The Masquerade (7 page)

Lizzie felt terribly faint. “No,” she whispered.

“Oh, yes!” Mama cried, clapping her hands. “Tyrell de Warenne is taken with you!”

Lizzie gave Georgie a pleading look, incapable now of speech.

Her sister stepped forward. “Mama, there must have been a mistake. We all know Lord Tyrell is very fond of
extreme beauty. There were many pirates at the ball. I do not think we should read too much into what Mrs. Holiday has said.”

“Nonsense!” Mama said flatly. “Tomorrow at noon we are going up to the house to call on the countess.”

Lizzie cried out.

“And I do not want to hear a single protest from you,” Mama said with a warning look. “Or from anyone, and I mean it.”

“I can’t,” Lizzie whispered, about to suffocate from dread. No nightmare could be worse! Mama intended to march her daughters up to Adare and embarrass the entire family. Lizzie already wished to die of shame. Worse, Tyrell would somehow appear, Lizzie just knew it, and he would not recognize her. Oh, no, he would look at her dumpy figure and spectacles and there would be no interest, nothing at all.

And Mama would do something terribly humiliating, she always did. She would present Lizzie in one way or another, hinting at the prospect of marriage. Lizzie was ready to curl up and die.

“Tomorrow at noon,” Mama commanded. “I shall not change my mind.”

“Mama, I cannot do this,” Lizzie pleaded frantically.

“Of course you can!” Mama went to her and patted her shoulder as if that gesture could soothe her. “We must thank the countess for her hospitality, must we not?”

Lizzie moaned and turned to look at Georgie for help.

She stepped firmly forward. “Mama,” Georgie said in a calm, sensible tone. “We have never called on the countess before. We have always sent a very proper thank-you note. I rather think we should stick to tradition.”

“I am starting a new tradition,” Mama said.

“Mama, Georgie is right. And perhaps the countess will be indisposed,” Lizzie pleaded frantically. But she knew that no amount of begging would change Mama’s mind.

“If she is indisposed, we will call again the next day.” Mama smiled at her.

Georgie shook her head. “Mama, I know what you are wishing. You hope that Lizzie will snag Tyrell de Warenne. But it is impossible. They are too far above us. Even though he evinced an interest in her, he did not know who she was. A de Warenne is not about to marry a Fitzgerald.”

“May I be excused?” Anna suddenly asked.

“Aren’t you excited for your sister?” Mama asked.

Anna nodded. “Yes, I am very excited for Lizzie, but I am ill, Mama. I feel poorly, and I cannot go.” And with that, she turned and went up the stairs, not waiting for permission to do so.

Surprised by such odd behavior, Mama was, for once, speechless.

Lizzie was too miserable to react to Anna. “Mama, please do not do this. There has been a terrible mistake. Tyrell de Warenne did not pursue me. I would know if he had! Please do not make me go up to the house!”

“I am going to get ready for supper,” Mama said pleasantly, as if she had not heard. About to ascend the stairs, she paused. “Oh, and Lizzie? Do wear the green-sprigged dress with the green silk pelisse. Green is one of your best colors!” She smiled then. “And frankly, it is for the best that Anna is ill, don’t you agree? We really don’t need her with us when we call upon the countess.”

Dumbfounded, Lizzie watched Mama disappear up the stairs. She did not turn as Georgie came and put her arm around her. “Oh, dear,” Georgie murmured. “I do not think there is a way to get out of this situation.”

“What am I going to do? Mama will embarrass us all, and if Tyrell appears—” Lizzie felt her cheeks flush with heat. She could not go on.

“Perhaps you can become ill?”

“Mama will never let me off the hook, not even if I were really sick!” Lizzie cried.

“We need a miracle,” Georgie decided.

Lizzie moaned. She did not believe in miracles, oh, no.

But the next day changed her beliefs entirely, for not only was the countess not in residence, but the entire family had left the estate the previous afternoon. Even now, they were en route for London. No plans had been made for their return.

Amazed at her good fortune, Lizzie could only hope that Mama’s interests would turn elsewhere before they returned.

It was a cold, rainy November day. Lizzie had been about to clean the parlor when the novel she had ordered from a Dublin bookstore arrived. Her broom still in hand, she tore the wrapper from the parcel, grinning when she saw the title.
Sense and Sensibility.
Her chores forgotten, Lizzie sat down, instantly beginning to read.

