Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

“ Y our Grace, look at this headdress, I think it’s all feathers of some bird from the continent!” Sally exclaimed, pulling the lid off a box and peeking inside in raptures. “I know I’ve never seen a chicken with so fine a tail!”

“I’m not keeping them, Sally,” Elizabeth said sternly for what felt like the dozenth time. Sally sometimes had a tendency to hear her and say ‘of course, Your Grace’ and do the opposite of what she was being told because she thought she knew better.

“Oh, of course Your Grace. I’m simply airing the things out so they don’t get returned to the shops in poor condition,” Sally said cheerfully, placing the headdress on the vanity and moving on to the next large box that must be another gown.

Elizabeth still felt a sharp searing pain in her heart at the thought of giving up the first gown. It felt finer than anything she had ever owned, even the wedding dress which she knew her family had spent the lowest amount they could without losing face on.

She had heard from Sally that some of the servants were still talking about how Stephen had gone to the dressmaker hired to make her dress and caused a fuss over the first plans and had even threatened to have a replacement at the church to put her into should she arrive in anything that would not be becoming of a duchess.

It made her heart thrill a little to think of him doing that. She had to very sternly remind herself that it was for the sake of his reputation and the reputation of his family that he had made the effort, not because he cared about her.

Just like now. Just like this where he was buying her such beautiful things so he could be sure she wouldn’t bring him shame when they were in society together.

She could feel her cheeks heating at the thought.

Sally gave a low gasp and Elizabeth stood up and come to where she was bending over the other gown.

“Oh Your Grace, you wouldn’t look like a queen, you’d look like an angel ,” Sally breathed.

Elizabeth didn’t dare touch it even with a fingertip. It was a silvery gown, shimmering with a brocade done in shimmering thread and embroidered cleverly with pearls. It wasn’t a very complicated design, but it was beautiful and the effect was something that shimmered and glittered as it moved.

“It’s lovely,” she whispered, blinking back hot tears from her eyes and she was glad when Sally caught her hand and squeezed it.

“It was meant for you, Your Grace,” she said quietly.

Elizabeth shook her head, swallowed and stepped away. She wouldn’t let herself be foolish enough to give into silly dreams. “It was meant for a duchess, not for me .”

“You are a duchess,” Sally said, frustration lacing her voice. “You should be dressing in fine things like this and having carriage rides and being treated like a jewel. Why won’t you let him do right by you?”

Ever since she had been very small, Elizabeth could remember that she had wanted someone to value her. Not even to love her, just to value her, to see her as worth something.

Her first gift had been a honey cake pressed into her hands on her Natal Day by Mrs. Adams when she was a small girl.

Her most treasured items were little carved wooden figures that Mr. Adams had created for her of clumsy little dogs or regal cats, and of a small bag that Mrs. Adams and Sally had given her at Yule that was cunningly crafted so she could hide it away every time Dudley came into her room to find and smash her few small treasures.

Her father had never given her anything and the Duchess of Rosenburg had ignored her except for a Guide to Housekeeping that she had presented to her coldly when she was fifteen. But now Stephen was bringing her these treasures, jewels that could have been worn by a proper lady, gowns that were so fine she would turn heads for the right reasons and which were clearly actually made for her, glittering accessories that any fine lady would be glad to receive and a muff so soft and beautiful that Sally had almost wept over it.

She couldn’t accept them. A small part of her feared that they were being given to her because she was a thing that Stephen had gotten from her father and now owned and could dress how he liked. But at the same time she yearned for them.

Look how beautiful they were, how lovely! Did that not mean that he thought she was lovely too? Lovely enough to look like the kind of lady who would wear these things? Even though she knew that he had not done it because he cared about her, because he wanted her to be happy, but just because he needed her to look the part – it still made her feel warm inside.

Seeing all those parcels, all those gestures where he had thought about what would suit her. It felt good. She was a little cross with herself over how good it felt. A part of her wanted to keep these things and she wouldn’t allow it.

There was a sudden, perfunctory knock at the door.

“Come,” she called, looking over the piles of things in frustration. If it were Diana or Selina she would have even more trouble on her hands convincing someone, anyone that she did not want these things and could not keep them.

Perhaps it was closer to the truth that she desperately did want them, that she wanted to believe that she could be given them freely and kindly and because of that, because of how terrifying that was she had to send them away.

