Like a Flower in Bloom (6 page)

The advantage of wearing a flower in one’s hair is that it was much lighter in weight than a bonnet. But even so, I could not quite bring myself to forgive Mr. Trimble for ruining my orchid.

The Admiral got himself into a sort of stew as we drove to the dinner party. It seemed to be that general kind of foul mood that usually presaged some launch upon the waters of the empire’s politics, or some policy of which he considered the government in grave danger of doing
the wrong thing
. But as we turned from the road onto an estate’s lane, he made a rather unexpected pronouncement. “There is just one rule, that which we call golden in polite society, my dear. Treat others as you would like to be treated.”

Just one? I felt myself begin to relax. “I shall endeavor to keep it in mind.”

We were greeted by a footman, and I was shown to a room where I could leave my mantle. Considering Mr. Trimble’s opinion of my India ink stain, I decided to keep mine with me. The attendant did not seem to understand my wishes, so a momentary scuffle over my mantle ensued, but I emerged victorious.

After rejoining the Admiral, we were bid to ascend the stairs, and soon we found ourselves at the entrance to a large open room. It was lined on both sides with windows festooned with red curtains. They were held back to reveal the night by thick golden ropes that ended in tassels. From the coffered ceiling hung three chandeliers that must have counted a hundred candles between them. The room was filled with people milling about, conversing in groups.

As we crossed the room, the Admiral pointed out our hosts, the Bickwiths. Perhaps a decade younger than the Admiral, they looked a pair, being rather short with florid faces. He introduced me to various guests in turn, and I noted that his demands for a dress with more material or spangles were not quite as unmerited as I had earlier thought. My skirts looked like a wilted flower compared to those of the other women. Although most of them had bared their shoulders, I was glad of my long sleeves and covered bosom. I was quite thankful as well for the mantle I had refused to surrender, since the windows had been thrown open to the night.

By the time we crossed the room, Mr. Bickwith was conversing about dogs and their keeping with quite a number of those gentlemen who had come from London for the hunt. I had just determined to speak to one of them about the possibility of their taking more care with the flora in the area when the Admiral took me by the arm and introduced me to Mrs. Bickwith.

“
Miss
Withersby?”

I had never thought my name difficult to pronounce . . . although her difficulty might be explained if she were hard of hearing. I raised my voice when I answered. “That is correct.”

“I don’t believe I have ever met anyone so secure in their expectations that they can afford to flout convention.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

She sniffed and walked away, leaving me quite pleased with the encounter.

T
he Admiral led me over toward an older man and a girl. As we approached, he identified them as Sir Templeton and his daughter, Miss Templeton. With no little trepidation, I understood somehow that she was the ideal specimen by which the rest of us in the room must be judged. What was a generally accepted practice in botany suddenly seemed most unfair.

The blond hair that had not been twisted into a profusion of curls above her ears had been gathered at the back of her head into a knot and then covered in a mass of ribbons. She was wearing a dress in a shade of pink that was common to hollyhocks but the fabric was embroidered with all manner of strawberry blossoms and strawberry fruit attached to twining vines. As I peered more closely at the pattern, however, I began to suspect that the depiction of the flower petals was faulty. If only she would stop moving, I would be able to tell.

She smiled while the Admiral made the introductions. As he embarked upon a conversation with her father, she turned to me. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Withersby. I must confess that I feel quite certain I’ve seen you before.”

“Perhaps out in the field.”

“The field? What field would that be?”

“It’s difficult to say exactly. I’ve visited so many of them.” It looked as if some of her strawberry flowers had five petals and some of them had six! I could see it quite clearly now. “I take a ramble every morning to look for specimens.”

“I do as well! That is, not every morning. And if truth be told, not very often, but I have done. Once or twice. Botany is all the rage at the moment, you know, and I do so like to keep up with rages!”

I heard myself sigh. “My rambles are finished though. At least for the time being. My father has decided I should marry. He’s afraid I’ve nearly become too old to do so.”

“Mine too. But . . . how old are you, then?”

“I just turned twenty-two.”

Her brow crimped in concern. “You
are
old! However did you manage to stay out of society for so long?”

“No one ever seemed to notice that I wasn’t in it.” And it hadn’t ever mattered before.

“I wish no one would notice me sometimes!”

“It’s the Admiral’s fault. He convinced my father that it’s my duty to marry.”

“My father says the very same thing. Duty is rather a heavy responsibility, isn’t it?”

“I’m not against marriage in the case of other people. I might not even be against it for myself one day, but I’ve got papers to proof and books to write and bills to pay and . . . and what no one seems to understand is, if I’m not there, then none of the work will get done.”

She was nodding as if she understood exactly. “Someone is bound to realize soon enough.”