She had no idea how long she sat there, immersed in the romance, but she had read several chapters when she heard the sound of a horse and carriage outside. Lizzie was jerked back to reality. Closing the book, she went to the window and winced when she saw the bulky figure of Peter Harold alighting from the carriage.

He had called upon Georgie each and every week of that month, much to Lizzie’s dismay. Georgie seemed resigned, although she spoke little in his company, a firm smile in place, allowing him to hold up an endless monologue. Lizzie went to the kitchen. “Georgie, Mr. Harold is here.”

Georgie had been plucking a chicken. Now she stilled and slowly looked up.

It hurt Lizzie to see her sister so resigned. “Let me send him away,” Lizzie cried. “I will tell him you are in love with some radical young man from Dublin!”

Georgie went to the sink, removing her apron as she did so. “He is my only suitor, Lizzie. And even you have heard Mama complaining about how hard it is for her to breathe.”

“Dr. Ryan said she is in a fine constitution,” Lizzie objected. “I am beginning to wonder if these spells of hers aren’t a means of forcing you to her will.”

Georgie left the sink. “I have wondered that myself, but does it really matter? We all thought Anna would be engaged by now, and she isn’t. We are five mouths to feed and it is simply too great a burden for our parents. Someone has to do the deed, don’t you agree?”

Lizzie scowled as Mr. Harold knocked on the front door. “Anna will be wed before summer. She merely needs to set her sights on one of her suitors.”

“Anna is flighty,” Georgie said, dropping her tone as she spoke. She hesitated and added, “Mr. Harold confessed to me that he makes a profit of five hundred a year.”

Lizzie blinked. That was a fine sum, indeed! “But he sells wine,” she tried, “and he isn’t even a Protestant, he is a Dissenter.”

Georgie left the kitchen. “That may be so, but at least his political views are not offensive.”

Lizzie was on her heels. “He has no political views!” She had witnessed Georgie’s attempts to draw him into political conversation, but all he could say was that the war was good for his business—not that he was a warmonger, but wine prices had never been better.

Georgie ignored her, plastering a smile on her face as she opened the front door. Lizzie turned away, downcast but not resigned to her sister’s fate.

As the chill days of November were replaced by the frigid cold of winter, an amazing twist of fate occurred. For in early December, a handsome young British soldier appeared at the Fitzgerald door to call upon Anna. Lieutenant Thomas Morely was stationed outside of Cork, but apparently he had met Anna at the All Hallow’s Eve ball and had been writing to her ever since—which explained the dreamy smile she had been wearing for some time. Having a week’s leave, he remained in Limerick the entire time, calling upon her each and every day. Mama quickly made some inquiries and learned that he came from a fine old family and that his pension was eight hundred pounds a year. Anna could live well on such a sum. And there was no doubt that the young lieutenant was seriously courting Anna. Lizzie crossed her fingers, hoping for the best, aware that this might alleviate the pressure on Georgie. When Thomas returned to his regiment, Anna wept and then moped about the house for a week.

And then Thomas Morely returned on Christmas Eve.

“Anna!” Lizzie exclaimed from where she stood at the window, watching the lanky blond officer dismounting. “Hurry, it is Lieutenant Morely!”

They were in the parlor. Anna had been sewing and she froze, turning white. Then she leapt to her feet, her needlework forgotten. “Are you certain, Lizzie? Is it truly Thomas?”

Lizzie nodded, thrilled for her sister.

Anna cried out and fled upstairs to change her gown and make certain every strand of hair was in its place. That night, Lieutenant Morely proposed.

At the announcement of their engagement to the family, a champagne bottle was uncorked. Anna and Thomas held hands, both flushed with pleasure, and there were smiles all around. “To a long, joyous union,” Papa declared, lifting his glass. “And to a peaceful one.” He winked at Lizzie.

Lizzie could not help herself and rushed to Anna, crushing her in a bear hug. “I am so happy for you,” she said, and she realized she was crying with joy. “But I am going to miss you terribly when you are wed!”

Anna began to cry, too. “And I shall miss you, and Georgie, and everyone! Thomas’s home is in Derbyshire, and I shall insist you come to visit every year.” She turned to her fiancé. “Will you mind?”

“I will never mind anything you ever do,” Thomas said gallantly. Lizzie knew he was besotted and that he meant his every word. He could not take his eyes off his fiancée.

“Oh, this is such a fine day,” Mama declared, wiping her eyes with a linen handkerchief. “Oh, Georgina May, I am praying now that you are next.”

