Page 103 of A Literary Liaison
Elisha, her cheeks slightly flushed and her movements just a touch unsteady, spoke with more animation than Edgar had ever seen from her. “Oh, yes! I was just telling Mr. Thornton about my meeting with Lord Kelly. You know, the one who’s so vehemently opposed to reform?”
Edgar felt his heart sink. Was she about to reveal more than she ought? But as Elisha continued, he began to detect something deliberate in her manner—the way her voice carried just far enough, the calculated stumble over a word.
“It was the most extraordinary thing,” she said, her voice pitched slightly louder than usual, as though she’d had perhaps one glass of champagne too many. “There I was, expecting to encounter this fearsome opponent of progress, and instead I found the most charming gentleman! He made me quite rethink my position on several matters.”
Edgar watched, fascination replacing jealousy, as Elisha continued her performance. She was brilliant—playing the slightly inebriated Society lady to perfection while subtly guiding the conversation. To what end, he couldn’t tell.
The duchess raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Did he indeed, my dear? How fascinating. Perhaps you’d care to elaborate as we make our way to the card tables?”
As they moved across the room, Elisha maintained her act, punctuating her tale with little laughs and theatrical gestures that gave the impression of a woman whose tongue had been loosened by wine. She continued to lean against Thornton, touching his arm frequently, and Edgar could see how the man preened under her apparent attention.
“You see,” she continued, swaying slightly as they walked, “Lord Kelly had the most compelling arguments about the potential consequences of hasty reform. Did you know, he once had a footmanwho taught himself to read, and the poor man became so disillusioned with his station that he ran off to America?”
Edgar, listening intently, began to admire the subtlety of Elisha’s maneuvering. She was drawing out the opposition’s arguments while appearing to be swayed by them.
“Of course,” she added with a conspiratorial wink at Thornton that made Edgar’s hands clench despite understanding her strategy, “I’m sure Mr. Thornton and his associates have much more practical concerns when it comes to matters of business and politics. After all, one can hardly run a successful enterprise if one’s workforce is constantly agitating for change, can one?”
As they reached the card tables, Edgar found himself torn between admiration for Elisha’s clever performance and the primitive urge to tear her away from Thornton’s side.
“Well then,” the duchess said, settling into her chair with a rustle of silk, “shall we begin? I, for one, am most eager to see how the cards fall this evening.”
As the evening progressed and the cards were dealt, Edgar watched Elisha carefully guide the conversation, drawing information from her fellow players with seemingly innocent questions and observations. She made sure to keep Thornton’s glass filled, laughing at his stories, touching his arm in apparent admiration. Edgar had to admit her performance was masterful, even as it made his blood boil to watch.
It was during a lull in the game, as Mr. Hargrove reshuffled the deck, that Edgar noticed Thornton’s guard beginning to slip. Elisha had just finished recounting an amusing anecdote about a reformist pamphleteer she’d supposedly interviewed, when Thornton’s expression darkened.
“You know,” Thornton began, his words slightly slurred, his voice low and bitter, “there was a time when my family understood the importance of maintaining the natural order of things.”
Edgar felt the tension at the table shift as all eyes turned to Thornton. Even his mother seemed taken aback by the sudden change in tone.
Elisha leaned closer to Thornton with apparent curiosity. “Oh, do tell us more, Steven. Your family sounds fascinating.”
Thornton took a long sip of his brandy before continuing, the alcohol having clearly loosened his tongue. “My father was a baron, did you know? He had estates, influence, everything a family could want.”
“What happened?” Mr. Hargrove asked, his voice gentle.
Thornton’s laugh was bitter, his usual polished demeanor cracking before Edgar’s eyes. “What always happens when men of breeding forget their place and start entertaining dangerous ideas. He fell in love with reform, with the notion that commoners could better themselves, that birth shouldn’t determine one’s station in life.”
Edgar felt a chill as he watched the man’s true nature emerge. He caught Elisha’s eye briefly, seeing a flash of understanding pass between them.
“Before long,” Thornton continued, oblivious to the effect his words were having around the table, “he was using our family’s resources to fund radical causes. Supporting the very people who should have been grateful for their station rather than grasping for more.”
Edgar observed Mr. Hargrove’s expression growing increasingly cold, though Thornton, deep in his cups and lost in his bitterness, failed to notice the change.
“Within a decade, he’d lost everything,” Thornton said, his voice thick with resentment. “His estates, his place in Society, his title. All because he couldn’t see that some barriers exist for a reason. The common classes need to understand their place—they’re not capable of the responsibilities that come with true power.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Edgar watched Elishamaintain her act, reaching out to pat Thornton’s hand with apparent sympathy.
“How dreadfully unfair,” she murmured. “No wonder you’re so passionate about preserving the proper order of things.”
“Precisely,” Thornton nodded, seemingly grateful for her understanding. “These so-called reformers, these pamphlet writers stirring up discontent—they don’t understand the chaos they’re unleashing. Common people getting ideas above their station, thinking they deserve the same considerations as their betters…” He gestured dismissively. “It’s unnatural. Dangerous.”
Edgar felt his own tension mount, but Elisha pressed on flawlessly. “And I suppose that’s why you’re so invested in securing the Royal Mail contract? To prevent such dangerous ideas from spreading?”
“Among other things,” Thornton said with a satisfied smile. “Control the flow of information, control the masses. Keep them content in their proper places.”
Edgar watched Mr. Hargrove’s face darken further at these words. The man who had built his transportation empire from nothing was clearly appalled.
Rising from his chair with deliberate slowness, Hargrove fixed Thornton with a steely gaze that Edgar had rarely seen from the usually genial businessman. “Mr. Thornton, I believe I’ve heard quite enough for one evening.”
