Prologue
London, England 1870
LadyElizaChadwick’sheartthudded with anticipation as she looked at the other ladies in Lady Phoebe Bolton’s drawing room.
“Welcome, everyone,” the Countess of Bolton said with a bright smile. “And an especially warm welcome to our guests.”
The invitation to join The Mayfair Literary League had come at the perfect time for Eliza. The thought of having true friends with similar interests to her own was a heady one, and she could hardly believe that wish might come true.
Loneliness had been her constant companion in the six years she’d spent away from London. First, with various relatives after the death of her parents when she was sixteen. Then two years at a finishing school in Switzerland where she’d been surrounded by other young ladies yet hadn’t fit in. Finally, two additional years traveling abroad with her Aunt Frieda, her mother’s older spinster sister, never spending long enough in one place to make friends.
The accident that had taken her parents’ lives had forever changed her path. However, her childhood before that had been less than ideal. She’d rarely seen her mother and father and had felt unwanted and unloved, a feeling that intensified after their deaths. If those who were supposed to love her didn’t, why would anyone else?
Afterward, she’d been whisked away from her family home to stay with this relative or that for over two years, always feeling pitied and much like company that had overstayed her welcome. That was nothing she wanted.
“Poor dear,” they would say. “Have an iced cake.”
As if food could fill the hole inside her. Of course, it had taken her several years to realize the futility of eating to feel better. During that time, she’d found it even more difficult to make friends. Only when she’d buried herself in a book had she found contentment.
After moving from one relative’s house to another, those same relatives had pressed her brother to send her to Switzerland to finishing school since she had no mother to properly teach her how to comport herself. Winston was older than her by nine years, and they’d never been close. He’d been busy trying to sort through the family affairs after inheriting and had readily agreed to the suggestion of sending her away.
It hadn’t been lost on Eliza that not only had her brother not wanted her, but none of her aunts on either side of the family had stepped forward to take her under their wing.
By the time she’d arrived in Switzerland, she’d been unlike most girls her age and had little in common with the other students. A bookish girl with ill-fitting clothes because of her compulsion to eat when upset, and who tended to observe rather than participate no matter the activity.
Finally, during her last year of school, she realized food wasn’t making her feel any better. Much like other things in life, it only provided brief moments of pleasure followed quickly by remorse. She owed that revelation to a book she’d read.
Why didn’t everyone realize what treasures books were?
She’d reduced her portions, especially desserts, and made time to walk whenever possible. Slowly but surely, she’d slimmed down to a manageable size and felt better for it. However, that didn’t change how the other students treated her. Her reputation had been firmly set. She told herself it didn’t matter since she hadn’t particularly liked those girls anyway.
Upon completing her schooling, Aunt Frieda had invited her to travel to the Continent, insisting that doing so would complete her education.
Eliza had been flattered until she’d realized her aunt actually wanted a companion to accompany her on her travels through eight different countries and didn’t want to pay for one. However, she’d been kind enough to have Eliza fitted by a Parisian modiste who’d clucked like a mother hen when she’d seen her now loose-fitting gowns.
Aunt Frieda had also employed a French maid who had been appalled by the state of Eliza’s hair and skin. Nicole had taken the time to show her how to better care for herself. The maid’s skill with styling hair made a difference as well. Thank goodness the maid had accompanied them to London after their travels and remained in her aunt’s employ.
Now that Eliza had returned to London with Aunt Frieda, she had a lovely wardrobe and had never looked better. This afternoon, her light brown hair was coiffed and curled in ringlets in the back. Her pink gown was in the latest style with folds of fabric on the bustle and an ecru lace-trimmed underskirt, both of which complemented her green eyes.
At least, that was what Nicole said.
What people didn’t realize was that the pretty outside shell hid the same fragile Eliza inside. The girl who felt unwanted and undeserving of love.
Whether she could overcome that feeling remained to be seen. She feared that once someone truly came to know her and looked past the outer trappings, they’d realize she was still odd on the inside.
Eliza forced away her dour thoughts and brought her attention back to the meeting as Lady Bolton introduced her and Mrs. Rebecca Hatch, the other new member, who was a widow despite being in her twenties.
“Please share something about yourselves,” Lady Bolton requested.
“Thank you for inviting me.” Eliza reminded herself not to appear overly eager. “I look forward to becoming acquainted with all of you. I have only recently returned to London, having attended finishing school in Switzerland followed by two years abroad, traveling with my aunt.”
“How interesting that must’ve been,” Lady Winifred Barnes said. She was a slender lady with brown hair and sparkling brown eyes in a narrow face.
“It was, though rather lonely at times. My brother is several years older than me, and we had little in common during my childhood, so I developed my love of books at an early age. They kept me company while I attended finishing school and traveled.”
Eliza was relieved when the focus moved away from her. She listened intently, eager to learn more about the members of the book group.
Lady Bolton was delightful, so confident and happy with brown hair, hazel eyes, and generous curves. Eliza already admired her greatly. Lady Tabitha Shaw and Lady Harriet Persimmons both seemed rather shy but kind.
