An Heiress at Heart (12 page)

The “better classes” had feared that the influx of so many “common” folk in London would lead to riots and increased crime. But nothing like that had occurred. Everyone was on their best behavior. Here on a Tuesday morning they were dressed in their Sunday best, laughing and chatting among themselves as they hurried toward the Crystal Palace. Many carried small baskets filled with food and drink, prepared to spend the day inside that grand building.

Geoffrey tried to set his thoughts on the duties of the day. He had promised to see Lord Ashley, the chairman of the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes, and he had also been asked to meet that afternoon with two potential patrons for the next charitable building project.

Somehow he had to find time to call upon Ria. Yesterday’s meeting had been disastrous. He had allowed his anger and hurt to get the better of him. Perhaps a bit of pride, too. And yet she had been goading him with her single-minded insistence that love was more important than family duty and honor. Her intense devotion to Edward was touching, to be sure. It might have been a good thing, if it could have led them down more honorable paths. His opinions on that subject had not changed, but he vowed to himself that today he would keep his
emotions tightly in check. He must find a way for them to reach some kind of peace.

*

Lizzie and James walked arm in arm at a comfortable pace along the Serpentine.

“I must say that despite your recent illness, you are much more vigorous than you used to be,” James remarked.

“Oh?” Lizzie shortened her stride and slowed her steps.

“No, no, it’s a good thing!” James assured her with a laugh. “When we used to walk in the park, you would hang back and complain that your shoes would get ruined.”

Lizzie raised one foot a few inches off the ground for their mutual inspection. The well-worn black leather boot looked very much at odds with the soft folds of her heavy silk gown. “Perhaps it’s because I have learned to wear something more practical than satin slippers when going for a walk in the park.”

“I see,” said James. “You are older and wiser now.”

“Older, certainly. As for wiser…” Lizzie shrugged, and James grinned.

“Nevertheless, those boots are hideous,” James admonished. “I cannot believe you are willing to be seen with them in public.”

“I’m getting fitted for new shoes tomorrow. Grandmamma has arranged that.”

As they rounded a bend in the path, they saw an elderly couple tottering slowly toward them. “It’s old Mr. Walburton and his wrinkly wife,” said James. “Do you remember them, Ria?”

Lizzie murmured something noncommittal as she watched the approaching pair. The man stooped heavily over his walking cane, and his wife clung to his arm for support. Their clothes, though well cared for, had gone out of fashion years ago. Lizzie and James nodded to the couple as they passed. They returned the greeting cordially, their wrinkled faces opening to vague smiles, giving no indication that they truly recognized either Lizzie or James.

When they were out of earshot, James said, “Those two have been old since the beginning of time. You used to call them Mr. and Mrs. Prune, do you remember?”

“Did I? James, you must not hold me to all the things I said back then.”

“But you always used to say the most delightfully silly things. If you
are
old and wiser, I shall find you quite dull.”

Since James appeared to be in a mood to discuss childhood memories, Lizzie considered this a perfect opportunity to ask him some questions. Ria had only a few clues as to what might have happened between Sir Herbert and Lizzie’s mother. One such clue concerned some information that James had shared with her once years ago.

Not wanting to arouse his suspicion, Lizzie thought it best to approach the subject in a roundabout manner. “Tell me, James, what do you remember most fondly about our childhood?”

James looked pleased at the question, and took a few moments to consider it. “I loved the way you would pout when Auntie would not let you eat all the tea cakes.” He turned to look at her, as though admiring her bonnet, and studied the line of blond hair that showed from
underneath it. He lightly touched one of her curls with his gloved hand. “I loved how it was so vitally important that the ringlets around your face be arranged just right.”

Those things did indeed sound like Ria. Lizzie chuckled, her mind filled with sweet, sad thoughts of her dear friend. “Was I really so vain?”

“Oh yes, truly,” James affirmed. “But you were so beautiful that your vanity was understandable, and so of course we all forgave you for it.”

