Authors: Kathryn Kirkwood
“There were six infractions in all.” Regina’s lips were twitching with laughter. “Mama kept my accounts very well this evening and I fear she concluded that I am sadly deficient in the comportment befitting a lady of quality.”
Melissa burst into laughter again. She thoroughly enjoyed
enjoyed stepsister’s droll wit. “Tell me and I shall decide if you behaved badly.”
“The first infraction was the incident at table.”
Melissa nodded. “I have already exonerated you of that. Which came next?”
“While conversing with several ladies I had met last Season, I had occasion to make the acquaintance of a gentleman who had attended Oxford with the Reverend Mr. Watson. His tales of their student life were so entertaining, I fear I declined to dance with a gentleman that Mother had chosen for me.”
“Oh, dear!” Melissa did her best to look dismayed. “He was an
eligible
gentleman?”
“Quite eligible, but scarcely out of the schoolroom. He joined our discussion when he learned that my companion had attended Oxford with his older brother.”
“Then you failed to dance with either of the two gentlemen and conversed with them instead?”
Regina sighed as she nodded. “Those comprised my second and third infractions. The fourth came when Mama sent yet another gentleman in my direction and I confessed that I would much prefer a glass of orgeat over standing up for the Quadrille.”
“Why ever did you suggest that?” Melissa was confused. She knew that her stepsister loved to dance and was both competent and graceful.
“His left foot appeared to be painful to him. He had a pinched look about his mouth and he was limping slightly. I was certain he’d asked me to stand up with him in deference to Mama and I wished to save him the agony. We sat beneath a potted palm instead and had a productive discussion about footwear. When he told me he was thinking to try a new bootmaker, I suggested Hoby and said that your father always claimed him to be the best.”
“That makes four infractions, according to your mother.” Melissa counted them off on her fingers.
“The fifth was quite unavoidable.” Regina sighed deeply. “The young lady standing next to me had ripped her hem and
she was highly mortified. I accompanied her to the ladies’s withdrawing room and found a maid to repair it. In doing so, I missed the next gentleman that Mama sent my way.”
“Are you saving the most grievous infraction for last?” Melissa’s eyes were bright with laughter.
“Indeed, I am.” Regina nodded. “You see, Lissa, I failed to sparkle.”
Melissa managed to look properly devastated. “No sparkles at all?”
“Nary a glimmer. Mama warned me that if I fail to sparkle at the next event, she will be quite put out with me. Doro, however, did very well, much more so than Mama had anticipated.”
“Doro met someone eligible?” Melissa held her breath.
“A gentleman of consequence, according to Mama. He’s an elderly viscount, rich in the purse and widowed some three years. He stood up with Doro twice and he seemed quite taken with her. The
on-dit
is that he’s seeking a wife, and no one but Doro has caught his fancy.”
“But what are Doro’s feelings for him?” Melissa couldn’t hide her concerned frown.
“You may smile again, Lissa, for Doro favors him very well indeed. She confided that he puts her in mind of your father and she much prefers him to the younger gentlemen she’s met.”
Melissa breathed a sigh of relief. Dorothea might rub along well with an older viscount for a husband, especially one who could afford to buy her gowns, jewels, and any gewgaws that took her fancy. “Your mother is pleased then?”
“Very pleased, indeed. She was so delighted at Doro’s success that her scolding of me tonight was quite tame. Mama has given him permission to pay a morning call, so we must be ready to receive him. I fear that will make more work for you, Lissa.”
Melissa waved her concerns aside. “That does not signify. I shall be delighted so long as I know that Doro is happy in his attentions.”
“She was fairly glowing when I left her.” Regina smiled fondly. “It seems Lord Chadwick was most appreciative of her charms and she, of his.”
After a few more moments of conversation, Regina bid Melissa a good night and took her leave. When Melissa was alone, she got into bed at long last and sighed wearily. It appeared that Dorothea could well have found her match and she wished her stepsister happy. In the course of the Season, it was also possible that Regina would meet a gentleman who would capture her heart. Melissa smiled as she thought of Regina. With her stepsister’s kind and gentle ways, she would make a good wife for some fortunate gentleman and an excellent mother for their happy children.
