Elizabeth had the final say in organising the birthday celebration, a delightful event slated for early October to honour herself, the twins, and Eliza. When the day finally dawned, Eliza relished the festivities, maintaining a pleasant disposition and purposefully pushing any melancholic thoughts to the recess of her conscience. She refrained from dwelling on matters of courtship, marriage, or anything that might stir unnecessary headaches and pangs of guilt.
Simultaneously, her relationships with her sisters showed signs of improvement. Eliza at last engaged in a relatively normal conversation with Isabella about suitable birthday gifts, and Aileen confided in her about her suitor, Evan Kendall. However, the crimson-haired twin discreetly withheld certain details, such as their secret kisses, mindful that such information might not be well-received, especially since Evan had yet to formally court her. Aileen understood that Eliza could inadvertently reveal such intimacies in front of their father, and Isabella might insist on an immediate marriage between Aileen and Evan before the sun would set. For the time being, Aileen reassured them that she believed the wedding was imminent but that Lord Kendall had numerous obligations to attend to, owing to his severe and notorious aunt.
"I wonder in what capacity that esteemed matron could possibly engage his services," Bella murmured to herself. "That gentleman doesn't strike me as someone who is excessively occupied, notwithstanding."
"It sounded as if he were her messenger, confidant, and executor of her will all at once," Aileen replied, catching her twin's murmur. However, Bella's sceptical expression persisted. "Truly, how could you be so judgemental when you know so little about him?!"
"If he is an honourable man, and you trust him yourself, then we have no choice but to repose our trust in your judgement. Will he honour us with his presence at our celebration today?" Eliza inquired, for she also perceived that there was little she knew about her sister's elusive suitor.
Aileen sighed.
"Regrettably, he will not be able to attend. He expressed his apologies due to his obligations."
Had she been privy to his current duty, one aimed at pleasing Lady St. Arcey in bed, she might have harboured great disdain, perhaps opting to feign ignorance of ever having encountered the man for the rest of her days. However, she dwelt in blissful ignorance, a naivete so prevalent in women of her tender age, though his absence did little to hinder her enjoyment of the company of other gentlemen.
Just as Aileen concluded a dance, Eliza signalled her sister, who gracefully raised her glass and took a sip. Unfortunately, Aileen couldn't respond to the gesture as her view was once more obstructed by an eager gentleman.
The Rosewell sisters, Lorraine and the younger Claire stood alongside Eliza, engaging in an amiable discourse.
"This truly is a splendid celebration, Eliza. It has been quite some time since I had the pleasure of listening to such excellent musicians," Lorraine complimented.
"All credit goes to Elizabeth. I know not how she manages it, but I dare say she could even persuade the devil himself to attend her ball," Eliza replied with a mischievous smile.
"Take care, for what is not, may yet come to pass," Lorraine chuckled, revealing dimples on her cheeks.
Claire did not have the opportunity to add anything to the banter, as a young lord approached her and requested the honour of a dance. Lorraine observed her sister until she joined the queue on the dance floor, then sighed and turned to Eliza.
"And here we are, engaged, yet we seem but air."
Eliza arched an eyebrow in surprise.
"My sincerest congratulations, Lorraine! When shall the wedding take place?"
"Hopefully soon! Lord Roché will arrange for our announcement in the London Gazette on the morrow. But what about you and Duke Leighton, Eliza, is his offer still valid at such a juncture?"
Eliza took a moment to compose a response, but before she could answer, Elizabeth interjected.
"Eliza, Duchess Northumberland has arrived with her sons. Would you join me in greeting them? My apologies, Lady Rosewell, I shall return my daughter to you promptly."
Lorraine smirked, and Eliza resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Blast the devil, and the devil enters through the back door, she mused. Or if you usher him out the door, he slips in through the window. She had anticipated Elizabeth abandoning the notion of Lord Gray joining her in matrimony, yet it appeared her stepmother was not one to yield easily.
"Lady Gray, I extend a warm welcome and am delighted that you could join us," Elizabeth greeted them.
Lady Rose, accompanied by her two sons, Felix and Daniel, smiled politely, though Daniel's countenance appeared somewhat strained.
"It was an invitation I simply couldn't refuse, Lady Price. Moreover, we bring gifts for each of the birthday celebrants," she added, indicating a servant who followed closely behind with four parcels. The servant held the packages carefully, one for each of the birthday honourees, and Eliza motioned for him to approach the table where guests were presenting their gifts.
"Thank you, Lady Gray. Your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated," Eliza conveyed on behalf of herself and Elizabeth.
"You are most welcome, Lady Eliza. If only there were more souls as kind as mine," Rose replied, casting a sidelong glance at Daniel.
It seemed that Rose and Elizabeth shared a similar sentiment. Daniel hesitated visibly before approaching Eliza.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Eliza?"
She accepted his hand, sensing a chill emanating from his words. They proceeded to the dance floor as the musicians concluded their song, standing in silence. His eyes remained fixed on the dancing couples, or so Eliza believed, without sparing her a single glance.
"What vexes you this evening, Lord Gray?" she inquired, unable to endure the lingering silence any longer.
