Page 127 of The Mistress of All & Torn

The servants took his chair and carried it out, while Lady Kendal moved to the window, taking her cup of tea with her.

“The storm is still very strong,” she whispered. “Would you like to remain here overnight? It might be dangerous to leave in such weather.”

“Your ladyship is very considerate, but we cannot possibly accept. Our children are with their governess, and we must be there in the morning,” Mrs Gardiner replied.

“I am afraid we should leave now. It might take a turn for the worse if we linger,” Mr Banfield said.

Everyone rose and Lady Kendal did not attempt to stop them.

“We are very grateful for the invitation,” Mrs Gardiner said.

“I hope the evening was not entirely unpleasant,” Lady Kendal replied.

“Not at all,” Mrs Gardiner assured her with honesty.

“Then perhaps we shall meet again,” her ladyship suggested tentatively. “Miss Bennet, my grandson will hold you to your word on that chess game.”

“I am always keen for a challenge, your ladyship,” Elizabeth tried to joke, to lighten the tension in the room.

“Then perhaps we could have tea in the next few days? And schedule that game at the same time? Your sister and your aunt may join you too. I would be delighted to have you all.”

“I could come with them, too,” Bingley offered. “Our home is close enough—on Grosvenor Street.”

“That would be lovely. Then it is settled. Please let me know when is convenient for you. We have no fixed engagements, and we rarely leave the house any more.”

More politeness and farewells were exchanged, then the guests exited into the storm, assaulted by the wind and the snow on their faces.

While the others complained about the weather as they hurried towards their carriages, Elizabeth remained still in front of the house, fighting with the blizzard that threatened to push her down, feeling blessed for only the joy of being able to walk freely.

Chapter 6

The dinner with Lady Kendal and Lord Alveston was a turning point in Elizabeth’s life.

A week later, she returned with Jane and Bingley. The ladies enjoyed a cup of tea, while Bingley and the young earl spent their time in conversation over wine.

That habit became regular. Elizabeth visited Lady Kendal once a week, always with Jane, sometimes with Mrs Gardiner too.

Surprisingly, Bingley was invited even more often, and he gladly accepted.

Since Darcy was not in town, and with no other close friends, Bingley welcomed the unexpected friendship with a gentleman of similar age. To the earl, Bingley was the perfect companion: amiable, with unassuming manners, genuine kindness, a generous heart, no tendency to gossip or judge, and he lived near enough to visit easily.

They played cards, spoke of politics and war, economics, and mutual acquaintances. The earl had been as fond of parties and entertainment as Bingley, and he was not ashamed to admit missing his old life.

Soon enough, a new friendship flourished and grew stronger between the young people, and they were calling each other by their given names.

With Lord Alveston—now Philip to her—Elizabeth still had some lively debates, which she enjoyed as much as the young man did. Slowly, Elizabeth discovered his pleasant nature behind the grief and resentfulness, and understood the degree of his and his grandmother’s suffering.

The news of Lord Alveston’s affliction had hit everyone unexpectedly. Despite the grievous tragedies in Lady Kendal’s family, nobody had ever suspected the young earl of suffering from any possible illness. He had been a healthy, energetic child, always willing to play out of doors and excelling in any sport. As the sole heir he was expected to make an advantageous match to a woman who would have many children and manage his household.

Those who spread rumours about the tragic passing of so many young people in the Kendal family seemed to have finally been proved wrong and were silenced by the apparent good health of Lord Alveston.

Then, five years ago, at just two and twenty, during a hunting party, Lord Alveston had fallen from his horse, overcome by dizziness and an unbearable pain in his head. It had been a light fall and everybody had joked about it for weeks. He had dismissed it as being a trivial happenstance, until months later the headaches had returned, stronger and increasingly more frequent. However, he still did not mention anything to anyone. Another half a year passed, and by then the pain had descended into his back, his arms, and his feet. He had fought it by himself for a long while until one morning, he could not rise from his bed. His feet, his back, even his hands were not strong enough to support him.

Only then did his valet fetch the doctor. Lord Alveston had not even been four and twenty at that time.

Despite almost a year of treatment from physicians from England and abroad, his condition had worsened.

Everybody had recommended sea bathing, so Lady Kendal had purchased a property in Brighton, next to the sea but out of the town, isolated from the curiosity of intruders. They had spent several summers there, but no improvement had been observed in his condition.