By the time Boxing Day arrived, Elizabeth was feeling stiff and sore and distinctly sorry for herself. She was bored with doing nothing and yet if she tried to read her head began to ache again. The doctor visited first thing in the morning and declared that there were no bones broken and that the young lady could partake of light food in moderation, should stand or lie down, but not sit for long, and take his special preparation of laudanum with hot milk before retiring.
‘You are strong and healthy, my dear young lady. Rest and a light diet will soon effect a cure, without any help from a doddery old medical man like me. Good day, ma’am.’ He bowed politely to Lady Gascoine and departed smiling.
On Boxing Day night, the house party and the Mason family were due to have an early dinner and attend a soirée at one of Mrs Mason’s oldest and dearest friends. Mr and Mrs Atherton had a fine home on the outskirts of King’s Lynn and had known the Masons all their lives. They had one son, David and it would have been their dearest wish if David, and Isabella had fallen in love and united the two families in marriage.
‘It was not to be,’ Mrs Atherton said to her friend ruefully. ‘We can’t order these things, my dear Emma, and I’m sure I wish dear Isabella happy with Sir Frederick. There will be time for David to find the right one, especially if Isabella is able to introduce him to other young ladies. Now, tell me, Emma, who is this chit that Her Ladyship is employing as a companion?’
There was to be a champagne supper and the evening would include dancing and carol singers. The cream of Norfolk society was expected to attend the soirée and Lady Gascoine declared herself very well pleased that they had been invited. When Mrs Mason had explained to her friend that ‘the chit’ was a protégé of Lady Gascoine’s wealthy sister, the invitation had been extended to include the young companion as well. Elizabeth knew nothing of this as she lay in her room, nursing an aching head and bruised legs. Feeling as she did, a soirée was the last thing on her mind.
Lady Gascoine came to visit the sickroom after luncheon. ‘If you are not well enough for an evening at the Athertons’ my dear, don’t fuss yourself,’ she said. ‘I can easily arrange for one of the maids to keep you company and order some refreshments in your room. There will be plenty of young women to attend me at the soirée and numerous old acquaintances to keep me entertained. Now I must go and let Maria put my curl papers in. I shall lie down until it’s time for dinner.’
But Elizabeth, with the impatience of youth, was already chafing to get into normal company again. ‘I’m taking the draught that Doctor Godfrey left me, ma’am,’ she said bravely, ‘and if I stay in my room beforehand and have a light meal, I may feel well enough to attend you this evening.’
Lady Gascoine smiled at this and said, ‘Well, we’ll see,’ before disappearing off to her own room.
Left alone, Elizabeth lay down on the bed, resting her throbbing head in one hand. Her thoughts turned to Robert Gascoine and the feeling of intimacy when she’d nestled so closely in his arms. The particular smell of his cologne and the thud of his heart as her cheek had rested on his broad chest were still strong in her mind. She wondered what he was doing now, whether he had been as affected as she herself by their physical closeness, which was all the more piquant for being so public. As her thoughts wandered, gradually the pain in her head lessened. She closed her eyes and tried to recapture yet again the sense of his presence, so close to her and yet, because of the social difference between them, so far.
She longed for a man like him who would be all her own, hers to love and cherish and to be loved and cherished by. No wonder girls were always talking and reading about romance. Now she understood why. If Robert Gascoine were hers, she would never want anything more to make her life complete. In that twilight state between sleeping and waking, she once again imagined vividly the feel of his arms enclosing her, the sensation of his warm breath on her hair, the strong shapely hands at her waist as he lifted her down from her horse…. The tears started in her eyes.
This was stupid! Part of an impossible dream. Why should a man like Robert Gascoine wish to concern himself with a girl like me? she thought. A slum child from a low family in Ireland. A girl who had never worn shoes until she was ten and then had been given them by Miss Gibson so she could attend Sunday school.
The helpless tears squeezed themselves out from underneath her eyelids and she began to awake from her reverie, feeling sadder than she’d ever done in her whole life. Even when the Baines boys had tormented her, she’d had some pride in trying not to give way and weep. Now, she was ready to sob out loud, and all for the love of a man who was so cool and contained that he would never notice her in that way. She sat up wearily and bleakly acknowledged to herself that this was what made her so sad and lachrymose.
