The Masquerade Read Free Page A

was haphazardly pinned up. Mother and daughter were both of a medium stature, and Lizzie rued the fact that from a distance, their round figures were so similar they could be mistaken for each other. Now Lydia Jane Fitzgerald laid eyes upon her sixteen-year-old daughter and she halted, almost falling over in her haste. “Lizzie! You must speak with your sister, as I cannot make headway! She is the most stubborn, ungrateful girl! Georgina has decided she will not attend the ball! Oh, my! The scandal! The disgrace! The countess, bless her saintly soul, will never forgive this! And for goodness sake, Georgina is the eldest. How will she ever find a suitor if she refuses to go to the social occasion of the year? Does she wish to marry a butcher or a smith?”
    Lizzie got to her feet, holding back a sigh as Georgie came downstairs more slowly, looking determined, her color high. Georgie was darkly blond and very tall and slender. Now she gave Lizzie a look that said, there was no compromise. Lizzie sighed. “Mama, I will speak with Georgie.”
    “You must do far more than speak with her,” Mama cried as if Georgie were not present. “We are invited to the earl’s exactly two times a year! It would be the worst insult should my entire family fail to appear!”
    That first declaration was true. The earl and countess of Adare opened up their home twice a year, on All Hallow’s Eve, when they held a costume ball, and on St. Patrick’s Day, for a lavish lawn party. Mama lived for these two events, as they were opportunities for her daughters to mingle with the elite of Irish society, and they all knew she prayed to God that just one of her daughters would land a wealthy Irish nobleman, perhaps even one of the de Warenne sons. But Lizzie knew her mother was in a dream of her own making. AlthoughMama claimed her family descended from a very royal Celtic line, the de Warennes were so far above the Fitzgeralds that the difference might have been that between peasant and royalty. No one would care if Georgie declined to attend.
    But Lizzie knew that Mama only meant well. She knew Mama was devoted to her daughters. She knew Mama was afraid that they would not marry well—and terrified that they would never marry at all. And she knew how hard Mama struggled to clothe and feed her daughters on Papa’s limited pension and present them to society as if they were not impoverished gentry. And Georgie knew it, too.
    Georgie spoke, her manner firm, as it usually was. “No one will notice my absence, Mama. It is delusional to think otherwise. And given Papa’s pension and the fact that Anna will surely marry first, taking up all available funds for a dowry, I doubt I will do better than a butcher or a blacksmith.”
    Lizzie gasped at Georgie’s effrontery and quickly hid a smile. Mama was speechless; it was a rare moment indeed.
    Papa coughed behind his hand, trying to hide his own amusement.
    Mama burst into tears. “I have devoted my entire life to finding you and your sisters husbands! And now you refuse to go to Adare! Now you speak of marriage to—” she shuddered “—the lowest sort of man! Georgina May!” Weeping, she rushed from the breakfast room.
    A silence fell.
    Georgie actually looked somewhat guilty.
    Papa gave her a reproachful glance. “I will leave you two to sort things out,” he said to both sisters. To Georgie, he added, “I know you will do what is right.” He walked out.
    Georgie sighed and faced Lizzie, her expression resigned and grim. “You know how I hate these society fêtes. I thought I would at least try to avoid this one.”
    Lizzie walked over to her beloved older sister. “Dear, didn’t you tell me just the other day that marriage serves a very distinct social purpose?” No one could rationalize a subject to a more proper conclusion than her oldest sister.
    Georgie closed her eyes.
    “I believe you also noted that it is mutually beneficial to both parties involved,” Lizzie said, knowing she