Chapter 6
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
A couple of weeks passed while Elizabeth, for the most part, managed not to think about the summer party at all.
Suddenly one morning, a little more than two weeks later, she woke up to the realization that her courses ought to have started by now. 'The incident' replayed vividly in her head, the memory of the strange feeling, the words that had passed between. Her face burned, but she felt cold despite the summer heat. 'No! What now? What to do?' she thought. The Marques' insistence that she contact him within a month or two and not wait too long, surfaced. He, at least, must have some sort of plan she decided.
Elizabeth buried her face in her pillow and considered not moving for the rest of the day. But then she recalled her duty to the injured groom, and somehow she assembled herself, breakfasted, and made it to the stables. Bevan was healing well, the injury looked now like it would not leave him permanently crippled, as the doctor had first feared. However, another 5 weeks of rest had been prescribed.
Elizabeth had gotten used to mucking out stalls, and while it was a rather fragrant occupation, did not much mind it. No one seemed to notice that she didn't speak this morning, which she was glad of, for she felt as though she would spill everything if she opened her mouth. When she returned to her room to change after washing up, she was overcome with a bout of lethargy, and instead crawled back into her bed.
The day passed into evening, and her mother appeared bearing a tray of food. Elizabeth realized she'd lain and moped clear through the day and past supper time, and bolted upright. Her mother made a soothing noise. "It's alright," she said, "I realized when you weren't at supper."
Elizabeth paled.
"Is it very bad this month?" her mother asked sympathetically.
'She thinks it's my courses...' Elizabeth thought. Appalled, but unable to confess the enormity of her scandalous behavior, and the ensuing consequences, Elizabeth just nodded.
"Well, it's fine if you lie abed all day on these bad days, but don't skip meals!" Constance scolded her daughter.
"Sorry Mama," Elizabeth managed. 'For being such an awful daughter,' she thought. Her mother handed her the tray, and left as quickly as she had appeared. Her thoughts had already turned to the next task her husband and children had left unattended.
--
Another week passed, and Elizabeth had managed to resume some normal semblance. Rather diffidently she inquired of her mother if it might not be possible to arrange to meet the Marques Waverly again. For in racking her own brain for schemes by which this might be accomplished, she had come to realize that she actually had no idea how to go about it. She didn't even know which shire his country residence was in. And while she might be able to hire a cab to take her to his London residence, he wouldn't be likely to be there until closer to the start of the season, she thought. Nor was she currently in London.
Her family wasn't planning to make the move to town until the end of November this year, though her father had said that they might all go with him this time. It was the first year that the youngest children would not be left behind at the country estate, possibly because the youngest were now old enough to behave, probably. Her sister Trinity was 15 this year, and little brother Thomas was already almost 12.
The eldest three daughters were already married and had homes of their own, the eldest brother, Anthony, did as well. He'd bought up an estate adjoined to his father's, with assistance from both his own and his bride's father. The two estates would probably be combined when he inherited. The second son, Marcus, was still away at university. After a mere 3 years in the infantry, just when he'd been eligible for promotion, he'd sold his commission and returned to his studies.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth's enquiry to her mother about meeting the Marques again first elicited the protesting question of, "But Elizabeth, isn't he a little too old for you?" And then when she had denied that, but tried to cover by saying she only wanted to talk to him again, not necessarily marry him, her mother protested that it was impossible.
She declared that the only acquaintance they had with the Marques was through his aunt, the Countess, and that while she liked to think of herself and the Countess as friends, she really couldn't impose or dare to suggest such a meeting be arranged. Elizabeth tried to reassure her mother that even Countesses no doubt treasured their old friends from girlhood, but Lady Constance Dowen would not be moved.
"Besides Elizabeth, whatever makes you think he wishes to speak to you again?" her mother queried.
Elizabeth winced. Unable to confess, she hedged clumsily, "We, we talked in the library, a bit, and he said that, that we should continue the conversation another time."