Georgie stiffened. Lizzie looked at her. That morning, Mr. Harold had dropped off a Christmas gift for her, a sure sign of his intentions, as he had given her a beautiful lace mantilla. Georgie somehow smiled, but it was false.

Lieutenant Morely left the next day, promising to write every week. And shortly after the New Year, the gossip reached them.

The earl of Adare was in negotiations to affiance his eldest son to an English heiress from a politically powerful family, in a match that would be a highly advantageous one.

Georgie took her aside that afternoon. It was driz
zling, a damp and gray winter day. “Are you all right?” she asked with concern.

Lizzie felt ill. Yet she had no delusions. She knew she would never have another encounter with Tyrell de Warenne like the one at the ball. Still, she felt as if she had been shot in the chest. “I am fine,” she said miserably.

“Lizzie, you must let him go. He is not for you.”

“I know,” Lizzie said. But how could she forget him when she continued to dream about him every night, when he would interrupt her thoughts even in the daytime, setting her body on fire? “I want him to be happy,” she whispered, and that much was so true.

Anna’s wedding was scheduled for early September, and Mama threw herself into the plans with utter relish. It was finally decided that the wedding would take place in Derbyshire. Anna was clearly in love and had never seemed happier. But one night late in the month, Lizzie woke up in real confusion, for in bed beside her, her sister lay sobbing.

“Anna?” She reached for her. “Dear, what is it? Is it a dream?”

Anna instantly leapt from the bed, rushing over to the hearth, where a small fire crackled. It was a moment before she spoke, and in that moment, Lizzie could hear her ragged breathing. “Yes,” she said on a sob. “It was a dream, a terrible dream. I am sorry to wake you, Lizzie!”

Lizzie had a strange feeling that Anna was not telling her the truth, but she let it go until later in the week. On a bright, terribly cold February morning, she found Anna walking outside, wrapped in her coat, her head down. Her posture was odd. Alarmed, Lizzie quickly threw a shawl over her shoulders and hurried outside, shivering. “Anna? What are you doing? It’s too cold to be outside,” she called. “You’ll catch an ague!”

Anna did not answer, walking away, her steps quickening.

Now truly alarmed, Lizzie rushed after her. She seized her arm. “Didn’t you hear me?” she asked, pulling her around. And she gasped at the sight of Anna’s tear-streaked face. “Oh, what is it?” Instantly, she hugged her sister.

Anna let her embrace her, seeming incapable of speech.

“Anna?” Lizzie stepped back. “What has happened? Is it Thomas?”

Anna shook her head. “No, Thomas is fine,” she whispered miserably.

Lizzie stared. If Thomas was fine, then what was this? Anna was a woman in love, planning her wedding. “Please tell me what is wrong. I know you were crying last night and that it was not from a nightmare.”

Anna was shaking and Lizzie did not think it was from the bitter cold. More tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do. I am doomed,” she said in a hushed tone. And then she began to sob against her hand as if her very heart was breaking.

Lizzie put her arm around her, filled with worry. “Come, dear, let us go inside. We can speak about this in the parlor and—”

“No!” Anna cried, her eyes wide with fear. “There is nothing to talk about, Lizzie! My life is over!” She bent over double, sobbing in raw pain.

Lizzie had never been more afraid in her life. Putting her arm around her, she somehow led her to the gazebo behind the house and inside, to a bench. She forced her sobbing sister to sit and sat beside her, holding her hands. “Are you ill?” she asked quietly, fighting for calm.

Anna looked up at her. “I am with child,” she said.

Lizzie was sure she had misheard. “I beg your pardon?”

“I am with child,” Anna repeated, bursting into sobs again.

Lizzie did not think she had ever been more shocked. As Anna wept, she held her hand and tried to think. “Your life is not over. You love Thomas and these things do happen. When is the child due?” Still, it was hard to believe that her sister had allowed Thomas such liberties before their wedding.

Not looking up, Anna said, “In July.”

The wedding was set for September 5.

“Oh, what am I going to do!” Anna cried.

The utter severity of the situation assailed Lizzie then. The baby was due shortly before the wedding. Anna could be utterly ruined, every decent door in society closed to her. She swallowed, almost numb now with the immensity of the crisis they faced. And then a solution dawned. “You will simply move the wedding up, perhaps to May. Of course, you will go away to have the child, and only you and Thomas—and myself—will ever know the truth.” She smiled then, but Anna stared at her with such a stricken look that she felt her smile fail. Dread prevailed. Slowly she said, “You haven’t told Thomas?”