She was so in love with Robert Gascoine. Could anything be more terrible? She must take good care never to reveal this fact to anyone, especially Robert himself. If he suspected how she felt, it would mean at best contempt and at worst instant dismissal.
Slowly and stiffly, she got up from the bed and washed carefully, trying not to move suddenly and disturb her throbbing head again. She resolutely put all thoughts of Robert Gascoine from her mind. Susanna had been sent up by Lady Gascoine to see how she did and Elizabeth asked her to assist in getting dressed. The girl was very young, but she was sensitive and gentle, helping Elizabeth to dress without stooping or stretching and taking care with Elizabeth’s stiff joints and painful limbs. Elizabeth had chosen yet another evening gown from her time at Miss Hanbury’s. It was a deceptively simple, expensive dress of palest blue crepe, decorated with ruched ribbons of a deeper blue, which matched her eyes perfectly. Underneath was a silk slip of silver blue satin and round her neck, as usual, were Lady Gascoine’s pearls.
Finally she was dressed and Susanna again shyly offered to help her arrange her hair. ‘No, thank you,’ Elizabeth said. ‘If you would be so kind as to brush it out for me, I can do it myself.’
It took twice as long but Elizabeth managed it, resting her arms frequently and finally repairing her face with powder where it was blotched and reddened. And she was ready. Taking heed of Doctor Godfrey’s advice, she had another dose of the pain-relieving draught that he had left for her and she walked about the room until her aches and pains subsided a little. She waited for the gong to summon her to Lady Gascoine’s small sitting-room.
Here, she received so many kindly enquiries after her health and whether she felt up to the long evening in company that she felt the weak tears begin to prick the back of her eyes. She answered hastily after every enquiry, ‘I am much better, I thank you. Yes, I shall be careful not to exert myself too much. No, dear Doctor Godfrey will not need to visit me again. I am merely a little stiff, that is all.’
Throughout these exchanges, only Sir Frederick remained aloof, frowning somewhat and merely giving her a polite nod before reaching for a glass of wine from the footman’s tray.
Entering a little later, Robert was in time to see the normally reticent Miss Gibson giving Elizabeth a fond kiss on the cheek and hear her whispering, ‘My darling little Lizzie, I am so pleased you are feeling better, my dear.’
No one could call Miss Baines ‘little’, he thought. She was as tall as his Aunt Jane and he was intrigued to hear the undemonstrative Jane use the pet name ‘Lizzie’.
He strode up to Elizabeth, greeting his mama and brother on the way, nodding to Bradbury and his Aunt Jane as his eyes sought hers. ‘We didn’t expect you out of your sickbed just yet, Miss Baines. How are you? How is your head?’
‘Much improved, I thank you, sir. And I am already impatient at being confined to my chamber.’
She smiled at him and accepted a glass of wine from the footman, while Robert continued to gaze at her admiringly, taking in her straight, slender figure and the simple pearl necklace against her beautiful throat. He continued to gaze without speaking, as she blushed and sipped her wine.
Lady Gascoine, observing this little exchange, said, ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, our carriages await.’
Immediately, he gracefully offered Elizabeth his arm as they made their way to the front door.
Obediently, she placed her fingertips on the smooth sleeve of his immaculate black evening coat. She felt the strength of his muscular arm under the cloth and closed her eyes momentarily as she breathed in once more the faint tang of his cologne. This warm, living, breathing man was now so dear to her that it was a painful joy to feel the vibrant flesh beneath the fabric of his coat.
She tried to let commonsense in as she attempted to rid her mind of all thoughts of Robert as a man. After all, she should not be indulging in sensual thoughts; they were futile and leading nowhere. He could never care for such as she and it would be better if she stopped thinking along those lines.
Instead, she concentrated on walking slowly to the carriage without stumbling or exacerbating her various aches and pains.
When they arrived at the home of the Athertons, both Mr and Mrs Mason renewed their concerns about Elizabeth’s health and she reassured them and also had a joke with Isabella. ‘I’ve heard the expression “head over heels”, Miss Mason, but only when it meant the tender passion of love, never an undignified fall from such a mild little mare as Lucinda.’
