How to Marry a Marquis

Chapter 19

It didn't take long for Elizabeth to decide that Blake Ravenscroft-despite his being bosom bows with James-was a very wise man. He didn't, as he drove her home, attempt to make conversation, or ask prying questions, or do anything other than offer her a comforting pat on the arm and say, "If you need someone, I'm certain Caroline would be happy to talk with you."

It took a smart man indeed to know when to keep his mouth shut.

The drive home was conducted in silence, save for Elizabeth's occasional directions to her home.

As they drove up to the Hotchkiss cottage, however, Elizabeth was surprised to see the small structure ablaze with light. "Heavens," she murmured. "They must have lit every candle in the house."

And then, of course, habit kicked in, and she began to mentally tally the cost of those tapers and pray that they hadn't used any of the expensive beeswax candles she normally reserved for company.

Blake took his eyes off the road to look at her. "Is something wrong?"

"I hope not. I can't imagine-"

The curricle drew to a halt, and Elizabeth jumped down without waiting for assistance from Blake. There was no reason why the Hotchkiss cottage should be so abuzz with activity, no reason whatsoever. There was enough noise spilling from the house to wake the dead, and while it sounded like a raucous, happy sort of noise, Elizabeth could not stem the panic rising in her chest.

She burst through the door and followed the loud squeals and laughter into the sitting room. Susan, Jane, and Lucas were holding hands and spinning in a circle, laughing and singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs.

Elizabeth was completely dumbstruck. She'd never seen her siblings act this way. She liked to think that she'd managed to shoulder most of their worries for the past five years, and that they'd had a lovely and reasonably carefree childhood, but she'd never seen them so completely drunk with happiness.

She felt Blake standing at her side, and when he whispered, "Do you know what happened?" she couldn't even formulate a reply.

After about five seconds, Susan caught sight of her sister standing in the doorway and gaping at them, and she yanked the dancing circle to a halt, causing Jane and Lucas to crash into each other in a laughing tangle of skinny arms and blond hair.

"Elizabeth!" Susan exclaimed. "You're home."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "What is going on? I didn't expect you to be still awake."

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Jane cried out. "The most brilliant thing has happened. You'll never believe!"

"Wonderful," Elizabeth replied, her emotions still too battered to put much feeling into the word. But she tried. She didn't know what had happened to bring such bliss to her siblings, but she owed it to them to wipe some of the pain from her eyes and at least attempt to look excited.

Susan rushed over, holding a piece of paper she'd retrieved from a writing table. "Look what arrived while you were out. A messenger brought it."

"A liveried messenger," Jane added. "He was terribly handsome."

"He was a servant," Lucas told her.

"That doesn't mean he wasn't handsome," she retorted.

Elizabeth felt herself smile. Listening to Lucas and Jane bicker was so wonderfully normal. Not like the rest of this god-awful evening. She took the paper from Susan and looked down.

And then her hands began to shake.

"Isn't it brilliant?" Susan asked, her blue eyes lighting with wonder. "Who would have thought?"

Elizabeth said nothing, trying to fight the rising tide of nausea in her stomach.

"Who do you think it could be?" Jane asked. "It must be someone so very lovely. The kindest, loveliest person in all the world."

"May I?" Blake murmured.

Silently, she handed him the paper. When she looked up, Susan, Jane, and Lucas were staring at her with bewildered expressions.

"Aren't you happy?" Jane whispered.

Blake gave her back the paper and she looked down again, as if another reading would somehow change the offending message.

Sir Lucas Hotchkiss,

Miss Hotchkiss,

Miss Susan Hotchkiss,

Miss Jane Hotchkiss,

It gives me great pleasure to inform you that your family is the recipient of this charitable anonymous bank draft, in the amount of £5000.

Further arrangements have been made by your benefactor for Sir Lucas to attend Eton. He should report to the school at the beginning of the next term.

