Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice (25 page)

“Come, Mr. Cruikshank,” she said as she took his arm. “I shall lead you back to the carriage if you are done with your shopping for today.”

Colin stepped aside, swept his hat from his head, and executed a deep bow. When he looked up, the pair had vanished. He had not expected to see her out and about with a blind man, had thought himself safe from seeing her again. Shaken by the encounter, he made his way slowly to the counter and attempted to remember why he had ventured out of the house that morning.

“Ah, Mr. Lloyd-Jones?” the shop owner, from whom Colin had purchased Cecily’s wedding ring in addition to a few other sundries, greeted him. “How might I help you today?”

“It is ironic, is it not, that I came for a ring very much like the one you have just sold. Suddenly, however, it seems thoroughly undesirable. I think I should like a hoop of garnets, instead.”

As the shop owner moved to another case to find an example of what Colin requested, he scrutinized the case that contained the object Elizabeth had pointed to through the glass. It couldn’t have been a ring since that had been already selected and placed on the counter for her inspection. His search produced a tray of brooches, all suitable for the preservation of a lock of hair curled inside the setting in place of jewels.

“Might I also inspect this tray of brooches?” Colin asked.

“Yes, indeed,” the proprietor said as he produced the tray requested. “Oh, pardon me, this one,” he explained as he drew the largest one from the tray, “has been sold.”

“Might I ask if it was to the young lady who was just in the shop.”

“Yes! Are you acquainted with her? Well! She was forced to write me a note as her intended is quite, quite blind. She wishes to have a lock of her hair set in the brooch that I assume she intends to present to him as a wedding gift. I should think a brooch a bit inappropriate for a man to sport on his coat but perhaps it is only intended for a keepsake.”

“Yes, I am persuaded you are correct,” Colin said with a frozen smile. “Thank you. As for the
ring, I have thought better of it.” He could only imagine how Elizabeth’s sensibilities might be injured if Analisa were to sport such a ring, one grander than a wedding ring and presented to her by her brother. It would not do. With a tip of his hat, he quit the shop and made his weary way home again.

Chapter Fourteen

“Elizabeth, my love,” her mother crooned from the passage outside her daughter’s chamber door. “A package has arrived for you.”

“So soon?” she cried as she drew open the door and looked about for the expected parcel from the jeweler’s. “But, where is it?”

“In the front hall, of course,” her mother said, her eyes bright with curiosity. “It is far too large to traipse it up the stairs.”

“I am astonished!” Elizabeth replied as they moved down the stairs as quickly as their skirts allowed. “I hadn’t expected anything to arrive today but my wedding ring from the jeweler’s.” The additional purchase of the brooch she abstained from mentioning.

The contents of the package were made immediately known to her the moment she saw it. “It is the painting that hung in Mr. Lloyd-Jones’ dining room,” she explained, her heart sinking. Though she would treasure the painting for the rest of her life, she had cherished the notion that it would be treasured, instead, by Mr. Lloyd-Jones. Perhaps he did not wish to be put in mind of her; the thought make her heart sink even lower.

“How marvelous!” her mother exclaimed as she read the accompanying card. “And how thoughtful! He could not fail to note how much you admired it and now he has sent it to you as a wedding gift.”

“Yes, I suppose that must be true.” Elizabeth pulled enough brown paper from the frame to verify that it was, indeed, the same painting and restrained a sob.

“Elizabeth, my dear, are you quite all right?” her mother asked.

“Yes, of course. It’s only that I suppose I felt that Mr. Lloyd-Jones held me in higher regard.”

“Foolish girl! This is a most generous gift, so generous as to be nearly exceptional.”

“I daresay you are most correct, Mama. It’s only that I had hoped he would keep it, as a
remembrance of me.”

Mrs. Armistead cocked her head and gave her daughter a piercing look. “I do believe there is more to this painting than I can know. However, it seems to me a selfish notion to wish him to pine after you. Is that what you truly want, my dear?”

“Why should he pine after me, Mama? We are only friends, just as are I and Miss Analisa.”

“Elizabeth! You know I do not believe a word of that! I should be surprised if any but Mr. Cruikshank did. It is a blessing he is blind or he should see the truth, as well.”

