Page 95 of A Literary Liaison
“When did you all mature so gracefully?” he asked, a twinge of guilt rising in his heart at having been so absorbed in his own affairs that he’d failed to notice his siblings’ growth.
“It appears we are unanimous in our approval,” the duchess observed with satisfaction. “Now, we must devise our strategy. We shall disseminate careful rumors regarding Edgar’s true intentions toward Miss Linde, thereby sowing confusion about the Hargrove situation from the outset. In this manner, Miss Hargrove shall not be caught entirely unawares when Edgar withdraws from consideration.”
*
The gentle rapupon her chamber door startled Elisha from her contemplation. She had been lost in thought, pondering the previous evening’s events—Edgar’s obvious discomfort during his brief dance with Miss Hargrove and their private conversation that had explained so much while raising new concerns about the precarious nature of his business negotiations.
“Pray, enter,” she called, smoothing her skirts as she rose from her perch by the window.
To her astonishment, it was not Amelia nor a maidservant who entered, but the Duchess of Lancaster herself. The elder woman’s regal bearing commanded the room, her silver-streaked tresses elegantly coiffed and her gown a masterpiece of understated opulence.
“Miss Linde,” the duchess said, her voice warm yet tinged with unmistakable authority. “Might I prevail upon you to join me for a private discourse before we prepare for dinner?”
Elisha executed a deep curtsy, her heart racing with uncertainty about this unexpected summons. “Certainly, Your Grace. I am most honored.”
The duchess conducted her to a small, exquisitely appointed sitting room within the guest quarters. Once they were seated in chairs positioned to encourage intimate conversation, the elder woman’s penetrating gaze settled upon Elisha with the intensity of a master strategist evaluating a potential ally.
“Miss Linde, Edgar has spoken of you with great fondness and respect. You are but the second lady he has presented to his family.” The duchess’ eyes met Elisha’s, studying her with the keen perception of someone accustomed to reading character. “His heart is not easily won, and I harbor no desire to witness my son endure further heartache. His position carries tremendous responsibility and even greater scrutiny. Any union he enters must be capable of withstandingthe considerable pressures inherent in his station.”
Elisha nodded slowly, her hopes and fears warring within her. “I comprehend your concerns, Your Grace. You question whether I possess the fortitude to endure such demands.”
“It is not merely a question of endurance, my dear,” the duchess said with surprising gentleness. “It concerns tact, the ability to deflect criticism with grace, to discern the true nature of others, to maintain one’s standing in Society while supporting your husband’s political endeavors. These skills are paramount for a duchess—and you shall undoubtedly make enemies by virtue of your humble origins. The ceaseless gossip, the potential damage to Edgar’s influence in the House of Lords, the impact upon his siblings’ marriage prospects… I expound on these matters to illuminate the gravity of Edgar’s decision to present you to his family.”
Elisha felt her throat constrict with the weight of responsibility being laid before her. While she had understood the challenges would be significant, she had not fully grasped their far-reaching implications. “I beg your pardon for bringing such potential tribulation to His Grace and to your family, Your Grace. I confess I may have been naive about the consequences.”
The duchess reached out, patting Elisha’s hand with unexpected warmth. “I believe your intentions to be entirely honorable, but in our world, pure intentions are not always sufficient protection. I implore you to consider with utmost care what a union with Edgar would truly entail. Can you withstand the constant scrutiny, the unfair criticisms, the false accusations that will inevitably come?”
Elisha drew upon her inner reserves, thinking of the trials she had already survived. “I believe I possess the requisite strength, Your Grace. Competition was fierce in every sphere I inhabited during my formative years. I fought for every necessity—clothing, shelter, sustenance, employment. I was compelled to develop resilience, to anticipate others’ motivations, to never indulge in self-pity, and to riseagain after each setback. I learned true peace only when I established my career as a writer.”
The duchess nodded approvingly, her eyes brimming with what might have been compassion. “The duty of a duchess also encompasses loving her duke unreservedly, providing him with domestic tranquility amidst the storms of public life. Are you capable of such selfless devotion when your upbringing necessarily taught you to prioritize your own survival? I observe the manner in which my son regards you, Miss Linde. Should his heart be shattered again, I fear he may not recover.”
Elisha considered the question carefully before responding. “With respect, Your Grace, I could never have survived in complete isolation. Without the support of my companions and our small community watching over one another, it would have been impossible to emerge unscathed. I learned early the vital importance of nurturing one’s community, of mutual support and loyalty. These lessons would serve me well as Edgar’s wife.”
The duchess’ expression transformed, satisfaction spreading across her refined features. “I am most grateful for the joy you bring to my son. It has been years since I have witnessed such light in his eyes, such purpose in his bearing. I am inclined to lend my assistance to you both—if you are amenable to participating in a small deception.”
Elisha’s eyes widened in surprise and not a little alarm. “Deception, Your Grace?”
The duchess leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping to an intimate whisper. “We shall craft a new narrative for you, my dear. One that might render you more palatable to theton’ssensibilities. Pray tell, have you any knowledge of foreign ancestry in your lineage?”
Elisha shook her head, bewildered by this unexpected turn. “Not to my knowledge, Your Grace. Though I must confess my understanding of my family history is exceedingly limited. I was raised in anorphanage from a very young age and retain no real memories of my life before that time.”
The duchess regarded her thoughtfully, without a trace of pity in her calculating gaze. “That actually affords us considerable latitude for creativity. Now, let me consider…” She studied Elisha intently, taking in her bone structure, coloring, and bearing. “Your features and complexion… yes, I believe we could quite convincingly present you as having Prussian ancestry. Tell me, child, how proficient are you in languages?”
“I have some command of French and German, Your Grace,” Elisha replied, still struggling to comprehend this sudden development.
The duchess clapped her hands together with evident delight. “Splendid! Now, attend most carefully to what I tell you. Henceforth, you are Elisha von Linde, granddaughter of a Prussian baron. Your late father was a minor nobleman who married an English lady of good family. You were reared primarily in England but spent your childhood summers at your grandfather’s estate near Berlin, which accounts for your linguistic abilities.”
Elisha’s head whirled with the elaborate fabrication being constructed around her. “But surely, Your Grace, people will investigate such claims—”
“Leave that concern entirely to me, my dear,” the duchess interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I shall initiate the whispers myself through carefully chosen confidantes. A few well-placed remarks about your aristocratic bearing, your instinctive knowledge of proper etiquette… Before the Season concludes, thetonwill be competing to claim they always recognized the nobility in your demeanor.”
She fixed Elisha with a stern but encouraging gaze. “Regardless of my son’s deep affection for you, it would significantly benefit your literary career to gain acceptance among theton, would it not?”
Elisha nodded slowly, beginning to see the wisdom in the duchess’ strategy. “Indeed, Your Grace. Such acceptance would afford me entry to the most prestigious literary salons and gatherings.”
“Precisely my thinking. However, remember that this deception will demand the utmost discretion and unwavering commitment from you. Are you prepared to undertake such a challenging role?”
Elisha drew a deep breath, weighing the moral implications against the practical benefits. Any lingering doubts about Edgar’s feelings for her had been dispelled by his family’s obvious preparation to welcome her, and perhaps, with time and the duchess’ guidance, she could prove her worth to Society through her own merits rather than fabricated lineage.