"Oh Elizabeth," Constance fluttered, "I'm sure he was just being polite!" An idea occurred to her and she added, "And even if he wasn't, we're sure to run into him at some event or another during the season, and you can ask him then!" Her mother was pleased with this bit of logic.
Elizabeth pressed a little, "Is there no sooner possible meeting?"
"No," her mother said more firmly. "There isn't, and aside from him being a little old and a widower, he's well, his reputation is not so good, to be associated with a young lady." Though she would never have dared scold her friend for an attempt at matchmaking her nephew, who carried the same rank as many a prince, with her daughter, who lacked even a courtesy title, she hadn't quite approved either when it had been revealed.
Elizabeth's eyes widened. And it wasn't feigned shock that made her a little breathlessly ask, "Is he a cad then Mama?"
"No," Constance said hesitantly, "no, nothing so dramatic, it's just he has rather a bit of a reputation for," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "affairs, you know, with several ladies near his own age, a couple of widows... even I've heard, a married woman or two!"
Elizabeth didn't know what to say to that, and the matter was allowed to drop. At least, until a little over a month after the party, when the Countess Briarly visited for her turn to tea. The two older ladies regularly visited one another despite the distance.
Elizabeth awkwardly approached Lady Briarly, though usually the two ladies were left to their time together without accompanying children. "I, I hope you will forgive my Mama, for the impropriety of the questions I'd like to ask, it's not her fault."
"Of course!" Lady Briarly quickly declared, "And now I'm terribly curious what you'd like to ask of me?"
"Well," Elizabeth replied, "I wondered if you might invite me, to any dinner or party you might have that would include Lord Waverly. And," she rushed on, "tell me what shire his country residence is in?"
"Elizabeth," cried Constance!
"Now now," began Lady Briarly.
But Elizabeth's mother descended promptly into a scold over her asking such a thing, "Asking to be invited!" and, "I've already told you it's impossible!" were among the complaints. Elizabeth and Lady Briarly were forced to wait until the tirade died down.
At last, the Countess answered, "But my dear, you are already invited, or at least, I always send your Mama an invitation and encourage her to bring along as much of her family as she wishes. It's just that since my own children are grown and married off, I only hold the two events per year, usually in January and July, for my dear Earl doesn't much care for the noise and bustle such entertainments inevitably require."
"And I no longer invite my nephew to ordinary suppers with young ladies attending, for a few years ago he roundly declared that if the excessive matchmaking attempts continued he would stop accepting any of my invitations." Lady Briarly made an expression that said she was much put upon by the younger generation. "And as to your second question," she said almost cautiously, "his main estate is on the south western edge of Essex".
Elizabeth demurred, "Oh, I just wondered where it was because of something he said." The conversation was allowed to wander to other topics, and after awhile Elizabeth quietly withdrew.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
A couple of weeks passed while Elizabeth, for the most part, managed not to think about the summer party at all.
Suddenly one morning, a little more than two weeks later, she woke up to the realization that her courses ought to have started by now. 'The incident' replayed vividly in her head, the memory of the strange feeling, the words that had passed between. Her face burned, but she felt cold despite the summer heat. 'No! What now? What to do?' she thought. The Marques' insistence that she contact him within a month or two and not wait too long, surfaced. He, at least, must have some sort of plan she decided.
Elizabeth buried her face in her pillow and considered not moving for the rest of the day. But then she recalled her duty to the injured groom, and somehow she assembled herself, breakfasted, and made it to the stables. Bevan was healing well, the injury looked now like it would not leave him permanently crippled, as the doctor had first feared. However, another 5 weeks of rest had been prescribed.
Elizabeth had gotten used to mucking out stalls, and while it was a rather fragrant occupation, did not much mind it. No one seemed to notice that she didn't speak this morning, which she was glad of, for she felt as though she would spill everything if she opened her mouth. When she returned to her room to change after washing up, she was overcome with a bout of lethargy, and instead crawled back into her bed.
The day passed into evening, and her mother appeared bearing a tray of food. Elizabeth realized she'd lain and moped clear through the day and past supper time, and bolted upright. Her mother made a soothing noise. "It's alright," she said, "I realized when you weren't at supper."