Though she scarcely dared hope that it could happen, would she also meet her match? Melissa conjured up the image of the gentleman who had saved the young boy in the park. Was there a possibility that she might meet him and capture his heart? No, she was merely blowing smoke if she expected the goddess of chance to place him anywhere near her. Melissa was certain that she was doomed to the life of a spinster and she would do well to come to terms with her fate.
As she closed her eyes, Melissa attempted to imagine what her life would be like when her stepsisters married. She had not considered this possibility before and the very thought of being alone with her stepmother at Harrington Manor, spending the rest of her life catering to Jane’s every whim, was enough to make her heart heavy and her sleep fraught with unease.
Melissa stood in the hall, under a portrait of a young man with bushy eyebrows and a fierce scowl who appeared to be looking out at the world with extreme disapproval. She was holding a cream-colored velum paper with a heavy seal and debating whether or not she should open it. It was addressed to her stepmother, but Melissa was alone in the house and there had been no one else to receive it. Jane had left with Regina and Dorothea several hours ago, having secured a coveted appointment with Madame Beauchamp, one of London’s most fashionable modistes. Though Regina had asked that Melissa be permitted to go along, Jane had denied that request.
Jane had not been pleased with Melissa’s work on the previous evening. She’d complained that her gowns had not been arranged to her satisfaction and she’d ordered Melissa to press them again and rearrange them so that the evening gowns would hang on the left side of the armoire and the morning dresses on the right. Jane had also demanded that they be ordered by color, the lighter hues first and then the darker. It was not the sort of task that Melissa believed to be necessary and indeed, she suspected that her stepmother was merely making work for her so that she would have to forgo their journey to Madame Beauchamp’s establishment.
Aided by Mary, Melissa had accomplished all according to her stepmother’s dictates. When the time-consuming task was finished, Mary had rushed out in search of several items that
Jane had requested from the shops, among them a special type of tea that she declared she much preferred, and Melissa had been left alone in the house. She had been seated in the drawing room, preparing to peruse a small, leather-bound volume of poetry that she’d been particularly anxious to read, when she’d heard the sound of an approaching carriage.
As Melissa watched through the window, the carriage had pulled up in front of their rented house and a liveried footman had disembarked to deliver the very paper that she now held in her hand. The word “urgent” was written across the face of the missive in a bold hand and it had been heavily underscored. If not for this word and the fact that the footman was waiting for an answer, Melissa would have placed the message on the silver salver to await her stepmother’s return.
After another moment of indecision, Melissa decided that the footman’s continued presence, coupled with the heavily underscored word, outweighed what might very well be the personal nature of this correspondence. Opening the envelope with trembling fingers, she unfolded the single sheet of velum inside and read the brief message.
It was from Lady Beckworth, an esteemed member of the
ton.
Lady Beckworth was hosting the ball that evening, a grand affair that would officially open the London Season. Lady Beckworth wrote that several of her staff had suddenly taken ill and she requested that Jane send over one of her most capable servants to help with the preparations.
Now Melissa was truly in a quandary. Jane had no servants save Mary, and though the girl was friendly and willing, Melissa had observed that she was sadly inexperienced and could, by no means, be described as capable. To send Mary to help Lady Beckworth would be tantamount to an open admission that Jane had no capable servants. This sad state of affairs was certain to be the subject of speculation and would inevitably result in a series of
on-dits
concerning Jane’s finances or lack thereof among the tabbies of the
ton.
Lady Beckworth’s footman had presumed that Melissa was
a servant. It was not an unreasonable assumption considering her serviceable gown and the fact that she had opened the door to him. He was currently waiting outside in the carriage for Jane’s answer, and Melissa was aware that she must act quickly. She would be Jane’s servant, Lissa. It was a role her stepmother frequently expected her to assume and she was certainly as capable as any servant that Jane could engage. Her action would save the family the embarrassment of admitting that they were lacking in funds and Jane was certain to be gratified at Melissa’s timely ruse.