They were approaching two nannies seated on a park bench. Each had a perambulator in front of her and would peer into it from time to time, ensuring that the baby inside was still sleeping comfortably. One of the nannies looked old enough to have brought up several sets of children, but the other looked younger than Lizzie. She kept stealing glances at Lizzie as she and James approached. She was not staring openly—she was too well trained for that—but Lizzie saw her surreptitiously studying her gown and bonnet.

James lifted his top hat. “Good morning, ladies.”

The younger nanny’s eyes opened wide at being thus acknowledged by a gentleman. She gave a half smile and blushed deeply, then dropped her eyes as the elder woman whispered something to her—probably chastening her for allowing her feelings to show.

James replaced his hat and they moved on. “Do you remember,” he said to Lizzie in an offhand manner, “how you and I used to make up stories about what the servants did on their days off? How we used to discuss whether or not they had any actual feelings?”

It was hard on Lizzie whenever she was confronted with one of the less charitable aspects of Ria’s nature,
which were bred no doubt by the selfish and privileged life she’d led in England. Lizzie had seen glimpses of it from time to time in the things Ria had said or done in Australia, but she was only now beginning to realize how deeply ingrained it had been.

James, for all his good-natured jests and fine manners, seemed as staunchly uncaring about the lower classes as anyone of his station. He was her avowed friend now, but what if he knew she’d held no higher station in life than the women they had just passed, or the servants whose “feelings” he’d dismissed so casually? She shivered at the thought.

“Are you cold?” James asked with concern.

She shivered again, this time intentionally. “I’m just dreading the prospect of accompanying Grandmamma on her calls.”

He grinned. “I understand. I am sure I would find it perfectly dreary to listen to women’s idle chatter all afternoon.”

Lizzie reminded herself that she must not allow her feelings about Ria—good or bad—to sway her from her goal of finding out all she could. James’s remark about idle chatter helped her approach the question she most wanted to ask. “Perhaps I should just spend the afternoon below stairs, like you used to do. I believe you once said that servants’ gossip was much more interesting than anything discussed in drawing rooms.”

James gave her a sidelong glance. “So I did. I still feel that way.”

“But didn’t that get you into trouble sometimes? Like the time you repeated something you’d overheard about Father’s valet? Do you remember that?”

“Let me see… I am an absolute repository of servants’ gossip…” He made a show of thinking very hard. “Yes,” he said finally, with a nod. “I do remember. It seemed the man had gotten a young milliner with child, and the two ran away to London together. The servants said they had been guilty of
criminal conversation
. I thought, of course, that meant they’d been speaking with criminals! But when I asked Auntie about it, she made me wash my mouth out with soap and told me never to utter those words again.”

“A good thing,” Lizzie said. She tried to say it in jest, but she truly meant it. Those terrible words had once been cruelly leveled against her, too. “Did Father know—about the woman, I mean?”

“I have no idea. By the time I heard about it, which was seven or eight years later, he had just passed away.”

“Is it possible that when he died, and people were reviewing his life the way it normally happens after a person dies, that something might have brought that gossip back into people’s minds?”

“Ah,” he said. “Are you worried there is a connection—that the servants’ gossip was not entirely correct, and that perhaps he was somehow
personally
involved in the affair?”

“Might he have been?” Lizzie asked, trying not to show how desperately she wanted to know. “I was only seven when he died. You remember him better than I do. Might he have been that sort of man?”

He took both her hands in his and gave her an encouraging smile. “Don’t you worry—no one ever accused Sir Herbert Thornborough of being less than the most blameless and stalwart member of society.”

Lizzie looked at him askance. “You always have a way of not answering questions while appearing that you are.”

He laughed. “You are more perceptive than you used to be, cousin. But why are you trying to dredge up bad things about your father after so many years? Surely you have enough good memories of him to dwell upon?”

Phrased as it was, the question took Lizzie off guard. She had only the one memory of her father, and it was
not
a good one. But Ria had adored him.

James’s bright blue eyes were actually twinkling. Did he enjoy her evident discomfiture? Probably, she thought wryly. It was part of his teasing nature.