Elizabeth paled.
"Is it very bad this month?" her mother asked sympathetically.
'She thinks it's my courses...' Elizabeth thought. Appalled, but unable to confess the enormity of her scandalous behavior, and the ensuing consequences, Elizabeth just nodded.
"Well, it's fine if you lie abed all day on these bad days, but don't skip meals!" Constance scolded her daughter.
"Sorry Mama," Elizabeth managed. 'For being such an awful daughter,' she thought. Her mother handed her the tray, and left as quickly as she had appeared. Her thoughts had already turned to the next task her husband and children had left unattended.
--
Another week passed, and Elizabeth had managed to resume some normal semblance. Rather diffidently she inquired of her mother if it might not be possible to arrange to meet the Marques Waverly again. For in racking her own brain for schemes by which this might be accomplished, she had come to realize that she actually had no idea how to go about it. She didn't even know which shire his country residence was in. And while she might be able to hire a cab to take her to his London residence, he wouldn't be likely to be there until closer to the start of the season, she thought. Nor was she currently in London.
Her family wasn't planning to make the move to town until the end of November this year, though her father had said that they might all go with him this time. It was the first year that the youngest children would not be left behind at the country estate, possibly because the youngest were now old enough to behave, probably. Her sister Trinity was 15 this year, and little brother Thomas was already almost 12.
The eldest three daughters were already married and had homes of their own, the eldest brother, Anthony, did as well. He'd bought up an estate adjoined to his father's, with assistance from both his own and his bride's father. The two estates would probably be combined when he inherited. The second son, Marcus, was still away at university. After a mere 3 years in the infantry, just when he'd been eligible for promotion, he'd sold his commission and returned to his studies.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth's enquiry to her mother about meeting the Marques again first elicited the protesting question of, "But Elizabeth, isn't he a little too old for you?" And then when she had denied that, but tried to cover by saying she only wanted to talk to him again, not necessarily marry him, her mother protested that it was impossible.
She declared that the only acquaintance they had with the Marques was through his aunt, the Countess, and that while she liked to think of herself and the Countess as friends, she really couldn't impose or dare to suggest such a meeting be arranged. Elizabeth tried to reassure her mother that even Countesses no doubt treasured their old friends from girlhood, but Lady Constance Dowen would not be moved.
"Besides Elizabeth, whatever makes you think he wishes to speak to you again?" her mother queried.
Elizabeth winced. Unable to confess, she hedged clumsily, "We, we talked in the library, a bit, and he said that, that we should continue the conversation another time."
"Oh Elizabeth," Constance fluttered, "I'm sure he was just being polite!" An idea occurred to her and she added, "And even if he wasn't, we're sure to run into him at some event or another during the season, and you can ask him then!" Her mother was pleased with this bit of logic.
Elizabeth pressed a little, "Is there no sooner possible meeting?"
"No," her mother said more firmly. "There isn't, and aside from him being a little old and a widower, he's well, his reputation is not so good, to be associated with a young lady." Though she would never have dared scold her friend for an attempt at matchmaking her nephew, who carried the same rank as many a prince, with her daughter, who lacked even a courtesy title, she hadn't quite approved either when it had been revealed.
Elizabeth's eyes widened. And it wasn't feigned shock that made her a little breathlessly ask, "Is he a cad then Mama?"
"No," Constance said hesitantly, "no, nothing so dramatic, it's just he has rather a bit of a reputation for," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "affairs, you know, with several ladies near his own age, a couple of widows... even I've heard, a married woman or two!"
Elizabeth didn't know what to say to that, and the matter was allowed to drop. At least, until a little over a month after the party, when the Countess Briarly visited for her turn to tea. The two older ladies regularly visited one another despite the distance.
Elizabeth awkwardly approached Lady Briarly, though usually the two ladies were left to their time together without accompanying children. "I, I hope you will forgive my Mama, for the impropriety of the questions I'd like to ask, it's not her fault."
