Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
When they were admitted to the king’s presence, these old echoes fled in the face of present anguish. The chamber was thick with it, so much that she recoiled a moment at the doorway. A guard urged her forward. August made a harsh noise in his throat at the servant’s handling, but she squeezed her husband’s arm, willing him to stay calm.
For there was little calm here. Elizabeth had not seen the king in years, aside from drawings in books and papers. His poor health and suffering were evident. He sat stooped and stiff, a great bulk of a monarch upon his throne. His skin had gone florid and patchy-red in his decline. His extremities looked unnaturally swollen, his fingers like sausages. She recollected herself in her shock and dropped into a deep curtsy while August bowed. The king’s reddened eyes raked her and August as he looked down his mottled nose.
For a moment he seemed unaware of who they were, why they were there. A guard intoned, “The Lady Augustine and her husband, Lord Augustine.”
“Ah.” The king’s drooping eyes sharpened. “My good earl. I thought you were your father for a moment…the resemblance…”
“Your Majesty,” he said, with another bow.
“Why are you holding our lady so?” the king asked his guards. “Brigands, you offend her. Release her.”
The guards bowed. There was so much bowing at court, thought Elizabeth.
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” said the lead guard. “You ordered her detained…”
“Detained?” The king scoffed. “Did I say detained? I meant obtained, you idiots. Obtained for my company. Detained, obtained.” He made a confused, dismissive gesture. “I wished to visit with the lady, and you bring her here under arms, like a traitor or thief.” His rheumy, red eyes returned to Elizabeth. “I meant obtained, my dear.”
“Oh, yes, Your Majesty. Of course. Anyone might make that mistake.”
The guards, who’d now released her, murmured apologies before they scuttled backward and away. Elizabeth bit her lip, thinking how panicked she’d been at her “arrest,” and remembering all the guests who’d seen her taken from the garden party by the stone-faced guards.
Obtained.
Detained.
The difference meant her renewed disgrace within society, the gossip spreading through the ton’s parlors even now as she stood here before this suffering king.
“Well, my dear lady, come closer, please. My eyes are not what they were.”
Elizabeth tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage. Nervous irritation warred with lingering fear, but as she went to stand before King George, her feelings transformed to sympathy for the aging ruler. He was in terrible health.
He wore a white waistcoat of fine silk topped with a striking scarlet coat that stretched tight across his arms and chest. His cravat was clean but wrinkled, probably because he tugged at it with regularity. He smelled of sweat and a stronger, cloying scent that might have been laudanum. He sized her up with eyes that betrayed his rumored addiction.
“You are the Duke of Arlington’s daughter, yes?”
She curtsied again. “I have that honor.”
“Yes, your father is a fine man. Sit beside me, young lady.” He beckoned one of the liveried footmen. “Here! Bring her a chair, you oafs.”
A padded, gilt chair was produced, though August, standing some yards away, was not offered one. She settled into it, watching the king warily as he steepled his hands.
“We hear that you are newly married, Lady Augustine, and attending many balls and parties with your husband.” He flicked a glance at August. “Does he suit you?”
“Very much, Your Majesty.”
“You have a look of happiness about you.” He spread his hands, his great swollen fingers. “It’s a fine thing to be married. A fine thing.” His mind seemed to wander a moment before he remembered himself. “Marriage brings children, and they are a blessing. The biggest blessing in life.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she agreed.
“Do you have children?”
His loud, abrupt query startled her. She glanced at August. “N-no, Your Majesty. Not yet. We only wed at Christmas.”
“I see.” He paused, staring across the great chamber a moment before turning back to meet her gaze. “I have heard whispers, young lady, even before this Season, that you possess some certain…powers.”
“I—” She swallowed hard. “I do not claim to be more special than any of Your Majesty’s subjects.”
“But you do have these powers. I’ve heard it whispered more than once! Don’t flush so, my girl. You are not in trouble.”
It was impossible for her not to flush beneath his continued scrutiny. First, he’d pulled her from her party, and now confronted her with this sensitive topic. All the while, the haunted, oppressive air in the chamber seemed to choke her.
The king’s next words came slowly, with some effort.
“I have called you here to help me with something. Some pain I feel.”
“Perhaps your physicians—”
He waved a hand. “It’s nothing those cretins can cure.” His voice grew maudlin, and his eyes closed. “You know my Charlotte?” he asked quietly. “My one child, my beloved daughter? She passed, oh, nearly ten years ago now, in childbed.”