Karen Harbaugh (18 page)

it was not easy with Amelia and Caroline giggling rudely across from me. I rose with real delight and relief when the butler announced, “Miss Samantha Ashcombe!”

“Samantha!” I cried. “How good of you to call on me!”

She smiled but held up her hand. “Not for long, however. I only called to see if you wanted to come with me to the draper’s. I need to see if there are any ribbons that match my new dress.” She looked past me at Amelia and nodded her acknowledgment, then glanced questioningly at Caroline.

I recalled myself then and introduced them. “Are you, by any chance, ah, related to Lord Ashcombe?” asked Caroline.

Samantha inclined her head. “Yes, he is my brother.”

Caroline glanced briefly at me. A speculative look grew in her eye. “How enjoyable it would be to drive to a shop on a lovely day like this!” she exclaimed wistfully.

“Alas, if I had known Georgia had company, I would have called for a larger carriage. But there is only room for perhaps one more, and that would be a tight squeeze indeed.” Samantha’s kind smile encompassed us all.

“Oh, well, Amelia need not come,” Caroline began; she did not notice how her friend’s face fell, but she was stopped by Samantha’s shocked gaze. “What I mean is, I daresay Amelia would not want to come along; indeed, she was just saying she was feeling the migraine before you entered.”

I lifted my eyebrows as I surveyed Amelia’s pink cheeks and bright eyes. “How odd,” I said ironically. “I do not recall Amelia saying anything of the sort; she certainly does not look sickly.”

Caroline laughed lightly, “Ah, Miss Ashcombe, you must know that dear Georgia is of a studious inclination; your academic, whose mind is attuned to loftier thoughts, cannot help but pass over the more mundane aspects of life.”

Samantha looked at me in surprise, then back at Caroline. “There may be some people who are like that. I have not noticed it in Georgia, nor in such a studious person as my brother. Indeed, it was my brother’s perception which saw fit to introduce me to Georgia, and he was quite right in supposing we would get along quite famously.”

Caroline’s mouth fell open at this point, but she shut it swiftly. I smiled sweetly at her. It was obvious she had not thought I had yet met Lucas, and it was even farther from her mind that I should have met him before I met Samantha.

“Well, I cannot keep the horses waiting,” Samantha said briskly. “Perhaps, since Miss Stoneham has the migraine, we can postpone our outing for another time. For now, I hope you can do without Georgia; we shall not be gone long.” She waved her hand at me. “Do fetch your pelisse, Georgia, and we shall go. I shall be waiting in the carriage.” She gave a polite but businesslike nod to Caroline and Amelia as I left the room.

As I entered the carriage, Samantha gave me a questioning glance. “I do not want to offend you if she is your friend, Georgia, but I hope you don’t know anyone else so—so pushing! It makes one positively uncomfortable.”

“You needn’t have any compunction about it, I assure you. I knew her at Miss Angstead’s, but she is a friend of Amelia’s, not mine, thank Heaven!” I paused thoughtfully. “It’s odd, but Caroline is usually a bit more subtle than that.”

“How so?”

“Oh, she’s quite good at—” I stopped, not wanting to seem cattish.

“At—?” prompted Samantha.

“Oh, nothing, really. She, ah, usually has a more polite manner than what she displayed just now. I’m not sure what came over her.”

“You are withholding something from me.” Samantha looked at me keenly.

“It’s just that I’m probably being a cat and taking what she says too seriously. There’s nothing in anything she says, to be sure.”

“But quite a lot in what she doesn’t say, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yes!” I cried, and released from my constraint by her observation, I confided my distrust of Caroline.

After a while, Samantha nodded. “I don’t think you’re mistaken about her attitude; after all, Lucas and I say all sorts of blunt things to you and you’ve never seemed to take anything we say personally! Even when you should!”

I laughed. “No, that’s because you are my friends!”

“Humph!” Samantha said mock huffily. “At any rate, she seems just the sort who would make remarks like that.” She paused. “How much would you wager that she will be treating you with more respect from now on?”

I blinked at this unexpected observation. “I don’t know what you mean. Why should she treat me any differently from before? Because I happen to know you?”