“That is my hope. My father took on someone to replace me. But the man knows nothing about nearly everything, so
it shouldn’t take long. Until then, however, it’s necessary to continue pretending that marriage is in fact my intention. That should make my absence even more dire.”

“That’s brilliant, Miss Withersby! You’ve such lovely hair to go with those brown eyes of yours. And such pretty ears—I daresay you’ve the ankles to match? With your fashionable figure, you could attract even the most confirmed of bachelors. Do let me help!”

I wondered . . . should I tell her about the flowers on her dress? Would it be considered impolite? My uncle had said that I must treat others as I would like to be treated, and
I
would certainly wish to know that the embroidery on my dress was a gross misrepresentation of nature.

She looked at me with a keen-eyed gaze. “You miss your rambles, don’t you.”

“I do. I cannot lie.”

She linked an arm through mine. “Then we should go on a ramble ourselves, you and I.”

“Perhaps we could go tomorrow.” I eyed her dress again. Really, the mistake was quite glaring.

“Tomorrow!” She seemed rather startled with the idea, even though it had been her own. But then she smiled again. “I would look forward to it if it weren’t Sunday.”

“I don’t see why it should matter. I could meet you at half-past five, I should think. Depending upon where you live and how long it will take me to walk there, of course.”

“Half past five? I’m quite a lazy creature, Miss Withersby—you can ask anyone who knows me—but isn’t that rather late for a ramble?”

“I suppose I could meet you a bit earlier, at four, perhaps, but with the sun not rising until six, I don’t quite know what we’ll be able to accomplish.”

“You meant in the
morning
? Oh!” Her laughter rang through the room. “To have the pleasure of my company, on most days you’ll have to wait until at least ten. I’m really quite decadent, I must warn you.”

“Ten . . . ?” By ten I would normally be investigating the specimens I’d collected, but nothing was as it normally had been, and I wasn’t to be working. I was supposed to be engaged in finding a husband. “I suppose ten would be fine. On Monday, then?”

“I’ll feel ever so industrious! But not on Monday. I’ll need a day to contemplate this and work up to the endeavor. Shall we say Tuesday?”

I agreed. “I wonder, Miss Templeton, may I tell you something?”

Her brows peaked. “Please do.”

“Do you know that the flowers on your dress haven’t got the right number of petals?”

She glanced down at it. “I had no idea.”

“Some of them have five petals and some have six, and although that’s possible considering that different varieties of the strawberry have different numbers of petals, I would assume that your dress is meant to depict just one variety, wouldn’t you?”

“Why, I’d never given it a thought!”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it, except that I thought you might want to be made aware of it.”

She grasped my hand. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t told me, but now that I know, I can’t think that I’ll be able to wear this again with a clear conscience.” She paused and glanced about the room. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “Do you think anyone else has noticed?”

I didn’t see how they could have failed to, the omission was rather glaring, but if she hadn’t noticed, then maybe . . . “Has anyone else mentioned it?”

“No . . . no, they have not.”

“Then perhaps they haven’t. You can hope so in any case.”

“I do hope you’re right. I am certain that, if Mrs. Bickwith has seen the fault, she would have found some way to tell me by now. She’s really quite spiteful.”

She’d been nice to me. She’d even given me a compliment. “The man my father took on in my place is like that. He never ceases to tell me of the mistakes I’ve made. Or those I’m about to make.”

“Is he one of those pompous sorts, with a loud voice and a barreled chest, who goes about with his nose in the air?”

“He
is
rather large. And he does make a very many pronouncements and hasn’t ever once listened to any of my suggestions.”

“Say no more, Miss Withersby. I detested him on principle before, hearing how he had taken up your position, but now I shall detest him upon your evidence as well.”

“That’s quite kind of you.”

“Think nothing of it. We must stick together, you and I.”

I glanced around the room. “I haven’t been to any of these dinner parties before. I’m astonished by how many people I truly don’t know.” Even those I recognized from church, I couldn’t say I was actually acquainted with, for normally we happened into the service late and sat in the back pew, ducking out at the opening notes of the postlude.

“Many of them are just here for the hunt. It’s best to ignore them. I assure you, they’re none of them interested in country folk. Not even a baronet’s daughter like me. Now, I shall point out all the rest. Over there is Mr. Stansbury.”

I looked in the direction she was nodding and saw a man of middling years speaking to Mr. Bickwith.

“He’s an industrialist come from Liverpool who has bought
Overwich Hall. And as if he doesn’t have enough money already, he’s leasing out the rights to his hunting park. I’m afraid I’ve heard his taste is somewhat vulgar.” She tipped her head as she considered him. “But I have to consider that there must be some hope for him, otherwise he would never have chosen to wear that waistcoat. I’m sure it must be velvet. At least, that is, mostly velvet. It’s quite stunning, don’t you think?”