Sincerely,

Geo. Shillingworth

Shillingworth and Son, Solicitors

It was from James. It had to be. She turned to Blake, unable to keep the hardness from her eyes.

"He only meant to help you," Blake said softly.

“It's insulting,'' she just barely managed to say. “How can I accept this? How could I possibly-"

He placed his hand on her arm. "You're overwrought. Perhaps if you consider this in the morning-"

"Of course I'm overwrought! I-" Elizabeth caught sight of her siblings' stricken faces and covered her mouth with her hand, horrified by her outburst.

Three pairs of blue eyes were darting between her face and that of Mr. Ravenscroft, whom they didn't even know, and-

Mr. Ravenscroft. She should introduce him to the children. They had to be upset enough over her reaction, and at the very least they should know who was standing in their parlor.

"Susan, Jane, Lucas," she said, trying to keep her voice even, "this is Mr. Ravenscroft. He is a friend of-" She swallowed. She'd almost said "Mr. Siddons," but that wasn't even his real name, was it? "He is a friend of Lady Danbury's," she finished. "And he was kind enough to see me home."

Her siblings mumbled their greetings, and Elizabeth turned to Blake and said, “Mr. Ravenscroft, these are-'' She broke off, eyes narrowing. “I say, it is Mr. Ravenscroft, isn't it? You're not hiding some sort of title as well, are you?"

Blake shook his head, a hint of a smile touching the corners of his lips. "A mere mister, I'm afraid, although if full disclosure is necessary, my father is a viscount.''

Elizabeth wanted to smile, knowing his comments were meant to amuse, but she just couldn't summon one up. Instead^ she turned to her siblings, and with a heavy heart, said, "We can't accept this."

"But-"

"We can't." Elizabeth didn't even know which of her siblings had voiced the objection, she jumped in so fast over the protest. "It is too much. We can't accept that kind of charity."

Jane apparently disagreed. "But don't you think whomever gave us the money wanted us to have it?"

Elizabeth swallowed against the lump in her throat. Who knew what James had intended? Was this all part of some grand scheme to mock her? After what he'd already done, who knew how his mind worked?

"I'm sure he did," she said carefully, "else it wouldn't be our names at the top of the letter. But that is irrelevant. We cannot accept this sort of money from a stranger."

"Maybe it's not a stranger," Susan said.

"Then that's even worse!" Elizabeth retorted. "My God, can you imagine? Some horrid person treating us like puppets, pulling our strings, thinking he can control our destiny? It's sick. Sick."

There was silence, followed by the most awful sound. Lucas, fighting back tears. He looked up at Elizabeth, his eyes heartbreakingly huge. "Does that mean I won't get to go to Eton?" he whispered.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. She tried to tell Lucas that he couldn't go, knew she had to tell him that they could not accept James's money, but the words just wouldn't come out.

She stood there, looking at her brother's trembling face. He was trying so hard to keep his upper lip stiff and not show his disappointment. His little arms were rigid sticks at his sides, and his chin was jutted out, as if keeping his jaw still would somehow stem his tears.

Elizabeth looked at him and saw the price of her pride.

"I don't know about Eton," she said, leaning down to embrace him. "Maybe we can still make it work."

But Lucas pulled back. "We can't afford it. You try so hard to hide it, but I know the truth. I can't go. I'm never going to be able to go."

"That's not true. Maybe this"-she motioned vaguely to the letter-"means something different." She smiled weakly. Her words were utterly without conviction, and even an eight-year-old-especially an eight-year-old- could tell she was lying.

Lucas's eyes fixed on hers for the most agonizing, longest moment of her life. And then he just swallowed and said, "I'm going to bed."

Elizabeth didn't even try to stop him. There was nothing she could say.

Jane followed without a word, her little blond braid somehow looking decidedly limp.

Elizabeth looked at Susan. "Do you hate me?"

Susan shook her head. "But I don't understand you."

"We can't accept this, Susan. We'd be indebted to our benefactor for the rest of our lives."

