Never A Bride

Chapter 7-1

Chapter Seven

Lizzie arrived in a bright yellow post-chaise drawn by four horses. “Oh, Kate!” she cried, as they embraced. “I had the most fabulous journey! I wish you could have been with me. There was so much to see!”

Kate laughed.

Lizzie laughed back at her, her eyes bright and excited. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said.

Kate clasped her friend’s hands. “Thank you for coming.” She wished that James was here. Lizzie’s gown became her beautifully, even though it was old and made over. The muslin was rose-colored, the perfect complement to her dark eyes and ringlets, and if James saw her now, with her flushed cheeks and laughing mouth and shining eyes, how could he fail to fall in love with her? But unfortunately James had ridden over to the Home Farm with Harry to view some improvements. The only admirers of Lizzie’s prettiness were the servants: two post-boys, the butler, the footmen, and the little maidservant whom Mr. Penrose had sent to accompany his daughter in the chaise and who was to return to Derbyshire on the stage tomorrow.

“Come inside,” Kate said. “Are you tired, Lizzie? Would you like to lie down, perhaps?”

“Oh, no,” Lizzie said. “Not tired!”

Kate laughed again. “Refreshments and a tour of the Hall, then. Or perhaps a walk in the gardens?”

“The gardens,” Lizzie said. Her gaze flicked up to the façade of the house, built of red brick and with ivy staking its claim on the walls. She lowered her voice to a whisper that the servants couldn’t hear: “I hadn’t realized that Merrell Hall was quite so large. And the park!”

“Six miles around,” Kate said. “Beautiful, isn’t it? I shall show you all the walks.”

Assured that the little maid would be safely delivered into the housekeeper’s care, Lizzie climbed the steps and set foot over the threshold. Her eyes widened as she glanced around the entrance hall with its limestone-flagged floor and handsome plasterwork, and she hesitated for a second. Kate realized that to someone who came from a cottage in Derbyshire, gentleman’s daughter or no, Merrell Hall must seem terribly grand. She slipped her arm through Lizzie’s. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’ve come,” she said. “We shall have such fun!”

She led Lizzie up the sweeping staircase, and through the Long Gallery to the bedrooms. “Do you like it, Lizzie?” she asked, showing her the bedchamber that had been prepared. “There’s a green one, if you’d prefer.”

“No. This is lovely.” Lizzie looked around. The chamber was a comfortable size, with a dressing table and washstand and chest of drawers, and a wardrobe in one corner and a tall mirror in another. Stripes of apricot and cream decorated the wallpaper, and the colors were repeated in the chintz curtains at the windows. Hangings of apricot damask framed the bed, and the counterpane was embroidered in a similar shade of silk thread.

Lizzie walked over to one of the windows and stood a moment, gazing out at the park, before turning back to face the room. “This is much finer than I’d thought.” Her voice was hesitant. “I didn’t realize. Kate—”

“Don’t feel out of place, Lizzie,” Kate begged. “Please don’t! It’s only a house.”

Lizzie smoothed her gown. She had quite lost her sparkle.

Kate crossed the room. She took hold of her friend’s hands. “Please, Lizzie.”

“But my gowns are all made over,” Lizzie said in a shamed whisper.

Kate drew her over to stand in front of the mirror. “Look,” she said. “You suit this room much better than I.”

Lizzie looked doubtfully at her image in the giltwood frame.

Kate watched, thinking that Lizzie would look beautiful even if she was dressed in a sack. Beneath the dark, glossy ringlets, Lizzie’s face was lovely. Her brown eyes were large and expressive—lashes long and brows delicately arched—her nose was small and pretty, and her mouth sweetly curved. No freckles marred her smooth, creamy skin.

Kate glanced at her own image, and then away again. The contrast between Lizzie’s beauty and her own plainness was painful. “Don’t worry about your gowns, please, Lizzie. It doesn’t matter whether they’re made over or not. You look so lovely that no one will notice.”

Harry certainly wouldn’t notice, and she doubted James would either. In fact, she was certain that neither man would see anything beyond Lizzie’s face and her fine figure. The vintage of her gowns would be of no interest to them.