I didn’t know what to think, but I nodded anyway.

“He’s very keen on his glasshouse and the development of the grounds of his estate but seems to have little interest in marrying, though I doubt very many people know that. It’s just that I might as well not exist for all the attention he pays me, and I don’t mind telling you I’m considered quite the catch in Cheshire. He might be just the man for you, Miss Withersby. He’s quite handsome, in his way, don’t you think?”

I could only agree.

“Knowing him to be disinterested in matrimony, you could safely be seen to pursue him without putting yourself in danger of receiving a proposal.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“Although, as I said, he made his own money, so he’s most definitely not a gentleman. Oh! That could be a point we can use in your favor. Might your father not be even more alarmed if you’re thought to be drawn to a man like him?”

“I—”

“Now. Enough of Mr. Stansbury. Just to his left, beyond Mr. Bickwith, is Mr. Robinson, also a bachelor, who might be . . .” She paused as she frowned. “No. No, I’ve changed my mind. You definitely wouldn’t wish to marry him, and perhaps it’s best not even to encourage him. He’s proposed to almost every female in Overwich over the age of fourteen.” She leaned toward me. “And it’s rumored he even proposed to Miss Fletcher.”

“Miss Fletcher?” I hadn’t met her. At least if I had, I couldn’t remember. “I don’t think I know who—”

She pointed out a woman across the room with a flick of her fan. “She must be forty, if she’s a day.” Her eyes swept the room. “Across the floor, over there, is our new rector—”

“Mr. Hopkins-Whyte. I have already met him.”

She studied my face for a moment. “And it wasn’t a pleasure. Is that what you mean to say?”

“He was very apologetic about the whole thing.”

“Apologetic! Whatever did he do?”

I explained our way of meeting, and she considered him from behind the sweep of her fan. “On the whole, I would have to say such behavior does not bode well. A rector ought to be quite sure of himself, otherwise one would find it very difficult to put much confidence in his sermons, would one not?”

“I suppose one—”

“And you say he
apologized
?”

“He did.”

“For meeting a lady such as yourself?”

I nodded.

“When he has eight children to find a mother for . . . that seems rather odd to me, does it not to you?”

“I suppose it—”

“Then he also would be safe for you to encourage.” She gave a decided nod as she snapped her fan shut. “I daresay he’s not sufficiently recovered from his wife’s death to propose marriage to anyone yet. Otherwise, he would already have done so.”

“What about that man over there?” He looked to be about my age.

“Heavens no! His mother is as mad as a hatter. As soon as you talk to him, he’d offer for your hand, and before you could say, ‘God, please save me!’ you’d be married and chasing the
old woman through the streets, trying to make sure she didn’t stick someone with her pair of shears the way she’s always threatening to do.”

I shuddered.

“Of course, if she suddenly died, I’m sure you would be quite comfortable as mistress of his house. But all in all, I don’t think it’s worth the risk, considering that you don’t really wish to marry.”

“I don’t. I really don’t.”

“There’s Mr. Hobbes’s son.” She nodded toward another man. “Don’t let those ears of his frighten you. He’s got some cousins who come to town now and then and they’re all really quite dashingly good-looking. You wouldn’t know it to see
him
, but
they
take after his father’s side of the family. They bring their dogs and run them in the hunt, and it’s all quite marvelous, really, but I suppose they wouldn’t help you any since the point is to have someone be
seen
to have an interest in you and that would be rather difficult since all they seem to care about is the hunt.”

“And what about that man?” I indicated him with a nod of my chin.

“He has his cap set for Miss Atkinson over there. It’s quite tragic, really. He won’t propose marriage because he hasn’t the means and even if he did, her father would never agree because he’s not from Cheshire, not originally in any case, and so they just keep gazing at each other.”

“Is there no one else?”

“No one worth your time or trouble. Of course, I might answer differently if you actually
wished
to marry. In that case you could even consider old Mr. Carew, but the goal is to provoke a man into paying you attention enough to raise alarm, but not enough to propose. You’ve issued quite a challenge, Miss
Withersby, but I’ve both talent and time, and if you leave it to my capable hands, you’ll soon be back to your life’s work.”

“I’m so grateful for—”

She patted my arm. “No gratitude is necessary. It will be ever so entertaining to make you the belle of the ballroom, and it will take some of the pressure off of me. Now then, who shall we start with? Mr. Stansbury or the rector?”

I’d already suffered through an introduction to the rector, so I chose the other man instead.

“A wise choice. Now then, just leave everything to me.”