whose heart didn’t pick up a beat at the mere sight of him.
When her mother arrived, they tried to stop smiling, but they were both so happy, Elizabeth knew her mother suspected something, if not the whole truth. And that likely explained the painful meeting she’d just had with her.
They’d been in Newport two weeks now. Elizabeth hated it here, had been a virtual prisoner with her mother as the uncompromising warden. She’d not been allowed to accept a single invitation to a ball or picnic, and instead sweltered in her room that didn’t even have a view of the Atlantic Ocean. Her windows were so high, they let in light but little else. But despite every thing, once she was away from her mother and back in her room, she could smile again, she could think of Henry, remember how he looked, how she could tell he’d wanted to kiss her when they’d made their plans. Everything would be fine. Once the wedding was done, her mother would have to forgive her. And if she didn’t that would be fine, too.
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself and walked to a small table where she kept her portable rosewood writing desk, and wondered if she could dare write a letter to Henry. The footmen had been instructed not to allow her to leave the house, not even to walk around the beautiful grounds that swept down to the sea.
“Where are you?” she whispered, writing Henry’s name over and over before crumpling the paper up. It wouldn’t do for a maid to find the revealing paper, then show it to her mother. Henry had said he’d come to visit her. He’d said he’d write. Two weeks had passed since their engagement and she hadn’t heard a thing.
A quiet knock she recognized as her governess drew her away from her tortured thoughts. One look at Susan’s face and Elizabeth knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. Susan’s eyes were red-rimmed and her nose bright red from crying.
“Your mother has dismissed me,” Susan said, taking a lace-edged handkerchief and angrily dashing away a tear.
“But why?” Elizabeth asked, feeling the shock of those words pierce her.
“She told me I wasn’t needed anymore. That you’d be a married woman soon without need of a governess.”
It was probably true that Elizabeth, at nineteen, was far too old for a governess, but Susan was more than that and always had been. Susan was one of her dearest friends, the person she trusted most in the world. She was the only one who knew Elizabeth was engaged, who knew she was deeply and forever in love with Henry. Not even her closest friend, Maggie, knew that.
“I’ll tell you something your mother swore me not to tell, but it doesn’t make any difference now. Not one bit of difference,” Susan said bitterly. “Your young man has been to the house every day for a week and your mother has Swanson send him away.”
“He has?” Her deep relief that Henry had not forgotten her was immediately followed by the anguish of knowing he’d been sent callously away. And no one had bothered to tell her. The servants’ loyalty to Alva was absolute, for they’d seen too many instances of employees sent to the streets for infractions far smaller than flouting her direct orders. Her maid, the footmen who guarded the doors, even Susan may have given her sad looks, but no one had dared countermand her mother.
“And he’s written, too. A stack of letters. All burned. I just don’t understand your mother, how she can be so cruel. And now I’m sacked. Just like that.” She looked nervously at the door as if Alva would materialize. “She doesn’t know I’m up here with you, if she did…I have to go, my dear.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, panic hitting her hard. She could not lose Susan, not now, not when she needed her more than ever. “I’ll talk to my mother. I’ll tell her she can’t fire you. This is impossible.”
“I have to go,” Susan said, clearly distressed. “You don’t know what she’s capable of. Don’t cross her, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face and was suddenly afraid she might actually faint. “What are you saying?”
“You cannot marry Henry. She’ll do something awful. You didn’t hear what she said to me, how much she’s against your marrying anyone but that duke.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “But he hasn’t asked yet.”
“He will,” Susan said woodenly. “I have to go. I don’t want to. You know that.”
Elizabeth threw herself against the older woman, clutching her as if she were her only hope. “Please, Susan,” she said. “I’ll talk to Mother.”
Susan pulled away. “I’ll be praying for you.” She headed for the door and Elizabeth suppressed a chill that ran down her spine. She’d never known Susan to pray for anything and wondered precisely what she was trying to protect her from.
“Where will you go? How can I reach you?”
“I’ll write,” she said, but her expression told Elizabeth she was probably unlikely to receive the missive.
“Mark it from my father,” Elizabeth said. “She’d never think to cross him.”
Susan gave her a small smile, then disappeared through the door.
Elizabeth paced frantically in her room, wondering if she could sneak out of the house during the night to meet with Henry. She didn’t know where he was, with whom he was staying, or if he was staying at a hotel. Certainly she couldn’t wander about the streets of Newport in the dark calling his name. It was hopeless. Her body throbbed with impotent anger. She had to stop her mother from this madness. She must.
Elizabeth stormed out her door, ready to finally confront her mother. Alva Cummings was still in her drawing room, diligently working on her correspondence, no doubt giving her regrets for dozens of invitations for her daughter. The thought that her mother had most probably read the letters to her from Henry further incensed her.
“Mother, you cannot fire Susan. I will not tolerate it,” she said, proud at how forceful she sounded. Her mother didn’t even glance up, made not a single motion that she was even aware her daughter was in the room. Elizabeth refused to repeat herself for she knew her mother heard her. The longer she stood facing the silent woman, the more her power drained away, until desperation began seeping past her newfound strength.
“Susan is my friend,” she said. “You cannot dismiss her from my life so easily. You cannot.”
Alva continued scribbling away, but her face was slightly ruddy, which Elizabeth took as a sign of her anger. Good. She didn’t care if she exploded from anger.
“And I’m not marrying the duke. I cannot because I am already promised to another. Henry and I plan to wed—”
“You will not,” her mother shouted, standing so abruptly, Elizabeth let out a startled cry. “How dare you make such an agreement without my consent. Or your father’s. You have no right.”
“We love each other.”
Alva’s face nearly turned purple. “Have you any idea the sacrifice your father and I have made in order to arrange your marriage to the duke. Do you? Love,” she spat. “Marriage has nothing to do with love. And if you think, my dear, that Henry Ellsworth loves anything more than your money, you are very sadly mistaken. I would never allow you to put this family in such a humiliating position. It will not be tolerated. I would have him murdered before I allowed such
