CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
‘Perhaps I could do as well as Mr Escott? Let me see. Um, “Cousin fair, I want to say, On this, your very special day, I hope your hours are filled with joy, And” … Oops, what rhymes with that besides “boy” and “toy”?’
‘Coy?’ suggested Elizabeth, failing to keep a straight face.
187‘But none of them fit,’ bemoaned Amelia, with an exaggerated pout.
‘Ahem.’ Ribston coughed in a polite manner. ‘Might I suggest “Nothing shall your peace destroy”, miss?’
‘Oh. Well, it sounds a bit like a hymn, but jolly good, Ribston. Better than I could manage, anyway. I fear, Cousin, that Ribston and I lack the muse.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’ Elizabeth began to laugh, and they were both still laughing when Lady Chalford entered.
Whilst uncontrolled hilarity would normally have drawn a frown of disapproval, her ladyship merely raised an eyebrow, and recommended that Amelia wipe her eyes carefully so as not to redden them.
‘Happy birthday, my dear,’ she murmured, taking Elizabeth by the hands and pressing a small box into them. ‘I hope you have a special day.’
This echo of her own words sent Amelia into another paroxysm.
Elizabeth untied the ribbon and opened the box, revealing a silver vinaigrette with an enamelled lid, painted with violas in purples and yellows.
‘I know you are not one to have need of a vinaigrette in most circumstances, but you never know when one might be useful, and, as one gets older one, is less able to cope with shocks.’
Ignoring the idea that, having reached the age of twenty-one, she must now be on a slow but inevitable decline into mental, and probably physical, enfeeblement, Elizabeth smiled, and kissed her aunt fondly.
‘It is delightful, Aunt, thank you.’
188The three ladies then sat down to discuss the minutiae of the day over breakfast. They were about to disperse, Amelia to go for a drive with Julia Wingate and her mama, Elizabeth and Lady Chalford to write letters, when Ribston entered once more, bearing what was clearly another gift.
‘Oh, I wonder if Helen Godmanchester has sent me a present? I had thought since she is paying me a call this afternoon …’
Elizabeth unwrapped the small parcel, and opened the velvet box within in a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.
A pearl ring-brooch nestled on a ground of sapphire-blue material.
The note, which had nothing poetic about it, was written in a neat hand and folded within.
Sir Lucius had not wished Miss Ashling to discover the giver and then refuse to open the gift, for any reason.
Once she had seen it, he thought it less likely that she would reject it, for that would be petty, and he did not think her petty.
She read out the message.
Dear Miss Ashling,
Being aware of your natal day, I hope you will accept this small gift as a token from one who would count himself honoured to be, in your eyes, a friend. I thought it would look appropriate in the cravat of your riding habit.
LR
She took the brooch, carefully, from its blue bed, and gazed at it with a tremulous smile. It was not an 189extravagant present, not embarrassing, but both touching and thoughtful. It was certainly unexpected.
‘What a pretty gift, Elizabeth. It shows taste. How kind of Sir Lucius. I wonder how he knew the date?’
Elizabeth ignored her aunt’s immediate comprehension of the identity of the giver.
‘Most likely from Lady Godmanchester, though I must confess that I unwittingly offered some indication of its proximity. Might I accept it, Aunt?’
‘Accept it? Of course you may accept it. It is gauged to a nicety as a gift. Now, oh, look at the time, I really must be about writing to send condolences to Sarah Embleton on the death of old Lady Steyning. No more dancing for her Harriet this Season. How vexatious for them, especially when she shows to such advantage in the ballroom.’
Lady Chalford left, shaking her head at the perversity of elderly relatives who departed this life at inappropriate times.
It was mid-afternoon when Lady Godmanchester arrived to congratulate her friend.
She had suffered a particularly trying morning, and still looked a trifle pale, but had decided that moping at home and feeling sorry for herself would do no good at all, and that Elizabeth would undoubtedly distract her from the vague feeling of nausea that persisted.
She brought with her a Norwich silk shawl, delicately fringed, and a request to drive out with her in the park for an hour.
