... hadn't she?
Mercifully, Lady Newark, perhaps aware of Eliza's eager desire to step away, soon rose to take their leave.
With profound and genuine thanks, Eliza bid Lord and Lady Hargreaves farewell and followed her aunt back to the carriage.
The moment the door closed, however, she pinned her aunt to the seat with questions.
"How could Lady Warrington have known of my father's debts?
Were they that well known at the time? I am sure that I knew something of them, but I am not certain that I fully understood them.
And what was this she said of a lessening of the financial considerations that bound him?
I think... " She closed her eyes, gripping her hands together tightly.
"I think that I might be aware of something that took place regarding that, but I cannot be certain. It was so long ago and — "
"Eliza." Her aunt reached across from where she sat and set one hand on top of Eliza's, forcing her to open her eyes and look into her aunt's steady gaze.
"Take one moment at a time. We know now that Lady Warrington asked to be introduced to you.
That is a good thing. Lord Graves introduced you, but that was not purposeful in any way, so it holds no significance to you.
" She paused. "You ask how Lady Warrington could know of your father's debts, but that is easily answered.
" Her lips pressed together. "Your father gambled a good deal, and your dear mother wrote often to me asking how she might go about encouraging him to end it.
I am afraid that most of society knew of his inclinations, given that he owed many an amount to many a person. "
Eliza nodded, sensing tears beginning to prickle in the corners of her eyes but refusing to let them fall. Her father's gambling brought shame with it, but she was not about to allow it to take hold of her also. "So there was every reason for Lady Warrington to know of his debts."
"Yes. However," Lady Newark continued, as Eliza listened on, "there was a time when things seemed a little more settled.
It must have been at the time of your meeting with Lady Warrington.
Your mother had passed from this life to the next by that time, however.
I remember thinking to myself that mayhap, in his grief, your father had chosen to throw gambling aside for good. "
"If he did, then it did not last," Eliza murmured, turning her head so she could gaze out of the window as memories began to slowly piece themselves back together inside her mind.
There had been a time of financial stability, if she recalled correctly.
The mourning period for her mother had passed, and after a year of strain and sorrow, she had emerged, expecting to return to the same tension and uncertainty that had plagued their household ever since she could remember.
But it had not done so. There had been a freedom there which she had not expected, which had given rise to her hopes of making a good match and enjoying a happy London season when the time came for her debut.
"Yes, I remember that too," she confirmed, her voice very soft indeed. "Father was no longer as displeased as he had once been. He remained in the house more than he had ever done before, and the servants did not whisper about their lack of pay."
Lady Newark closed her eyes. "No child should have to remember such things, Eliza. I am sorry you had so much to endure."
Eliza said nothing as the carriage rolled along the cobbled streets towards her aunt's townhouse.
The more she thought about Lady Warrington's interest in her, the more she questioned why she had been aware of her standing and her father's debts, the more unsettled Eliza became.
How ever was she to find the answers to such questions?
Her thoughts grew restless, her mind unable to settle.
Her father had never spoken openly about his financial dealings, had hidden as much from her as he could, which meant that, certainly, he would never have shared with her about Lady Warrington's interest, had there been any.
"But why would she be interested?" she murmured aloud, as the carriage continued on its way towards home, towards safety. "Why have any interest whatsoever in my father's dealings and my own future?"
It was not a question that either she or her aunt could answer. With that realization came the thought of Lord Ashcombe, a picture of his kind eyes searching hers returning to her heart with such a strength that it made her catch her breath.
"Lord Ashcombe will need to be informed of what you have learned, yes?"
"Yes, Aunt. I shall write to him this evening, I think.
We have no other occasion to step out, so I shall have time to write all that I have learned from Lady Hargreaves.
" Eliza's cheeks flushed, and she felt it creep up her neck as her aunt nodded, her gaze assessing.
Strangely, the very thought of Lord Ashcombe brought about an unsettling warmth in her frame which she did not understand.
Yes, he had been eager to assist her, but that was for his own reasons as much as it was for her own benefit.
He was no threat to her, but neither was he to become a source of fascination.
He was to assist in her search, a support where she required it, nothing more.
And yet, she thought to herself, remembering how he had stood so very close to her as she had stayed, hidden away in the bookshop and safe from prying eyes, I did feel... something.
Her eyes closed, and she let out a sigh, not even thinking of what her aunt might be thinking of her expressions at the present moment.
She had never been the sort for idle infatuation, had never allowed herself to be foolish enough to be drawn to a gentleman without consideration — and yet there had been something in his nearness that had begged her to move closer to him.
"We have arrived, Eliza."
She looked up, seeing her aunt gesturing to the open carriage door. Had her thoughts truly been so fixed upon Lord Ashcombe that she had not even noticed the carriage coming to a stop?
"Thank you, Aunt," she murmured, hoping that Lady Newark would think her distracted only by all that Lady Hargreaves had told her. "If you will excuse me, I think I will write to Lord Ashcombe at once. There is no time for delay."
Lady Newark smiled. "Of course, my dear. I hope, in doing so, it will settle your thoughts somewhat."
"I hope so too," Eliza agreed, knowing full well that whatever she wrote to Lord Ashcombe about his aunt and Lady Hargreaves, it would do nothing to the gnawing discomfort that settled in her core.
A discomfort that came from not knowing what she felt nor why she felt it — but only that it was there and, she feared, certain to grow with every passing moment in his company.
The letter to Lord Ashcombe had taken longer than she had anticipated.
Eliza had written three versions of it before she was satisfied, each draft beginning with too much feeling and ending with too little substance.
The final version was measured, careful, detailing all that Lady Hargreaves had shared about the meeting at Lord Lyme's estate and Lady Warrington's apparent knowledge of her father's debts.
It said nothing of the way her pulse quickened at the thought of him reading her words, nothing of the warmth that rose in her chest when she recalled how close he had stood to her in the bookshop.
She sealed the letter and set it aside for the morning post. The candle on her writing desk had burned low, its flame guttering in a draught that crept beneath the window. The house was quiet, her aunt long since retired, the servants gone to their quarters.
Sleep should have come easily. It did not.