An Early Engagement (10 page)

When the house was ready, Emilyann was ready. She had the start of her new wardrobe, all bright colors and vibrant fabrics, not the sprigs and calicos suitable for country life. She had an elegantly appointed, well-staffed mansion, and a hall table full of invitations. She had an experienced abigail, a full cellar, and a still-healthy bank account.

What she did not have was the continued support of her most loyal followers. Nadine, Aunt Adelaide, Nanny, and Geoffrey all wanted to go home within the first month. Emilyann had been too busy showing Smoky how wrong he was about herself to see how right he had been about the rest of the family.

Don’t let Nadine have her head,
he’d written. But Emilyann hated checkreins; how could she impose them on another? So she made Nadine an allowance, hired a maid to accompany her, and made sure she knew the rules as well. She could trust Nadine not to jeopardize her own chances, she had thought. Smoky would have every right to call her a dunderhead or worse—if she ever mentioned the matter to him.

“Mrs. Drummond-Burrell said I had country manners!” Nadine howled, red-faced and weeping.

“She told me she thought you were too young to make your come-out. I had to disagree, naturally, but 1 thought we discussed how they did not do the contra dances here with quite as much enthusiasm as you were wont to see at the local assemblies.”

“Sally Jersey said I was fast.” Sob.

“Yes, but you knew you should not go onto the balcony with the Mittleborough boy, or that Prussian Hussar, or that ...”

“And Princess Lieven told Aunt Adelaide my dress was farouche. Auntie says that means t-t-terrible.”

“I
told
you all the other debutantes would be wearing white. Cherry stripes are not at all the thing for a girl in her first season. Smoky even wrote that specifically. I remember reading it to you.”

Sniff. “But you never do what Stokely says. Why should I?”

“Because I am older and married,” Emilyann told the girl. She did not add that she had a better head on her shoulders, too. “Moreover,” she continued instead, “I do try to listen to Stokely’s advice.”

“That’s a farradiddle if ever I heard one. What about the carriage?”

Emilyann suddenly discovered a spot on the hem of her peach sarcenet gown. “I, ah, suppose you are referring to my new phaeton. In my previous letter to your brother I mentioned admiring Lord Findley’s new equipage, and Smoky wrote back that a high-perch phaeton was too dangerous and too daring, and I was on no account to consider purchasing one. I never did. The seats are much too high to get into gracefully, you know, without showing an undue amount of ankle.”

“But?” Nadine asked, smiling now.

“Oh, very well, you wretched girl. But he never mentioned standard phaetons, which are quite two feet lower.”

“Don’t you think that’s cutting hairs?”

Emilyann grinned, showing her dimples. “Don’t you think it’s the most dashing thing ever?”

“Everyone in Hyde Park certainly did. The way heads were swiveling, I thought the regent himself was out for an airing.”

“Oh, but he was. Prinny complimented me on my driving. I must remember to tell Smoky that, for he taught me, you know. Of course I had time to practice on the country roads, and Jake to give me tips, but—whatever is the matter now?”

Nadine was dissolved in tears again. “I can never go back to the park. Ever. They all laughed at me, Emmy!”

Emilyann bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. Nadine was the worst shopper in London, wanting every tasteless frippery she saw in the store windows. She just had to have the parasol with gold tassels, the red slippers with turned-up toes, that outrageous headdress with five ostrich feathers in a rainbow of colors ... and she still needed a new shawl. All the ladies were wearing those brightly woven Kashmir wraps which were, unfortunately, much too dear for Nadine’s allowance. Emilyann told her, Nanny told her, even Smoky wrote and told her,
Buy quality.
But Nadine saw a way for her allowance to go further, and bought a shawl of the cheaper dyed India muslin.

So there she was in the park with Aunt Adelaide, in the family chaise, at the appropriate hour of five o’clock, when the ton came out to see and be seen. Soon she was surrounded by a flock of young Tulips, with a scattering of military types. She decided to get down and walk, so her beaux might admire her glorious new ensemble better, the colorful scarf, a lemon-yellow jaconet dress with mulberry ribbons, the ostrich plumes floating above.