"But why does it matter? We don't even know who he is!"

"I won't be indebted to him," Elizabeth said fiercely. "I won't."

Susan drew back a step, her eyes growing wide. “You know who it is," she whispered. "You know who sent this."

"No," Elizabeth said, but they both knew she was lying.

"You do. And that's why you won't accept it."

"Susan, I won't discuss this further."

Susan backed away, grasping the doorframe when she reached the hall. "I'm going to comfort Lucas," she said. "He needs a shoulder to cry on."

Elizabeth winced.

"A rather direct hit," Blake murmured, once Susan was up the stairs.

Elizabeth turned. She'd completely forgotten he was there. "I beg your pardon?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't bear repeating."

She sank against the back of the sofa, her legs refusing to hold her up a single second longer. "It seems you've been privy to all my private moments this evening."

"Not all."

She smiled humorlessly. "I suppose you're going to go back to the marquis and tell him everything."

"No. I'll tell my wife everything, but not James."

Elizabeth looked at him with confusion. "Then what will you tell him?"

Blake shrugged as he headed for the door. "That he's an idiot if he lets you go. But I suspect he knows that already."

Elizabeth woke up the following morning, knowing it was going to be a hideous day. There was no one she wanted to see, absolutely no one she had any desire to speak to, and that included herself.

She didn't want to face her siblings and their disappointed faces. She didn't want to see the Ravenscrofts- total strangers who had witnessed her utter and complete humiliation. She refused to visit Lady Danbury; she didn't think she could spend the day in the countess's company without breaking down in tears and asking her how she could have participated in James's deception.

And she certainly didn't want to see James.

She rose, dressed, then just sat on her bed. A strange malaise had come over her. The previous day had been so exhausting in every way; her feet, her mind, her heart-everything refused to work now. She'd be happy if she could just sit there on the bed, not seeing anyone, not doing anything, for a week.

Well, not happy. Happy was a stretch. But what she was feeling was certainly better than what she'd be feeling if someone knocked on the door and-

Knock-knock.

Elizabeth looked up. "Just once," she grumbled at the ceiling, "just once couldn't You grant me one small favor?" She stood, took a step, then looked up again, her features slipping into a decidedly disgruntled expression. "As favors go, this one would have been very small."

She yanked open the door. Susan was standing in the hall, her hand raised to knock again. Elizabeth didn't say anything, mostly because she had a feeling she wouldn't be proud of her tone of voice if she did.

"You've a visitor," Susan said.

"I don't want to see him."

"It's not a 'him.' "

Elizabeth's entire face jutted forward in surprise. "It's not?"

"No." Susan held out a creamy white calling card. "She seems a rather nice lady."

Elizabeth looked down, absently noticing that the card was made of the finest, most expensive of papers.

Mrs. Blake Ravenscroft

"I assume she's the wife of the man we met yesterday?" Susan asked.

"Yes. Her name is Caroline." Elizabeth ran her hand through her hair, which she hadn't even managed to pin up yet. "She's a very nice person, but truly, I'm not up to visitors just now, and-''

"Pardon," Susan interrupted, "but I don't think she'll leave."

"I'm sorry?"

"I believe her exact words were, 'I imagine she doesn't want visitors, but I'm happy to wait until she feels otherwise.' Then she sat down, pulled out a book-"

"Dear God, it wasn't HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS, was it?"

"No, it was black, actually, and I think it must have been some sort of journal because she started to write in it. But as I was saying," Susan added, "then she looked up at me and said, 'You needn't worry. I can entertain myself.' "

"She said that?"

Susan nodded and shrugged. "So I'm not worrying. She seems perfectly happy to scribble in her book. I did put a pot of tea on, though, just for good manners."

"She's really not going to leave, is she?"

Susan shook her head. "She seems a most stubborn woman. I don't think she's going to leave until she sees you. I wouldn't be surprised if she brought a change of clothing."