“Paton will love you,” Kate said, smiling at Lizzie in the mirror. “My maid. I’ll share her with you while you’re here.”

“Oh, no! I’m used to dressing myself. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Nonsense. Paton will be delighted. You are a much finer canvas for her to work on than I!”

Lizzie wore a white gown trimmed with a double pleating of pink ribbon to dinner. The gown was made over, but still she was extraordinarily lovely. A vision, no less. Kate smiled secretly to herself as they made their way down the staircase. She couldn’t wait to see the men’s faces when they set eyes on Lizzie for the first time. She was much prettier than the Duchess of Edgeton.

It was the custom of the house to gather in one of the smaller saloons prior to dinner. James and Harry were already there, talking in low voices. Kate thought she caught the words crop and rotation. Both men turned their heads and she watched in delight as their eyes found Lizzie. It was everything she’d hoped for. Harry, who’d been speaking, stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging open. He shut it again quickly and stood. James, leaning against the carved marble mantelpiece, blinked. He straightened and glanced at Kate.

Kate made the introductions and then moved to stand beside James while her brother welcomed Lizzie to his country seat.

“Well?” she asked, under her breath. “Do you like my surprise?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes on Lizzie. “I believe I do.”

Kate thought that Lizzie was a little shy to find herself dining with a viscount and an earl, but Harry soon had her smiling, and by the end of the first course she was laughing at his jokes, looking flushed and pretty in the candlelight. Kate watched James watch Lizzie. There was a thoughtful half smile on his mouth.

“Well?” she asked in a whisper, under cover of the dishes being removed.

James’s expression became amused. “Impatient, Kate?”

Kate had to be content with that, and with the fact that James’s eyes rested often on Lizzie. She mentally reviewed the list of his requirements while she ate, and turned the conversation to travel, a subject that set Lizzie talking enthusiastically. Kate met James’s eyes for a moment and tried not to look smug.

After the meal, Lizzie and Kate left the men to their brandy. A fire burned in the hearth in the drawing room and the pale yellow walls glowed warmly in the candlelight. Lizzie sat on one of the striped green-and-yellow silk couches and smoothed her gown over her lap. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy. The age of her gown no longer appeared to distress her.

“Your brother looks just like you,” Lizzie said. “The resemblance is extraordinary.”

“Freckles and red hair.” Kate managed not to grimace.

“No,” Lizzie shook her head. “I mean, yes, that too, but I was thinking more about your faces. They’re the same shape, and you have identical smiles.”

“Oh,” Kate said. She sat alongside Lizzie. “Really?”

Lizzie nodded. “Yes. Very nice.”

“What?” Kate said, taken aback. “Nice?”

Lizzie went into a peal of laughter, and Kate wished that James could hear it. Or maybe not. Perhaps Lizzie had consumed too many glasses of wine.

Lizzie repeated her astonishing remark once she’d stopped laughing. “You have nice faces, you and your brother.”

“Nonsense,” Kate said. “We have freckles.” Harry even more so than herself. His face was covered in them.

“No.” Lizzie stood, dragging Kate up with her. She turned towards the mirror that hung above the marble fireplace. “Look.”

Kate glanced at her reflection within the gilded frame. She shook her head. “I don’t see it.” All she saw were freckles. To use Sir Thomas Granger’s words, she was bran-faced, and no amount of Roman balsam or Gowland’s lotion would remove the blemishes. She’d tried. Lord knew she’d tried.

Lizzie’s mouth tucked in at the corners in exasperation. Even frowning, she was pretty. “Ignore the freckles,” she said. “Look at the shape, Kate.”

Kate looked, and shook her head again. The freckles were impossible to ignore. They disfigured her face. She turned away from the mirror.

“Well, I think you have a very nice face,” Lizzie said, in the tone of someone stating an incontrovertible fact.

“Thank you.” Kate sat. “And what about Lord Arden’s face? Do you like it, too?”

“He’s very handsome,” Lizzie admitted, as she sat again. “Isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Kate said. “Very.”

Harry and James made an early entrance into the drawing room, proposing a game of Speculation or Commerce, or even jackstraws.