“Mother, what a thing to say!” Elizabeth admonished as she dropped her face into her hands and began to weep. “I suppose it is true that I love him, just a little,” she said tearfully. “And I suppose he loves me, just a little, as well.”

“Just a little? If it is true that it rains just a little in India during the monsoon season, well then of course the two of you love one another ‘just a little’!”

“Oh, Mama!” Elizabeth cried. “You make it sound as if we meant to fall in love!”

Her mother draped an arm across her daughter’s shoulders and held her close. “There, there, my darling, it shall all come out all right in the end, you shall see.”

“But I don’t see! I have made a promise, one which I must keep or Mr. Cruikshank shall suffer. I cannot be held accountable for such an evil.”

Elizabeth was shaken from her tears with the ringing of the front bell. She stepped back into the shadows of the hall in the case it was Mr. Lloyd-Jones; she had no wish to see him at the moment. Andrews opened the door and closed it again almost immediately, a small parcel in his hand.

“That should be your delivery from the jeweler’s!” her mother exclaimed.

“I will share its contents, Mama, but not just yet,” Elizabeth instructed as she took the parcel and headed up the stairs. “It is only a simple wedding ring, nothing overly-exciting.”

“Very well, then, dear, I shall wait,” her mother said on a rising sigh.

Elizabeth, all of her attention trained on the parcel in her hand, did not reply. She had not
expected the brooch to have been completed nearly so soon and was anxious to ascertain whether or not it had arrived with the ring. The moment she had shut the door behind her, she tore away the paper with shaking hands to reveal a small blue box. Inside were two smaller boxes, the smallest of which she placed on her dressing table. She opened the other to reveal the longed-for brooch, the lock of her beloved’s hair curled tight and affixed into the setting.

With trembling fingers, she pinned the brooch to the silk bag that once contained the lock and placed it on the dressing table where she might admire it from a distance. She had not intended to don it until the time came when the only other eyes to fall upon it were too weak or sightless to divine its presence. Now that she gazed upon it, however, she could not bear to be parted from it.

Deciding that she might always claim the lock of hair to be the relic of a dear departed loved one, she set about finding a means to wear it that very night. She was to attend the Scott-Montgomery’s musicale so it was quite unexceptionable to choose a gown that boasted a bit more bodice than most of her ball gowns. She chose a bronze silk gown with a gold underdress adorned with ruched bishop sleeves and affixed the brooch to it. In this manner, she hoped to avoid unwelcome questions as to its origins from the maid when she came to help her mistress dress for the evening.

Next was the question of the nosegay of white roses Duncan had insisted on purchasing for her after they had left the jewelry shop. It also waited on her dressing table in anticipation of making up some part of her ensemble and she decided that they would do best in her hair. It would never do for Duncan to mistakenly tumble into her decolletage whilst attempting to smell the roses.

Of course, going out meant they might possibly encounter the Lloyd-Joneses but Elizabeth presumed they would choose a ball, an entertainment she was not likely to ever again attend, rather than a restrained musical evening. In that assumption, however, she was disappointed.

Her first inkling of danger was when their carriage, containing herself, Duncan, her mama, Katherine and Aunt Augusta, entered the gates of Scott-Montgomery House. Rather than a townhouse that sat in close proximity to its neighbors, this was an enormous Georgian estate that stood quite alone
at the end of a long drive. The front garden was ablaze with a plethora of full length torches set alongside a variety of water features that magnified the firelight to great effect. Amongst it all, people promenaded in surprising numbers. There seemed to be more people outside than Elizabeth had anticipated would attend in total and she was assailed with a frisson of apprehension. It looked to be the event of the season and she suspected that the Lloyd-Joneses would be expected to put in an appearance at the very least.

“What is the matter with you, lass?” Duncan asked as they walked through the gardens to the house. “You seem to be in a bit of a dither.”

“It is nothing, really,” she replied as she looked about her for any sign of Mr. Lloyd-Jones or his sister. “It is just that there are so many torches; I needs must be wary on my own account as well as yours.”

“I am indebted to you, as always,” he said smoothly.