‘Fresh air is good for one, though not the heat, of course, and this morning’s rain has cleared the air wonderfully. You 190won’t mind sitting with a pathetic creature like me for an hour as entertainment, will you?’
‘Pathetic? Hardly. I wonder how you manage to be out and about so much in your condition.’
‘Partly desperation,’ admitted Lady Godmanchester, with a conspiratorial smile.
‘Later on one becomes terribly sluggish, and being withdrawn from society to the greater extent jades one’s spirits.
Until it becomes obvious, or I simply find it too exhausting, I do want to remain part of the social whirl. ’
‘But you do take enough rest, Helen?’
‘Oh dear, you sound as fussing as my lord. He positively refuses to hear of me getting up in the morning before ten thirty, if I have as much as stayed an hour at a function the night before.’ She sighed.
‘He is so very considerate, even if inclined to wrap one in cotton wool. Now, enough of me and my delicate state. Do tell me what gifts and congratulations you have received. I do not suppose Mr Escott is aware of the significance of the date, or else he would have written a sonnet in your honour.’
‘I sincerely hope not!’ Elizabeth shuddered, and described the presents she had been given.
Finally, to the list of family offerings, she added, in as off-hand a manner as possible, that Sir Lucius Radstock had sent her a small, and she stressed ‘small’, brooch.
‘Just a token, you understand, since he had overheard it was my birthday.’
Helen Godmanchester nodded, and kept her thoughts to herself.
191The evening party was not going to be a society squeeze, but a rather more select affair, limited to no more than fifty persons, with supper, and, since Elizabeth enjoyed dancing so much, a few impromptu sets after supper.
Those invited were closer acquaintances and friends.
Lady Rendlesham was most certainly not invited, nor had Lady Chalford sent a card to Lord Easby.
Lord Nuneaton had been favoured, however, and, at Elizabeth’s request, Lord Carbrooke and Mr Southram, because, she said, they made her laugh.
Most of the guest list had been of her aunt’s devising, and she did not know of the addition of Sir Lucius.
Without any anticipation of awkwardness for the evening, Elizabeth dressed in a happy mood.
The lemon silk was new for the Season, her mother’s diamond set sparkled about neck and wrist, and in her dark hair, and she knew herself to be looking her best. Ditcham was patting the single curled lock of hair before each ear when Elizabeth, upon a whim, reached for the little blue box upon the dressing chest.
‘What on earth do you be wanting to wear that for, miss? It will scarcely show on this gown and with you glittering with diamonds …’
‘An indulgence, Ditcham. I simply feel like wearing it tonight, and placed so’ – she pinned it centrally at the neckline of the bodice – ‘if any remark upon it, it may be taken as part of the dress, since there are seed pearls among the silver embroidery on the sleeves.’
Ditcham sniffed, but said no more. At least her mistress looked better tonight than she had for several days.
192Elizabeth stood to receive the guests, secure in the knowledge that she could be at ease.
There were none of her unwanted admirers, nor the ladies of Lady Rendlesham’s circle who clearly despised her.
She was more than a little taken aback when Sir Lucius Radstock was announced, and felt slightly breathless as she watched him climb the stairs towards them.
He bowed over Lady Chalford’s hand, and then Elizabeth’s, and as he straightened, his eye caught sight of the pearl brooch.
He looked up, clearly surprised, and their eyes met, his questioning, hers full of confusion.
Belatedly, he let go of her gloved fingers.
Lady Chalford watched indulgently. Rumour must surely be true.
‘Sir Lucius,’ Elizabeth murmured, blushing. ‘I have to thank you for your generous gift.’
He wanted to tell her that she need not thank him, that the sight of her wearing it was greater thanks than he would have dared to imagine, but he was not a man used to pretty words.
‘It is but a trifle, ma’am. I am only delighted if it was received in the spirit with which it was sent.’
The blush deepened, and Elizabeth murmured something indistinct before she had to move on to another arrival. That might keep her from him for a while, but she knew that in a gathering of this size it would be impossible to avoid him all evening.