Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
“ M rs. Carter is a most accomplished musician,” red-faced Mr. Carter said, his whiskers constantly getting into his glass of wine and then gently spraying his food as he talked. “She plays nearly every instrument I know of. I have only to mention one and it turns out she is a prodigy at it. She plays the pianoforte most uncommonly well, and then she can turn her hand just as excellently to the harp. And when it comes to singing, then she cannot be matched in the entire town we live in. No matter where we go people are always asking her to do some piece or other. Do you play anything, Your Grace?”
Elizabeth smiled lightly at him. She had been avoiding Celia’s amused gaze for the last fifteen minutes at least for she was sure that were she to look to her right for a moment she would burst into giggles.
She had never met the Carters before, but Stephen had confessed to her that he had sent them a late invitation after realizing in alarm that Lord Barnes would elsewise be taking Diana into dinner. Mr. Carter was a cheerful local gentleman with a modest fortune and enough connections to the estate that it wasn’t completely unreasonable to invite him and his wife.
He had pressed her hand to his lips and commented that she must think him paranoid to go to such lengths but she had shaken her head hard. The idea of Dudley near Diana gave her such a sick feeling in her stomach that she had nearly had to sit down.
Bless the Carters. They had filled the party in just the right way to protect Diana completely and they were kind enough people that they never questioned their inclusion.
“I am learning the pianoforte,” Elizabeth said charmingly to Mr. Carter. “But I shall be very pleased if your wife would be willing to favor us with a performance later.”
“Indeed,” Celia said, wicked thing, clearly trying to catch Elizabeth’s eye. “It has been a while since I have heard a lady perform a fine piece of music, I am alas completely unable to play any instrument at all.”
Mr. Carter was so excited to be able to talk more about his wife that he dropped his cutlery in the sauce and then knocked a spoon off the table all together and had to disappear in search for it.
Celia nudged Elizabeth’s arm lightly and Elizabeth looked anywhere but at her. She would not laugh. It would be so improper. She was a duchess. She was serene. She was calm.
She glanced over the other end of the table at Stephen, who was between Diana and Dudley himself. After everything she had protested the seating arrangement roundly with her husband, not wanting her brother anywhere near any food that he might eat, but Stephen had pointed out that it was better than having Dudley near anyone else. At least Stephen knew what to look for.
He was carrying on conversation with several people with his usual serious intensity, but she could see how his gaze never strayed far from watching Dudley. And in turn her half-brother was tense and shifting in his seat as though he were a little boy again trying to figure out how to do the worst thing he could get away with while his tutor was still watching him.
At least he was between Stephen and the Duke of Seymour, and Herbert was next to Diana on the other side of the table. Those she loved were as safe from him as they could be with the danger right in the room.
Indeed he was focused on his plate so intensely and carving his meat with such ferocity that Elizabeth thought it might be something else he was imagining carving.
She could take a moment, letting Celia volley the conversation from Mr. Carter while she made the appropriate noises, to listen in to the conversation at the other end of the table.
The Duke of Seymour was fastidiously carving meat for the lady next to him, something that Herbert was forgetting to do. “Lady Selina, I believe apart from during the Season, I have not seen you at any gathering. It seems a shame for you to keep such beauty away from the balls and parties that would surely benefit from your presence.”
“Until quite recently we have had to be careful about where our family attends,” Selina said charmingly. Elizabeth suspected her of kicking Herbert from under the table for he jumped a little and started attending to the bird with more diligence than before. “While of course it Is my pleasure and duty to attend as many occasions as we are able, I do prefer not to risk my brothers’ lives while doing so.”
“One would think that the Dowager Countess of Marchmont's 80th birthday celebration would have been safe to attend,” Herbert said shortly, slipping a sliver of duck onto Selina's plate. “But alas, some people have no respect for occasions, Your Grace.”
“Indeed, it quite ruined my green ballgown to find myself in the garden in the pouring rain,” Selina said. “But then some men are unwilling to continue with trying to murder my brother if I am present so one does what one must.”
“You put yourself in that kind of danger?” The Duke frowned, leaning forwards. “Surely such business has no place for a woman.”
“A woman's place is wherever those she loves are,” Selina retorted, eyes flashing. “I have as much heart for my family as any man, and I will do what I can to help them.”
“ Lady Selina is a radical ,” Dudley drawled, a bitter bite behind his usual barbs. “She reads about ancient lizards and science and thinks the sexes should be equals.”
Selina smiled at him so beautifully that Elizabeth thought for a moment that she was going to ram a fork into his throat. It was exactly that sort of smile. “Why Lord Barnes, I did not know that caring about one’s family was radical.”
In the crisp silence that followed Herbert snorted. “My dear sister, please consider to whom you are speaking. One can accuse Lord Barnes of many things but surely you recall that one certainly cannot accuse him of the sin of sentimentality.”
Dudley bared his teeth and Elizabeth glanced quick and sharp at Stephen who was watching the affair with a dark expression, coiled to act should he need to, but it was the Duke of Seymour who spoke.
“I would never dare consider Lord Barnes sentimental, no matter what else he might be.”
