“Mother? Mother, I’m home.” Elizabeth arrived to her quiet home after the sun had set. A gentle warmth moved in from the back, and as she did every night, she slipped out of her shoes and unbuckled her petticoat, hanging it on the hook by the door. She hadn’t stopped smiling since the parade. Even as she got back to the school—panting hard and late from lunch—she didn’t let her face drop. She turned to lock the door when she heard muffled voices coming from down the hall. With her hand still on the knob, she twisted back at the noise. Only she and her mother lived in their one-level flat and that muffle belonged to a man. Elizabeth held her breath.
“Mother? Are you there?” she called just as the voices stopped. The lights were off except for a gentle flicker of orange casting shadows across the hallway. She edged along the walls toward the lounge room, where a man’s silhouette stood in front of the lit fireplace, admiring a family picture.
“Sir Beaumont?” Elizabeth stopped as Harold Beaumont, the governor to the country and father to Arthur, glanced over his shoulder.
“Ah, Miss Blackmore, how nice to see you.”
She curtsied anxiously. “I didn’t know we were expecting company.”
“My intention was meant to be a quick visit, seems time has gotten away from me.” He stepped up to her and tucked one hand into his pocket, clinking the chains of a pocket watch. The shadows painted black strokes across his face, shielding his expression. “How have your studies been treating you? I’m aware you’ll be eighteen in a week.”
Elizabeth’s chest squeezed. Is he here about my bidding? Harold Beaumont was the only gentle person in the entire Beaumont family. He had three sons, the youngest, Arthur, was a known bully and thug to most of the girls at the academy. Then there was Jeremy who remained away at war followed by Timothy, the eldest and next in line to take his father’s place. Elizabeth never liked the governor’s wife, Lady Claudia, or the way she would loom her shadow over others. Her head was always tilted, no doubt trying to catch whispers of gossip.
“Yes, sir.” Elizabeth curtsied again.
“Arthur has brought it to my attention of his interests. Rest assured you would be welcomed into our household.” Elizabeth didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. Harold cleared his throat and stepped around the lounge chair separating them. “I should warn you, his intentions are not—”
“Elizabeth?” Ana stepped out from the hallway with what appeared to be a long black coat folded over her arm. A soft waft of lavender followed her in. “Darling, I was just about to escort Governor Beaumont out.”
Harold quickly stepped back, acting as though he hadn’t said anything beyond hello and moved back toward the entrance, “Oh, yes, my coat. Thank you. Well, thank you Ms. Blackmore for your time. I hope I haven’t been too much of an inconvenience.”
“Never, Sir. It was my pleasure. And please, call me Ana.”
“My lady Ana.” Romantic sparks electrified the air. Uncertainty filled Elizabeth, but she clenched her teeth together to bite back her outburst. Stares lingered. Smiles pinched their flustered cheeks red. Elizabeth felt her own blood boil, but for very different reasons. When Ana returned from leading Harold out, her guilty smile lengthened.
“Mother?” Elizabeth crossed her arms, unsure what expression she should wear.
“It’s not what you think, Elizabeth.” Ana held her hand up before easing herself into the chair facing the fire pit. She had her fingertips to her forehead, as if trying to massage out a building headache. Her shoulders slouched with exhaustion.
“If it is or if it isn’t, you can’t go around with married men. People will talk.”
“He was looking for someone who can make good pies. It was strictly a business proposition.”
“And this conversation had to happen so late?” Anger gripped her tone.
“We had…ahem…” Ana cleared her throat as she turned herself around, picking up the cup of tea that had long gone cold. “We got caught up chatting.”
“You might be a single woman, but he is not a single man. If Lady Claudia hears her husband is spending his afternoons with you, I fear what wrath she could unleash.” Elizabeth walked over and knelt by her mother’s knees, resting both her hands on the armrest. She let the anger subside quickly as a new thought popped into mind. “I understand you get lonely, but Governor Beaumont is not the right choice. Doctor Wicker, on the other hand, is an excellent suitor. He just arrived back in town and—”
Ana’s smile dropped for a moment before she turned her face away. “You should go see him, dear. It’s been far too long.”
“You should accompany me. I know he thinks fondly of you.”
“Tsk!” Ana snorted. “He didn’t think much of me when Michael had us thrown to the streets. Even after knowing all of that, knowing of your heart condition, never did he seek us out.”
Elizabeth gently bit her lip. Defeated by her mother’s words, she dropped her hands from the armrest. Sometimes, she thought it would be easier to accept Arthur as her new master, to take his cruelty silently and collect the money to buy a place out of the Pitts. The shaming on her mother had been difficult. Elizabeth was only eight when they were tossed to the streets, but she had grown accustomed to their struggles. Ana took the heavier toll; guilt a vicious rat gnawing her away. It had rained so hard that day; the roads had been swallowed under the rippling black water and the storm clouds darkened the sky into night. Michael was just a shadow in the doorway, arm pointing out, shouting until his voice cracked.
Neighbours watched with nervous interest as Ana scrambled up and tried to cover eight-year-old Elizabeth from the cold. Her two other children, Sam and Penelope, had watched from the kitchen window crying. Their small frames just dark outlines, only their fists visible as they hammered against the glass. Gossip was faster than any train or airship; news and talk scared Ana into hiding. All she could afford was the hut down in the Pitts. She had fought against it, but the only way to stop starvation was to sell Elizabeth into the Academy. A decision that continued to haunt her.
Elizabeth lowered her voice. “Arthur Beaumont came again this morning to the academy. He’s already put in his bid. In a week’s time, I will be sold to him. I will get money and send it back; you don’t need to seduce his father…”
Ana leaned forward, cupping her daughter’s face. “I won’t allow that. I’m not seducing the governor. I have no feelings for the man.”
Mildly relieved, Elizabeth shook her head. “Doctor Wicker is the only man left who can save me.”
“Do not look to men. They are not our saviours.” Ana scooted off the chair, crouching down eye-to-eye with Elizabeth. She eased her finger under Elizabeth’s chin, gently tilting her head back as tears swelled. “My beautiful daughter, words cannot express how sorry I am that this has happened. I wish I could make everything right again.”
“Wishes aren’t real, mother.” Elizabeth whispered, and gently pushed her mother’s hand off.
Ana exhaled. “You’re becoming more and more like him, such a beautiful face. I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you’re doing so well. You should go see him tomorrow.”
The connection between the Doctor and Elizabeth was obvious. Similar to him, she had sickly blonde locks; the tint so pale, it was as if someone had dumped white ash on her head. She was washed with a pale complexion and long clumsy limbs, completing the sickly attire. The final straw was the frail heart condition inherited through the Wicker bloodline. A child bore out of a love affair did not extend the same titles, so although Elizabeth was of Wicker blood, she was not welcomed as a noble woman.
Doctor Wicker had no other children and never had a wife, so it had confused Elizabeth when he didn’t extend marriage to her mother. Perhaps he never wanted a family? She considered. Perhaps she wasn’t the child he wanted; boys were always much more sought after than girls. Despite being a constant presence when she was younger, he had disappeared for six years, and today was his first appearance since then. Timing couldn’t be any more crucial. If she wanted to be spared a life with Arthur Beaumont, then Doctor Wicker was her only hope.