"I suppose I had better dress my hair and go down," Elizabeth said with a sigh.

Susan reached over to Elizabeth's small vanity table and picked up a hairbrush. "I'll help you."

Elizabeth assumed this was a ploy to get information out of her; Susan had never offered to dress her hair before. But the bristly brush felt so nice on her scalp, Elizabeth decided just to go along with it. It was a rare moment indeed when someone waited upon her.

Elizabeth counted the swipes the brush made through her hair before Susan started asking questions. One swipe, two swipes, three swipes, four-ah, she paused slightly before the fifth, she must be getting ready for something…

"Does Mrs. Ravenscroft's visit have anything to do with the events of last night?'' Susan asked.

Five swipes. Elizabeth was impressed. She'd never thought Susan would last past three.

Susan pulled the brush through Elizabeth's hair again. "Lizzie? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sure I don't know the reason for Mrs. Ravenscroft's visit," Elizabeth lied.

"Hmmph."

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

"Give me that!" Elizabeth snatched the brush away from her sister. "And the hairpins, too. I don't trust you with any sharp objects."

Susan stepped back, crossed her arms, and frowned.

"It's difficult to concentrate with you glowering at me like that," Elizabeth muttered.

"Good."

"Susan Mary Hotchkiss!"

"Don't talk to me like you're my mother."

Elizabeth let out a long, weary breath, rubbing her hand over her brow. The morning only needed this. "Susan," she said quietly, "I will tell you what you need to know when I am able."

Susan stared at her for several moments, apparently weighing her words.

"That's the best I can do," Elizabeth added, jabbing the last hairpin into her coiffure. "So you might as well exhibit a bit of grace and try to understand my position."

Susan nodded, her eyes darkened with a touch of contrition. She stepped out of the way as Elizabeth exited the room, then she followed her down the stairs.

Caroline was perched on the sofa in the sitting room, scribbling away in a leather-bound notebook when Elizabeth entered.

At the sound of footsteps, Caroline looked up. "You're not terribly surprised to see me, I expect."

Elizabeth smiled very slightly. "I wasn't expecting you, but now that you're here, no, I cannot say I'm surprised."

Caroline snapped her book shut. "Blake told me everything."

"Yes, he said he would. I-" Elizabeth stopped, twisted her neck to look over her shoulder, and glared at Susan, who was loitering in the doorway. Susan made haste to depart after such a glower, but Elizabeth turned to her guest nonetheless and said, "Would you care to walk along the lane? I can't anticipate the nature of your conversation, but if you desire privacy, I strongly suggest we adjourn outside."

Caroline laughed. "I love families. They're so perfectly nosy." She stood, supporting her lower back as she did so. "I'm sure you wish yours in Greece right now-or farther!-but I never had a family growing up, and I can tell you it's lovely to have someone so interested that they want to eavesdrop."

"I suppose that depends on one's mood," Elizabeth allowed.

Caroline patted her stomach. "It's part of the reason I'm so looking forward to this child. I haven't a family behind me, so I might as well create one for the future."

They walked out the front door and strolled away from the house, Caroline still holding onto her little black book. When they were out of sight of the cottage, Caroline turned to Elizabeth and said, "I hope you do not feel insulted by James's actions regarding the bank draft."

"I don't see how else I might feel,"

Caroline looked as if she had a suggestion, but she closed her mouth, gave her head a tiny shake, and then continued in a different vein. "Perhaps he arranged for the bank draft because he didn't want you to feel forced into marrying against your heart."

Elizabeth said nothing.

"I'm sure I don't know the entire story," Caroline continued, "but I've been trying to piece it together as best as I am able, and I believe that you felt you had to marry well to support your family."

Elizabeth nodded sadly, "We have nothing. I can barely feed them."

"I'm certain James just wanted to give you the freedom to choose whom you wanted. Maybe even to choose a lowly estate manager."

