The Lost King [Sword and The Scythe Book 2]

Chapter Two: Moondance

1888

Elizabeth Whitten pushed her feet into the sand, enjoying as she always did the tiny particles pushing up through the spaces between her toes. She wasn't supposed to be at the water's edge. Her mother had told her time and again that it was not ladylike.

Well, Elizabeth didn't often care if she was a lady. Perhaps she should, for her sister's sake. She was the eldest of the two Whitten children, and for her to be passed over would reflect poorly on Jane and could make it harder for her to make a good match.

She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. There was a part of her that wished she could care about coming out parties and ladylike decorum. Her parents' endeavor to become upstanding members of polite society did not interest her. She was not old money and never would be. Even if she were to fulfill their dreams of marrying the son of some old rich family, her children might be accepted members of that society, but she would not. She would always be a merchant's daughter. A merchant whose business had done well enough to enable him to buy this mansion on the shores of Long Island and send both his daughters to the best finishing schools, but a merchant, nonetheless.

She understood the looks she had gotten from the other girls at her schools—better than her sister did. That was just fine with her—she didn't like them either. She didn't like the vapid lives of women in this part of society. The only good thing about it was that it gave her plenty of time to read, but hardly any use for the knowledge she gained from it. None of her suitors would want her to appear smarter than them, even though she almost always was.

"Elizabeth!" she heard her mother shouting from the veranda. It was quite an unladylike shout as far as Elizabeth was concerned, she chucked to herself. She should have come when her mother called, but she couldn't bear to do it. Instead she pulled her book up closer to her face.

Pride and Prejudice. A particular favorite of hers, not the least because she shared a name with the beloved heroine. Her mother told her, sometime after her second or third reading of it, how bitterly she regretted giving it to her. "Lizzie, dear, you cannot model your behavior on a book you read. There is no Mr. Darcy coming to save you from all your troubles."

Every time she received this lecture, she rolled her eyes. She knew her mother secretly loved that book. Why else had she named both her daughters after the heroines of the novel? Elizabeth was certain her mother's cantankerous attitude came from her immense regret at marrying a man that didn't make her happy. How then could her mother advocate her marrying a man for convenience instead of love? When she herself seemed miserable every time her father so much as opened his mouth.

"Miss Elizabeth," a voice behind her soon disrupted her reading—a particular favorite scene of hers, too. The one where Elizabeth Bennett infuriates Lady Catherine DeBourgh.

She looked up to find one of the housemaids Louisa standing before her, wringing her hands in front of her apron nervously "Yes, Louisa?"

"Your mother sent me out here to find you. She's awfully upset. Told me not to come back without you."

The poor girl had worked for them for over two years and was still as afraid of her mother as the first day she'd arrived speaking nothing but German. She couldn't blame her—disobeying her mother would have real consequences for Louisa, even if it never had for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth sighed and stood up, collecting her shoes in one hand and her book in the other. Louisa held out her hands to help her up, but Elizabeth shook her head as she got to her feet.