Belle's Beau (4 page)

Belle looked in the mirror and frowned. It was sometimes difficult to live up to her aunt's high standards. Belle honestly did not know how Cassandra had borne it, being raised with such strict notions of propriety.

Her sister was different from her, of course. Cassandra was the bravest individual imaginable, given a difficult set of circumstances, but otherwise she was a quiet, submissive miss.

A traitorous reflection flashed through Belle's mind. Undoubtedly Cassandra would have greeted the suggestion of a sedate drive in the park as a high treat. For the most part, Belle had thought it a dead bore. She would far rather have gotten up on her powerful gelding, Rolly, and gone for a proper ride.

Belle made a face at her reflection. "Proper" was exactly the wrong term for the sort of exercise she was envisioning, she knew. In London, a neck-for-nothing ride was not viewed as at all proper behavior for a young lady.

Belle considered herself with bald honesty. She knew that she could ride and hunt with the best. She could play the harp so well that it moved others to tears. These were her only true accomplishments. As her aunt had so gratifyingly mentioned, she also possessed a natural grace on the dance floor. But that was all that she could boast. With a deep frown, she wondered what someone, perhaps someone like Miss Carruthers, could list as her accomplishments.

"Is anything wrong, miss?" asked the maid, pausing in the act of smoothing Belle's hair with a brush. "Haven't I done it right? Your aunt did say I was to put your hair up."

"Oh! Oh, no, it is perfect," said Belle hastily. "I was just thinking, Sommers."

The maid nodded, satisfied, and returned to her task. Belle's thoughts continued to revolve around her present situation and how she had arrived in it.

Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone had told her that they would provide everything for her just as they would have done for Cassandra, including ordering a new wardrobe to replace her own outmoded one. Her grandfather had insisted that the bills for that be sent to him, however. "You may do everything else befitting the girl, but I shall continue to have the clothing of her," Sir Marcus had said in his obstinate fashion. Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone had agreed to it and had promised Sir Marcus that they would bring Belle out and present her at court and accompany her to every social affair that was de rigueur.

Belle had been dazzled by the plans laid out on her behalf and had agreed to everything with alacrity, even her grandfather's order that she was to obey every stricture given her by her aunt.

She still had nothing but enthusiasm for the original plan. After leading such a rigidly secluded life, she had been starved for some taste of the world. She was infinitely grateful to her uncle and aunt, and she was doing her best to make them proud of her.

She had never known them, except through her sister's letters, and she had often wished to be able to visit them at their home in Bath.

However, there had been bad blood for many years between Sir Marcus and his son and daughter-in-law. After the tragic accident that had orphaned the little girls, each household had pledged itself responsible for the raising of one twin, and the sisters had never met again until they had been able to change places and lives for a few awkward and rewarding months. The masquerade had led to a long overdue reconciliation of the family and had opened up the world to Belie.

When Belle accepted her uncle and aunt's invitation to go up to London with them for the Season, she had promised to be guided by their wisdom and worldly experience. And so here she was, going for sedate drives in the park rather than for proper rides.

Belle sighed a little regretfully. No matter how difficult it might seem at times, she was determined to be a proper lady. She would make a successful come-out, of that she was fully convinced. What would happen after that was not quite as clear in her mind.

Her aunt had expressed concern that afternoon that she was not quite up to the task of making a success of the Season. Belle felt an almost physical stumble in her natural self-confidence. But she had never in her life turned away from any jump, no matter how wide, and she decided that she would not do so now.

"Miss, your handkerchief," said the maid, holding it out.

Belle took the tiny scrap of linen and lace and looked at it. "I can't imagine that this will do me much good if I should ever need one," she remarked with a quick smile.

The maid folded her hands in front of her, responding with a small twitch of her lips. "No, miss. Howsomever, you must have it."

"Yes, of course." Belle thanked the maid for her services and marched out of the bedroom, tucking the useless handkerchief into her buttoned cuff. She started downstairs, certain that she would find her aunt again in the drawing room.

