CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
‘Elizabeth, how is this important if he wants to make you an offer and you have tender feelings for him?’
‘Because … Because he is dishonest and will hurt me, and … I hate him, hate him, hate him.’
283Elizabeth burst into tears and flung herself upon her bed.
Her aunt was very confused. She would have sworn – both from what had happened over recent days, and even tonight – that Elizabeth was very taken with Sir Lucius, so how his wanting to offer for her was so bad a thing, she had no idea.
The name was reprehensible, but must have stemmed from the time before he was attracted to her, and the horse was in many ways a sweet and romantic gesture, especially since his part was concealed.
Yet Elizabeth clearly felt positively murderous.
Lady Chalford patted her shoulder, sighed, pulled the bell for Ditcham and withdrew to the landing, where she intercepted that reliable tirewoman and explained that her mistress was somewhat overwrought.
The maid looked the aunt straight in the eye, with the understanding of one woman to another, and nodded grimly.
Nothing more was said. She curtseyed and went into the bedchamber, raising an eyebrow at the pink damage to the wall.
Elizabeth was sobbing into the coverlet. Ditcham sighed, and proceeded, by a mixture of bullying, soothing and sympathy, to get her mistress ready for bed.
The feigned headache was now real. Elizabeth’s cheeks stung from salt, her eyes were puffy and red, and sleep seemed an impossibility.
There was a terrible emptiness within her.
This man had won her trust, despite all her wiser instincts, won it so completely, and yet all the time was deceiving her, making her a mere puppet, whose strings he might cut upon whim.
The heart he was breaking whimpered that, if he loved her, nothing else mattered, but the head, thumping as it was, asserted superiority.
It had 284been proved right yet again. Men could not be trusted.
He might claim to love, but his actions showed his selfishness, his inability to treat her honestly.
There could be no truck with such a man.
No truck, perhaps, but when tiredness overcame her, he was there, lurking in the edges of her dreams, a sombre figure with eyes that pleaded, then grew hard as granite, and no amount of tossing or turning would make him go away.
In blissful ignorance of what had taken place at Lady Sefton’s the previous evening, Sir Lucius presented his card in Mount Street the next morning and asked to see Lord Chalford.
His lordship was a little surprised to receive this request, his wife’s comments upon Elizabeth’s budding romance having been heard but not listened to, over recent weeks.
However, he instructed that Sir Lucius be provided with refreshment in the library, where he would join him shortly.
When he entered the room he thought his visitor looked a little ill at ease, for he was standing beside the library table, drumming his fingers upon the polished mahogany in some agitation.
‘Good morning, Sir Lucius. Er, I am sorry if I have kept you waiting. Have you another engagement that is pressing?’
‘No, no,’ Sir Lucius replied hurriedly, colouring. ‘I … It is … You see …’ He faltered, much to Lord Chalford’s amazement.
‘Do take a seat, and try to calm yourself. You seem agitated. In what way may I be of service to you?’
285‘Miss Ashling’ – Sir Lucius took a deep breath – ‘Miss Elizabeth Ashling, that is, your niece. I was … am … hoping that you will see your way to permitting me to pay my addresses to her.’
There, it was out. He took a gulp of air, and watched Lord Chalford’s face register astonishment.
‘Good Lord! Elizabeth? You want to marry my niece, Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, my lord, I do.’
‘Are you sure?’ Lady Chalford would have screamed in horror had she heard her lord giving a prospective suitor the opportunity to back down, but Chalford was more than a little stunned.
‘Yes, absolutely.’
‘Good Lord,’ repeated his lordship, blinking. There was a pause, a pause far too long for the state of Sir Lucius’s nerves, then Lord Chalford’s face broke into a smile and he extended a hand.
‘My dear fellow, by all means. Couldn’t have wished for a better match for the dear girl.’ He shook Sir Lucius’s hand energetically. ‘To be frank, couldn’t imagine any match for her, really. I mean, you are very welcome to pay her your addresses, but she is of age now, and may make her own choice.’
‘Of that fact I am aware, my lord, but I have hopes that she might be inclined to favour my suit.’
‘Then I will see if she is about. I have not heard of any plans for the ladies to go out this morning. I will send her down to you if you would just wait here. Not a room where you will be interrupted, you see.’
286Sir Lucius nodded, feeling already a little tongue-tied, and Lord Chalford withdrew, asking Ribston to tell Miss Elizabeth that Sir Lucius Radstock wished to speak with her in the library, and himself going to knock upon the door of his wife’s little writing room, where she often spent the morning at her correspondence, or taking a gentle nap. On this occasion she had pen in hand.
‘My dear, I have some news that I think will delight you.’
‘Really? Then tell me, for I have been trying this last half hour to compose a most dreary epistle to your Aunt Risborough.’
‘Guess who is in the library?’
‘I have no idea. Why should I have any idea who is in the library?’ Lady Chalford frowned.
‘Sir Lucius Radstock,’ announced her husband, much in the manner of the master of ceremonies announcing the most important guest at a function, ‘and he has just asked my permission to pay his addresses to Elizabeth. There, what do you think to that, my love?’
‘Oh dear,’ cried Lady Chalford, pressing her hand to her cheek. ‘Oh dear me.’
It was not the reaction Lord Chalford had expected.
In the library, Sir Lucius waited, and waited, and waited.