"Of course!" Lady Briarly quickly declared, "And now I'm terribly curious what you'd like to ask of me?"
"Well," Elizabeth replied, "I wondered if you might invite me, to any dinner or party you might have that would include Lord Waverly. And," she rushed on, "tell me what shire his country residence is in?"
"Elizabeth," cried Constance!
"Now now," began Lady Briarly.
But Elizabeth's mother descended promptly into a scold over her asking such a thing, "Asking to be invited!" and, "I've already told you it's impossible!" were among the complaints. Elizabeth and Lady Briarly were forced to wait until the tirade died down.
At last, the Countess answered, "But my dear, you are already invited, or at least, I always send your Mama an invitation and encourage her to bring along as much of her family as she wishes. It's just that since my own children are grown and married off, I only hold the two events per year, usually in January and July, for my dear Earl doesn't much care for the noise and bustle such entertainments inevitably require."
"And I no longer invite my nephew to ordinary suppers with young ladies attending, for a few years ago he roundly declared that if the excessive matchmaking attempts continued he would stop accepting any of my invitations." Lady Briarly made an expression that said she was much put upon by the younger generation. "And as to your second question," she said almost cautiously, "his main estate is on the south western edge of Essex".
Elizabeth demurred, "Oh, I just wondered where it was because of something he said." The conversation was allowed to wander to other topics, and after awhile Elizabeth quietly withdrew.
A couple of weeks passed while Elizabeth, for the most part, managed not to think about the summer party at all. Suddenly one morning, a little more than two weeks later, she woke up to the realization that her courses ought to have started by now. 'The incident' replayed vividly in her head, the memory of the strange feeling, the words that had passed between. Her face burned, but she felt cold despite the summer heat. 'No! What now? What to do?' she thought. The Marques' insistence that she contact him within a month or two and not wait too long, surfaced. He, at least, must have some sort of plan she decided. Elizabeth buried her face in her pillow and considered not moving for the rest of the day. But then she recalled her duty to the injured groom, and somehow she assembled herself, breakfasted, and made it to the stables. Bevan was healing well, the injury looked now like it would not leave him permanently crippled, as the doctor had first feared. However, another 5 weeks of rest had been prescribed. Elizabeth had gotten used to mucking out stalls, and while it was a rather fragrant occupation, did not much mind it. No one seemed to notice that she didn't speak this morning, which she was glad of, for she felt as though she would spill everything if she opened her mouth. When she returned to her room to change after washing up, she was overcome with a bout of lethargy, and instead crawled back into her bed. The day passed into evening, and her mother appeared bearing a tray of food. Elizabeth realized she'd lain and moped clear through the day and past supper time, and bolted upright. Her mother made a soothing noise. "It's alright," she said, "I realized when you weren't at supper." Elizabeth paled. "Is it very bad this month?" her mother asked sympathetically. 'She thinks it's my courses...' Elizabeth thought. Appalled, but unable to confess the enormity of her scandalous behavior, and the ensuing consequences, Elizabeth just nodded. "Well, it's fine if you lie abed all day on these bad days, but don't skip meals!" Constance scolded her daughter. "Sorry Mama," Elizabeth managed. 'For being such an awful daughter,' she thought. Her mother handed her the tray, and left as quickly as she had appeared. Her thoughts had already turned to the next task her husband and children had left unattended. -- Another week passed, and Elizabeth had managed to resume some normal semblance. Rather diffidently she inquired of her mother if it might not be possible to arrange to meet the Marques Waverly again. For in racking her own brain for schemes by which this might be accomplished, she had come to realize that she actually had no idea how to go about it. She didn't even know which shire his country residence was in. And while she might be able to hire a cab to take her to his London residence, he wouldn't be likely to be there until closer to the start of the season, she thought. Nor was she currently in London. Her family wasn't planning to make the move to town until the end of November this year, though her father had said that they might all go with him this time. It was the first year that the youngest children would not be left behind at the country estate, possibly because the youngest were now old enough to behave, probably. Her