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“If it is any consolation to you, Lady Elizabeth,” came Patience’s voice through her growing sorrow, “you look absolutely beautiful.”
Elizabeth smiled, her unconscious reaction to such a compliment even though she didn’t feel it. Taken at face value, she might have some charm to her appearance. But underneath the sleeves and the shawls she constantly wore were thick, puffy scars that marred whatever beauty remained. The scars seemed to have cut straight to her core, to have stolen the last bit of herself she had left. Day by day, and especially when the phantom pain flared, she was reminded of how foolish, useless, and broken she was.
So, she would always wear gloves to hide the scratches on her knuckles, wrist, and the scar on her upper arm. She would always wear a shawl to keep the scar on her left collarbone from showing. And though her gown hid the one on her side, it was a constant reminder of that terrible day. Her father’s best physicians could not have prevented the scarring no matter what they did, simply because of how her skin reacted. Instead of fading to a thin white line as they’d expected, they had flared and grown.
Every time Elizabeth thought about it, her gut twisted. It was partly the reason why she did not want to think about marriage, because she couldn’t imagine showing such insecurities any other soul.
To change the topic, Elizabeth said, “I wonder what he is like.”
Patience frowned a little. Her wariness was understandably considering Elizabeth had not been very happy about returning to London for the Season in the first place.
“You do?” Patience asked incredulously, watching Elizabeth come to a stand.
She didn’t, but talking about it helped her forget that fateful day. “I have never met him, you know,” she went on, as she approached the door of her bedchamber, Patience on her heels. “Do you think he will be handsome?”
“I am unsure.” Patience still sounded a bit wary. Elizabeth had spent the past few days so dreading this dinner that to hear her talk about it now was certainly unusual. “Considering the speed at which everything happened, I would not be surprised if that hadn’t been taken into account during the arrangements.”
“I hope that he is,” Elizabeth lied. She didn’t care, but delving into this conversation might make her forget about the scars. At least, for a while. “It might make this entire ordeal easier to deal with.”
Patience hung her head dramatically. “Why do I doubt your words?”
“Because you know me better than anyone else in this house,” Elizabeth responded without hesitation. That was the truth.
Patience took her hand. In that moment, their respective statuses fell away. They were no longer a lady and her maid but a friend caring for another. “I understand the position you are in, but it does not mean this gentleman is the one you are meant to be with.”
After so many years, my true love has yet to appear so who then am I meant to be with?
“Then shall I say that to my betrothed tonight?” Elizabeth asked, but her jest fell flat. “Shall I let him know that my heart has belonged to another nearly all my life?”
“Not unless you are hoping for your father to collapse from shock,” Patience teased. Elizabeth giggled at that.
Patience always knew how to make her feel better. Since she’d received the news of her forced betrothal, only a month after returning to London, Elizabeth had been quite depressed. She knew her father only wanted to ensure she would be taken care of once he was gone, especially considering her dowry and inheritance was not very substantial and a decent match would certainly aid in Elizabeth’s future comfort. But Patience had stayed by her side, encouraging her to continue her search on one front while making sure she did not alarm her father on the other.
“Only one evening,” Patience said again, returning her hand to her side as they continued down the hall. “Then, you can express your concerns to Lord Gillet once again.”
“I doubt that will do much to change anything.” Her father lived in constant regret that he’d sat by and allowed Elizabeth to become a spinster, which was what had driven him to make this decision in the first place. No amount of arguing had changed his mind before today, so she doubted it would do much afterwards.
But Elizabeth liked to cling to hope. It was what kept her going all these years. So she did so now, continuing along to the parlor.
Patience left her side when they arrived at the parlor, to be replaced by the butler, Andrew. He opened the door for her, stepped to the side, and allowed her to enter. Elizabeth saw her father first, smiling brightly at the person to his left. Then, the large ornately decorated parlor came into full view—the sideboard crowded by gentlemen already indulging in pre-dinner drinks, the ladies Elizabeth did not care to know, who were already whispering about her—and…her betrothed.
