Alexander and Wren arrived in town the following day, and for several minutes, as might be expected, all the focus was upon the baby, whom Mrs. Westcott had not seen since a week after his birth and Elizabeth had not seen at all. But finally he was taken up to the nursery for a well-earned rest and Elizabeth was able to tell her brother and sister-in-law of her engagement.
Wren, who had never met Sir Geoffrey Codaire, declared with a warm hug for Elizabeth that if he had won her heart then she was going to love him as a brother. But Alexander remembered that his sister had rejected Codaire just last year and wondered why she had changed her mind this year.
“I was not at all sure at the time that I wished to remarry at all,” Elizabeth explained. “But I gave it careful thought through the summer and over the winter, particularly at Christmas when all the family was together at Brambledean. And I decided that I did. I thought about Geoffrey then and his many good qualities. I thought I could not do better—ifhe renewed his addresses this year, that was. But he had told me he might.”
“Then I am pleased for you, Lizzie,” her brother said, though he still did not look quite convinced.
The official announcement of the betrothal appeared in the morning papers the next day, and it brought a stream of visitors during the afternoon—all of them family except for Sir Geoffrey himself. Elizabeth’s Aunt Lilian and Uncle Richard Radley, her mother’s sister-in-law and brother, came with Susan and Alvin Cole, their daughter and son-in-law, though they had all already heard the news at the Arbinger ball. The Dowager Countess of Riverdale came with Lady Matilda Westcott. Like Alexander and Wren, they had arrived in London only the day before. Thomas and Mildred, Lord and Lady Molenor, came—without their three boys, who were away at school. So did Louise, Dowager Duchess of Netherby, with Jessica, and Avery and Anna, Duke and Duchess of Netherby.
“I warned you the family would be in full evidence as soon as word was out,” Elizabeth murmured to Sir Geoffrey when he arrived, the last to come. Her eyes twinkled in amusement
“It pleases me,” he told her, keeping his voice low too. “For your sake and for mine too. There is less likelihood that you will change your mind again.”
Again?Had she changed it before, then? She supposed she had. Last year’s no had changed to this year’s yes. “Have I been so fickle?” she asked him.
“If you have,” he said, his eyes looking very directly into hers, “those days are fortunately over.”
They were permitted no more private words. The family took over, and Elizabeth sat back to listen. She had always been amused when the Westcott family gathered to plot and plan as she described it to herself. It had started with Anna three years ago, when she had arrived from Bath, summoned from the orphanage where she had grown up and then taught. She had been greeted by the announcement to both her and the entire Westcott clan simultaneously that she was not only the daughter of the recently deceased Humphrey Westcott, Earl of Riverdale, but was also his only legitimate child. He had, they all learned, secretly married Anna’s mother and then left her, but she had still been alive when he married Viola. The rest of the family had heard the news that Viola’s three children were all hence illegitimate at the same time Anna had.
Consternation on that occasion had quickly given place to numerous plotting and planning sessions as the family grappled with the twin gigantic questions of what to do about Anna and what to do about Viola and her children. Avery had solved the problem of Anna by marrying her, while Viola and her children had solved—or would solve—their own problems. But none of that deterred the family from gathering when anything new, either happy or potentially catastrophic, appeared on the horizon. For while they perhaps did not provide actual solutions for anyone, their mere assembly seemed to offer what everyone needed most in these situations, mutual support and understanding.
Now it was Elizabeth’s turn, and the Westcott family numbers were swelled by her maternal relatives, who all had opinions too. She sat back to await developments. She did not particularly want a betrothal party, but she had no real objection either. She did not particularly want a grand wedding at St. George’s, but if that was what would make everyone happy, then she was prepared to give them what they wanted. A large wedding did not seem quite appropriate, perhaps, when this would be her second marriage, but she must remember that it would be Geoffrey’s first.
There was some discussion over whether the betrothal party would be a mere soiree or whether it would include some dancing. The drawing room would not be large enough for dancing, Cousin Susan pointed out.
“But the ballroom would,” Wren said.
“Then it would not be a party but a ball,” Cousin Matilda remarked.
Elizabeth turned her head to exchange a look of amusement with Geoffrey. At least, there was amusement on her part. He looked gravely back at her, and she wondered if he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She regretted for one unguarded moment that there was not some spark of romantic love between them, or at least that instant understanding there sometimes was between two people who were very close.
As between her and Colin, for example.
But thinking about Colin made her feel inexplicably melancholy. She had the strange feeling she had hurt him last evening during their waltz when she had told him she was betrothed, though that was absurd, of course. Whyhurt? He had known she was half expecting a proposal and that she intended to accept it. He himself was in search of a wife and had already singled out a number of potential candidates. He had definitely been embarrassed by Geoffrey’s annoyance that he knew about the betrothal when they had agreed to keep quiet about it to all except close family members until after the official announcement. That had been her fault, of course.
Elizabeth’s thoughts had wandered. Geoffrey caught her eye again, and he half shrugged as she picked up the drift of the conversation.
The betrothal celebration, predictably, was no longer a party but a full-blown ball. And it was not to be held here at South Audley Street, though both Alex and Wren seemed to have put up a spirited argument. They had only just arrived in town, the family had pointed out. Wren was still recovering from her confinement. They would have the wedding and the breakfast to plan, and those events would occupy all their time and energy. The wedding was to be held soon, it seemed. As soon as the banns could be read, in fact.
The betrothal ball was to be given by Anna and Avery at Archer House on Hanover Square—a grand venue indeed.
“We have given a number of balls there in the past three years, Cousin Althea,” Avery was explaining to Elizabeth’s mother with his characteristic sighing ennui. “I believe I could plan one in my sleep.”
“Oh you could not, Avery,” the dowager duchess said indignantly. “You raise one weary eyebrow and your secretary does everything for you, down to the finest detail. Even Anna and I become superfluous in the face of his efficiency.”
“Quite so,” he said. “Edwin Goddard plans and executes and I sleep.”
Cousin Louise clucked her tongue and shook her head as she gazed in fond exasperation at her stepson. “But always with one sharp eye half open,” she said.
“Archer House really is the perfect setting for a grand ball,” Anna said. “And I want to host it for you, Elizabeth. You were so kind to me when I first arrived in London. You came to live with me right here in this house, and you kept me from rushing back to Bath and hiding my head beneath my teacher’s desk in the schoolroom there.”
“Do as you will, Anna,” Elizabeth said, smiling at her. “I recognize that I have no say in any of this. I am merely the bride.”
“How doyoufeel about a grand ball, Sir Geoffrey?” her Aunt Lilian asked. “Men can be funny about such things.”
Uncle Richard snorted.
“Provided no jot or tittle of my agreement with Mrs. Westcott is broken,” Geoffrey said, “and I end up with Elizabeth as my wife, I will be happy to attend anything that is planned for us.”
