Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

L ady Stapleton took the seat next to Elizabeth with a little sigh of relief. “I cannot express how much I have been needing to sit down, Your Grace,” she said. “Westall, would you mind checking on my beloved Stapleton? He has gotten distracted by some of the young men trying to start a competition of some foolish sort in our parlor.”

Stephen frowned a little and Elizabeth got the feeling that he was not used to getting such requests at any social occasion, particularly not such a fancy event with such a prestigious array of guests. “Of course, my lady,” he said, however, nodding to her. “I shall return, Your Grace.” This seemed to be directed at Elizabeth and she just nodded back, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as he stalked away through the crowd.

“Sometimes these events are overwhelming things, are they not?” Celia asked in a soft voice. “Especially if one’s husband dotes on one so much that one can barely move without tripping over him.”

Elizabeth laughed a little, covering her mouth with a hand. “Did it look very like that?”

“Only because the Marquess is very similar,” Celia said. Their eyes met and Elizabeth was surprised and pleased to see that the other lady’s face was sympathetic and kind. “I do love him dearly, but if he had his way he would spend most events so close to my side that I would struggle to breathe, I assure you.”

“And do you - like it? The attention?” The words slipped out before Elizabeth knew what she was saying and she glanced around the ballroom quickly to see if they were being observed. Many heads did in fact turn their way from the little groups around the room, but none for long and she suspected that the hostess and the new Duchess being involved in a tete-a-tete was the topic of conversation but not perhaps because she had done something socially reprehensible.

“A lot of the time I find it very pleasant,” Celia said. “He is a kind man, you know. A brave one and a good one. His charms are numerous. Sometimes, however, I find I have a heart for independence and at those times he is amicable enough to do such small favors for me that allow me a little space for myself.”

Elizabeth nodded, wondering what it must be like to have a marriage where both partners were fond of each other. “How do you - tell him what you want without making him cross with you?”

Celia looked at her, a quick sort of look that had a wealth of sympathy behind it. “Come, Your Grace. Will you favor me with a turn around the room?”

It was a sudden statement and jarring, but Elizabeth glanced around and saw several groups of ladies beginning to make their way across the room towards them and thought that she understood. “I should be very pleased. Must you call me ‘Your Grace’ at all times?”

“I certainly should while we are in so public a setting,” Celia said, laughing as they rose and set off in the opposite direction to the ladies trying to reach them as naturally as possible. “If you want me to call you something else in private then you need only ask.”

“I would like you to call me by my name,” Elizabeth said. She felt that she was sounding a little petulant in her own ears, but she couldn’t help it. She was always Your Grace this or Duchess that now. So few people called her by her given name that she was beginning to worry it would never be heard again outside of talking to Diana.

Celia smiled quickly and looked pleased. “I should be very delighted to, if you still feel that way next time we meet.”

“Very well then,” Elizabeth nodded firmly. “Now, I suspect you were walking me in this direction so we should not be interrupted. Was it so that you might answer my question?”

“Indeed it was. Are you familiar with the story of how the Marquess and I became engaged?”

She shook her head. It was something that she was almost certainly meant to know and once again she cursed that she had no idea how to even start educating herself for the position that she had found herself in.

“I was quite young, just turned eighteen and my father, the Earl of Carmody, had business near the Stapleton lands. It was an arranged marriage by both families to create business ties. The Marquess had not inherited the title at that time and the two of us had only met once before the wedding.”

Elizabeth stared at her. “Then you too…”

“Yes, my marriage was also an arranged one. I know that it’s the fashion now for people to make their own choices on the matter, but both our parents were very old fashioned. The Marquess has always said that the instant he met me he was in love with me.”

“Did you find -” It felt like a dangerous question to ask out loud.

“We are very happy together and love each other very much,” Celia said firmly. “But I know all too well how difficult it can be to be married to a man you barely know.”

A rush of relief so powerful that she nearly cried ran through Elizabeth and she clasped one of Celia’s gloved hands, trying to keep her expression calm. “How did you manage it? Can you tell me anything that might help?”

“Oh Your Grace,” Celia said softly, her voice warm. “There are a number of things that may help depending on the troubles you are having. When we were first married I had endless arguments with my husband about one thing or another. It became bitter and we became cold and distant for months before we both managed to understand each other. What saved us from further heartbreak was finding ourselves stuck in a small inn during a thunderstorm. The Marquess and I were forced to talk at length and we found that so many things that had hurt us both had been an inability to see why the other wanted to do what they were doing.”

