“I will write to you as soon as we get back,” Charlotte vowed. Her eyes were earnest and hopeful. “I’ll ask Connall if he has any friends or cousins that your father might consider instead. Let’s not give up hope yet.”
Elizabeth smiled grimly. “My father will not listen.”
“Nonsense. We’ll figure it out together. You’re visiting us in a couple of weeks, right?”
Lady Harrison had invited them over to celebrate her engagement, and her mother had happily accepted without even looking at her. She nodded, pursing her lips, and tried not to say how little she wanted to go to her own engagement party.
“Then, I’ll see you there.” Charlotte gave her a quick hug and joined her mother in their carriage.
Charlotte’s concerned face was the last thing Elizabeth saw before the carriage turned the corner and rolled out of sight.
***
The next evening, Elizabeth walked into the great hall with her head held high. She sat across the table from her parents, and the air filled with tension as they all seemed to realize the same thing—that the discussion of her being arranged could not be put off for any longer.
The servants laid out a meal of roast pheasant and steamed vegetables before them, and they engaged in the usual inquiries about each other’s day. Elizabeth pursed her lips and speared a piece of carrot with a fork. Soon, the conversation drifted, and her mother gently broached the subject. “And how dashing was Duke Howard in his taupe suit with the bronze buttons? A charming figure of a man.”
There it was.
Elizabeth took her time chewing and swallowing before speaking. “Yes, Mama. He is a bit old and not at all my taste, but his suit was nice.” She turned to her father with pleading eyes. “Father, I—”
“See here, Elizabeth,” her father cut her off. “You will have a good life with him. He has a sizable income, a fine military, and you’re not getting any younger.”
Elizabeth looked pleadingly at her mother. “But Mama, we hear all the time how he is cruel to his servants. Surely you can see that he would be cruel to his wife?”
Her mother hesitated, glancing at her father before saying, “Lizzy, we don’t know that at all. He could be very nice at home. In public, he has always treated us with kindness.”
“Father, he’s older thanyouare. You know he’ll expect me to lie with him the night we’re married!” She was convinced that this argument would finally make her parents see reason.
“Elizabeth Beatrice Ashcroft. You have a duty to your family to marry well.”
“Father, please! He is so old; it is unseemly.” Her father’s face grew red in anger, but it did nothing to smother the resistance brewing inside her. “I won’t do it. I refuse! I refuse to marry him! You cannot make me.”
Her father slammed his fist on the table, rattling the silverware. “You are ungrateful,” he snapped. “We have fed and clothed you and found you a match with the richest eligible man at court. I spent months negotiating and meeting with Duke Howard to arrange this match. You willnotdishonour your family by breaking the engagement.”
She clenched her fingers under the table.
“Mama, do I not deserve to be somewhat attracted to my husband? To be with someone kind, and decent?” she pleaded, trying to ignore the growing pressure in her temples as a headache began to form.
“Lizzy.” Her mother sighed, setting her fork down, altogether avoiding her father’s imploring stare. “Only fools marry for love,” her mother said as gently as she could. “Marriage is a business transaction. You will come to understand its benefits. It is arranged by families and has been for generations. He is the match we have chosen for you. You would have a good home with him.”
Elizabeth wondered for the first time if her mother and father had been a love match like she had always assumed, or if it had been just as cold and transactional.
The thought made her sad.
When Elizabeth spoke, her words intended for her mother alone, “I’m not a fool who thinks to marry for love. But I will not condemn myself to a miserable life. I don’t care if my husband is rich, only close to my age, and somewhat decent to talk to. Find me a better match, I beg of you.”
“You are an Ashcroft,” her father interjected before her mother could answer, “you will do as I say. You will marry Duke Howard. You will be a duchess in the second largest estate in the kingdom, and your children will want for nothing.”
She glared at her father.
Her father speared a bite of roast pheasant with his fork and returned his attention pointedly to his meal. They ate in tense silence.
When her father finished, he pushed his plate away, and surveyed her intently. She sat stoically, while inside her soul felt like it was being drenched in ice.
Her father’s steely gaze softened, and he said, “I have no son, Elizabeth. The line of Ashcroft ends with you. I have no male heir to inherit the estate. If something were to happen to me, we don’t even know if you and your mother would be permitted to stay here. I want to see you married, so I know you’ll both be taken care of. Duke Howard already has a wealthy duchy and has agreed that should anything happen to me, he would leave your mother Ashcroft Manor and ensure she is well looked after.”
She saw then that her father’s hair was grayer than she remembered it last, and his face looked like it had aged. It took her by surprise—the realization that her parents were getting older. She had always thought that they would remain the same forever, and hadn’t considered that remaining unwed might cause them unwanted stress.
