At home, her father was in good spirits.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she had spent the entire carriage ride home fantasizing about running away. Her sense of duty to her family was warring with her disgust at the idea of having to stand by Duke Howard’s side every day, and lay with him every night, just to appease her parents and keep her title.
“Excellent,” her father said, looking pleased when they arrived home with an armful of parcels. Her father beckoned her to his study. “When you leave here, you may take any books you like. You can keep your favourites or take some of mine you haven’t had the chance to read yet.”
There were books crammed onto every inch of shelf space. Elizabeth remembered that as a child she would stare in wonder at all the books on the shelves, hoping to one day read them all.
She and her father would often spend their evenings reading in the lounge while her mother played softly on the piano in the background. Her father was giving her a small piece of her home to take with her when she left.
“Thank you,” she said with sincerity.
He embraced her and said gruffly, “You are my daughter. You are my greatest accomplishment.”
Her eyes burned.
She was the worst daughter in the world to consider leaving. To consider thrusting her family from royal favour out of a selfish desire for her own happiness.
She took a moment to master herself before asking, “Father? May I ask a question?”
Her father smiled at her kindly, as if they were close again and all the things he had said to her had already been forgiven. “You already have, but you may ask another.”
She forced herself to speak politely but found herself needing to ask, “Where is this change of heart coming from? I thought you were determined to send me off as soon as possible. I thought you were angry with me.”
Her father pushed his spectacles up his nose and was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know exactly. I just have a strong conviction that this is the best path forward for our family. It doesn’t mean that we care for you any less.”
She bit her lip. “But Father? Why the urgency? Couldn’t you have waited for more suitors? Then we could have discussed and selected the best option? As is usually done?”
Her father appeared to consider the question. “I have a sense that we don’t have the luxury of time. The attack on the queen and the recent unrest at court has only solidified my feelings that having you settled and looked after sooner rather than later is not such a bad thing.”
She knew that if she opened her mouth, all the hurt and anger would tumble from her lips, and she was going to say something she would regret.
So, she pressed her lips together and said nothing at all.
Chapter 5
House Harrison
Elizabeth looked up from her lap to see their carriage rolling to a stop outside a large stone manor surrounded by violet flowers—Harrison Manor, where Charlotte lived. Relief flooded through her at the sight of the charming estate with periwinkle blooms in baskets by the door.
It would be a blessing to speak with Charlotte tonight, even if the dinnerwasbeing thrown to celebrate her engagement.
Elizabeth and her parents were warmly received by the Harrison’s housekeeper, who smiled and escorted them into the sitting room, where they were served tea.
Lady Harrison strolled into view wearing a pale yellow gown that went well with her deep skin tone. “How wonderful to see you all! Safe journey, I trust?” Lady Harrison said, smiling kindly. “Elizabeth, dear, Charlotte’s still upstairs getting ready."
Needing no further encouragement, Elizabeth dipped into a curtsey and fled. Reaching the staircase, she slowed and looked around the manor that she knew nearly as well as her own—the bannisters where she and Charlotte used to slide down when they were little, a sitting room they had spent many evenings gossiping in and sipping wine.
A commoner would not have such a life.
Biting her lip, she put ideas of running away out of her mind, and knocked on Charlotte’s door loudly twice, before throwing the door open wide.
Charlotte was seated at her vanity, admiring the final touches on her appearance. She was wearing a dressing gown, and her hair was piled atop her head with a few dark curls framing her face. “Awkward carriage ride?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “They’re acting as though I’m made of glass, liable to explode at them at any moment. Even though it was their choice that put me here.”
Charlotte snorted. “Lizzy, you’re the least likely person to explode at someone in anger.” She surveyed herself in the mirror. “I think they just want you to be wed and are struggling to see things from your perspective. Perhaps you can askyour mother to talk your father around? She might be more sympathetic to you.” Charlotte turned to her maid, smiling warmly. “Thank you.”
Charlotte’s maid returned her smile and stepped back to give them some room.