“Elizabeth,” Stephen said, opening the door with his usual briskness. “I am glad to find that your maid is with you. We have been summoned to Stapleton Manor for an evening party and will be leaving within the hour. Be ready to go by then.”

He didn’t wait for her response, closing the door and stalking away. She both thrilled at and loathed the way he was so used to being able to command obedience and attention, the way he would give instructions and then simply expect them to be carried out.

It was like he could not imagine for a moment that someone might disagree with him.

Elizabeth turned to Sally, who was positively brimming with excitement. “Do not say it.”

“Oh Your Grace,” Sally thrilled, clapping her hands. “At least you have -”

“Sally! Do not say it!”

Sally giggled. “My lips are sealed, Your Grace. Will you want your pink gown for the evening?”

It was tempting to show Stephen that she meant what she had said and wear perhaps her wedding gown or one of her sensible pelisses, but Elizabeth couldn’t deny that she was trembling on the inside with anxiety over this first social engagement and she could not afford to lose face by showing up ill-prepared in appearance.

“Yes, I think the silver one is too much for an evening party. Can you find a matching headdre-” she stopped and couldn’t help but laugh as Sally presented her with an elegant creation of roses and pink feathers. “Well. That will do. Come now, we must be quick if we are to be ready in the hour.”

Sally took her by the hand and started to help her out of her dress. “It’s no challenge at all, Your Grace. After I got both Miss Rose and Miss Lottie ready for that one engagement within but twenty minutes after they forgot they were going I have plenty of speed that I can put to use in your service.”

There were perhaps a dozen other carriages drawn up in front of the beautiful manor when they arrived, and Elizabeth was keeping a tight rein on her emotions as they drew to a halt, lights lighting the path up to the entrance and glittering like stars in the falling dusk.

She had always longed to be out at parties the way her sisters were. They told such tales of the dancing and the food and drinks, the clever conversation and the wonderful dresses that they saw. It sounded like a magical other world that she wasn’t even allowed to peek into.

The footman opened the door of the coach and Herbert and Stephen stepped down, then turned and waited to help the ladies down afterwards. Elizabeth waited for the daughters of the family to go first, only to realize everyone was looking at her oddly.

Of course , she bit her lip. She was the Duchess. It would only make sense for her to disembark first.

Stephen’s hand was strong and warm in hers, even through the thin fabric of her gloves and she clung to his fingers a little too tightly as he drew her back from the carriage and waited on Herbert helping first Selina and then Diana down. They both looked beautiful, Selina wearing a regal blue gown and Diana in a charming yellow one that made her look even more like sunshine than she usually did.

Her heart was pounding with excitement.

“Do we go straight up to the door?” she murmured to Stephen, terribly sure that there must be so many unknown rules to doing this right and not wanting to make a slip.

“Indeed,” he said calmly. “The servant will announce us to the Marchioness who will be pleased to meet you. Ceilia Hamilton is a very dear friend of the family.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said, making a mental note. “Shall there be refreshments or are we to go in to dinner later?”

Herbert, Selina and Diana all glanced at Stephen for some reason that Elizabeth could not fathom. He did not seem to notice, continuing his steady but slow pace towards the door.

“It is a dance so there will be light refreshments. Ices, cakes, that sort of thing. Supper will be much later once the dancing is done.”

“Oh,” she took a care to hide her excitement as well as she could. She had never had ices and the idea of watching beautiful people whirl around a dance floor was so delightful and so wonderful and so frightening that she thought she might faint. “Will I be expected to dance with anyone who asks me?”

A muscle jumped in Stephen’s jaw and he sent a look so angry at the inoffensive path they were walking up that it nearly made her stumble. “As the Marchioness does not like to dance, the Marquess will invite you to dance with him to open the dancing.”

“What about you?”

“It’s just not done for a married man to dance with his wife,” Herbert cut in helpfully. “Doesn’t give the single ladies much of a chance to show off their skills if it’s all married folk dancing together.”

The idea of not dancing with Stephen gave her a pang and she sighed a little. He was the only dancing partner she had ever had and she knew him. She had enjoyed their brief dance around the floor, the way that fitting into his arms had made her feel like flying, and now it seemed that she would rarely get to experience that again.