“Let us not dwell on such things now,” he said. “Here is something far more interesting to talk about.” He led her around a bend in the path and pointed across the Serpentine.

The worries on Lizzie’s mind receded for the moment as she took in the sight before her: it was the largest building she had ever seen.

A building made entirely of glass.

It was shaped like a cross. The shorter section had a rounded roof, giving the appearance of an oblong dome. The longer section seemed to stretch for a mile. The building gleamed in the sun, its roof higher than the surrounding trees and trimmed with hundreds of colorful flags.

“It’s like something from a fairy tale,” she said with awe. “Is it truly made of glass?”

“It is.” James smiled at her thunderstruck expression. “It’s called the Crystal Palace.”

“But how does it keep from collapsing?”

“A steel framework holds it up. Inside there are wooden floors, balconies, and even whole trees. There was such an outcry against the possibility of our stately elms being cut down that they simply erected the building around them.”

“You’ve been inside?” Lizzie hurried up the path to find a better view.

“Indeed I have. It’s filled with hundreds of displays, from heavy machinery—tedious, although it is the best in the world—to exquisite gems. You’ll be interested to know that two of the largest diamonds in the world are in there.” He looked at her askance. “Did you not hear anything about the Great Exhibition while you were living in the wilds of Australia?”

“I don’t know when I last saw a newspaper. It must have been at least six months ago. I remember reading about an exhibition that was spearheaded by Prince Albert, and that there was some controversy surrounding it. I don’t remember any details.”

“That ‘controversy’ you speak of was the decision to hold the Exhibition in Hyde Park. It was vehemently opposed by many of the fashionable set. They gave dire predictions that the building would be hideously ugly and leave our beautiful park a treeless, barren landscape. But as you see, the result is—”

“Dazzling,” Lizzie finished for him, staring at the building with admiration. “When were you there?”

“Oh, I’ve been several times. I bought a season ticket, of course. It was the only way to get in for the grand opening last month.”

She turned to him eagerly. “Can we go there now?”

James laughed. “I’m afraid not. You will need at least
a full day to see everything. Auntie wants you home in time for luncheon. I’ll take you there soon, if you feel strong enough for such a venture.”

“I’m sure I shall.”

“I’m so glad you have returned to London,” James said. “What fun we shall have.”

Lizzie tried to envision whole trees inside a building filled with fine objects on display. She was sure it would be grander than anything she could imagine. How she wished Tom could have seen it. He had loved London, with all its crowds and business and majestic monuments; he’d even loved its dirt and fog. How thrilled he would have been to see this incomparable sight. At these thoughts, the Crystal Palace seemed to blur before her. She blinked several times and murmured, “He would have loved it.”

“How thoughtless of me,” James said. “Here I was thinking only of the joy of having you back, and not of the sad circumstances which brought you here.” As he turned to pluck a bloom from a flowering bush, he added, “I know I am no match to your dear Edward for company.” He presented it to her with a flourish. “Will you forgive me?”

She accepted the bright red bloom with an attempt at a tiny smile, and took a moment to savor its delicate scent, not trusting herself to speak.

“Oh, dear,” James said, glancing down the path. “Just when I thought I had succeeded in brightening your mood, here comes Geoffrey.”

Lizzie looked up. He was about fifty yards away, moving in their direction. His tall form stood out among the reeds that grew along the water’s edge. He caught
sight of them and quickened his pace, causing Lizzie’s heart to quicken as well. It was her anger over yesterday’s events causing it, she knew. She had not forgotten his harsh words.

Yet she could not help noticing how well he looked in his dark coat and cravat. Black might look drab on other men, but it seemed to suit Geoffrey’s jet-black eyes and hair better than any bright color could have done. She would have preferred it for her own composure if he had not looked quite so handsome.

As his long strides rapidly closed the distance between them, Lizzie found herself locked in that intense gaze of his, rooted to the spot, unable to move and strangely light-headed.