Alas, your absence in the Park
Leaves me disconsolate and low.
For without speech you cannot know
The heights to which your vision bright,
Carried me speechless, yesternight,
And these poor flowers, no words possessing,
I leave, my stolen heart confessing.’
Tears were streaming down Amelia’s cheeks from laughter.
‘I think,’ enunciated Elizabeth slowly, ‘that I feel ill.’
‘He is very young, and working under strong emotions,’ remarked Lady Chalford soothingly.
37‘Then he should spend his time in curbing them, rather than in producing such nonsense.’ Elizabeth was clearly not mollified.
‘Are you not being a trifle harsh, my dear?’
‘Harsh? No, for “nonsense” seems a generous term.’
‘But you will not be uncivil to him, will you, when nextyou meet?’ Lady Chalford gave a small, nervous smile. ‘You must not be seen as cruel and unfair.’
‘Nobody would think me cruel if they had to read that,’ Elizabeth fumed, pointing at the note, ‘but since, thankfully, they will be spared it, I suppose I shall have to appear unmoved.’ She sighed. ‘He only had one dance with me. What perversity of fate made him select me, of all people, as his latest goddess?’
‘He did not actually call you a “goddess”,’ noted Amelia judiciously.
‘No, but he will, I have no doubt. That, do not forget, was merely written upon finding me not at home. Oh goodness, what if he writes pages of it?’
‘Or there is a literary soirée, and he reads them,’ declared Amelia, collapsing once more into helpless laughter.
Her mama glared at her and sent her immediately to her room to compose herself, and sit for an hour with the book of homilies that her Aunt Risborough had sent her. Levity, she said repressively, was not to be encouraged in excess. With Amelia gone, Lady Chalford set about soothing her niece’s ruffled feathers, with limited success.
‘You might be making too much of this, my dear. It is most provoking, I am sure, but is in no way your fault, as anyone would accept. Young men in the grip of the poetic38urge may select their muse upon the flimsiest of premises, but thankfully their interest tends to wax and wane quickly, and they transfer their fleeting adoration elsewhere. It is just bad luck, like catching the mumps.’
At which point, with the analogy of Mr Escott as a disease, even Elizabeth began to laugh.
The subject was carefully avoided at luncheon, and afterwards Elizabeth set off to visit her friend, declining the offer of the landaulet, and stepping the short distance to Brook Street accompanied by a footman. She found Lady Godmanchester reclining upon a sofa, but looking in good health.
‘I am not near as invalidish as I must appear, Elizabeth, but I have been recommended to put my feet up as often as possible. I do find myself in need of rest if I am to go out in the evening, and later, as one becomes larger, it does help prevent one’s ankles from swelling.’
‘You seem very unperturbed by the prospect.’
‘Well, one is less concerned, the second time, I think. The loss of one’s figure is sad, but once the sickness passed, and the baby quickened, I have to admit I was very content whilst carrying George, and Godmanchester is a perfect dear about it all, putting up with the odd humours that afflict ladies when increasing without complaint.’ Her eyes misted. ‘He even said he thought me beautiful when I was positively huge, and waddled rather than walked, and once I was safely delivered, came down to London, and bought me the most beautiful sapphire bracelet, “for being brave”. As if one had a choice!’
39‘Marriage suits you, Helen.’
‘My husband suits me,’ she corrected. ‘I am very well aware that many women are not nearly as fortunate as I am. I dread to think what marriage must be like where there is no mutual love, or even deep affection. Can you imagine being married to Lord Newlyn, who never does anything but find fault, or a man with an erratic temper?’ She shuddered. ‘No. I am blessed with the best of husbands, so how could marriage not suit me?’
She was entirely sincere, and Elizabeth could not, though it went against her every experience, find a fault in what she said, nor indeed would have had the heart to disabuse her, had she been able to do so. The memory of her parents’ devotion was clouded by the ensuing misery of loss, and that was the only relationship that she had seen as truly complete.
The major problem that Elizabeth foresaw was that her dearest friend, and only true confidante, would not be able to comprehend her actions. How could a woman so happy in the bonds of wedlock see that she recoiled from them in distrust and even fear? It created a chasm between them, which Elizabeth regretted. However, she was perfectly willing to share the baleful news of her couplet-writing admirer.
‘I did not encourage him, I swear, Helen. Indeed, one might more readily have complained that I was too aloof and distant.’
