Chapter 10

A Common Enemy

Beatrice exited the manor and walked out into the splendid sunlight. Color was bursting forth amid the green leaves and stems, and it looked as if someone had picked up a blank canvas and flicked the paintbrush, dotting the landscape with color. That color would soon solidify as more flowers bloomed. For now, there was a silent beauty in the sporadic blooms and a subtle aroma drifting in the air.

“Over here!”

Beatrice was surprised by the call and even more surprised when she spotted Elizabeth and Modesty near the apple orchard. Elizabeth waved and beckoned her over. Beatrice knew it would be rude not to accept.

She had hoped to have some time to herself on her very first full day in her new home, especially after breakfast, but fate was not on her side. She walked slowly over to where Elizabeth and Modesty were talking animatedly.

A solemn silence had replaced the constant questioning in the first half of breakfast, as the Duke had continued to read his newspaper before leaving without a word. He had offered Beatrice a curt nod and nothing more.

“Oh, look at how your dress matches the flowers!” Modesty gasped once Beatrice arrived.

Beatrice looked around her. “Which ones?”

“Well, all of them,” Modesty replied, as if that should be obvious.

Beatrice smiled. “Yes, they really are beautiful flowers.”

“Ah, you make a good point. I should talk with the gardener,” Modesty noted.

“Mother, you won’t bother him again, will you?” Elizabeth asked.

“Bother him? When have I ever bothered him? No, I must talk to him about how beautiful the flowers are, that is all,” Modesty replied, shaking her head.

Before Elizabeth could say any more, Modesty took off, striding rather quickly and spryly for a woman her age.

Elizabeth looked back toward Beatrice and sighed, shaking her head in disapproval. Beatrice fumbled for the right thing to say, but she could come up with nothing. She could not assure Elizabeth she loved her brother, for that was not true, nor could she regale her with stories of their courtship, for they had none, or explain why the Duke had ditched Agnes, for it was not her story to tell. She did not know if she should talk about plans to change the interior decorations or assure Elizabeth that she would keep them the same.

She wanted to assure her sister-in-law that she was a good person and they could be friends, but she couldn’t see the path to that yet.

Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips and sighed again. “Mother will bother the gardener.”

“I am sure she will not,” Beatrice stated.

“Then you do not know her,” Elizabeth countered.

Great start, Beatrice!

“It was all the talk about the flowers being beautiful,” Elizabeth admitted. “She got it into her head last year that the gardener would be able to grow the flowers to all bloom at the same time, and no amount of convincing has changed her mind.”

Beatrice was unsure if she should laugh or not, so she took her cue from Elizabeth, who was not laughing.

“A crocus popped up amongst the roses two years ago, and Mother was convinced that the gardener had done it on purpose to sabotage the garden. I mean, why would someone do such a thing? And to what end? The gardener pulled it out of the ground and replanted it elsewhere in a minute.”

Again, Elizabeth did not laugh, so Beatrice kept a neutral expression.

“You must get used to her,” Elizabeth advised. “She can be a little eccentric at times and overdramatic most of the time. If you accept her quirks, she will be your best friend.”

“I will,” Beatrice assured her. “Who amongst us does not have little quirks?”

“Oh, and what are yours?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

Beatrice was stunned—she had put her foot in it again. She hesitated, considering her answer. Elizabeth did not seem like the type to gossip with the ton or be extremely malicious. She was wary and cautious, but she was protective of her family.

“When I was younger, I used to sneak out of my house at night,” Beatrice admitted.

Elizabeth stared at her.

My goodness, why am I saying such things? Why is she not stopping me?

“As a man,” Beatrice added. “I would dress up as a man so no one would know who I was, and I would go out and meet people.” She felt she should stop talking, but she had dug a hole for herself, and the only way was down. “There are some amazing people out there—awful ones too, of course. But if you know what you are doing, you can avoid them. I used to walk the streets and sometimes stop for some food, and I found that people are much more real with you when they don’t know you have a title. It is so much different from being at social events in London.”

She paused, and she felt her cheeks become warm again. She hoped that Elizabeth would not notice.

“Oh, my goodness, that is amazing!” Elizabeth squealed. She looked around conspiratorially before taking Beatrice’s arm. “Do you think I should do that?”

“No, definitely not,” Beatrice stated immediately. She shuddered to think what the Duke might do if he caught his sister sneaking out at night.

“We could go together?” Elizabeth suggested.

“No, we must not. I talk too highly of it, and if you want the truth, I have gotten myself into far too much trouble. No, you must not aspire to be like me. My only wish now is for a life free of conflict and hurt.”

Elizabeth let go of Beatrice’s arm upon realizing she was gripping it too tightly and gave her a sympathetic look. She looked around again to see if they were being watched or overheard.