“Just talking made so much of a difference?”

“Oh indeed! Communicating often, well and with true curiosity has made us strong enough to weather any mishap. I recommend that the next time that you find yourself in a situation where you feel frustrated that you try to talk clearly about what you want and why. Men are wonderful creatures, and the heavens know that we couldn’t possibly manage without them, but they do struggle so to understand what is not spelled out for them.”

Celia clapped her hands briskly. “Now, Your Grace, let me get you one of our round cakes and then we really must start the dancing!”

Dancing with the Marquess was very different to dancing with Stephen Elizabeth found. He was shorter, but that was not the most striking difference, nor was his jovial manner. His hands were not as strong, as strangely safe. His touch didn’t make her feel like she must thrill straight out of her skin or leave her cheeks flushed. He was very good, true but he didn’t make dancing feel like they were so in tune with the music that they were becoming part of it.

Many other dancers joined them on the dance floor once they had started and Elizabeth was a little nervous that even her cautious practicing with Diana would not prevent her from making an example of herself and careening into someone.

However the Marquess kept them going in the right direction and even managed to make them look presentable with it. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and pleasure as they stopped, and he gallantly led her over to a chair and promised to return with some lemonade.

“My word, Your Grace,” a lady’s voice said from very nearby. “You and the Marquess make a fine picture out on the floor.”

Elizabeth looked up to see a lady in a becoming gown of light lilac that was not as fancy as anything that Stephen’s sisters were wearing standing near her with another couple of ladies in tow. The lady was looking at her with an expression that Elizabeth was extremely familiar with, a sort of sour pleasantness. A sweetness that was meant to sting.

“Indeed?” Elizabeth said calmly, wondering what possible reason these women could have for trying to corner her so. “It was most enjoyable. I am quite out of breath.”

“I can imagine,” the lady continued, that sour note only more evident in her voice. “We are fortunate to have quite a few gentlemen present but the ladies still outnumber them, sadly. I hope your husband will be willing to dance a few rounds with us single ladies later?”

“I certainly can’t speak for my husband.” Elizabeth was not sure that it was proper to ask the lady her name, and for want of anything else to do, looked at her companions for a clue as to what was going on. Both ladies looked uncomfortable in the way people might if they were about to watch something go very badly, and they didn’t want to admit they were looking forwards to watching it.

“You must tell us how you managed to tie him down at last,” the lady said. “The Duke is such a close friend of the family that we have been hoping to see him happily wed for some time, but always despaired of it actually happening.”

Oh.

Suddenly things became a great deal clearer and Elizabeth sat up a little straighter. “Is it not wonderful that we have found each other? I am sure that you must be overjoyed to see him happily settled down, as a friend of the family.”

“Of course,” the lady went an unbecoming shade of pink around her cheeks. “We were hardly expecting it to happen so fast, however. Why the banns were read for barely three weeks!”

“The heart wants what it wants, and we were eager to be wed,” Elizabeth stood and nodded, remembering Stephen’s grip on her arm and deciding that it was best not to curtsey. “Excuse me.”

“So we will not soon be invited to a christening?” the lady asked sharply, stepping forwards and staring at Elizabeth with a sort of rank boldness that took her aback.

Everything that she could think of to say sounded in her ears like a confession. The protest would be taken as a statement of guilt, not to say anything would be taken similarly. It was so rude, so gauche a thing to have implied, nay outright stated, that Elizabeth could see the other two ladies stepping backwards discretely, wanting to get further away from the disaster that was happening.

“Why Miss Sandford,” a voice said from just to Elizabeth’s right. “I did not know that you were so eager to speak about babies. I must introduce you to Mrs. Eastbrook. She is to give birth in five months and she is dying to tell someone about her pains.”

Celia stepped in between the two of them and took Miss Sandford by the arm, gracefully sweeping her away as Selina joined Elizabeth and threaded their arms together. “I think I heard my brother asking after you, sister,” she said, making terrifyingly threatening eye contact with the now shrinking other women. “Come, we mustn’t keep the Duke waiting. You know how protective he is of you.”

As they walked away, Elizabeth squeezed her arm in gratitude. “I could have handled myself, you know.”

