“Liam.”
This time the scold in her mother’s voice did not work. He turned to Elspeth again, pointing at her. “You have been on the shelf so long, you have forgotten how this works.” He paused, staring at her a moment, then he lowered his arm and went on. “This argument is all for naught. The contract has already been drawn up and evaluated by both our solicitors.”
Elspeth stared at him, a chill moving down her spine. “Meaning I do not have a say in this. No say at all?”
“You never did! Do you not hear me? This is what I meant when I say that you have forgotten. We have obviously been too lax with you in that we did not take this step years ago. Letting you flutter off, wasting time and money with your plants, your astronomy, all those useless lectures—”
“Liam—”
The earl shook his hand at his wife. “No, Anna. Not this time. We have coddled her and let her indulge her wants and her interests and her bluestocking friends far too long. Look at her! She thinks she is independent of the family. It is time to stop this... lenience that we can no longer afford.”
Elspeth’s chest tightened to the point of pain. “You saidconsidermarriage to him, not that it was a completed transaction.”
Her mother lay aside her spectacles. “We had hoped you would see the wisdom of it before the contracts were signed.”
“The wis—” Elspeth stopped, her eyes stinging with tears. She stared down at her hands, acutely aware they had begun to quiver. Dirt had created black half-moons beneath her nails, and two of her fingers were stained blue from petals she had been crushing to make a medicinal tea. Soil had left smears across her face and down the apron that protected her simple day gown from her work in the conservatory at the rear of the home. Her throat tightened as she looked from her mother to her father. “Do I look like a viscountess to you?”
Her father shook his head. “This is exactly what I mean. You should be dressed and in here with us, needlework or a book in your lap. Playing the pianoforte. Painting watercolors. Expecting callers. Instead, you look like the gardener’s daughter rather than a proper lady. A servant. The time has come. You must marry.” He took a deep breath. “No. Youwillmarry. Now. There is no choice.”
“And do you think he realizes this is what I look like when I am not all pampered and prepared? We have only met once.” She swallowed hard. “I do not want children. I have never wanted children. And if I am to marry, he must be an explo—”
“You will change your mind.” Her father’s severe tone sounded like a warning.
“But, Father, I do not think—”
“Enough! You will change your mind because it is what your husband will want!” He turned to face the mantel, now gripping it with both hands.
Even her mother gasped, staring at her husband’s back. “Liam—”
He did not turn, speaking to the flames in the grate. “Anna. Enough. Both of you. It is done. It is settled. The viscount is out of town at his country estate. He will return next Friday, and we will meet to sign the contracts on Saturday. The first bann will be read Sunday.” He sniffed. “You should get your things in order.”
Her mother picked up her glasses again and perched them on her nose. “I-I will make an appointment at the modiste for the trousseau—”
“There is no need,” Elspeth snapped. “He is marrying an old bride. She will have old clothes.”
“El, darling—”
Elspeth could not keep the despair or the tears out of her voice. “Why does it matter? My life is over. Because he will crush me the same way Father has crushed you.”
A palpable silence fell in the room.
“El—”
Elspeth’s words almost choked her. “You... you could have been a queen in the world of botanists. I hear your name at the meetings, among my friends—the friends you apparently hate so much—” A sob broke through, and Elspeth pivoted on her toes and strode from the room, slamming the door behind her. She rushed to the stairs, bounding up them, tripping twice as her vision blurred and her toes caught the hem of her apron. Her knees banged against the tread, and she gasped but forced herself up. She found her bedchamber door and fell hard against it, her tears becoming heaves as she pushed inside.
And stopped, her breath catching in her throat. Before her stood a gleaming copper tub filled with steaming, fragrant, and foamy water. On the bed lay a soft, yellow gown of light wool, along with clean cotton stockings and a fresh muslin chemise. Although the gown had been made three seasons ago, it had always been one of her favorites, lightening Elspeth’s spirit whenever she wore it. Light-brown kid boots stood near the bench at the end of the bed, and a straw bonnet with yellow ribbons, as well as yellow cotton gloves, waited on the bench seat. On the other side of the tub, her maid, Sinclair, straightened items on the dressing table.
“What have you—How ever did you—” Elspeth swallowed hard, trying to regain some of her composure.
Sinclair turned to her, pushing a wayward black curl behind her ear. “A hot bath is always good for what ails you, my lady.” She paused, her voice lowering. “I knew you would need a bath after your work, then they said your father had summoned you. I suspected what it might be about.”
“You knew about Godwin?” Elspeth took a shaking breath and closed the door, collapsing against it. “Do they all know downstairs?”
Inhaling deeply, Sinclair squared her shoulders. “We knew his lordship had been meeting often with the viscount, so there was speculation. It’s also why I took the liberty—” She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her apron. “I remembered this being in your papers, amidst all the letters from Lady Eleanor, so I searched it out. I thought you might wish to send a missive before you bathe, as I understand there is little time to waste.”
Elspeth could only stare. Of course the servants knew. They always knew. Also the door to the drawing room had been wide open, and her father’s sonorous and declarative statements had been anything but soft. The servants always heard everything, knew everything, and news travelled between the households of Mayfair faster than lightning strikes. Sinclair, who had been a servant for at least twenty years and Elspeth’s maid for more than a decade, knew all of the best gossip of theton.
And, of course, if she had been paying attention, Elspeth would have known as well. The increasing rows between the three of them over expenses, the vanishing artworks and heirloom furnishings, the reduction of her dowry to “a mere pittance.” Although she did not know the true worth of it, her father made it sound inconsequential in luring a mate. Thus, the viscount, who had his own riches. Elspeth just did not want to admit it, even after her father had said it plainly:It is a position and a fortune, both of which this family needs.