“No, because you know Lucas,” she replied bluntly. I looked at her, puzzled. “Caroline reminds me of an acquaintance of Mama’s: Mrs. Bennington. All coos and sweet murmurings, and quite pretty, but a terrible flirt. She had no compunction whatsoever about gaining introductions through her lady friends so that she could cut them out with the men they knew. And one never could seem to fault her, for she never was outwardly unpleasant about it.”

“Well, I think Caroline could be quite unpleasant about it.”

“Caroline is just not practiced enough, that is all,” replied Samantha.

I pondered this. “So you are saying that just because I know Lucas, she will be kind to me so that she might gain an introduction to him?”

Samantha nodded.

I didn’t know what to think of this. I shrugged. “Well, we’ll see what comes of it,” I said complacently as we stepped down from the carriage into the draper’s.

Samantha was quite right. Caroline had gone by the time I came back, but the next time she visited, she was all solicitude and kindness. I smiled at her but was wary; I would think about this and see what I could make of it.

Chapter Ten

The Season began.

There is nothing like London, I think, when the Season begins. Before it, there are the people who usually live in the City all of the time: the merchants, the fruit and bread sellers, and the like. There are those, like Mama and myself, who live year round in a rented or owned town house. There are those landed gentry who find country life far too dull and boring for their exalted palates and who only set foot on their estates on repairing leases; there are fewer of those in these more enlightened days, when a landlord at least knows that his pleasures can be funded only if his estates and people are well kept.

London seems sparse and lean and grey in the winter, like a poor old woman I once saw in Tothill on my way back from school. Yet, it is wrong when people say cities have no season; when spring comes, London throws off her foggy grey shroud. Brass fixtures gleam on wooden doors, while ladies in their flower-petal dresses and gentlemen in their wasp-waist coats flit from door to door like so many bees in a field.

Before Lady Stoneham, Amelia, and I could do our share of flitting, however, we had to have ourselves done over in the latest fashion. If I said that my dress fitting for Samantha’s party was a trial, I now withdraw the statement. That, compared with the millions of fittings I had to endure for my new wardrobe, was a romp in the park. I do not know how many times I was stitched in and out, pinned and unpinned, and made to turn around and around until I was dizzy. We made countless trips to the Pantheon Bazaar for this frippery or that, at bargain prices we simply could not resist.

It was done, finally—the foundation wardrobe, that is. When I breathed a sigh of relief and remarked that I was glad our wardrobes were complete, Lady Stoneham looked at me in surprise. “No, no, my dear! You quite mistake the matter! What we have now is quite enough to start with, but we can hardly be seen at all the balls we are going to wearing the same dress twice!
That
would be deadly. After we put in appearances at a few places, we shall see what the lay of the land is, so to speak, and modify our wardrobes accordingly.”

I bowed my head to her dictum, for I knew it would please Mama for me to be presented at my best, and this was apparently the best. I would not bow my head to be shorn, however; I looked with horror at the latest Titus coiffure in
La Belle Assembleé.
My hair, though not the guinea gold of Mama’s or the fashionable black of Samantha’s, was my best feature; I enjoyed having its thick chestnut waves loose and cozy around me when I was by myself. I would be fitted and pinned to Lady Stoneham’s heart’s content, but I would not be shorn like a sheep. I made that unfortunate remark in front of Caroline, and she could not resist saying, “No, you are right, Georgia; you would hardly want to look like a sheep,” smiling as if to say that I looked like one now.

That almost made me want to cut my hair right then and there, but Lady Stoneham forestalled me by giving me a keen glance and saying: “No, I cannot see you with a crop, Georgia. We shall see for certain when you don the white sarcenet ball gown with mint-green trim. There shall be time enough then to crop it if need be.”

The time came when I did wear the white sarcenet ball gown. It was quite lovely, though while I now saw that a décolletage was the usual style, I was still not used to the puffed sleeves just off the shoulders or the way I seemed to be more well endowed than I should have been when I wore it.

Lady Stoneham nodded when she saw me in it. “No, we will not cut your hair. You shall have it styled in a chignon; the dress has classic lines, and we will continue the theme in your coiffure.” She had the maid put up my hair, and I stared at myself in the mirror. The lady with burnished hair, deep green eyes, and long white column of neck and smooth shoulders did not seem at all to be me.