As she left the last carpeted stair and started across the entry hall toward the drawing room door, which stood slightly ajar, she heard the rumble of her uncle's voice coming from within and realized that Mr. Weatherstone must have returned from his club. Without hesitation, she pushed open the paneled door and entered. "Uncle Phineas! How good it is to see you."

Mr. Weatherstone stood up and took the hands that she held out to him. "Belle, you move me. I did not anticipate such a fine welcome."

"You are quite one of my favorite people," said Belle truthfully. She reached up to give his cheek an affectionate peck, before turning away to join her aunt, who was seated on the settee.

"I am well able to understand why we find ourselves the recipients of a flow of invitations," said Mr. Weatherstone in some amusement.

"Indeed! We have been in residence in London for little over a month, but already each morning's post brings several invitations, as well as the occasional billet or posy directed to Belle," said Mrs. Weatherstone in obvious satisfaction.

"Yes, and Belle is obviously thrilled with the tokens from her admirers," said Mr. Weatherstone teasingly.

Belle felt a blush stealing into her cheeks. "It has been very pleasant, in truth."

"She has never been the object of such attention in her life, and she is reveling in it, Phineas," said Mrs. Weatherstone with a chuckle. "As for the invitations, Belle eagerly agrees to my every suggestion on which ones are proper for her to attend."

"You are very accommodating, Belle," said Mr. Weatherstone.

"It doesn't matter to me what sort of entertainment is being offered. Everything is still so novel to me that it never enters my head to be bored," said Belle with a slight shrug.

"A sterling quality in anyone," observed Mr. Weatherstone.

"Quite. Nor do you complain of the heat in the closed houses. And you haven't picked up silly affectations like some of the other young misses," said Mrs. Weatherstone.

Belle looked from her uncle to her aunt and gave a spurt of unaffected laughter. "This is high praise, indeed!"

"I particularly like that about you, Belle. You're friendly and open. It is little wonder that you are swiftly becoming a very popular young lady," said Mr. Weatherstone. He raised a heavy brow. "I trust, however, that all of this adulation does not go to your head."

"I wondered if it might not, since Belle has been very sheltered and is just up from the country," said Mrs. Weatherstone, nodding. She smiled at her niece. "After our conversation this afternoon, however, I do not believe that we need worry overmuch, Phineas."

'”Tell me why you have drawn that conclusion, my dear," said Mr. Weatherstone with interest, as he glanced again at his niece.

"While it is true that Belle is somewhat dazzled by all the attention and admiration she has already received, she is at the core a very sensible young woman," said Mrs. Weatherstone. "She can be devastatingly honest with herself. She has informed me that self-deception is not one of her faults, and I believe her."

Belle felt that her face must be fiery red. She was not used to being discussed and complimented in such a fashion. "I scarcely know what to say, Aunt Margaret!"

"You have embarrassed the poor girl," said Mr. Weatherstone with a chuckle.

"So I have. True humility is rare, my dear. I am glad to see that you possess it." Mrs. Weatherstone gave a rueful laugh as she shook her head. "If anything, Belle, I dread your inexhaustible energy, but I have no anxiety that you will lose your head."

Mr. Weatherstone laughed. "I admit that I, too, feel more my years when I am around you, Belle. I hope that you will not wear your aunt to a bone, my dear."

"I shan't. I promise that I shall not be a drag upon you, dear Aunt Margaret," said Belle swiftly, a new anxiety rising in her. It was very, very difficult to be so perfect.

"I know that you shall not," said Mrs. Weatherstone, smiling at her niece. "By the by, that is a very becoming gown on you, Belle. I am glad that we purchased it before coming up to London."

"Thank you, Aunt," said Belle, smoothing the fine material beneath her fingers. She had never had such clothes in her life, nor had she been brought up to rely upon a maid to dress her. Gone were her comfortable gowns that she could button for herself and the simple way that she had tied back her hair. Now whenever she glanced at a mirror, she had to look again to be sure who it was that was looking back at her. It was a different world, indeed.

"Speaking of gowns, a package was delivered before you ladies came downstairs," said Mr. Weatherstone. He gestured toward the occasional table. "I had Monroe set it down over there."

"Phineas! Why ever didn't you tell me? That must be Belle's gown for our first ball," said Mrs. Weatherstone, rising at once and going over to claim the package.

