“At any rate,” said Ann, rising to her feet. “You needn’t feel left out of the fun. You may count on me as a friend, and trust that I shall do everything within my power to help you in your new endeavors.”
“Thanks!” Eliza stood, too. She repressed the urge to hug Mrs. Cooper, who was every bit as kind and compassionate as her brother. Eliza felt certain that she’d fallen in league with the right people, even if Mother would never see how far she’d climbed, and her father would never know to be proud of the daughter he’d shunned.
Ann was oblivious to all this. “I’ll call again in a few days to see how you’re getting on.” The woman disappeared from the drawing room in a flutter of blossoms, plumes, and blush pink silk.
Eliza had made her first real friend in Mayfair! Because of Mark’s thoughtfulness in sending his sister to welcome her, Eliza finally had someone to talk to. She felt that life was changing for her. Happiness and a sense of belonging lay within her grasp.
She yearned to pay Mark back in kind.
He’d given her clothes and chocolates. He kept a roof over her head and provided food and friendship in abundance. Someday soon, she would leave the house at Green Street for good.
Yet for the moment, she needed to step out on her own.
Eliza peeked through the curtains until Mrs. Sidney Cooper’s carriage departed. When she felt certain the coast was clear, Eliza raced upstairs to root out a hat and gloves, and then slipped through the garden unseen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The afternoon had been busy at Threadneedle Street. Owing to the growing crisis in South Africa, the Court of Directors had met more frequently than usual. They’d weighed their options and considered all possible outcomes before delivering their findings to the Governor of the Bank of England, who then presented their proposal to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the chief minister of Her Majesty’s treasury.
Wars were expensive. Somehow, the Bank must raise the necessary funds—thirty million pounds—to fight the Boers. This was not a task Mark enjoyed, though he understood it was his duty to protect the financial interests of the British Empire. His responsibilities were tiresome and often thankless, and he looked forward to returning home to Eliza. She had quickly become his refuge from the fraught and hectic world in which he worked.
He felt a warm, comforting glow in his chest whenever he imagined her reclining on his sofa or cat-napping on his bed. Reuniting with Eliza was the best part of his day, and he longed to draw her into his arms and feel that deep, abiding sense of relief that he washome.
Her presence made a rough day feel worthwhile.
Mark’s landau slowed to a stop at the kerb. His driver leaped down to deploy the coach steps and to haul open the glossy, lacquered door panel. Mark stepped out onto the pavements and craned his neck to inspect his townhouse.
The façade was cheery and scrubbed free of soot or grime. Flowerpots bloomed on the windowsills, and the polished glass panes were thrown open to welcome a crisp, Spring breeze. The handsome place had been too large for a single man, and since Ann’s marriage, he’d been the only resident—save for his servants, of course.
Mark had labored, speculated, invested, and shouldered many risks to achieve such fine accommodations. One did not become the youngest director of the Bank of England by playing it safe, though his career was far more monotonous these days. His youthful risks had paid off, for now he was a rich man.
He would remain a rich man for the rest of his life.
Mark ignored that sudden, strange twinge of regret. How he wished Eliza had known him a decade ago, when he too was young and hungry, with a fire in his belly and fresh capital blazing a hole in his pocket! His rise had been meteoric, though no one would’ve dared to hint that he’d come from nothing, for he was a van Bergen. He was the scion of an old and noble Dutch family of merchant bankers.
But now he was nearing forty. He wasn’t brilliant, dashing, or on the forefront of anything. He had a corner office in the Court of Directors, a large house in a good neighborhood, and a married sister who was settled into a life of her own.
Today, his only achievement had been warmongering.
He hadn’t even got his hands dirty.
Mark needed Eliza to tell him that everything was alright. That one’s trajectory couldn’t always be upward, and the work he’d done was worthy of his talents. He wanted her to smile at him, feed him cakes, and make him laugh his cares away. She was good company. She was his newest, dearest friend.
Climbing the stone steps of his townhouse, he wondered if Ann had paid a call, and whether Eliza’s spirits had been lifted. He could not wait to hear about his houseguest’s eventful afternoon!
Pearson awaited him in the foyer. Mark deposited his hat, gloves, and umbrella into the man’s capable hands. It was such a relief to shrug out of his coat that he paused amid the marble, gilt wood, and glazing to revel in this homecoming.
“Good afternoon, Pearson,” said Mark. “Tell me, is Miss Summersby in the drawing room, or has she perhaps gone into the garden?”
The butler cleared his throat. “I regret to say, Sir Mark, that Miss Summersby is not at home. We believe she left after Mrs. Cooper’s call, though not even Jenny, the housemaid, can attest to the precise timing of her departure.”
Mark balked. His pulse stuttered and he felt his face go white. “She hasgone?”
He could not believe it! She’d left him when he’d needed her the most. Yes, he knew that she would go eventually, but he hadn’t been ready. Eliza hadn’t even said goodbye.
There must’ve been some mistake, surely.
Mark had not begun to fathom the depths of his feelings for her, yet now that she was beyond his reach, he did not wish to be without her. His greedy heart ached with a real fear of losing her.