I had thought Lady Stoneham a scatterbrain, but where fashion was concerned, there was nothing she did not know and nothing that escaped her notice. Proof of that were the approving glances I received from both respectable matrons and young gentlemen alike when she took us to the Countess of Gresham’s ball for her daughter, Lady Diana. It seemed I was neither dressed beyond what was proper nor behindhand on
à la modalité.
I felt anxious at the ball, for it was my first real one and very large.

I nervously touched the pearl necklace that Mama had given me for my birthday before she left and felt a little reassured. It was as if I could feel a bit of Mama’s presence around me, and it reminded me that I was no longer seventeen but just turned eighteen—a lady now, and I must act like one.

Lady Stoneham was attending to Amelia, who was by turns excited and overcome by shyness. I did not know quite what to do myself. I sat wondering what I would say if someone asked me to dance. Something shy and demure? Witty? Sophisticated? I unfurled my fan and fanned myself as I supposed an experienced ball frequenter would, but it was a mistake; I had brought the fan that Lucas had given me, and it reminded me of what happened after Samantha’s party. I did not want to think of it—it made me more nervous than ever. I shut it.

“Georgia!”

I turned on my chair—Samantha to the rescue! I breathed a sigh of relief. Here at last was someone I knew and could talk with in case I did not know what else to do. She was truly beautiful in a shimmering pale blue satin gown with a net overdress; my heart swelled with pride that I had such a friend. Behind her was Lady Ashcombe, who nodded to me briefly before she turned back to the lady with whom she was talking.

“I am so glad to see you here! I could hug you!” she exclaimed, then dropped her hands and took on a mock serious mien. “But no. We are sophisticated ladies, and ladies do not hug, do they? Ah, yes!” She bent forward and gingerly took me by the shoulders, brushing her cheek lightly with mine. “There! Now that we have thrown a bone to propriety, we can get on as we please!”

We both laughed, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. I caught the eye of a gentleman and looked away shyly, but not before he smiled at me. We quieted immediately, for we also had caught looks from some old-fashioned-looking dowagers.

“Georgia! Miss Ashcombe!” We both turned at Lady Stoneham’s voice. She bustled up, and in her wake was the gentleman who had smiled at me earlier. He was not a tall man, but of a good height, with light brown hair and a pair of broad shoulders that amply filled out his coat. I felt shy but managed to smile at him as Lady Stoneham introduced Mr. Landsbury to us. He bowed to me and smiled back, then turned to Samantha. A warm and admiring look grew in his eyes as he gazed at her, and I knew Samantha had made a conquest. Lady Stoneham left us to attend to another young man who seemed desirous of meeting Amelia.

“I confess,” Mr. Landsbury said ruefully, “I do not know which one of you lovely young ladies to ask for a dance first.”

“Oh, you must ask Samantha first,” I blurted. “She is much prettier than I am!” I blushed at my precipitousness.

Samantha’s color rose, but a dimple appeared in her cheek. “Oh, but you must ask Georgia first, for she is a far better dancer than I am.” She cast me a challenging grin.

Mr. Landsbury laughed. “Confronted by Grace and Beauty both! But that is a harder decision than ever!”

“Well, I suppose you must properly select by rank, then; so it must be Samantha,” I said primly. That should do it, I thought.

“Age before beauty,” Samantha retorted triumphantly.

“Why—!” I shut my mouth, then burst out laughing. Mr. Landsbury grinned and held out his arm to me. “Only wait until I return, Samantha!” I shook my finger threateningly at her as I put a hand on my partner’s arm.

“Behold me shaking in my slippers,” drawled Samantha, casting Mr. Landsbury a mischievous look from under her lashes. His look of admiration grew.

It was an enjoyable dance, but I sensed Mr. Landsbury was quite preoccupied. I did not mind, however; I was sure it was because of Samantha. The dance soon ended, and I felt easier as he escorted me back to where Samantha was sitting. I felt I had acquitted myself well on the dance floor, with little need to worry I would do otherwise. As we stopped next to Samantha, I saw Mr. Landsbury’s face brighten. I lifted an eyebrow at my friend and grinned. She blushed a little as she went off with him.

I did not lack for partners after that; Lady Stoneham was like a hen with wayward chicks in the way she was fluttering back and forth between Amelia and myself, introducing respectable young men to us. Amelia, somewhat to my surprise, had a small crowd about her; but on reflection, she did seem less objectionable whenever Caroline was not about.