An Heiress at Heart (18 page)

“I’ve always admired Saint Paul,” Geoffrey mused. “He went from being a persecutor of Christians to becoming their leader. He had a complete change of heart. He later wrote that one must forget things which are behind and reach forth for those things which are before.”

“Forget the past?” Lizzie shook her head in disbelief. “Do you think that is ever really possible?”

“I believe the lesson is that we must not allow past sins to keep us from living for the Lord today.”

Lizzie had never thought about “living for the Lord.” She had always attended church, like everyone else. But with all that had happened in her life—brief periods of joy overwhelmed by grief and disappointment—God had remained distant to her.

Nor could she even consider forgetting the past. With each new day, Lizzie was becoming more and more successful in her new life, and yet she was discovering that the past never receded. She could never forget who she truly was. No, the past was something she lived with each and every day. She would never be able to leave it fully behind.

She turned back to see Geoffrey looking at her. She knew how easily her morose thoughts could show on her face. She did not wish him to see her discomfort, so she giggled, fanned herself, and said in a perfect imitation of the American gentleman, “I believe I am tuckered.” She looked over the railing. “But the view is bully!”

                                                          
Chapter 17

G
eoffrey stood in his library, thoughtfully staring at a large portrait of himself with his two brothers. Although it was painted when the three boys were in their early teens, their individual personalities were already quite evident. William was standing looking rather imperious, Edward was kneeling, playing with their favorite dog Buck, and Geoffrey was seated in an armchair, looking at both his brothers with an expression that today he could only describe as bemused. For a long time it had been too painful for Geoffrey to spend any time looking at this portrait. Today he found instead that the memories it brought back cheered him.

“How well you look, sir.”

He turned to see Mrs. Claridge standing in the doorway. “Do I?”

She nodded. “You must have had a good morning out with Mrs. Somerville.”

Geoffrey found to his surprise that it was not as jarring to hear Ria referred to by that name as he had once
feared it would be. “Yes,” he said. “I believe it was a good morning.” He was still marveling at how much he enjoyed Ria’s company.

“Your heart seems a bit lighter now—if you don’t mind my saying so,” she added deferentially.

Once again, her perception amazed him. “Does it seem odd to you that my heart should be, as you say, lighter, after I am more fully aware of all that has happened?”

“Not at all,” she replied. “I always say that knowing the worst is not as terrible as fearing it.”

“In some ways, though, it’s not the worst. Mrs. Somerville told me fascinating things about Edward, things I never knew about him. She showed me some of his best aspects.”
And some of hers,
he added silently to himself. Despite her occasional missteps, he found his esteem for her was growing.

“Perhaps that’s why her return has been so good for you,” Mrs. Claridge said.

Had Ria been good for him? Perhaps so. “I shall invite her over here soon. I would like for you to meet her.”

Mrs. Claridge beamed. “That’s kind of you, sir. I’m sure I would like that very much.”

“She can tell you some of the things she told me about Edward.” He turned to look again at the portrait. “Edward accomplished many things in Australia that would have astounded us all.”

“Not me,” Mrs. Claridge returned. “I always knew Mr. Edward was a resourceful and enterprising young man.”

“Did you?” he said in surprise. “Somehow that fact escaped the rest of us.”

“It’s hard, sometimes, to see these things in your own family members.”

He pondered this. There was certainly truth in it. “Edward was a natural leader—I can see that now. He would have performed his duties very well if he had taken up the barony. Perhaps even better than William did.” He sighed. “Perhaps even better than I can.”

Edward certainly could have carried out the social responsibilities of the peerage more deftly than Geoffrey had been doing. And now Ria had shown him Edward could have handled a leadership role as well.

“All three of you were and
are
leaders, sir,” Mrs. Claridge declared. “Just in your different ways. I have no doubt you will live up to the Somerville title as well as anyone—better even.”

He smiled gratefully at his housekeeper. “You have always been my greatest advocate.”

He turned toward the mirror over the fireplace. “Mrs. Claridge, do you think this coat looks too serious?”

“Serious?” she repeated, perplexed. “How do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly,” he said truthfully. “It’s something Mr. Simpson told me once.”

“That Mr. Simpson,” she said with a chuckle. “He is a dandy.”

Geoffrey’s evening attire was just as “serious,” and he was secretly wondering if he should get something more stylish to wear to the Beauchamps’ ball. It was unlike him to worry about such things, but as he recalled how Edward always conducted himself so well at parties, he was suddenly seized with a foolish notion that he wanted to look good for this event. He wanted to please Ria.

“I would not say the problem was with your coat,” Mrs. Claridge observed. “Perhaps it was only your expression that was too serious. You don’t need a tailor to improve upon that. Only yourself. And that seems to be on the mend.”

How true,
Geoffrey thought. Perhaps some of the peace he’d prayed for was coming to pass.

*

“Mrs. Dodd, we must be absolutely sure to get this right. I want my granddaughter to be above reproach.”

Lady Thornborough’s special clothier had come to the Thornborough home to measure Lizzie for the gown she was to wear to the grand ball at Lord and Lady Beauchamp’s home. Lady Thornborough was anxious that the color and style of the gown be exactly proper for a young widow reentering society.