“No indeed,” Herbert said with a quick fierce grin. “Perhaps it is not surprising he is as yet unwed, ladies do like a man to have some fellow feeling. Gentle creatures that they are.” He jolted again, and Elizabeth knew Selina had kicked him once more.
Seymour snorted. “I must say I am also not surprised by the matter.” He glanced at Selina, a knowing to his gaze. “But I’m not sure all ladies are so gentle, Lord Herbert.”
Herbert laughed and Selina looked the picture of modest perfection, but it was Dudley’s face that drew Elizabeth’s attention, Dudley and the dark wrath on his face as he glared between Herbert, the Duke of Seymour and her dear, beloved husband.
Dudley was not a man who could be safely embarrassed, not in private and certainly not in front of strangers.
“Selina, sister,” she said, projecting her voice across the conversations. “Please do tell me again about the large lizard fish that was found on the beach. I believe the guests will be delighted to hear about it, it took me so strangely when you told me!”
Selina beamed at her, distracted immediately and the conversation moved on, Selina and the Duke of Seymour delving into a conversation about large strange lizard bones and Herbert being distracted by Stephen and Diana. Elizabeth tried to shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
She was no longer the little girl she had been before. She had nothing to fear here. She was stronger, she was protected.
But even as she tried to once again attend to the conversation between Celia and Mr. Carter and Perceval, she noted how Dudley was holding his knife, knuckles white, point leaning towards Stephen.
As the dinner party wound down, as the brandies were poured and drunk and the men chatted about grouse and partridge and which they were most fond of shooting, Elizabeth felt a thrill of relief that her first dinner party was not just nearly over but had not been a complete disaster.
Mrs. Carter was a woman with a face that became bright red with joy and who had sparkling dark eyes that were stars in her face. She told Elizabeth and Celia a number of stories about her first parties held once she married Mr. Carter and Elizabeth had been surprised and delighted at how honest and funny they had been.
She rather suspected that Mrs. Carter had an inkling of her nerves and the kindness made her like the woman fiercely. Stephen sent her a little smile over the lady’s head, and she realized that he had known exactly the right people to invite to this party to limit the damages and to give her a buffer.
Stephen was discussing a political matter with some of the men and the others were slowly moving on towards the drawing room for last drinks before turning in. It was a hazy moment of pleasantries, softened by good food and wine and Elizabeth was feeling so sweetly happy looking at the profile of Stephen’s face as he talked animatedly about this great thing he was passionate about that she didn’t notice who was at her elbow until it was too late.
“Who knew you cleaned up so well, sister dear,” Dudley said lowly, his face shuttered in a way that she was not used to as he followed her gaze. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that living with the enemies of your family agrees with you.”
“No one is an enemy here,” she said, hearing the old tremor entering her voice as cold ice flooded her blood. She could feel his presence like an old scar, a threat on her skin and she thought again of Stephen and Annie and poison . “Are we not all family, brother?”
“You were never real family, Elizabeth,” he said softly, looking at her. His eyes were almost black with malice. “You were an embarrassment to my mother and a trial to my father and you’ll be nothing to us when you are gone.”
A prickle of fear went down her spine and she glanced around, checking for her new family and where they were, if anyone could see how she was cornered, threatened - alone.
They were distracted, all of them. He had picked his timing well, like he always did. Always pinching her where the bruises wouldn’t show, always making sure no one was near to see him hurt her or destroy the things she loved, always hiding, always subtle, always secret.
All her life she had wanted someone to rescue her from him.
Elizabeth looked at her brother and in a flash of true anger saw him without the veil of fear that had been blinding her for years. This man. This horrible man who could not love, who could not care about anyone, whose only way of showing affection was to hurt others, this petty little man had made her life miserable. He had turned her into a victim, a shrinking flower always looking elsewhere for salvation.
“Lord Barnes,” she said, her voice starting weak but strengthening as she saw the surprise in his face, the way his eyes flashed with confusion as he looked at her. “I will have you recall that our familiarity is not so great that I will allow you to speak to me this way. You may be a duke’s son and you may be half-blood related to myself, but I, sir, am a duchess . You will speak to me with respect.”
He snarled. “Or what will you do? What can you possibly do against me?”
“Perhaps you should consider what you could possibly do against me,” she retorted, leaning in to match him gaze for gaze. She was calm now, in the center of the storm of her rage. “After all, brother , you are in my house and you should wonder perhaps who it was who prepared the food you ate tonight.”
He blanched so pale, so quickly that she knew everything she had ever needed to know about his intentions for her and her husband.
It was a cold victory, but one that soothed a little child that she had once been. This was for her. This was for every version of her who had trembled at his words or refused to let him see her cry.
“Sleep well, Lord Barnes,” she said, turning on her heel and stalking to the door. “I know I shall. I am, after all in the bosom of my family, surrounded by people who care about me.” She turned her head a little, looked back at him, curved her lips into a knife of a smile. “I pity anyone sleeping in the camp of their enemies tonight.”
Elizabeth walked away. She was freer than she had ever been. As she crossed to the drawing room Celia and Selina called her over to hear some escapade Perceval had gotten up to and it tasted like victory.