“Jackstraws!” Kate laughed.

Harry grinned and shrugged, his eyes on Lizzie. “Which would you prefer, Miss Penrose?”

“Speculation, please.”

“Speculation it is, then. I’ll set out the table.”

Kate followed her brother across the room, to where the round card table stood. “Did James say anything about Lizzie?” she asked under her breath. “Does he like her?”

Harry rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a pack of cards. “How could he not?” he said, in an equally low voice. He glanced across the room. “Well done, Kate.”

Kate followed the direction of his gaze. James stood by the fire, talking to Lizzie. He was smiling down at her, his eyes on her face. They made an extremely handsome pair.

Kate felt a pain in her chest. She told herself it was indigestion and looked away.

Harry placed the cards on the baize surface of the table. “Why have you never invited her before?”

“I have,” said Kate. “Many times. But her mother was an invalid and Lizzie would never leave her.”

“Was an invalid? Has she recovered, or . . . ?”

Kate shook her head. “She passed away last year. Lizzie’s only just out of black gloves.”

“Ah,” Harry said. His eyes turned again to Lizzie. “I see.”

“We had settled on summer for her visit, but I thought, what with James needing a wife—”

“Yes,” said Harry. “Too good an opportunity to miss. Does she know?”

Kate shook her head. “I’m hoping for a love match between them.”

“You may well get one,” Harry said, watching as James said something that made Lizzie blush prettily. “James has a great deal of address. And Miss Penrose is . . .” His voice trailed off.

Kate said nothing. She began to lay out the card table.

Miss Penrose was a very pleasant surprise. James observed her across the breakfast table. She was quite the best of Kate’s candidates. She met all his requirements, and she was extremely pretty into the bargain.

He glanced at Kate and found her watching him. Her gaze was questioning. She was eager, he knew, to hear his opinion of her friend.

James smiled blandly at her, and resumed buttering his warm roll.

The breakfast parlor was a cheerful room, with white plasterwork and walls of Pompeian red. French windows with long, fringed curtains opened onto the terrace. Harry invited his guests outside for a stroll in the morning air when they’d eaten their fill. He offered his arm to Miss Penrose, who accepted with a pretty smile. James turned to Kate. “Well?”

“Exactly,” said Kate. “Well?”

He laughed, and gave her his arm. “She is the best yet,” he admitted, in a low voice.

“Yes,” said Kate. “Isn’t she? I knew you’d like her. She’s perfect!”

James looked to where Miss Penrose stood with Harry, looking out over the park. Yes, she was perfect. Or, if not perfect, then very close to it. He glanced back at Kate. “I don’t know . . .” he said in a doubtful tone, teasing her.

Kate didn’t rise to his bait. “Lizzie meets all your criteria,” she said, with calm confidence. “She’s neither too young nor too girlish. She’s not timid and she doesn’t giggle in excess. She has sense, and a sense of humor—and she likes to travel.”

“True,” he conceded.

“She’s not too short. And her figure is neither too ample nor too thin.”

James turned his eyes back to Miss Penrose. She reminded him of his pretty opera dancer, Bella. “No,” he said. “Neither too ample nor too thin.”

“And she’s a gentleman’s daughter,” Kate pointed out. “And she’s pretty!”

James studied Miss Penrose. Yes, she was undeniably pretty, and she had refreshing lack of vanity for one so well-favored. She was a young lady of manifold charms and virtues.

“What more could you want?”

“Nothing,” James said, his eyes on Miss Penrose. He said it again firmly, to convince himself: “Nothing. You’re correct. She’s perfect.”

“I knew it!” Kate’s voice was delighted. When he turned his head he saw that she was grinning. He stared at her mouth, watching while the grin faded to a smile. Such a beautiful mouth.

James wrenched his eyes away, back to Miss Penrose. “How do you know her?”

“Lizzie? She’s a neighbor of one of my oldest friends, Charlotte. They live within sight of one another.”

“Charlotte?” Dimly he recalled a Charlotte, a plump girl with quantities of fair curls who’d run tame at Merrell Hall many years ago. “Miss . . .” He racked his brain. “Miss Lacey?”