"Nothing in particular. I simply chose to spare you my words," he responded with an emotionless tone, his countenance revealing little.
Curse you and your captivating figure, Daniel ruminated, you allure me with nought but your voice! How am I to endure such a trial of not being able to touch you?!
"That you are sparing me your words," Eliza scoffed, "I feel as though you are punishing me for something. A particular locked door comes to my mind, sir."
"I am not punishing you," he declared sternly, taking her hand and guiding her in a dance as the first notes of a new song wafted through the room. "If I were, we would be reclining on a specific piece of furniture, engaged in a particular activity, with you uttering my name!"
His retort made her cheeks flush in an instant.
"I'm not some intimate toy but a woman of flesh harbouring sentiments!"
"Sentiments for whom, pray tell?!"
Eliza couldn't respond as they changed partners and twirled. Their exchange, albeit brief, was becoming wearisome.
"Why so curious, Lord Gray?! You declared it yourself that you would never entertain the notion of marrying me," she retorted, to which his brow furrowed.
"I said that at the height of my exasperation, Lady Price... It was never my intention to part on ill terms, though even today I have no reason to be in high spirits when the matter between Travis and I remains unresolved. Furthermore, one does not engage in conversation during a dance," he said as they completed a twirl.
Eliza could discern the scrutinising gazes of numerous members of the ton directed their way, and several ladies had already delicately placed their fluffy fans to their lips, likely fanning the flames of gossip regarding her and Lord Gray. The whisper of scandal hung palpably in the air, prompting Eliza to quell her desire to persist in their discourse.
As she observed Daniel intently, his gaze had already shifted to a lady who had just alternated with her in the dance. She wearied of Daniel seemingly venting his frustrations on her, despite her having apologised twice, and considering that her brother Arden bore the biggest portion of responsibility for what had transpired in Hertford.
Moreover, he possessed no entitlement to her sensibilities, her figure, nor her romantic inclinations! Eliza eagerly awaited the conclusion of the dance, anticipating the opportunity to speak her mind to him.
"My brother, Arden, shall extend his apologies to you for his conduct today," she uttered, breaking the momentary silence that ensued.
"Do not trouble yourself, for he has already expressed his regrets to me," he answered, albeit with a touch of irony in his voice.
"What? When?" she asked, taken aback, to which Daniel regarded her face with a searching gaze.
His deep, olive eyes seared into her with an intense glance, and she felt the urge to break free and flee, as it unsettled and discomposed her.
"So, shall I receive an answer from you today?" she sarcastically quipped, as he persisted in silence.
"It matters not," he curtly retorted, turning his gaze aside once more. Indeed, he was in no disposition to dwell upon the events that unfolded at the Red Cat tavern, as the young lady might entertain one too many inquiries on this matter.
"But it matters to me!" Eliza almost exclaimed, yet the musicians began playing again, and shortly thereafter, a change in partners ensued, preventing them from further discourse.
She sensed anger rising within her and endeavoured to suppress it while engaged in the dance with her new partner. If aught, she harboured a profound aversion to one withholding a secret from her—a secret that might, or might not, furnish her with some measure of enlightenment to her inquiries. Impatiently, she awaited the moment that would reunite them, yet when it finally arrived, she found herself bereft of words, observing a silent plea in his olive eyes.
Only after the dance concluded did she find the opportune moment to articulate the words that lingered on her tongue.
"Hear me, Lord Gray — it is of significance to me that this misunderstanding be resolved, regardless of your belief in me. I no longer wish... I cannot endure such pretence, and though I have deemed you an unpleasant man to discourse with, at least you have spoken your mind. I know not how I have once again caused you distress, but such behaviour is undeserved from you, everything considered."
Indeed, he would certainly not reveal a thing about Joan at this moment and in this place.
"You prate excessively," were his sole words to deter her from further prying, which only further fuelled her ire.
Since he did not deign to spare her a glance this time, Eliza relinquished her last vestiges of composure, albeit in vain, for she hastily curtsied to Daniel and left him standing alone at the periphery of the dance floor. Whispers began to flutter among the attendees, and Eliza could have sworn she discerned muted laughter aimed at her from behind raised fans. Her brisk footsteps fuelled the gossip, yet it was fairly insufficient to incite a scandal of great nature. Isabella and Lorraine quickly approached her, eagerly anticipating an account of what had transpired between her and Lord Gray.
"Nought of consequence transpired; I simply felt unwell, and thus, I require some respite in my chamber. I shall return at my earliest convenience," she dismissed them, disregarding their further inquiries.
Upon entering her chamber, she reclined upon her bed and contemplated why that odious man had deigned to attend her birthday celebration, only to taint the atmosphere with his unpleasant demeanour, souring her mood altogether. If his purpose was to cast a shadow over her joy, he could congratulate himself on succeeding. Yet, it was equally conceivable that he had attended solely at his mother's insistence.
According to Eliza, that man wore two faces—one he displayed on ordinary occasions, appearing mighty and righteous, and the other she could only discern when faced with danger... or a manifestation of his desire.
