Page 64 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Past cure I am, now reason is past care,

And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;

My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,

At random from the truth vainly expressed:

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,

Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

—Shakespeare, “Sonnet 147”

Elizabeth refused toaccept a chaste relationship, not after the night they’d shared. And rather than wait for Richard to return from wherever he’d run off to—according to Hastings, not even returning for his breakfast—she had penned a note to Sophia and Catherine.

“You truly are the best of friends,” Elizabeth said as Madame Moreau slipped into the back room to gather some fabric. “I want something daring and enticing, and I’m not sure I am a good judge of that.”

“I’m here for the company,” Catherine said, wiggling in her chair, trying to get comfortable. She rubbed her growing belly absently. “I won’t be much help. The only daring nightgown I’ve ever owned Sophia picked out.”

“And it worked, no?” Sophia said, not looking up from the fashion plates she was sifting through.

Elizabeth wondered at the series of emotions that played across Catherine’s face before she said it had, most definitely, worked. It was not so long ago Catherine had struggled in her own relationship. Elizabeth remembered well the hurt haunting Catherine’s face on her wedding day and the discomfort at their celebration dinner. Nicholas had been blatantly angry and Catherine far too subdued. It had not been her place to ask how Catherine and Nicholas had moved from such antagonism to the state of comradery and open affection they now shared. Still, it gave Elizabeth hope that she and Richard, too, could find such happiness together once again.

Madame Moreau entered, and their attention turned to the fabric she’d selected. “The sheer pink will look best,” Sophia pronounced. “Do you have black? It might make her toobianca,too pale and delicate, or she might look deliciously ominous, like thevedova nera…” She scrunched her delicate nose, then she snapped her fingers. “…the black widow spider.”

“I will see what I have,” Madame Moreau said and disappeared again.

Sophia set aside the fashion plates and eyed Elizabeth. “I believe in collecting beautiful things,mia amica, and in keepingamoreinteresting, but I must confess I was surprised by your unexpected request this morning. You are letting gossip under your skin and…” Sophia pursed her lips, looking for the words. She shook her head in irritation and lifted her arm, scratching it in demonstration. “The itch?” she asked.

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned recalling the ladies who’d called her a broodmare. “I am not scratching anything. Those two ladies did not get under my skin.”

Catherine and Sophia looked at each other, then back at her. Sophia tilted her head and knitted her eyebrows, her lips pressed tightly together, and Catherine looked genuinely distressed.

“What?” Elizabeth’s skin now crawled with more than an itchy feeling. The trepidation that had been percolating since Sunday threatened to boil over.

“You did not read this morning’s paper?” Sophia asked, watching her closely.

“Richard was not home for breakfast, so I ate in my room. I usually read it when he is through with it.” She shook her head. “No, I have not read the paper.”

“Oh dear,” Catherine said quietly.

“I have this,” Madame Moreau said, holding a bolt of midnight-black silk out for them to see.

“Do you have theMorning Chronicle?” Sophia asked Madame Moreau.

“Non, madame, but I can sendune filleto find it.”

“Do,” Sophia said, waving the woman out of the room. “Sit,bella. Catherine, Madame keeps cognac in the cabinet in the other room. If you would,mia cara.”

Elizabeth watched Catherine leave the room. “What is this about?”

“I will let you see for yourself. Perhaps I am too dramatic. It is in my blood,” Sophia said, shrugging unapologetically.

“Le voici,” Madame Moreau said, raising the paper in triumph. “They had a copy inle magasinnext door.” She handed it to Sophia.

“Merci, Madame. Ce sera tout,” Sophia said as Catherine returned with a tray of glasses and the decanter of cognac. Madame Moreau arched an eyebrow at Sophia but said nothing before leaving, closing the door behind her.

---