Page 107 of A Literary Liaison
As the duchess’ words touched her deeply and her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, the older woman glanced around to ensure their privacy before leaning closer and lowering her voice dramatically.
“Speaking of fighting for things that matter,” she said with a mysterious smile, “the meeting location has changed.”
Elisha’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Meeting, Your Grace?”
The duchess nodded, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “After all, the eagle soars when chains are broken, does it not?”
Elisha froze as recognition dawned, her mind struggling to process what she was hearing. The phrase was a code used by the Pioneers—one she’d helped develop herself. Finally, her eyes widened with shock that was equal parts amazement and alarm.
The duchess smiled patiently, as if watching a particularly bright student solve a complex equation. “I am so delighted to discover that great minds think alike, Miss von Linde.”
“You…” Elisha stammered, glancing around frantically to ensure they weren’t overheard. “You are one of us?”
The duchess chuckled softly, clearly enjoying Elisha’s astonishment. “Of course, my dear. When Edgar discussed his newfound passion for social reform, did you truly think I would simply sit in my drawing room, embroidering cushions while my son risked his neck for justice?”
Elisha’s mouth fell open. “But… how? When? Does Edgar know?”
“He knows I support his efforts, though I suspect he has no idea of the extent of my involvement,” the duchess replied with evident satisfaction. “You see, my dear, a woman of my position has access to drawing rooms where men speak freely, assuming we’re too busy planning dinner parties to understand matters of import. The intelligence I’ve gathered has proven quite valuable to our mutual acquaintances.”
“But the risk—”
“Is far less for me than for Edgar, or indeed for you,” the duchess said firmly. “Should I be discovered, I’m merely an eccentric widow with radical sympathies. But you and Edgar…” She shook her head gravely. “The consequences would be far more severe.”
Elisha felt a rush of emotions—admiration, fear, and a deep gratitude for this remarkable woman who had welcomed her not just as a future daughter-in-law, but as a fellow conspirator in the fight for justice.
“Your Grace,” she said softly, “I’m honored by your trust. And your courage.”
The duchess squeezed her hand warmly. “The honor is mine, dear child. Edgar has found not just a wife, but a true partner. Someone who shares his burdens and his purpose. That gives this old woman considerable peace.”
As they began walking back toward the main gathering, Elisha felt a newfound respect for the woman beside her. “When is the next meeting?”
“Tomorrow evening, at the print shop. There are developments Edgar will want to know about upon his return.” The duchess’ tone carried a hint of concern that made Elisha’s stomach tighten with fresh worry.
“Developments?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until after we’ve finished charming these insufferable aristocrats,” the duchess said with renewed lightness. “Now, shall we go demonstrate how thoroughly a reformed orphan and a radical duchess can conquer high Society?”
With shared smiles of conspiracy and determination, they stepped back into the swirl of afternoon Society, their secret safely guarded behind pleasant conversation and perfect etiquette.
*
Elisha returned toLancaster Hall with the duchess and her daughters, her heart light with the afternoon’s success yet heavy with Edgar’s continued absence. However, hope flickered when she spotted familiar luggage in the entrance hall—surely Edgar had returned at last.
But as the minutes stretched into an hour, and an hour into the evening, her excitement curdled into disappointment. The luggage, she learned from an apologetic footman, belonged to Lord Edwin, who had arrived for a brief visit before departing for Scotland.
Shortly after dinner, her heart sank completely when the duchess approached her in the drawing room, her expression carefully neutral in that way that signaled bad news delivered with maximum diplomacy.
“My dear,” the duchess began gently, “I’m afraid Edgar has sent word that his business in the north will require more time than anticipated. Something about a particularly complex situation with some tenants.”
Elisha felt her chest tighten, though she managed to keep her voice steady. “I see. I do hope all is well.”
“Oh, quite,” the duchess assured her, though her eyes held a flicker of something that might have been worry—or guilt. “These matters can be so unpredictable. However, before you return to London tomorrow, I absolutely insist we fit you for some new autumn gowns. We cannot have the duke’s fiancée attending the Season’s events in last year’s fashions, can we?”
Before Elisha could protest, she found herself whisked away to the duchess’ private chambers. The room had been transformed into a whirlwind of activity, with seamstresses, bolts of fabric, and what appeared to be enough silk to outfit a small army.
“Goodness,” Elisha breathed, taking in the chaos. “This seems rather… extensive for a few gowns.”
“Nonsense,” the duchess declared, directing her to stand upon asmall platform in the center of the room. “You’ll need walking dresses, carriage dresses, evening gowns, and at least three ball gowns. And that’s just to start.”