The notion of ‘always’ was one with which Elizabeth was having difficulty coming to terms and she felt herself frown. She was grateful he could not read the expression on her face and not for the first time. He expressed a great number of opinions with which she did not concur and did so in so grating a manner that she found it difficult to remember what the two of them held in common. How she had ever thought she loved this man enough to marry him was beyond her, but she had made her bed and now she must lie in it.

“Is it a very large gathering?” he asked as they entered the house and were met with the low hum of distant conversation. “It sounds as if there is a great deal of people in attendance.”

“I am persuaded you are correct but I could not say how accurate until we have entered the room where the guests have been gathered.”

“‘Tis a pity there are so many guests,” her mother remarked. “They have doubtless been forced to set up the musicians in the ballroom. It is such a shame as this house contains the loveliest music room. I had been greatly anticipating spending the evening there.”

“Never fear,” Aunt Augusta replied. “The Scott-Montgomerys are possessed of the most exquisite taste. I daresay they have fitted out the ballroom with every comfort.”

“Well, I find I don’t give a pin as to what room we are in or even to what music we are treated,” Katherine remarked. “I find it is the prospect of encountering Mr. Lloyd-Jones that has me in a state of sweet trepidity.”

Elizabeth should have liked to agree and was overcome with the knowledge that it would ever be thus for as long as she and Mr. Lloyd-Jones were in the same vicinity. Promptly she decided that the yearly visits to London Duncan had promised her upon their engagement needs must be sacrificed if she were to have any peace of mind. And yet, she strained her neck as she turned her head this way and that in hopes of discovering Mr. Lloyd-Jones and with every bit as much anticipation as Katherine.

“What is it, love?” Duncan asked. “It seems as if your head is bobbin’ up and down like a cork in the water.”

“I am merely curious to see what I might of the house. It is excessively beautiful; there are paintings and statues and any manner of sights to see everywhere one looks.”

“It canna be as beautiful as the views from our cottage in Scotland.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Cruikshank,” Aunt Augusta huffed. “The ocean is blue, the sky is blue, or rather, most days they will both be gray. The mind requires variety, color, does it not, Hortense?”

“I should like to comply, Augusta, but I do not wish to disparage my daughter’s future home.”

“Lady Augusta,” Duncan said, “you might find your opinion has undergone a change once you have seen it for yourself. We hope that you shall often come to visit us.”

Aunt Augusta rolled her eyes but grunted her assent.

“Well, I say it hardly matters,” Katherine remarked. “We are here, now, and it is quite, quite beautiful and I am positively decided that I shall not go back to India!”

“Your mother shall miss you sadly if you do not,” Elizabeth’s mother said mournfully.

Elizabeth swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and considered what her mother had said. Whilst still in Bengal, Elizabeth and Duncan had discussed the fact that his mother would be in the house to give her company. At the time, it seemed a lovely notion but Elizabeth’s mother now seemed irreplaceable. She could not think how she should manage without her.

When they finally made their way up the stairs and into the vast ballroom, Elizabeth was astonished by its grandeur. The room was positively brilliant with more chandeliers than she could hope to count over the heads of an enormous throng of people. If the Lloyd-Joneses were indeed in attendance, it would require a miracle simply to spot them.

Suddenly a chord was struck by the hand of an unseen musician and a hush fell over the crowd.

“I do believe it is best if we were to take up a seat for the duration,” Aunt Augusta directed in a low voice. Wordlessly, the party of five took up the closest unoccupied chairs they could find. Others all around were doing the same and within a matter of moments, the milling throng had become a seated audience.

“It is astonishing that anyone should be possessed of so many chairs,” Elizabeth’s mama murmured. “Though, as I can see, there are a number of sofas close to the front, as well. I suppose those went to whosoever arrived on time,” she added with a lift of her brow for her daughter who had insisted that they arrive fashionably late.

Curious as to who had demonstrated such bad ton as to arrive early, Elizabeth scanned the back of the heads of those fortunate souls who were not made to endure a hard chair at the back of the ballroom. However, the little she could see was not very illuminating and she transferred her attention to the actions of the musicians who were warming up.