Isabella gave a wan smile. She was looking very peaky, so Elizabeth determined to chat with her for a little longer to try and make her smile again. Frederick had disappeared to the card room for a game of piquet and Elizabeth gave a quick glance round the room. Lady Gascoine was chatting to Mr and Mrs Atherton and Robert was greeting the Masons. Now would be a good time to get acquainted with Isabella.
‘I expect your wedding plans are now well underway, Miss Mason,’ she said. ‘Your sisters must be so excited at being your attendants on the happy day. Has a date been fixed yet?’
She immediately regretted her question. Isabella Mason looked positively hunted and then, immediately, miserable.
‘Not as yet,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Of course, Papa and Frederick have got to complete the formalities of … of … the marriage settlement.’
‘Well, I expect gentlemen cannot be hurried in these things,’ Elizabeth said and then mentally castigated herself.
What do you know about it? she asked herself. Captain Preston’s pretence at an engagement was just that – a pretence. No respectable man has ever offered for you and never will, with your pathetic background. Isabella Mason is all that is eligible in a wife and her family have already negotiated the match between her and Sir Frederick. Your own family merely sold you to the highest bidder.
She felt humble and inadequate in the face of Isabella’s obvious unhappiness. What could possibly have gone wrong, she wondered, to cause Isabella to feel such misery?
At that moment Sir Frederick emerged from the card room, looking distinctly aggressive and angry, and strode to a far corner of the room, where he grabbed another glass of wine and threw himself down on one of the mahogany chairs. She noticed that Isabella frowned and followed his every movement with anguished eyes. Something must have happened between them, she thought, and she decided to change the subject.
‘I have never met Mr and Mrs Atherton before,’ she said. ‘It was kind of them to invite me. In spite of my accident, I felt very much better as a consequence. I expect that, like your parents, they have lived in Norfolk for a long time.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Isabella said, somewhat wistfully. ‘When we were small children, David Atherton and I used to play together and then….’
She didn’t continue, but frowned again and looked sad, so Elizabeth was at a loss as to how to continue the conversation. Isabella was so patently distressed.
‘And then I expect you grew apart as all young childhood friends do,’ she said gently. ‘I own I had a particular friend at the academy I attended in Bath, and we were full of promises and resolutions to write to each other when we left to go our separate ways. Alas, this didn’t happen and my dear friend – Honoria – and I seem to have dried up over our correspondence. Is it the same for you, Miss Mason, or have you kept in touch with David Atherton?’
‘Not recently, no, although I hope … I hope … he will dance at my wedding, whenever it takes place, that is….’
So that’s it, thought Elizabeth. She thought of a romantic novel which had been widely circulated among the young ladies at the academy. It was entitled, Lonely Road, and concerned a young girl who had fallen in love with a handsome man. After a quarrel with her mama, who wished her to marry a dull but wealthy bore, she had run away to her lover and begged him to take her in. Appalled at her indiscretion, he’d gently tried to persuade her to return home, but instead the heroine had despairingly embarked on a life on the road, meeting up with thieves and vagabonds until, finally, she’d died in a gypsy encampment lonely and penniless.
The lack of romantic urgency on the part of the hero in the story was the reason for the heroine’s fall from grace and eventual dissolution. She sensed that Miss Isabella Mason was downcast at what she saw as a similar lack of romantic urgency on the part of Sir Frederick, to sweep her into an ideal marriage.
Aloud she said, ‘These things have a way of working themselves out and no doubt your forthcoming marriage has caused you to neglect your old friend somewhat. Once you are wed and running your own establishment there are bound to be many opportunities to rekindle old relationships and entertain friends and family.’
She felt she had sounded patronizing and years older than the young lady she was speaking to, but Miss Mason herself appeared not to notice. ‘What a kind thought, Miss Baines,’ she said, ‘and what a friend in need you could be if I were fortunate enough for us to be friends.’
‘I do hope we might be,’ Elizabeth said, and they smiled at each other. She meant it. For the first time in her life, she realized that wealth and privilege did not necessarily bring happiness. At that moment, she would not have exchanged with Miss Mason for the world. Especially if it meant being engaged to Frederick Gascoine.
‘May I join you, Isabella?’
They both turned at the sound of a soft and pleasant male voice, and standing before them was David Atherton. Isabella’s normally pale face flushed with pleasure.
‘Why, David! I … David, may I present Miss Elizabeth Baines?’