Nevertheless, she had resolved to endure no further whims of the former countenance. Or any countenance, for his behaviour that night could be rewarded with nothing but a straight ride to Hades' realm. Suddenly, the door to her chamber swung open, and one of the maids entered.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Your Ladyship, I was unaware of your presence," the young woman chirped with unease. "I merely brought a gift and shall depart forthwith."
"What manner of gift is it?" Eliza inquired with curiosity, examining more closely the object held in the maid's hands.
It was a cream-coloured, square box adorned with a large, golden bow atop it.
"A lad with a French name came to the estate, desiring that I deliver this gift directly into your hands. It is purportedly a token of gratitude from all the children at St. Angelica's Orphanage for your generous donations and aid," the maid elucidated.
"Thank you, you may place it here," Eliza gestured to a spot beside her on the bed, as she had since taken a seat.
The maid placed the box on the bed, curtsied, and departed. Eliza regarded her unexpected gift for a moment, running her fingers delicately over its surface. As she felt the texture beneath her fingertips, she contemplated how the orphanage had acquired funds and gone to such lengths for such fine paper. Nonetheless, she ultimately decided to untie the ribbon and unveil the contents.
Within, she discovered a meticulously crafted doll, accompanied by a wooden spoon with a delicately carved handle, a collection of poems inked by a child's hand, a slender novel, and, at the box's bottom, a bundle of letters. A smile graced her features as she appreciated the thoughtful gifts, and a sense of well-being enveloped her. Taking the letters in her hands, she perused the senders' names with her eyes.
For Lady Eliza from Sylvia
From Jacques and Lea
From Lauren
Wishing you all the best, Roy
With love from Will and Mary
Birthday enchantment from Mr. Magician
Upon perusing the script on the final missive, she nearly relinquished her grasp on all the others, her hands trembling with emotion. Hardly daring to trust her own senses, she hastily unfurled the parchment and eagerly immersed herself in its contents.
My Dearest Lady Eliza,
I had hoped to have the pleasure of your presence, yet you did not grace us with your presence, despite Jacques dispatching a letter on my behalf (I persuaded him, and although he stubbornly denied it, a mere two pence finally convinced him to divulge the truth about sending notes to you alarming you of my presence). Whatever your reasons may be, perchance you have spared a fool from further folly. I had no desire to squander your time or mine, nor did I wish to appear overly persistent or repeat the claim of your indifference. The truth remains, my dear, that you are not indifferent to me. Your image occupies my thoughts incessantly, and I tremble with apprehension for your well-being. I yearn for you to be mine.
Alas, circumstances conspire against us.
Therefore, I beseech you to accept this humble token—a second scarf that once adorned your hands when I bestowed a kiss upon your exquisite lips. That memory shall forever be etched within my heart.
P.S. The enchantment of your birthday lies in liberating oneself from the past and embracing the future. May unceasing happiness accompany you on your every step!
Ever yours,
Magician
Eliza paused for a moment, for it appeared to her that she had previously encountered the handwriting. Soon after, she made the connection—Mrs. Sylvia, one of the matrons of the orphanage, possessed an identical script. Since her initial encounter with the Magician, Sylvia had sworn that she did not know him in the slightest, nor had she discerned any distinguishing marks that set him apart from other gentlemen.
Perchance she penned the words at his command, seeking to veil his true identity, Eliza pondered, given his initial demeanour toward me, I would not be surprised.
This, then, was to be the ultimate farewell from him. Despite her resolution not to indulge in his game any further, she couldn't deny a tinge of hurt. The opportunity to unveil his true identity now seemed to vanish like a wisp of smoke.
Her gaze shifted from the letter to the items arranged on the bed, then back to the box, where she discerned a black fabric nestled at the bottom. Upon unfurling it on the bed, a tapestry of delicate floral embroidery adorned its surface—so intricate that the blooms themselves almost resembled the visages of animals. At its centre, a majestic crimson bird with accents of orange captured her attention, its grandeur juxtaposed against the understated border.
Eliza pondered over the scarf, ultimately choosing to drape it around her wrist. An idea ignited within her mind—if the Magician truly hailed from London's aristocracy, surely there must be someone capable of identifying the family to which this scarf belonged. She possessed another scarf from him, the one that bound her hands when he bestowed his kiss upon her, but it bore no clues that could assist her in tracing his origins.
Yet why should I seek him out when we now rejected each other? We desire and deny... yet in the tapestry of my future no inquiries shall avail me here, she contemplated. Therefore, she resolved not to seek counsel regarding the scarf, allowing it to serve as a poignant emblem of unfulfilled longing. Perchance one day she would consign it to the flames, bidding farewell to the tangible reminder in order to be fair to her husband. Content with her resolution, she rose from the bed when, all of a sudden, the door to her chamber swung open. Taken aback, she regarded the intruder, her blood running hot—standing in the doorway was none other than the devil himself.
"How dare you enter my chamber after all you've put me through?!" Eliza exclaimed with indignation.
Daniel ventured inside, closed and locked the door behind him, and smirked, as was his inclination. "Worry not, I approach with goodwill. Let us settle our predicament once and for all, do you not concur?"
She swallowed, for she could only envision where this determination would assuredly lead...