Page 13 of The Secret Sister

Millie dashed off to make sure her mother was ready while Eliza washed her face and pinned her hair neatly then looked at herself in the full-length glass.

It was too late to do anything about her appearance, so she headed to the drawing room to find her mother and to wait for the guests. She slipped in as Mama was holding forth with her brother George about something one of the children had done, whilst his wife looked as though she might like to speak but couldn’t quite find the courage. Her sister, Elizabeth, sat silent, simply watching.

Eliza was relieved when the Earl and Countess of Bessborough arrived and her mother’s attention turned to them. She suspected her siblings were similarly pleased.

The Earl came in with his wife. They made a handsome couple, although she noted the countess had put on a significant amount of weight since she’d seen her last, and looked pale and rather tired. The Earl looked fashionably bored and disinterested.

Her mother greeted their guests, and tea was served. It was all terribly civilised. What Eliza really wanted to do was offer her condolences to the countess for the devastating loss of her sister, the Duchess of Devonshire, but the opportunity never arose. It was some three years now since her passing, but this was the first time she’d seen Lady Bess. She hoped she might contrive to sit with her at some point and speak to her quietly.

George was prosing on about something when an alarming crash sounded from somewhere in the house, followed by squeals, shouts of glee, and the thunder of feet. She watched as her mother closed her eyes momentarily. Seconds later, the door opened to admit a harried looking footman.

‘My lady…’ he began.

Eliza looked at her siblings, but neither seemed to have even reacted to the noise, or the intrusion of the footman. Her mother sent her a fulminating look, so she excused herself and went to see if she could quell whatever riot was taking place. It seemed to symbolise all that was wrong with her life.

She found the culprits and spoke to them sternly. It shocked them into silence as they were used to her being more of a playmate than an adult. She took advantage of the shock to return them subdued to the nursery and asked the tired-looking nanny if she might try and keep them quiet whilst the family had guests.

The woman looked for a moment like she might refuse. Eliza couldn’t blame her and, indeed, felt guilty for passing them off to her, but she needed to return to her mother’s guests.

‘I’m sorry to ask it of you,’ she said in an attempt at conciliation, but the woman simply closed the door.

She resumed her seat with the guests and accepted a fresh cup of tea. They were talking about Hannah’s trip to London and all expressing hope that she might be feeling brighter now she was out of mourning, and might even find a new husband so she could start a new life.

‘I had a letter from her,’ Eliza interjected, taking a deep breath and folding her hands in her lap wishing for once they would see her as a young lady, not just someone to look after the children. As faces turned to her, she avoided her mother’s gaze for as long as she could. ‘She said that she would love it if I visited her in London.’

There were murmurs of ‘how nice’ and ‘what a lovely thought’ but all the time her mother’s gimlet eye burned into her. It had been a mistake to raise the subject in company after she had expressly forbidden it. The forlorn hope that either one of her siblings might stand up and support the notion withered and died. She smiled at Lady Bessborough, hoping she might offer to escort her, but nothing was forthcoming in that direction, so she sat rigid with a smile plastered on her face as she watched her chances of getting to London dwindle to nothing.

All hell broke loose somewhere in the house, and, with a sigh, she headed out, yet again.

Chapter 7

ELIZA

Howick Hall, Northumberland

Eliza decided that this time, it was perhaps best to remain in the nursery for a while. She helped Nanny calm the children and was nursing little Jane on one hip whilst looking out of the window when she spotted the carriage hurtling up the long driveway. She put Jane down and squinted through the glass.

Her breath caught. It looked like Charles’s carriage. Was he here? At Howick? She had written to him to ask for his help. Had he heard her plea? Had he come for her? By the speed of the vehicle, she guessed he didn’t have his wife with him. Charles was a politician with a considerable sense of his own importance, but he was also her favourite brother and the one she had the most chance of bringing about her thumb.

She gave the children a final hug, then quickly ran downstairs and rejoined the party in the drawing room, taking a seat as calmly as she could, and waited for her brother to be announced.

He came in with a flourish, bringing life and energy into the room. Nay, into the house. He always did. The place was terribly dull without him. He kissed Mama dutifully and acknowledged the rest of the party. He looked faintly surprised at Lord and Lady Bessborough’s presence, though he covered it swiftly.

‘I hadn’t expected you,’ Mama said, a faint note of accusation in her tone, as though she was not pleased to see her eldest son.

‘Forgive me, but I have been in the north, and it seemed churlish not to call and see my dear Mama and my beloved sister.’ He bowed over Eliza’s hand, then scooped her into a hug, making her giggle.

The tone of the visit changed considerably with Charles’s presence. Even her mama mellowed the tiniest bit.

‘How is dear Lady Caroline?’ Charles asked of Lady Bessborough. A cloud seemed to touch her face, but she smiled.

‘She is very well. Thank you for asking.’

‘Do give her all my good wishes. I believe she has a son now?’

Lady Bessborough’s smile was now quite rigid. ‘She does. Our dear George.’

Charles looked about to say something else, but Lord Bessborough involved him in a discussion about the estate. Eliza knew little about Lady Caroline Lamb, as she now was since her marriage. As a child, she’d been prone to moods that were alternately jolly and lovely, or spiteful and nasty. It made her difficult to be around. She wondered if she’d grown out of it. She wasn’t sure what Charles was alluding to, but it sounded as though she had not been terribly well.