There was a great deal more that Marcus wanted to speak with Lizbeth about, but allowing for the trauma she’d just gone through, he thought it better to give her a couple days to settle in at Addie’s house first. He only hoped Lizbeth would not do anything foolish and find herself back in trouble again.
He shook his head as the train pulled into Bath Spa Station and the passengers all began to gather their belongings. Able to take care of herself, indeed. If ever there was a woman who needed taking care of, it was Miss Lizbeth Davenport.
L
izbeth had to admit she was wrought with nerves as the hackney pulled up in front of the Berkshire residence. It was easy for Pamela and Marcus to assure her that Lady Berkshire would welcome her with open arms. But now that Lizbeth’s new sense of suspecting everyone’s good deeds had settled firmly into her mind, she wondered what this woman would gain from this.
It troubled her that she had become so jaded and cynical. But on the other hand, she would never allow herself to be fooled again.
A footman opened the door of the carriage and stepped back. Marcus exited first, then turned to take her hand. She would have preferred to climb out herself, but with the awkwardness of her skirts, that was impossible. All she would accomplish was probably tumbling to the ground. At least both she and Marcus were wearing gloves, so she needn’t feel his skin.
They barely made it to the top step when the front door opened, and a man stepped out. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mallory.”
“Good afternoon, Penrose.” Marcus brought Lizbeth forward. “This is Miss Davenport, who is to be a guest of Lord and Lady Berkshire.”
“Welcome, Miss Davenport,” the butler said. He then turned to Marcus. “Her ladyship is in the drawing room.”
Marcus took Lizbeth’s elbow and escorted her upstairs to the first floor. The spasms of panic in her middle increased the closer they got to the door at the end of the corridor where she could hear conversation.
“Marcus!” Lady Berkshire stood and held her arms out to her brother. There was no doubt in Lizbeth’s mind that this woman was his sister. Were they both men, or both women, they would be mistaken for identical twins.
Marcus enveloped his sister as close as he could in a hug and kissed her cheek. “You are looking wonderful for someone who is about to give birth.” He leaned back and studied her huge abdomen with concern. “Er, how soon is it due?”
She waved her hand. “He or she, brother, not an ‘it’, is due in about six or seven weeks. Aside from eating everything that doesn’t crawl away from me and sleeping hours during the day—since I can’t sleep at night—I feel fine. Fat.” She turned from her brother and looked over at Lizbeth.
Lizbeth’s heart pounded, wondering if she should just run off and find somewhere else to stay. This was a woman of the ton. She was married to an earl, for heaven’s sake. Why would they allow a fallen woman in their home?
Then Addie waddled toward her, her arms extended once again. “I am so very pleased that you will be staying with us, Miss Davenport.” She gave her a hug, again her stomach getting in the way of any closeness between them.
Lizbeth quelled the urge to cry. She cleared her throat and looked at Lady Berkshire. “I am grateful that you are allowing me to stay here. If it becomes a problem, please do not hesitate to let me know.”
Lady Berkshire’s eyebrows rose. “A problem? Why ever would you think that? Lord Berkshire and I are thrilled to have your company.” She placed her arm around Lizbeth’s shoulders and walked her toward the settee where they both settled.
“I have a lovely room ready for you.” She looked over at Marcus who was grinning. “Why are you grinning at me? It‘s my stomach, isn’t it?” She shook her head at Lizbeth and rolled her eyes. “Men.”
“And brother, your usual room is ready,” she tossed over her shoulder, then again addressed Lizbeth. “I haven’t arranged for tea because it’s quite close to luncheon. I would love a nice long chat, but I imagine you would like to see your room and freshen up. Cook will have everything ready in about fifteen minutes.”
“Yes. I would like that.”
Lady Berkshire turned to Marcus. “Will you please ring for a footman?”
Once the footman arrived, she said, “Please have Sybil show Miss Davenport to the room Mrs. Marshall has prepared for her.” She turned to Lizbeth. “Sybil is one of our maids and Mrs. Marshall is the housekeeper. If you need anything, you may send word to Mrs. Marshall. She is wonderful.”
To say she was overwhelmed was a gross understatement. Growing up they had a woman who came in to do laundry and clean, as well as a cook, but only one maid, and definitely no footmen since their snug little house barely held the five of them.
“Thank you, my lady. Again, I appreciate your kindness.”
“Oh, there won’t be any ‘your lady’ with me, please. I would like for you to call me Addie, which is what my friends call me.”
To be considered a friend so quickly and easily told Lizbeth a lot about this woman. Could it be that she was as nice as Marcus seemed to be? Then her reluctance to trust anyone rose and she mentally pulled back. It was better to keep a distance between them to protect herself. “Thank you. And please call me Lizbeth.”
“That is an unusual name. Is there a story behind it?” Addie struggled to rise from the chair. Marcus walked over and took her hands and pulled her up. She thanked him and then swatted his arm again when he laughed. Addie walked with her to the entrance hall where they waited for Sybil.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Lizbeth answered. “My brother Jacob was four years younger than me. He could not say ‘Elizabeth’ which is my given name. So soon everyone was calling me Lizbeth and it’s been that way for years.”
Addie reached out and touched Lizbeth’s hand. “I heard about the terrible tragedy you suffered with your family’s deaths. I hope you don’t mind that Pamela told us one day when we met for tea. I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Lizbeth blinked to keep from crying again.