“I apologize for my question this morning,” she said.

“You don’t have to.” Beatrice shook her head. “It is only natural to want to know when we will start a family.”

“No, not that one, but the other one. When I asked you about Miss Jennings.”

“Oh,” Beatrice murmured. “I am sure we can all be civil toward each other.”

Elizabeth held Beatrice’s gaze, and frustration flickered in her eyes. Beatrice wondered if she would ever say anything right again.

“I shall not say this to my brother, but I am glad he did not marry Miss Jennings,” Elizabeth admitted.

“Oh,” Beatrice breathed, before repeating a little louder, “Oh!”

“I don’t know how much you know about her, but I am convinced she is not a good person,” Elizabeth continued. “I spoke to her about my debut at a ball not so long ago, and she only told me how unprepared I was for the Season and that I would surely fail without her guidance, and then she started gossiping about many of the other women of the ton, as if I were expected to agree with all of it, and the way she spoke about my brother told me everything I needed to know about her. She did not love him, and I am not even sure she liked him, and of course, you were caught in a scandal with Edwin. But it must have been his plan to get away from Miss Jennings, and it worked. She came for supper once and criticized all the food, even though I thought it was all delicious.”

She seemed to panic when she realized she had been venting for so long.

“Oh, you must excuse me. When I start talking, I sometimes can’t stop.”

“I am the same,” Beatrice assured her, glad she had not been questioned about her motives. “I agree with you fully about Miss Jennings. I am not one to gossip, but she said some horrible things when I was in her presence.”

She did not mention the Runaway Bride nickname.

“I don’t even know why she wanted to wed Edwin. I think it was because he was a duke! Can you believe that?”

Beatrice shook her head. She did not have the same ambitions, but her reasons for marrying Edwin were not entirely decent either.

“Her family visited once, and I am sure her father either hated my brother or feared him. He spent almost twenty minutes talking about the high social standing Edwin has and how it will benefit his family, and he talked of money and power, of course, and all the things men like to talk about that they think impress everyone else. I don’t know why Edwin wanted to wed her either. He tolerated her, but I don’t believe he liked her. I don’t understand the ins and outs of who should marry who and for what reason. Maybe she was right.” Elizabeth pouted. “Perhaps I am not ready for the Season after all if I don’t understand basic societal conventions.”

Beatrice snorted. “Who does? I was once—I mean, I knew a woman who was promised to another man that she would not meet until her wedding day all because her father thought it was beneficial to both families.” She thought about it a little more. “Of course, there are conventions for a reason, and if you stray from them, it can hurt people. Don’t worry, Elizabeth, I shall guide you through it. It can be a lot, but it does not need to overwhelm you.”

“You will?” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, and she grinned widely. “I knew we would get on. From the moment I met you, I saw something in you. You are thoroughly decent and good. I am very pleased to have you as a part of my family.”

Beatrice did not feel decent and good after what she had done, but it felt good to be accepted. Of course, if Elizabeth continued to be inquisitive about her past and present, she might have to avoid questions for the next while.

“I am glad to have a friend,” Beatrice said. “This marriage has been a whirlwind, and I have left my family. I especially miss my sisters, but you feel like a sister to me.”

She knew it would take time for her to truly feel that, but it felt like the right thing to say when she could see their progress.

Elizabeth blinked as emotion swept through her, and she pulled Beatrice in for a hug. “Oh, what a wonderful day! I have wanted a sister for so long, and now I have one. You will help me debut and guide me, and I don’t know if I could feel more joy than what is in my heart right now.”

Beatrice felt good. She had done some wrongs without necessarily wronging people, but this was a start to making amends. She hugged her new friend back, her new sister. It was a relief in a sea of tension. They finally pulled apart, and it felt cathartic for both women.

“I, um, I know His Grace, of course, but not as well as you do,” Beatrice confessed. “I don’t subscribe to idle gossip, but I’ve heard things about him over the years.”

“All of it nonsense,” Elizabeth affirmed. She began to walk, and it became obvious she thought there was no need to elaborate on her answer.

Beatrice walked with her. “Why do so many people claim that His Grace is unkind? He has not been unkind to me.”

“You put it far nicer than they do,” Elizabeth assured. “They call him cruel, not unkind. And I have no idea why. I believe they are jealous of him in some way, but he is not a cruel man. Perhaps they don’t like how he does business, but he is not cruel. If you want my honest opinion, my brother is misunderstood. That is what I believe.”

“Yes,” Beatrice uttered, not agreeing or disagreeing with the sentiment.

“We will fight for him,” Elizabeth said. “Now that he has you by his side, and I am to debut this year, we can quash the silly rumors. We will present a united front.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said again.

Fighting on behalf of her husband didn’t sound like the conflict-free life she had hoped for.