He was of medium height, not a lot taller than Elizabeth was herself. He favoured his father, she decided, with medium brown hair and steady blue eyes. Good features, she thought, but not nearly as spectacularly handsome as Sir Frederick Gascoine. But then who is? she asked herself.
‘Your servant, Miss Baines,’ he said and bowed, but Elizabeth noticed that his eyes quickly returned to Isabella. ‘May I mark your dance card, Isabella, and perhaps request a dance from yourself, Miss Baines?’
The two women fluttered a little as he scribbled on their dance cards and after a few minutes of social chit-chat, excused himself and went to join his parents, who were still greeting latecomers and circulating among their guests. Very gradually, the different groups merged and separated, becoming scattered and then merging again, in a constant kaleidoscope of different colours and scents. Some guests made for the card room while David Atherton’s friends made a point of eyeing up the available young ladies and requesting dances.
Once Isabella had excused herself to go and greet the other guests, Elizabeth and Lady Gascoine had barely time to establish themselves in the saloon before Edward and Emma Mason came up to join them. They had Lydia and Caroline in tow. Both girls were pleased to see Elizabeth again and the four of them were affable and charming. It was obvious that any quarrel Frederick and Isabella may have had was not about to be remarked upon by Isabella’s parents.
As Edward Mason bowed politely over her hand, he said, ‘Miss Baines, I am delighted to see you so much recovered from your accident. Might I hope you will be able to manage a dance with your old codger? The dancing should be starting up soon, I think.’
Elizabeth smiled at him and glanced at Emma Mason, seeking her acquiescence. She nodded pleasantly.
‘This elderly gentleman has so looked forward to a dance with you, my dear,’ she said jokily.
Elizabeth blushed and turned away to rearrange Lady Gascoine’s shawl, which had slipped to the back of her chair.
And thus it was that Robert Gascoine saw her, bending tenderly over his mama and putting the shawl back around her shoulders. She certainly had a lot of care for his mother, he thought, and then when she turned, he smiled at her and said, ‘Miss Baines, may I hope that you feel well enough to dance the first waltz with me?’
‘I … no … that is … I thought … I thought you … you didn’t wish to dance, sir….’ She blushed and stammered like a schoolgirl as he stood there patiently, awaiting her reply.
How was it, Elizabeth thought, that a man who was serious and didn’t wish to dance could suddenly dazzle her with this wonderful, irresistible charm?
He was still waiting and, as though in a dream, she let him scribble on her dance card before going to speak to Mrs Mason. A little later, David Atherton came to claim her and they stood up for one of the country dances. Elizabeth liked his fresh open face and manner and gave him a warm friendly smile as they moved into the first figure of the dance.
He smiled back at her with genuine pleasure and said, ‘It is always a pleasure to meet someone who is a friend of Isabella.’
Acting purely on instinct, she said, ‘You have known Miss Mason for some years then, sir?’
‘Yes, indeed, Miss Baines. We played together as children, until I went to Eton.’ He hesitated a moment as though he were about to impart a confidence, then he said diffidently, ‘In fact, we were childhood sweethearts, until Isabella – Miss Mason, that is – had her come out in London.’
The next figure of the dance parted them for a few moments and Elizabeth had time to digest this information and try frantically to think of a reply. She was intrigued to know whether, if things had been different, David Atherton might have been Isabella’s chosen one. Before they met each other once more a little further down the set, she’d thought of another gentle question.
‘So you lost contact with each other, while Isabella was in London for the season?’
‘Yes. I left Oxford and did the Grand Tour, with my tutor. When I returned, Mama said that Isabella was like to become engaged to Sir Frederick Gascoine. Perhaps it was the title,’ he added bitterly. Then he was immediately contrite and drew back as though he’d said too much. ‘I do beg your pardon, Miss Baines. That was unforgivable of me. Please forget that I said it.’
‘Of course,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘But it seems, sir, that you still carry a romantic torch for your youthful love.’ He didn’t reply to this as they parted once more before the final figure of the dance. But David Atherton’s words gave her cause for thought. She was certain that Edward and Emma Mason would not have persuaded their daughter to give her hand where she could not give her heart and yet the affianced young couple seemed unhappy and ill at ease with each other. Very strange, she thought, and then she and David joined hands for the final steps of the dance and ended at the bottom of the room. There was no further opportunity to continue their conversation.
