Magic and Manners (An Austen Chronicle Book 1) by CE Murphy

Author:CE Murphy [Murphy, CE]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Miz Kit Productions
Published: 2016-03-02T05:00:00+00:00

(36)

Already entirely taken with Miss Annabel, Elsabeth rose and turned to the door, eager to lay eyes upon Lady Beatrice. Mr Cox lurched forward to provide introductions, and in so doing briefly obscured his patroness from Elsabeth’s view, but when it was cleared, Elsabeth did not find herself disappointed. They were introduced, and then for some time, Lady Beatrice showed no interest in Elsabeth, choosing instead to engage with Ruth. Elsabeth was more than content with this scenario, seizing the opportunity to study the woman of whom Mr Cox had spoken so highly.

A broad, hawkish nose would have, on almost any other woman, defined her entire being, and, given the arrogance of her stare, perhaps it did. It could equally, however, been simple beauty that both defined her and offered her such arrogant confidence. Her eyes were black, her cheekbones magnificent, and her jaw had softened very little with age. Indeed, although her hair was snowy white, the face beneath it might have been anywhere from fifty to seventy, and no one could be the wiser in knowing which age she lay closer to.

Her gown, while impeccably tailored to a woman of age whose taste for fashion had been settled in the previous century, was also vibrant orange, and patterned with squares of black centered by splashes of yellow. It highlighted the earthy undertones of her umber skin, giving her a warmth of presence that Elsabeth gazed at with admiration until Lady Beatrice spoke. “You are obviously Mrs Cox’s sister, although, at first glance, you show none of her social graces. You are staring, Miss Elsabeth.”

Elsabeth inhaled, caught on an edge between guilt and willing admission. “I am, Lady Beatrice.”

Before she could continue with an apology, Lady Beatrice demanded, “Why? Is age so astonishing to you, or is it the colour of my skin?”

“The colour of your gown, rather, Lady Beatrice,” Elsa replied stiffly. “I have never seen such a richly dyed orange, nor such bold patterning, nor, if I may say so, anyone upon whom it could possibly be so well suited. I am afraid I was staring, but I did so from admiration. I should imagine anyone would wish to reach an age of wisdom with such beauty and confidence as you possess.”

“Anyone would. Few shall accomplish it. Your sister is too opinionated for an unmarried woman,” said Lady Beatrice to Ruth. “You must lead by example, or surely she will never earn a husband.”

Ruth, with humour so repressed as to make her sanctimonious, answered, “I have often said so, Lady Beatrice,” and, with some effort, refrained from looking at Elsabeth.

Mr Cox, however, showed no such discretion, and began a sermon on the value of the wedded state and how a suitable husband might elevate the females in his life to a station, whether emotional, intellectual or social, that otherwise lay beyond their reach or indeed, he concluded, their capability of desiring. There were, of course, certain females to whom this did not apply, he said with

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