An Enchanted Evening

Part IV

PART IV

  

            Moments later, William and I reentered the ballroom side-by-side and entered into conversation with friends, Peter, Lord Bolingbroke, and his wife, Lady Alexandra. Both were very pleasant, and I could see Lord Bolingbroke sending amused glances at William—which he returned with obvious happiness as he surreptitiously squeezed my hand.  

            But too soon, a very familiar voice hissed in my ear, and I turned to see my Aunt Carville—Lady Carville to the cream of London society—who was my father’s sister, at my elbow. Married to a weak man who, although titled, had over the years gambled away the majority of his financial worth and was now without sufficient funds to keep his wife in the manner to which she was accustomed, my aunt had become a bitter woman. For some reason, she addressed me with the merest requirements of civility, just enough to retain my father’s good will and her reputation amongst the society of the ton.

            My father had requested his sister to escort me through my first London Season as he was still heartbroken over my mother’s death two years previously, not to mention his decided preference for our modest country estate in Kent over the crowds and sooty fogs of London. With alacrity, Lady Carville took on the responsibility of my “coming out” in society as her gowns and anything else she needed in order to escort me to all of the best parties, theatres, balls, and outings, were amply supplied by my doting father. She treated me well in his presence, but her dislike, although unspoken, became obvious in her tone of voice and manner when we two were alone. Although I missed the loving ways of my mother and had hoped to find a motherly figure in the childless aunt I had never known well, I had quickly recognized that I had no choice but to bear my aunt’s dislike if I wanted to enjoy my Season in London, so I said nothing of my aunt’s cold and calculating ways to my father.

            From the very moment of my arrival in London, Aunt Carville had emphasized that it was my responsibility to employ my “feminine attributes” in order to marry very well—to a man of both title and wealth—in order to advance our family’s reputation which had been tarnished by Lord Carville’s gambling debts. I had realized quite early in the Season that I was a mere pawn in my Aunt Carville’s game of societal chess, and that this pawn was supposed to bring in a king—or at least a wealthy, titled gentleman. 

            “Elizabeth,” the stage whisper in my ear continued, and the broad grin on her face and the excitement in her eyes worried me. Whenever my aunt behaved in such a manner, it usually indicated that she had found an especially eligible young man—“eligible” meaning either extremely wealthy or extremely well-connected in society…and preferably both.

            And I was correct.

            Rudely nudging William aside—his lack of title did not place him at the top of her list of eligible young men this Season—Aunt Carville grasped my arm and tugged me away with only the coolest of apologies to William and Lord and Lady Bolingbrook. Dragging me into the relative privacy of a nearby alcove, Aunt Carville began whispering rapidly. “Elizabeth, I have secured the next set for you to dance with Lord Neville. He is the only son and heir of the Duke of Chicester, and he is most interested in furthering an acquaintance with you. Come allow me to introduce you to him!”

            Gripping my arm with such excitement that I was certain that I would discover bruises there the next day, she pulled me over to a rather thickly-built young man with blond hair and pale blue eyes. Dressed rather foppishly in the very latest fashion, he was looking over the bevy of young ladies gathered at the ball as if they were horseflesh to be evaluated and purchased, rather than human beings with opinions and feelings.