Elizabeth's head whipped around to face her. "No," she said in a low, shaking voice, "he never wanted that."

"Didn't he? When I spoke to you before the party, it sounded as if you and your estate manager were nearing an agreement."

Elizabeth caught her lower lip between her teeth. When James had been plain Mr. Siddons, he had never mentioned marriage, but he had vowed that they would find a way to be together. Elizabeth had assumed his words were sincere, but how was she to trust such words when his very identity had been a lie?

Caroline cleared her throat. "I don't think you should accept James's charity."

"Then you understand how I feel-"

"I think you should marry him."

"He made a fool of me, Caroline."

"I don't think that was his intention."

"It was certainly the outcome."

"Why do you think that?" And then before Elizabeth could answer, Caroline added, "I don't think you're a fool. I know Blake doesn't. And James certainly-"

"May we please stop talking about James?"

"Very well. I suppose we might as well return to your home, then." Caroline reached behind her and placed a supporting hand on her lower back. "I don't seem to have my usual energy these days." Then she held out her black book, asking, “Would you mind holding this?''

"Certainly. Is it a journal?"

"Of a sorts. It's my personal dictionary. When I come across a new word, I like to jot it down, along with its definition. Then, of course, I must use it in context, or I will certainly forget it."

"How interesting," Elizabeth murmured. "I should give it a try."

Caroline nodded. "I wrote about you last night."

"You did?"

She nodded again. "It's right there on the last page. The last page I've written on, that is. Go ahead. I don't mind if you've a look at it."

Elizabeth flipped through the pages until she reached the last entry. It read:

in*ex*or*a*ble (adjective). Relentless; unyielding; implacable.

I fear that James will prove inexorable in his pursuit of Miss Hotchkiss.

"I fear it, too," Elizabeth muttered.

"Well, 'I fear' was really just a phrase," Caroline hastened to explain. "I certainly don't fear it. In fact, if I am to be completely honest, I should have written that I hoped James would prove inexorable."

Elizabeth looked at her new friend and fought the urge to groan. "Maybe we should just go home."

"Very well, but if I might make one last point-"

"If it has to do with James, I'd really rather you didn't."

"It does, but I promise it's the last. You see…" Caroline paused to scratch her chin, smiled sheepishly, then said, "I do this when I'm stalling for time."

Elizabeth motioned with her hand toward the road home, and they began to walk. "I'm sure you're going to tell me that James is a perfectly lovely man, and-''

"No, I wasn't going to say that at all," Caroline interrupted. "He's perfectly insufferable, but you will have to trust me when I tell you that that is the best sort of man."

"The kind you can't live with?"

"No, the kind you can't live without. And if you love him-"

"I don't."

"You do. I can see it in your eyes."

"I don't."

Caroline waved her protest away. "You do. You just don't realize it yet."

"Caroline!"

"What I was trying to say is that even though James did a perfectly awful thing by not telling you his true identity, he did have his reasons, and none of them had anything to do with humiliating you. Of course," Caroline added with a nod of her head, “I realize that is easy for me to say, since I am not the one who took marquis-marrying lessons from a marquis…"

Elizabeth winced.

"But his intentions were honorable, I am sure of it. And once you get over your anger-your very valid and well-deserved anger"-Caroline looked over at Elizabeth to make certain she heard that part-"you will realize that you will be miserable without him in your life."

Elizabeth tried to ignore her words, because she had a sinking suspicion that they were more accurate than she would have liked.

"Not to mention," Caroline continued blithely, "that / will be miserable without you in my life. I know no females my age besides Blake's sister, and she's off in the West Indies with her husband."

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile, but she was saved from further reply when she noticed that the front door of her cottage was open. She turned to Caroline and asked, "Didn't we shut that behind us?"

"I thought we did."

It was then they heard the thump.

Followed by the bellow for tea.

Followed by a decidedly feline howl.

"Oh, no," Elizabeth groaned. "Lady Danbury."