They arrived at the door and gave their names to the servant who summoned an exquisitely dressed woman with jet black hair and dark serious eyes who stood a little taller than Elizabeth and had fine, high cheekbones and a long straight nose. She curtseyed and they all responded in kind, then she took Stephen’s hand with the air of an old friend.

“I am so glad you have come. I have been in conversation with General Carlton for the last quarter hour at least and he will insist upon telling me the story of the time he rescued that flock of sheep from a wolf in -”

“A thunderstorm,” Herbert said laughing.

“With hail and lightning,” Diana added.

“And with a bad knee and only one hand due to the other having been wounded in battle,” Stephen finished. “I know it well. It is good to see you, Celia.”

“Let me take you through,” Celia said, leading the way into a ball room that was so beautiful that Elizabeth thought she might forget to breathe.

There were people around the room speaking with each other, laughing and talking as servants brought out fresh plates and glasses and bottles of the most tantalizing things. A small string quartet filled the air with music and everyone was dressed in clothes that were gorgeous and mesmerizing, colors and patterns mingling together until the whole scene was a kaleidoscope.

Stephen bowed to Ceilia. “Please excuse me, madam, I want to introduce my wife to some of our friends.”

“Of course, of course. I will see to it that the young ladies are introduced to the young men, she replied, waving them off.

Stephen took Elizabeth’s hand and threaded it through his arm, leading her towards a small group of couples talking with each other. She was so distracted by all the colors and sounds and smells that she didn’t notice she was absently swinging her fan in her other hand, tapping it against her chin until Stephen stopped her.

“Do you wish to tell the Marquess’s second footman that you love him, Your Grace?” he asked in a low tone, a glint of anger in his eyes but none showing on his face. “Because if you do not then you should stop making that gesture with your fan this instant.”

Was it possible for such a simple thing to mean so much? Elizabeth barely dared reply, carefully slipping her fan into her reticule so she would not say anything else without meaning to. She was bound to do something terrible here, Stephen would see what a failure she was and be furious with her. And yet his hand was still warm on hers and his presence steady by her side, leaving her heart fluttering in her chest to know that he was looking out for her.

“Lord Stapleton,” Stephen stopped in front of the small group. “I believe you did not have the pleasure of formally meeting my wife the last time you saw her, may I present the Duchess of Westall.”

Elizabeth started a curtsy but Stephen’s grip became so on her arm that she could not perform it and was forced to instead simply nod her head, her cheeks coloring as the Marquess bowed. “It is a pleasure, Lord Stapleton. I know you are a friend of my husband’s and I am glad to finally meet you properly.”

“It is a terrible time to meet people when you are getting married,” the Marquess agreed. He was a man of height, but not as tall as Stephen was and he had a face that was creased lightly by laugh lines as though he spent his time smiling. “It is my absolute pleasure to be properly introduced to you, Your Grace.”

The fact that a man of such rank and title called her ‘Your Grace’ was enough to make Elizabeth feel like sitting down. Had Stephen not said she was the highest ranked lady at the gathering? How was that possible!

The conversation flowed around her as Stephen introduced her to the other two gentlemen, two Lords who were pleased to meet her and eager to impress. He then guided her to a seat and fetched her a crystal glass filled with lemon flavored ice and another of lemonade.

“Are you - hovering, Your Grace?” she asked softly.

“Nonsense, it is my job as your husband to make sure you meet my friends,” Stephen retorted, a frown on his face.

The ice melted in her mouth as a small flush crept up her cheeks. She was almost certain that he was cossetting her and it made her heart skip a little in her chest. It was a dangerous luxury. “I do not need to be coddled, Your Grace,” she said softly, with no heat in her voice.

The frown on his face deepened. “I do not need you to tell me how to treat you.” As soon as the sentence was out of his mouth he seemed to be taken aback by what he had said, but he did not retract it.

“Your Grace, I didn’t mean to-” Elizabeth started, carefully. She did not want them to fight, not now, not here. She was liking this side of him, the protectiveness he was showing. It made her feel delicate and cared for, safe in a way she hadn’t known she longed to feel.

She was cut off however by a voice hailing them. “Ah, I’m glad to have found you again.” It was Celia walking up to them, her gaze fixed on Elizabeth’s and an expression of understanding across her face.