‘My thanks, Miss Baines,’ he said and Elizabeth was pleased to have met such a well-mannered young man, and thought what a pity it was that Isabella could not have returned his love. She went back to Lady Gascoine and David went to seek his next partner.
Elizabeth was not engaged for the next dance, which was a quadrille, but conscious of Doctor Godfrey’s advice, she remained standing near to Lady Gascoine’s chair, rather than sitting down. She observed that David Atherton and Caroline Mason were in the same set as Isabella and Frederick and although she was too far away to hear what was being said, the overall demeanour of the group appeared to be of polite formality. It was certainly not the picture of youthful enjoyment that might have been expected at a meeting of such old friends.
The next dance was the waltz and Elizabeth’s heart pounded most alarmingly as Robert approached her and bent over her hand, requesting the pleasure of the dance. She gazed at him, her stomach turning over and her breathing suddenly difficult. For a moment, she stood frozen with embarrassment, then she put her hand in his. His touch was as cool and firm as she remembered it. She put her hand on his shoulder and felt the warmth of his body through the fine cloth of his evening coat. She was conscious of his hand holding hers firmly as he began to guide her skilfully across the floor.
‘I hope the dancing will not bring back the pain of your injuries,’ he said.
Elizabeth’s reply was rather breathless. ‘No … indeed … not … not at all … I have taken some of the … the medicine left for me by Doctor Godfrey,’ she stammered inanely and was immediately furious at herself for being so gauche.
‘That’s all right, then.’ His arm tightened round her waist and his thumb traced a little caress on the palm of her hand, which thrilled her unbearably.
Fortunately, Signor Guiseppe had schooled her so well in the steps and patterns of the waltz that Elizabeth’s steps didn’t falter for a moment. She recognized that Robert was equally as skilled as his brother at the waltzing technique. Their steps matched perfectly as they glided to the rhythm of the music.
Nevertheless, he seemed conscious of her awkwardness with him and tried with his unfailing courtesy, to put her at ease.
‘My mama seems very content with your companionship, Miss Baines. I own that I wondered if she would ever come about when Miss Holmes died so suddenly and yet now it seems you have filled a part in her life which is bringing her some happiness and pleasure. You deserve a medal as big as a chariot wheel for the cheerfulness and kindness you have shown.’
Again, she did not know what to say. She was totally unable to look into those steady eyes and make an answer. She was distracted by the warmth of his hand at her waist. It seemed to be burning through the fabric of her dress, and made her both long for and fear a closer embrace.
She managed, ‘It’s a pleasure to serve Her Ladyship, sir,’ and then with an effort, she changed the subject and tried to make conversation. ‘Miss Mason and her sisters are in excellent form tonight and do not lack for partners.’
‘True, Miss Baines, but you outshine them all. I know your dance card will be full this evening,’ He leaned closer to her ear and said softy, ‘You are like a beautiful orchid in a field full of daisies. Cannot you see, my dear girl, that if you wished you could have your pick of all these young men and Mama would soon have to find another companion to attend her?’
She was surprised to find that these words didn’t discomfort her. She knew she was blushing hotly, to be sure, but whether the joy of dancing with him or the confidence she’d gained from waltzing with Signor Guiseppe had inspired her she didn’t know. All she knew was that for the first time that evening she was looking openly into his eyes. His unusual green-brown eyes, as alive as quicksilver, were looking into her own with an admiring sparkle that made her laugh with sheer enjoyment. She dared to continue looking and tried to read what she saw. Humour? Certainly. Pity for a destitute spinster? No. She would never forgive that. Friendship and affection? She hoped so. Love, even…?
Now she was being stupid. Maybe she’d had too much of the draught from the Doctor. She knew that it could never be. Why would such as he feel that kind of emotion for his mama’s companion when he could have any one of these eligible high-born ladies?
Neither of them was inclined to break the spell, but finally Robert Gascoine’s practised politeness triumphed and he held her close for the final twirling steps and then thanked her courteously and trusted her headache had not returned as a result of the dancing.
Until the supper interval, the evening was rather a whirl, and in one thing at least Robert was correct. There was no shortage of young men wishing to dance with her and her card could have been filled twice over had she not pleaded to be excused from some of them on account of her accident. Robert appeared before her as she was sitting out the second waltz, just before supper. He bowed and lifted her dance card to look at it more closely.
