The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor (12 page)

 
‘
Heavens
!
’
exclaimed Eleanor
. 
‘
If you ever see me acting like that in front of a man, Milly, you have my permission to shoot me.
What on earth is it about him
that
seems to
turn
wome
n
into complete idiots
?
’

 
‘
Oh, miss,
’
whisper
ed
a blushing Milly.
 
‘
He’s awful handsome and very charming, don’t you think?
’

 
Eleanor flashed her a disbelieving look
. 
‘
Indeed I do not
.  H
e is the most rude, arrogant, conceited, pompous man I have ever had the displeasure to meet.
’

  Milly giggled. 
‘
Well
, that’s the first time I’ve heard that said about him. 
Oh, look
, t
here’s them
Carmichaels
arriving
.  Could do with eatin
g a few less macaroons if you
ask me.
’

  Eleanor looked over to where Milly was indicating and observed the plump forms of
Cynthia
and Felicity
Carmichael
alighting
from
their burgundy carriage.  The older woman was dressed in a
fussy
turquoise
gown, much too young for her advancing years.  Felicity wore a similar creation in an unflattering shade of pink.  T
hey made their way to the crowds
already gathered on the lawn. 

 
‘
My,
’
si
ghed Milly, surveying the crowd,
‘
a
in’t it all grand, miss?
  I ain’t never seen such a sight in all my life.
’

  Although
d
evoid of any inclination
to
partake in the affair, even Eleanor had to admit that
it was indeed
grand.  From the crests on the carriages she had observed, it appeared that all of the nobility from London and the surrounding area had travelled to Whitlock for the party. 

 
‘
Oh,
’
gasped Milly suddenly, grasping Eleanor’s arm. 
‘
Did you ever see such a fine gown
, miss
?
’

  Eleanor’s gaze followed the younger girl’s and came to rest on a tall, reed-slim woman, with exotically arranged
ebony hair, wearing a
white silk gown a
dorned only by the si
mple white netting
of the sleeves
.  It was
a dress so plain and
so exquisite
that it awarded its wearer an angelic air
and made every other gown
at the party appear brash and
over-
fussy.  The woman was holding
the arm
of a much older but very
distinguished
-
looking
gentleman
with silver-grey hair
, dressed equally as stylishly.  The two cut a
most
dashing pair.   

  Something was nagging at Eleanor
that she knew this woman from somewhere.  Then, in a flash, she
remember
ed. 
‘
That, Milly,
’
she announced,
‘
is the Duchess of Swinton.
’

  Milly’s eyes almost popped out of her pretty head.

The
Duke and Duchess of Swinton
threaded their way through the ever-inc
reasing crowd
, heading, it seemed,
towards their hostess
,
the dowager
,
who was
evidently in the process of dishing out a list of instructions to poor Giles, the butler
.
 
Having
shed her mourning black
, she
was wearing an old-fashioned hooped gown in lilac
,
which made her appear slightly less intimidating
than usual
.

  Upon making her aware of their presence, the
d
owager
turned around to greet the
d
uchess
,
as did the man who was now standing alongside her – James Prestonville.

 
‘
Oh, my word,
’
m
uttered Milly
nervously
, her eyes now as wide as saucers. 

 
The d
uchess sank into an elegant curtsy while the
d
owager
and the gentlemen inclined their heads in greeting.  A few pleasantries passed between the two couples before the
duke and d
uchess smiled gracious
ly and moved away
in order to circulate
.  Milly emitted a loud sigh of relief. 

 
At a
sharp knock on the door
, both girls spun around
. 

 
‘
Lady Ormiston
requests that you co
me downstairs immediately, my lady
,
’
announced a very
serious
Giles. 
‘
S
he was quite insistent.
’

 
Eleanor groaned
and pulled a rueful face. 
‘
Oh well, Milly, wish me luck.
’

 
‘
You’re not needing no luck, miss,
’
grinne
d Milly reassuringly. 
‘
You’re as good as any of them down there.
’

Much to Eleanor’s dismay, no sooner had she set foot in the garden, than the dowager made a beeline
for
her. 