Belle followed her aunt. As Mrs. Weatherstone began untying the string, she exclaimed, "I know that it must be beautiful!"

'The ball is a fortnight away, isn't it? Well, I must be certain to be here for the grand occasion," said Mr. Weatherstone. From across the room he smiled at his niece. "You have already garnered a handful of admirers, Belle. I, too, have seen their posies and other tokens of admiration in the morning post. Hasn't there even been a poem or two?"

Belle's eyes twinkled at her uncle. "Yes, sir, I have received two very pretty odes. One was to my eyes, which were likened to sherry drops, and the other to my hair, which is said to be like a waterfall at dusk and tipped by the dying sun's rays."

"Preserve me from fledgling poets," he said with a groan.

"As I recall, you were a fair poet, Phineas," said Mrs. Weatherstone over her shoulder as she ripped away the layers of paper that were wrapped around the box.

Mr. Weatherstone took up the poker from its stand and prodded the burning log in the grate until a shower of crackling sparks flew. "I suspect that your tender sentiments at the time exalted my poor efforts beyond their actual worth, Margaret."

"Perhaps," agreed Mrs. Weatherstone with a smile. She had opened the box and pushed aside the delicate tissue paper inside until the folded gown was revealed. "Look, Belle! The beads and lace on the bodice are just as we requested. You must try it on tomorrow."

"I will, Aunt Margaret. Oh, it is so very lovely!" exclaimed Belle, smoothing the tips of her fingers over the tiny pearl beads that had been sewn onto the fragile lace. "How very costly it looks."

"Quite! I am certain that your grandfather dreads the post these days, since all it brings him is the bills for these expensive creations," said Mr. Weatherstone, replacing the poker on the hearth.

"Grandpapa may grumble, but I am persuaded that he doesn't regard the cost. Not really," said Belle, not paying close attention to what her uncle had said.

"Undoubtedly you know my father better than I do," said Mr. Weatherstone dryly.

Belle shot a glance over her shoulder at her uncle, uncertain of his meaning, but there was nothing in his pleasant expression to indicate that he was harboring any undercurrent of feeling. For the first time, it occurred to Belle to wonder whether her uncle, as well as her aunt, did not still resent the abrasive treatment that they had once received at Sir Marcus's hands. If so, it was all the more wonderful that they had agreed to sponsor her for the Season, since she had been brought up by Sir Marcus and could conceivably be sided with him in the event of a family row.

"Ring for Sommers to come down for the gown. Belle," said Mrs. Weatherstone, refolding the delicate rustling tissue over the exquisite gown and fitting the top back onto the box.

"Yes, Aunt," said Belle, going over to pull the tapestry bellpull that hung beside the painted mantel.

"It is such a pity that we do not have time to look at the gown properly just now," said Mrs. Weatherstone regretfully. "I know that you will look extremely well in it, Belle. I am certain it is precisely what I had hoped it would be. Phineas, will you be escorting me and Belle this evening to Almack's?"

"I believe that I shall. I have not been for some little time, and it is probably wise to make an appearance now and again," said Mr. Weatherstone with a sigh. "I shall say this, however. I do not care for the refreshments to be had, nor for the very respectable, very boring company."

"Lady Moorehead mentioned that she and his lordship would be attending this evening," offered Mrs. Weatherstone. "Lady Moorehead wanted it known that Clarice was once more in circulation."

Mr. Weatherstone's countenance lightened. “Then at least Lord Moorehead and I may commiserate with one another over the dry cake and orgeat. A man might well starve if he was solely dependent upon Almack's offerings."

Mrs. Weatherstone shook her head, looking fondly at her husband. "Do not be anxious, dear sir. I have requested an adequate repast for this evening before we go."

"Then I am entirely reconciled to the evening's program," said Mr. Weatherstone, rubbing his hands together in obvious anticipation.

"I like to go to Almack's, of course, but I think more than anything this evening I shall be glad to see Clarice Moorehead again. We haven't seen one another in a week, since she caught that horrid cold. She is my dearest friend in the world, outside Cassandra, of course," said Belle.