‘Miss Baines, how is your headache?’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘You are not engaged for this waltz and neither am I. Do you wish to dance with me?’
It was obvious he was funning and his eyes sparkled with laughter. Elizabeth responded equally lightly, ‘I thank you, sir. My head is completely better. Alas, only my legs are somewhat rebellious at the thought of another waltz, so I beg you to excuse me.’
He looked at her more keenly, as though trying to decide whether she was merely tired or suffering from the after effects of falling from her horse. ‘Very well then, ma’am, I accept defeat. Your legs will not permit you to waltz and I am free to dance with you. It is difficult for a fellow to know what to do.’
Again, there was that delightful intimacy of his teasing her and, throwing caution to the winds, Elizabeth was emboldened to reply in the same vein. ‘I think you are the sort of fellow who always knows exactly what to do,’ she said softly. ‘Indeed, I think that at this moment you have divined that the best thing a fellow could possibly do is keep me company until the supper interval.’
He laughed out loud at her youthful attempt at flirtation and immediately said, ‘Very well, on condition you will allow me to procure a glass of champagne for you.’
Elizabeth blushed and smiled again and he returned in a few moments with two crystal flutes of golden liquid. She had rarely tasted champagne before and was aware that he was watching her as she sipped it carefully. She perched somewhat stiffly on the edge of the little gilt sofa, not entirely at ease with the situation or the champagne but determined to enjoy the moment. Robert, meanwhile, observed her reactions. He had removed his gloves and one arm was draped negligently across the back of the sofa, his fingers not quite touching her bare shoulder.
They sipped in silence until Elizabeth gave a somewhat unladylike snort as the bubbles went up her nose. She tried to sneeze and could not. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘I … I am not used to champagne, sir….’
He leaned closer to her until his lips almost touched her cheek, and then very carefully he took the glass from her hand and set it down on a small table and took both her hands in his. Holding her palms upwards, he carefully and deliberately kissed the fingers of each hand in turn, pressing them lightly with his warm lips, so that she felt the pressure of his mouth through her lace mittens.
Elizabeth remained passive, still able to feel the sensation of his kisses, half thrilled and half frightened by this unusual gesture. Very gently he released her hands and gave her back her glass. ‘Dear little Lizzie,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever change or become sophisticated about champagne. Stay just as you are.’
She remained silent and after a few minutes he said more briskly, ‘There is the supper gong. I expect you will have to attend Mama now. She will expect it.’ He gave a polite bow and was gone.
Collecting her wits with difficulty, Elizabeth went to find Lady Gascoine, who declared she fully enjoyed watching the dancing. ‘Dear Frederick has had so many partners,’ she cooed, ‘and he and Isabella danced so becomingly together. If only Robert would find an eligible and charming girl like Miss Mason and settle down, my cup of happiness would be full.’
Elizabeth didn’t answer. In spite of the unexpected pain that Lady Gascoine’s words caused her, she concentrated on bringing little plates of refreshments and signalling to the footman for a glass of champagne for Her Ladyship. In a secret part of her mind she hugged to herself the experience of Robert’s gesture.
The rest of the evening was rather an anti-climax. She danced mechanically, trying not to let the pain in her stiff arms and legs bother her too much, and she didn’t see Robert or Frederick at all. She concluded they were in the card room. The one person she did welcome when he came to claim her hand in a dance was Edward Mason. He was always so polite and charming, sufficiently complimentary to a young girl to appear avuncular and gallant but not heavy or patronizing.
They exchanged some lively conversation and then Elizabeth was somewhat perturbed when he said seriously, ‘You know, Miss Baines, my old friend Jane Gibson has confided in me somewhat about your previous … erm … rather unhappy background in Ireland. I would not wish to distress you in any way, my dear, but I am a magistrate and Justice of the Peace. If you agree, I feel it is time some enquiries were made as to the background and causes of your miserable treatment with the Baines family.’
He saw the look of abject terror in Elizabeth’s eyes and covered her hand with his own. ‘You see, Elizabeth, unless you have papers, a certificate of baptism, perhaps, it will be very difficult for you in the future to claim any inheritance from Mr Baines, or even get married. In short, my dear, to live a free and normal life. What do you say, my dear? Will you allow your old codger, to help you in this?’