sister Trinity was 15 this year, and little brother Thomas was already almost 12. The eldest three daughters were already married and had homes of their own, the eldest brother, Anthony, did as well. He'd bought up an estate adjoined to his father's, with assistance from both his own and his bride's father. The two estates would probably be combined when he inherited. The second son, Marcus, was still away at university. After a mere 3 years in the infantry, just when he'd been eligible for promotion, he'd sold his commission and returned to his studies. Unfortunately, Elizabeth's enquiry to her mother about meeting the Marques again first elicited the protesting question of, "But Elizabeth, isn't he a little too old for you?" And then when she had denied that, but tried to cover by saying she only wanted to talk to him again, not necessarily marry him, her mother protested that it was impossible. She declared that the only acquaintance they had with the Marques was through his aunt, the Countess, and that while she liked to think of herself and the Countess as friends, she really couldn't impose or dare to suggest such a meeting be arranged. Elizabeth tried to reassure her mother that even Countesses no doubt treasured their old friends from girlhood, but Lady Constance Dowen would not be moved. "Besides Elizabeth, whatever makes you think he wishes to speak to you again?" her mother queried. Elizabeth winced. Unable to confess, she hedged clumsily, "We, we talked in the library, a bit, and he said that, that we should continue the conversation another time." "Oh Elizabeth," Constance fluttered, "I'm sure he was just being polite!" An idea occurred to her and she added, "And even if he wasn't, we're sure to run into him at some event or another during the season, and you can ask him then!" Her mother was pleased with this bit of logic. Elizabeth pressed a little, "Is there no sooner possible meeting?" "No," her mother said more firmly. "There isn't, and aside from him being a little old and a widower, he's well, his reputation is not so good, to be associated with a young lady." Though she would never have dared scold her friend for an attempt at matchmaking her nephew, who carried the same rank as many a prince, with her daughter, who lacked even a courtesy title, she hadn't quite approved either when it had been revealed. Elizabeth's eyes widened. And it wasn't feigned shock that made her a little breathlessly ask, "Is he a cad then Mama?" "No," Constance said hesitantly, "no, nothing so dramatic, it's just he has rather a bit of a reputation for," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "affairs, you know, with several ladies near his own age, a couple of widows... even I've heard, a married woman or two!" Elizabeth didn't know what to say to that, and the matter was allowed to drop. At least, until a little over a month after the party, when the Countess Briarly visited for her turn to tea. The two older ladies regularly visited one another despite the distance. Elizabeth awkwardly approached Lady Briarly, though usually the two ladies were left to their time together without accompanying children. "I, I hope you will forgive my Mama, for the impropriety of the questions I'd like to ask, it's not her fault." "Of course!" Lady Briarly quickly declared, "And now I'm terribly curious what you'd like to ask of me?" "Well," Elizabeth replied, "I wondered if you might invite me, to any dinner or party you might have that would include Lord Waverly. And," she rushed on, "tell me what shire his country residence is in?" "Elizabeth," cried Constance! "Now now," began Lady Briarly. But Elizabeth's mother descended promptly into a scold over her asking such a thing, "Asking to be invited!" and, "I've already told you it's impossible!" were among the complaints. Elizabeth and Lady Briarly were forced to wait until the tirade died down. At last, the Countess answered, "But my dear, you are already invited, or at least, I always send your Mama an invitation and encourage her to bring along as much of her family as she wishes. It's just that since my own children are grown and married off, I only hold the two events per year, usually in January and July, for my dear Earl doesn't much care for the noise and bustle such entertainments inevitably require." "And I no longer invite my nephew to ordinary suppers with young ladies attending, for a few years ago he roundly declared that if the excessive matchmaking attempts continued he would stop accepting any of my invitations." Lady Briarly made an expression that said she was much put upon by the younger generation. "And as to your second question," she said almost cautiously, "his main estate is on the south western edge of Essex". Elizabeth demurred, "Oh, I just wondered where it was because of something he said." The conversation was allowed to wander to other topics, and after awhile Elizabeth quietly withdrew.
