The Greatest Showman #1307 – Stealing the Bell

Smile, maintain composure, listen attentively, speak occasionally, make eye contact, and exit gracefully.

Elizabeth continued to uphold her flawless composure. The nobility and elegance in her demeanor exuded a chilling aura, yet there was an undeniable allure—like a pristine crystal vessel, unblemished and captivating. A string of light blue diamonds adorned her delicate neck, while an azure blue pendant hung heavily, radiating an unapproachable dignity.

"We shouldn't be here," Elizabeth remarked for the fourteenth time, her smile unwavering, the curve of her lips perfectly intact. She nodded discreetly toward Princess Beatrice, who was a short distance away.

Princess Beatrice had arrived today, donning a rose gold Versace dress, blending silk and lace to accentuate both the youthfulness and maturity of her figure. Pearl earrings and a matching necklace reflected her youthful cheeks, still rounded with a hint of baby fat, adding a touch of innocent radiance.

Elizabeth's fingers tightened around the champagne glass in her hand, feeling the subtle pressure of her grip.

Damn it.

Her mind cursed again in a whisper, and though her smile remained, a subtle stiffness appeared at the corners of her mouth. It was an open secret that Princess Beatrice had come for Renly.

George, standing beside her, exuded the air of a gentleman in his dark gray plaid suit, the lines of his face carved with maturity, the gray at his temples only adding to his distinguished charm. Together, he and Elizabeth made a striking couple, a vision of aristocratic perfection.

"Don't complain like a child. You can always leave if you wish," George murmured, his voice low and tinged with impatience. There was an understanding between them, one that didn't need to be explained.

Much had changed since Empire magazine revealed Renly's lineage. In the past six months, both George and Elizabeth had leveraged Renly's name to build momentum within the aristocratic circles. Their careers had flourished, and their lives were completely transformed.

Many young aristocrats now sought George's expertise, asking him to manage their family trust funds. He had become a sought-after figure in the world of fund management. At social gatherings, he was the center of attention, a figure of immense influence.

Elizabeth, too, had gained prominence, becoming the focus of art gallery events. Aristocratic women eagerly invited her to private tea parties, and she had ascended to the role of president in a book club and two appreciation societies. Her status in the social world had grown, and the gallery business flourished under her direction.

Despite the prestige they now enjoyed, the Hall family had once been a fading noble household, struggling both financially and socially. Now, through their own efforts, they had managed to reclaim their position among the elite—a feat that seemed almost impossible.

Yet, all their success had come at the expense of their pride. It was thanks to Renly's breakthroughs and achievements that they had regained their place at the top. For Elizabeth and George, this truth was more painful than any public disgrace. It was a constant reminder of their previous mistakes, a humiliation that gnawed at them, especially in the eyes of their peers.

The façade of their newfound success could not mask the deeper, lingering discomfort. Every day, they were forced to smile through the bitterness, to accept the humiliation that came with their elevated position.

Today, they were attending a private party hosted by the Earl of Oxford. Invitations to such exclusive events had become symbols of status. Those who were not invited would be quietly ridiculed, the event an implicit measure of one's worth in society. George and Elizabeth had to be there—there was no avoiding it.

"We can pretend that everything is fine and continue living in peace, but do you think he'll let us?" George's voice held a bitter edge. "He's been waiting for this day to confront us, to expose our mistakes, to humiliate us. Do you think we can escape by staying away?"

He.

The "he" in question was their youngest son, Renly Sebastian Hall. But in their voices, he was nothing more than a distant figure, like a stranger. The family bonds of the aristocracy were fragile at best, held together more by appearances than by genuine affection.

The aristocracy, like Hollywood, was a vanity fair, though with one key difference: while Hollywood's glitz was for the public eye, the aristocracy's glamour existed solely within its own ranks.

Elizabeth's smile faded, and she fought to keep her composure. "You mean, he planned all of this? We just walked right into it? My God, are you brilliant or foolish?"

George remained silent, raising his glass and sipping the amber liquid.

Before Elizabeth could respond, she shot him a glance, her eyebrows knitting in concern. "Are you planning something? Have you lost your mind? The Duke of Cambridge is here today, do you realize that? We'll be the laughing stock of the entire royal family!"

The Duke of Cambridge, Prince William, was in attendance, his presence a constant reminder of the societal pressures they were under.

George's expression hardened. "And what's your suggestion? Should we just leave the party, ignore the situation, or resign ourselves to shame? Did you forget the youngest son of the Dormer family's opening party? If we were too proud or complacent, we wouldn't be in the mess we're in now. So, what's your plan? I'm waiting to hear it."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed slightly, the words she wanted to say swirling on the tip of her tongue. "What's really going on? You should have at least warned me beforehand, or I'll lose my temper and not know how to handle it."

George responded coolly, "Viscount Bioford has received an invitation. He'll be here tonight."

Viscount Bioford, or John-de-Bioford, had a distinguished legacy. His title, though lower in rank than that of a Duke, was historically significant. He was the first nobleman in England to be made a viscount, and his status had been respected for centuries.

Though his title was less prestigious than others, Viscount Bioford was regarded as a respected elder in the aristocratic community. Even figures like the Duke of Cambridge and Princess Beatrice would show him deference. For someone like Viscount Bioford, maintaining tradition was paramount. He could be rigid and disapproving of anything that threatened the established order.

What made tonight's gathering particularly intriguing was the unexpected confrontation between Viscount Bioford and Renly. The prospect of this meeting was enough to make anyone with an understanding of aristocratic politics pause.

Elizabeth's first question was simple: "Why?"

The Viscount and the Earl of Oxford were not on good terms, largely due to the Earl's reputation for being unconventional. At every private event, Viscount Bioford had made his discontent known, lecturing the Earl on matters of propriety.

George provided a succinct explanation. "There's a rumor that the Earl of Oxford is hosting a midsummer party to mark the season's arrival. Viscount Bioford feels compelled to attend. The Earl had no choice but to extend a personal invitation."

Elizabeth remained silent, digesting the information.

Nearby, the Duke of Cambridge and Princess Beatrice made their entrance. Straightening their postures, George and Elizabeth exchanged glances before making their way to greet the royal family.