Elizabeth’s mouth went dry and tears filled her eyes as a mental picture of Baines came into her mind. That he was her natural father she had never questioned, and the thought of perhaps having to confront him face to face or, worse still, the evil Captain Preston horrified her. Nevertheless, she answered bravely, ‘I think … I don’t know … I don’t know what…. But yes, I would like to make some investigation into my origins. I would be very pleased if you could help me, sir.’
Her determination was so obvious that Edward Mason was encouraged to continue. He said gently, ‘I’m so glad that you trust me. I will ensure that nothing will harm you or distress you, Elizabeth.’
His sincerity was so obvious that Elizabeth felt she could indeed trust him. Her confidence was tested when they returned to Waringham and Lady Gascoine announced blithely that they would be spending the New Year in Ireland with Miss Gibson and Bradbury. In spite of Edward Mason’s support, a cold fear gripped Elizabeth and an icy hand squeezed her heart, until she felt breathless and like to die. It was one thing in theory, searching for one’s origins, but she realized she would have to be brave and determined to follow it through.
She managed to retain her composure as the rest of the party chatted over the events of the evening at Mr and Mrs Atherton’s and gradually said their good nights and went to bed.
As she climbed wearily into her own bed, Elizabeth was still numb about the proposed visit to Ireland. She wanted to find out her true identity but what if her father and the wicked Molloys were to find out she had returned to the neighbourhood and was making enquiries about them?
She tossed and turned for a few minutes and then there was a tap on the door. ‘Who is it?’ she asked and sat up fearfully. It was only the well-meaning and reassuring Jane Gibson, in nightdress and peignoir and with soft slippers on her feet, who opened the door and came slowly in.
‘Miss Gibson,’ she faltered.
‘Pray don’t be alarmed, Elizabeth,’ Jane said. ‘I thought you looked a little upset at Lady Gascoine’s plans to visit Ireland so I have come to set your mind at rest, my dear. Is it the thought of meeting Captain Preston again which upsets you this evening?’
Elizabeth nodded dumbly.
‘But he and his regiment will be long gone, posted to Spain, I shouldn’t wonder. You need have no fear of him or anyone else while you are in service to my sister. What is it? Does aught else trouble you, child?’
Elizabeth nodded again, still without speaking.
‘Can you not tell me, so that I can help you?’
‘My father …’ Elizabeth whispered.
‘Well, you need not get in touch with him if you don’t wish it, but remember, he will have all the medical knowledge of where you were born and your mother’s origins. Remember also we are urged to honour our father and our mother … but you do not have to see him again if you do not wish it,’ she said hastily, as Elizabeth shuddered and went white.
‘No … I don’t wish it,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But I am determined, with Mr Mason’s help, to find out my true origins. It may be that I am not, in fact, the natural child of Mr Baines. I wish to find out. It’s just that when you and Miss Bradbury have gone back to Ireland I shall have no one to care for me while I try and find the truth about myself.’
‘Nonsense,’ Miss Gibson said very gently and she leaned forward and kissed her. ‘You will always be our dear little Lizzie. By all means follow Mr Mason’s advice if you wish it. If it’s important to you to discover your true origins, so be it. But remember, it doesn’t matter a jot who you are to those who love you, who or what you are. You will always be our beloved Elizabeth. Lady Gascoine thinks the world of you and when Bradbury and I go back to Ireland we shall see you often. Now that you are a grown woman, my dear, and have a secure position in the Gascoine household, Bradbury and I feel we have done our duty. Good night, Elizabeth. Try and get some sleep now.’
Long after she had gone, Elizabeth still lay awake with her thoughts. Not just Jane Gibson’s visit to her room but the riding accident and her growing regard for Robert. Dancing the waltz with him, feeling the closeness of his warm body, the touch of his hands. She wondered for a moment if she had imagined those kisses on her fingers, the laughter in his eyes when he’d teased her. If these pleasures were all she’d ever get from him, she would be content, a veritable beggar in love. But what of the future? Would her own and Edward Mason’s enquiries enable George Baines to snatch her new-found happiness away? After all, he was her recognized legal father and in law he owned and had control over her. Exhausted, she gradually fell into an uneasy sleep, beset by hideous dreams of the unhappy past.