“I’m afraid it might shower, dear,” Aunt Adelaide fretted. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ...”

“Don’t be such a worrier, Auntie,” Nadine told her, gaily twirling her parasol.

It wasn’t a very hard rain, and did not last long. Just long enough for the parasol to collapse, the ostrich plumes to sag onto Nadine’s forehead, the red tips of her slippers to droop into the mud with a squelch, and those bright colors of the shawl to run down her dress, leaving rivulets of dye streaming down her arms.

“I can never show my face in public again! I’m ruined, Emmy, ruined. I want to go home! Aunt Adelaide says she wants to go, too, and Bobo offered to accompany us.”

“Bobo? Whyever would that overfed fop leave town at the height of the season?”

“His jackets don’t fit so nicely with his arm in the sling, so he thought he may as well rusticate. I tried to tell him he looked heroic— Are you all right? Shall I fetch some water?”

Emilyann held up her hand. “No, no, just fine. What, er, happened to Bobo’s arm?”

“Oh, such a silly thing. He tripped on some loose carpet threads outside his mother’s door. It’s a miracle he didn’t fall right down the stairs. Just his shoulder was bruised though, poor thing.”

Poor thing, Bobo? No, Nadine could certainly not go home with that oaf. In fact, the best thing all around would be to get her fired off and married soon, before she landed in the basket altogether. That would take a little luck and a lot more management than Nadine was used to, or Emilyann wished to impose. The solution? Blame it on Smoky.

“Your brother insists you stay and have a proper presentation. He writes right here,” she said, waving the shopping list, “that I have to make sure you have an acceptable wardrobe and more seemly conduct. If I don’t he’ll ... he’ll sell the phaeton and the racing stock and make me live with Aunt Ingrid.”

Nadine looked wide-eyed. “Can he do that?”

Of course he couldn’t, and assuredly wouldn’t. Didn’t the rattlepate know her brother at all? Emilyann was not about to disabuse her of the notion of Smoky as ogre, though, if it kept the minx out of dark corners and got her into white gowns.

“But white is so boring. I suppose next you’ll order me to fold my hands in my lap and sit mumchance through endless piano recitals.”

“It would be more suitable, indeed, than going to a military revue with none but your maid and three half-pay officers!”

“But no one likes those dull girls. Even Papa used to say those colorless females were no fun.”

“My dear Nadine, are you being guided by your father’s conception of how a female should act? The whole county knew his preferences ran to blowzy women with painted faces and easy manners. You cannot be trying to live up, or down, to his values, girl. No one marries those women, not even your papa.”

“I shan’t take anyway, I know it.”

“Not if you proceed the way you’ve been going,” Emilyann agreed. “But there is no reason you can’t be one of the season’s Incomparables. You know your dark looks are quite the fashion this year, pity us poor blondes, and your figure is everything pleasing if you just refrain from so many desserts. Smoky has set aside a comfortable dowry for you, and your breeding is unexceptionable. We can turn the lady patronesses up sweet with one or two demure morning calls, and the rest of the ton will forget the park incident as soon as Lady Bainbridge takes a new cisisbeo or Prinny insults another German
graf.”

“You really think I can become a Toast?”

“Definitely. If you will be led by those who love you and truly have your best interests at heart, then there is no doubt.”

* * * *

Aunt Adelaide had plenty of doubts.
She’s just not strong enough for the rigors of the season,
Smoky had written.

“My heart, you know, dear. No, I don’t feel at all well in this foul air. I fear for my health, I truly do.”

Emilyann feared she might have to accompany her sister-in-law to every debutante do and young peoples’ outing herself if she could not talk Aunt Adelaide into staying.

“I thought you enjoyed the opera, and I know you were delighted to encounter that old friend of yours.”

“Yes, but all the hustle and bustle can cause palpitations, quinsies, dyspepsia. I could succumb to any number of them, you know, if I don’t return to the country.”

“What a hum, Auntie. I saw you having a comfortable coze with Mrs. Richfield and tapping your toes. You didn’t feel the least bit weak until Nadine went behind the draperies with that Austrian.”