Mrs. Dodd gave a crisp bob of her head. “Indeed, Lady Thornborough, I concur wholeheartedly. This event calls for just the right display of delicacy and protocol.” She was a small, trim woman, dressed impeccably from head to foot. She exuded confidence in her profession and was a perfect model of it. It was easy to see why Lady Thornborough had chosen her for the task. “I promise we will design a dress that is both stylish and appropriate.”

Mrs. Dodd and her assistants were thorough. Lizzie was pushed, prodded, and measured from every angle. They draped sample after sample of beautiful silks over Lizzie’s shoulder to see how well they would complement her complexion. There were so many samples that a small army of assistants was needed to bring them in.
The silks covered a range of dark hues, from rich maroon to vibrant midnight blue. Even the dark gray was enticing. Lizzie admired the way it shimmered as it moved, reflecting the light like silken water.

Her initial worries about going out into society were dropping away with each successful day. Her calls with Lady Thornborough had been successful, as had a dinner at the home of a baronet. She had also been “refreshed” on etiquette by Lady Thornborough. Since Ria had left before her debutante year, it was understood that she would need instruction on deportment and the niceties of behavior at fancy balls. Geoffrey would be at the ball, too, giving her any needed advice. She was beginning to look forward to events where Geoffrey was present, feeling that somehow she could always rely on him to help her if necessary.

Lizzie had been easily caught up in the excitement of the gown’s preparation. Of the many fine dresses she’d been privileged to wear since her arrival in London, this would be the most special—an elegant gown to be worn for only the finest occasions. Drawn to beautiful clothes for as long as she could remember, Lizzie had spent many afternoons in Hyde Park watching the beautifully dressed ladies as they rode by in their carriages or strolled along the Serpentine.

Freddie had dressed her well, too. That was one of the first things that had led to her downfall. He promised her silks and fine linens and jewelry. He made good on the promise, too—in the beginning. When he ran out of money, he sold everything without her knowledge to buy his way home. She’d been left with only the clothes on her back. And her wits.

“Ria, stop frowning,” Lady Thornborough said. “You know that will give you wrinkles. Is something wrong?”

Lizzie pulled herself out of her cloud of black thoughts and relaxed her face into a smile. Those days were far behind her now, she reminded herself. She was no longer mending other people’s clothes to scrape out a living, as she had in Vienna for those months before Tom had come for her. Now the fine clothes were being tailored for
her
. “It’s just that I’m so vexed because I can’t make up my mind which material to choose. They are all so lovely.”

“That is why Mrs. Dodd is here. She has made dresses for the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. She knows what will suit you best.”

Mrs. Dodd beamed. “Your confidence in my judgment is most flattering, my lady.”

“Ah,” returned Lady Thornborough with a smile. “But the question remains: which color is the most flattering on my granddaughter?”

“Midnight blue,” replied Mrs. Dodd without hesitation. “She will be stunning.”

One of Mrs. Dodd’s assistants immediately retrieved the blue silk from a chair and draped it once more around Lizzie.

Lizzie stood, looking at herself, delighted at how her eyes deepened and glittered, set off by the beautiful material.

Lady Thornborough rose and walked over to her. They stood, side by side, studying her reflection in the mirror. “See how it brings out your father’s eyes,” she said with admiration. “How proud he would be.”

“Would he?” Lizzie basked in these words. She
was
showing her true colors as a Thornborough, she thought.
Fine clothes were no longer her downfall, as they had once been with Freddie. Nor were they the reason she was here. Yes, there were times when Lizzie wished she could stand here free of her deceptions, where she belonged, with her family. Since she could not, she took solace in the fact that she was fulfilling Ria’s wishes. Lady Thornborough had her granddaughter back and was pleased with her. That was what Ria had wanted. Ria’s untimely death had provided a second chance for them both. Lizzie could not allow any regret for what she had done to reach this room on this day.

Freddie had left her in the gutter, but she had survived. Like Cinderella from the fairy tale her mother read to her when she was a little girl, Lizzie now had all those things that had once seemed out of reach.

Except for a handsome prince.

                                                          
Chapter 18

M
artha had once again worked wonders with Lizzie’s hair. Her blond locks were braided into an intricate bun in the back, and smooth ringlets framed her face. It had been a trial to be subjected to her brushing, twisting, and pinning, but the end result had been worth it. As Lizzie reached up to finger one of the curls, the diamond and sapphire bracelet shimmered against the dark blue of her gown. Lady Thornborough had insisted she wear it tonight.

Thanks to Mrs. Dodd, Lizzie’s gown was at the height of fashion, though the décolletage was not as low as most women’s would be tonight. There was a certain amount of propriety that she must maintain. Nevertheless, the V-shape of the neckline did drop low enough to reveal a modest portion of her neck and shoulders.

Lizzie was happy to see that her skin had become paler during her weeks in London. She was no longer “brown as a farm girl,” as James had described her.

She studied her hands. Now that she was no longer
hauling her own firewood and doing her own washing, her nails were smoother and the cuts and scrapes on her hands had healed. The process had been quickened by the special oils Lady Thornborough had procured for her. They’d been applied and rubbed in by two maids until Lizzie felt like a prized piece of silver that had been polished with the utmost care.