“I am fully aware,” Selina said briskly. “However in the face of such rudeness, a lady should not have to handle herself. It is enough for her to refuse to dignify such a person with her attention while her friends and acquaintances deal with it.”

It was a lovely thought. Elizabeth allowed herself to relax a little as they went to where some servants were giving out tiny little pies filled with something spiced and delicious. Being protected. Having people. Being part of something bigger than just herself.

After a little while further of watching the dancing, admiring the lights and the costumes and the food and speaking to both Celia and her husband, and at times Stephen's siblings and Stephen himself, who did his duty with a few of the single women but definitely not Miss Sandford, Elizabeth found herself sitting and blinking back exhaustion. She was sandwiched between Selina and Stephen as they talked about Diana’s dance partner and how Herbert was trying to ensure all the loneliest girls in the room had someone to dance with (except Miss Sandford).

Her eyes were drooping and she felt a little anxious at the thought of the hours and hours of party left, the supper, the table manners, the revelries and dancing and music. Her head was throbbing and the whole of her felt tired and pleasantly exhausted but being here for so much longer sounded quite impossible.

However what else could she do? Unless -

She glanced at Stephen, who was listening to Selina and smiling a little, the corners of his lips tilted up in that way they did when he was secretly amused and trying not to show it.

Maybe Celia was right. Maybe she should try telling him what she wanted.

“Your Grace,” she said carefully. “I find I am getting quite tired. Would it be possible for me to excuse myself and return home in a little while?”

He glanced at her, a crease forming on his brow and Selina peered at her as well before standing and walking away with her usual purposeful strides.

“What is she…?”

“She is fetching Herbert and Diana,” Stephen said, standing up and waving over one of the servants. “Please ask the Marquess or Marchioness to join me.”

The servant bowed and disappeared across the room as Elizabeth tried to bring enough focus together to understand what he was saying.

Celia joined the quickly, a frown of concern on her face that eased a little when Stephen bowed slightly.

“We must return home early,” he said formally. “I am sorry to disrupt the party but my wife is not feeling well.”

“Oh no,” Celia glanced at Elizabeth and nodded. “I see. Of course you must do what is right for her. We will hold another event soon and you must come and visit next week for supper.”

“We will be delighted,” Stephen said as Celia turned to arrange the collection of their coats and his siblings hurried up. Diana’s sweet face was twisted with concern and even Herbert, who had certainly been the slowest to warm to her had a tiny crease on his forehead.

“You do look pale,” Diana whispered. “Oh Elizabeth, are you well? We must go home immediately and you must to bed.”

“I shall have cook put together a small tray of broth and tea,” Selina said firmly. “You mustn't exert yourself.”

“I’ve called the footman and the driver,” Herbert added. “We can leave immediately.”

Elizabeth flushed. “Everyone does not need to leave with me,” she protested. “I shall be well enough for a little while yet and then one of you could drive home with me and return for the last of the party if you absolutely had to.”

All of them looked at her in confusion, so strikingly similar in that moment that Elizabeth could see the family resemblance even with Diana, who was smaller and curvier than her angular, dark-haired siblings.

“Elizabeth,” Selina said. “What you need matters to us.”

“Indeed,” Stephen said. “However, if Elizabeth feels the matter is not urgent, I can take her home and the rest of you may stay here until the morning and make your way back then. There is no need for you to miss the party as long as it is not an emergency.”

“Oh you are all going to convince everyone that I am pregnant indeed if you continue like this,” Elizabeth said drolly, and they laughed. “No, I assure you. I am but tired.”

The others needed a little more reassurance, but once they were certain that she was not ill they agreed to stay and enjoy the party, and Elizabeth was allowed to lean on Stephen’s strong steady arm on the way out to the carriage. She wondered what it would be like to have that arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her warm on the way home.

It was a lovely thought and one that she let herself sink into as they traveled on, the carriage rocking soothingly and the night outside magical and wonderful at once. They were traveling through a small wooded area and she was gazing out of the carriage window so that Stephen would not have a chance to see how flushed she had become when she saw something move in the road ahead, a fluttering frightened movement that she recognized from her days exploring the Rosenberg Estate.

“Stop the carriage!” she said, so loudly and sharply that the driver pulled to a halt at once and she leapt down, barely noticing the mud staining the bottom of her dress and ran towards what she had seen.