 
‘
Where have you been, girl?
’
she chided, cupping her goddaughter firmly by the elbow and steering h
er towards the throng
.
‘
How
I am expected to find a man to take you when you lock yourself away upstairs is quite beyond me.
’

 
‘
Sorry
,
’
mutter
ed Eleanor dolefully.

 
‘
Nevertheless, you are here now and you look quite …
presentable
, thank the Lord.
’

Eleanor almos
t toppled
over at the reluctant compliment.

‘
Ah, Lady Ormiston,
’
came a hig
h-pitched whine from behind
. 

Lady Ormi
ston rolled her eyes
and came to an abrupt halt. 
‘
Cynthia
Carmichael
,
’
she
muttered through gritted teeth
,
before affecting a more pleasant expression and
whisking a
round to face Lady Carmichael and her daughter. 
‘
Looking quite
…
decorative
, I see.
’

‘
Well
,
one must make an effort for s
uch a grand event,
’
tittered Lady Carmichael. 
‘
Dear
Felicity has spent days deliberating over which gown to wear.
’

‘
Has she indeed?
’
sniffed the
d
owager
, casting an incredulous eye over Felicity’s hideous frilly pink creation dripping with lace and ribbons.

‘
This gown was purchased from
Madam
e
du Faut, one of the most celebrated
modistes
in Conduit Street,
’
informed Felicity haughtily
.  Her eyes roved
over Eleanor’s
gown
. 
‘
I don’t suppose you will be acquainted with her, Lady Eleanor?
’

Eleanor flashed her an ingenuous smile.
 
‘
Thankfully
, I am not
, Miss Carmichael
.
’

Felicity’s pale
-
blue eyes narrowed spitefully. 
But, b
efore
the girl had a chance to reply
, James appeared at her side. 

‘
Ah, the beautiful Carmichaels,
’
he
beame
d, bowing courteously. 
‘
And dressed
, yet again,
in
the most exquisite gowns
, I see
.
’

As
Lady Carmichael
giggled girlishly, Felicity flashed Eleanor a
very discomfiting
look.
 
Thankfully, her godmother, keen to progress her search for a prospective husband,
quickly
whisked her away
.  The round of incessant introductions that followed, however, was not quite so welcoming. 
Despite the
huge crowd
, Eleanor
was amazed to discover that
their conversation consisted
of only three topics: the weather,
the latest fashions
,
and past o
r future social events.  She
stifled a yawn as a girl of around her own age with a dreadful stutter, by the name of Cecily or Celia - she could no longer remember - was trying to ascertain her opinion on the recent level of rainfall.  Lady Ormiston had been commandeered by the girl’s mother – a woma
n equally as formidable
as the
d
owager
herself
. 

Never one to miss an opportunity, Eleanor chose her time well
.  M
aking an excuse to the girl that she had an instruction to pass to a member of the staff, she slipped away unnoticed by her guardian. 

Despe
rate to
escape the tedious crowd
and
unable to bear one
more
prosaic
conversation, she headed
t
owards the wood which
ran along
one
side of the grounds.  A
lmost upon her destination, she noticed
a
group
of
ten or so
men gathered there
.  As
she got nearer, her spirits
soared
as she
saw that they had with them a number of bows and arrows and appeared to be
in the throes of arranging an arche
ry competition – something
she often engaged in at home wi
th Zach, the farmer and his
sons. 
A short, stout man with a
black
beard
seem
ed to be the organiz
er
.  He started
slightly
as he
spotted E
leanor.

‘
We ain’t doing nothing wrong, miss,
’
he
explain
ed. 
‘
Just a bit of fun for the
gamekeepers and us farmers
.  Lady O
rmiston knows all about it
.
’

‘
I see,
’
beame
d Eleanor. 
‘
Well
,
it
certainly
looks
a deal
more fun than the wretched garden party.  Would you allow me to join in?
’

The man raised his eyebrows in astonishment. 
‘
You her ladyship’s goddaughter, miss?
’