Melissa hurried to the escritoire, penned a hasty note to her stepmother to explain the situation, and placed it on the silver salver with Lady Beckworth’s message. Then she rapidly dressed in a clean, recently pressed gown and hurried out to join Lady Beckworth’s footman before she could further debate the wisdom of her actions.
“The bouquets you’ve fashioned for the sconces are perfection, Lissa.” Mrs. Collins, Lady Beckworth’s housekeeper, turned to smile at her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Collins.” Melissa bobbed a quick curtsy, the way she’d seen Mary do. This was the second compliment the stiff-backed model of grey-haired efficiency had given her since she’d arrived but an hour ago. Melissa would not have thought this unusual, but a serving maid had confided that Mrs. Collins seldom complimented any member of her staff.
“How long have you been with Lady Harrington, Lissa?” Mrs. Collins smiled at her kindly.
Melissa took a moment to consider the question. It would not serve to number the years as she had not prepared Jane for that eventuality. The only option Melissa could think of was to tell the truth. “All my life, Mrs. Collins. I was born at Harrington Manor.”
“And your mother and father are still there?”
“No, Mrs. Collins.” Melissa shook her head. “My mother died long ago and my father more recently.”
“I fear your talents are wasted in the employ of Lady Harrington.” Mrs. Collins sighed deeply. “She is not the type of mistress to appreciate your skills. When I speak with Lady Beckworth next, I shall mention that we are in need of someone of your caliber.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Collins.” Melissa bobbed her head again and did her best to look grateful. This was difficult, as she was struggling not to laugh and thus give her ruse away. She could picture Jane’s discomfort should Lady Beckworth attempt to lure her servant, “Lissa,” away.
“I daresay you’d find a position with us much more to your liking.” Mrs. Collins cast an admiring glance at the lengthy garland that Melissa was fashioning from glossy, dark-green ivy. “Where will this go when you finish, Lissa?”
“I had thought to drape it between the bouquets of roses in the sconces.”
“That would be perfect.” Mrs. Collins nodded her agreement. “How did you learn this skill, Lissa? It’s quite unusual for a lady’s maid to have your way with flowers.”
“My mother took great pleasure in her garden, Mrs. Collins.” Again, Melissa told the simple truth. According to the stories her father had related to her, her mother had enjoyed her pleasure garden and had often gathered blooms to grace the sconces at Harrington Manor.
“Then your mother taught you to make these garlands?”
“No, Mrs. Collins.” Melissa settled for telling the truth once again. “The parson’s wife was fond of using them to dress the church for weddings. When I was a child, I was set to help her.”
Mrs. Collins nodded, apparently satisfied with the answers to her queries, and went off to supervise several servants who were arranging chairs along the walls of the ballroom. Melissa worked alone until she had finished the garlands and then she enlisted a friendly maid to help her drape them between the sconces.
Melissa and her helper had just completed draping the last
ivy garland when an imposing woman entered the room. She was dressed in a fashionable gown of vivid blue silk and she wore a necklace of sapphires that glittered in the soft rays of afternoon sun that streamed through the windows. Only one aspect of her appearance spoiled the effect of total elegance. Her silver hair was piled in untidy curls at the top of her head, obviously fashioned by a person who was not accustomed to the task of arranging it.
“Lady Beckworth.” Mrs. Collins dipped her knee in a curtsy and the other servants in the room did the same. “How kind in you to come to observe the progress we have made.”
Lady Beckworth smiled, bringing warmth to her otherwise stern features. “The ballroom looks lovely, Mrs. Collins, and it shall do famously. I daresay it will be the talk of the
ton
on the morrow. I am especially fond of the garlands you’ve draped between the sconces. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like it before.”
“Nor have I, my lady.” Mrs. Collins motioned to Melissa. “Lissa made them for us. She’s the girl Lady Harrington sent to help.”
Lady Beckworth’s smile grew as she peered at Melissa, who had bobbed her head in deference to the mistress of the house. “They are very pretty, Lissa, just what this old barn needed to dress it for the evening. Perhaps I should turn you loose in the dining hall to see what wonders you can work there.”