“I cannot seem to let go,” Ella whispered, her arms even tighter around Elspeth. “This is harder than when Gordon and I left on our honeymoon.”
Elspeth tightened her hold as well. “You will be gone much longer than a month in Greece. I will miss you so very much. You have been my salvation in an ocean of idiots.”
Ella’s golden laugh eased some of Elspeth’s tension and she eased from the hug. “I am completely serious. I did not dance with a single gentleman this season who did not tread my toes or bore me senseless.”
Ella grasped Elspeth’s arms. “You are too hard on them. And yourself.”
“If they are all Society has to offer, I am doomed to spinsterhood. For which I am grateful.”
“Nonsense.” Ella’s smile brightened the mist-shrouded dawn. The sun had barely peeked above the horizon, its oranges and purples muted by the lingering fog. However, by all reports, the tide would be high, and the weather clear by the time their mail packet set sail in very short order. “I still cannot believe you traveled all the way to Cornwall to see me off.”
Elspeth nodded at her maid, Sinclair, who stood a few feet away. “Only because my parents trust Sinclair to keep me safe. And our coachmen.” She leaned a little closer. “She has a pistol in her reticule.”
“No!”
Elspeth grinned. “Yes! And, besides, Father has learned that he can either help me pursue my passions or deal with the consequences of me doing them anyway. What he calls ‘another of your wild tears.’ I suspect he thinks I would throw us all into scandal if he did not help me. He let me bring the coach, a driver, and two footmen. So it is not the outrageous adventure I really wanted.”
The humor left Ella’s face, and her eyes turned sad. “He indulges you now, Elspeth, but he may turn all this on its head someday, if you do not find a husband who suits you. And soon.”
Elspeth sighed. “I know. I only wish women did not feel they had to marry. Especially in Society. Our families are wealthy. We should be able to be on our own.”
A gleam returned to her friend’s eyes. “Careful. Or your father will think you have fallen under Mary Wollstonecraft’s spell.”
“Oh, the horror.”
Ella’s mouth thinned and her brows furrowed, then she nodded, as if agreeing with the thought in her head. She opened her reticule and pulled out a folded piece of foolscap. “I want you to have this. Consider it a last resort.”
Ella took the paper. “What are you talking about?”
“Open it.”
Elspeth carefully unfolded the page. Wrapped inside was a small envelope bearing a lion stamp. Opening it, Elspeth found a single piece of heavy foolscap, which had gold threads woven into it. Someone had stamped a family crest with the initials BDL and an ornamentation of holly on the center of the page. At the bottom, her friend had written:
Elspeth,
If you ever need anything out of the ordinary, send a note with this invitation to Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon at the Lyon’s Den. She can help.
Eleanor Asquith
Daughter of James Asquith
Newly wed to Sir Gordon Rydell
14 May 1814
Elspeth looked up at her friend. “What is this?”
“This is the invitation to a rare and exceptional masque ball given every year in April.” Ella glanced around. “This is the ball where Gordon found me again. Only a few people are invited, and even fewer get this exact invitation. I included the details, but I assure you that Mrs. Dove-Lyon would recognize it at once. I want you to have it. Keep it safe. It can be a salvation. Use only as a last resort. When all hope seems lost.”
“But, Ella—”
Ella clutched Elspeth’s hands. “I will not need it where I am going. But you might.”
Elspeth folded everything back into a neat square and tucked it into her reticule. “I will keep it safe. I promise. And you can collect it when you return.”
“Oh, my friend!”
Ella pulled Elspeth into another tight hug, and Elspeth held her close, trying to memorize the warmth of her embrace, the sweet perfume of her hair.