Aunt Adelaide reached for her vinaigrette.

“See? You needn’t worry anymore. I have decided to take Nadine in hand myself, and she agrees to try to moderate her behavior. That is, Smoky insists. Since I am a married woman, I’m considered enough of a chaperone for her, so you needn’t come with us to all the big squeezes if you think they might be too wearing. It’s just that we need you for some of those times when I may have other plans. You know, those quiet afternoon teas you find so pleasant, or the afternoon dance parties the young people like so much when their mamas sit and gossip. I wish you could see your way to staying with us, but you mustn’t jeopardize your health, of course.”

“Oh, dear, so kind of you to concern yourself. And you’ve been so generous, I keep asking Nadine what would we have done without you. And to disappoint dear Everett. No, no. The family must come first. You did say she wouldn’t wear those awful feathers anymore, didn’t you?”

“I burned them myself, ma’am.”

“I do miss my garden though....”

So Emilyann had three rosebushes planted in the grassy patch behind the house, and a bench installed. It was a fair trade if she got out of another harp musicale.

Nanny was even easier to deal with. It was her opinion that Miss Emmy should be in the country, where Master Stokely ordered, waiting for her man like a good wife. Instead, she was gallivanting around town in a flimsy rig, wearing her hems too high and her necklines too low, making too much of a stir for a respectable matron. Her little lamb was trotting too hard altogether, so there.

Emilyann couldn’t get Nanny a baby to mother, not comfortably, anyway, so she did the next best thing: she bought her a puppy.

Geoffrey, at least, was no problem.
It’s too easy for green boys to fall into the wrong company in London,
Smoky wrote, but Geoff hadn’t. He had quickly made friends with one of her schoolmate’s brothers, young Johnny Remington, who was such a likable, levelheaded fellow, with a nice smile and even features, that Emilyann was considering him for Nadine. Geoff and Rem went everywhere together when they were not escorting their female relatives, poking fun at the dandy set, and only halfheartedly emulating the Corinthians. They seemed to be enjoying London and their freedom as men about town, so Emilyann was surprised when Geoff approached her one morning in her study, saying that he wished to go home.

She put down the pen and closed the account book she’d been working on, with some relief. “What, is mutiny contagious?” she joked, not really worried. “I suppose you’re worried about your hogs, is that it? You know Meecham writes every week, and follows your instructions to the letter. But I suppose we can get along without you for a few days if you are determined to see for yourself.”

“It ain’t a visit I had in mind, Emmy. I don’t think I like this kind of life here, you know, nothing much for a chap to do.”

“No? What about that mill, and the race to Richmond, and the new steam engine exhibit you wanted to go watch?”

Geoff set his mouth stubbornly, all too reminiscent of Nadine’s sulks. “I ain’t on leading strings, Emmy, and I want to go home.”

Emilyann was sure she could bring that ready smile back to his face, the one where he reminded her more of Smoky than of his sister, even though his face had Nadine’s roundness, and his hair and eyes were brown like Nadine’s, not Smoky’s darker colors. “I know what it is,” she teased. “You want to get out of another night in knee breeches. Very well, you need not escort us to Lady Cheyne’s ball this evening. Or is it that you’re afraid you won’t be able to outrun little Miss Rivington and her predatory mama?”

Geoff grinned sheepishly; he never could stay mad for long, and Miss Rivington did seem to be nearby whenever he took his sister anywhere. Then he noticed the account books, and remembered his mission. “No, Emmy, this place is just too dashed expensive for my tastes. I’d rather be home seeing the farms prosper than stay here, being a drain on them.”

“I see,” said Emilyann, thinking she did. Smoky and Geoff had agreed to maintain the latter’s allowance, adding in the unused school money, until Smoky was home and the estates were earning more. Then they would see about a fair share of the profits, or even a manager’s salary. Meantime, she supposed, keeping up appearances in the city was more expensive than they had planned. Her other investments were paying off well. “Why don’t I write to Smoky about increasing your allowance?” she offered.

“No, Emmy, you’ve done enough, and it ain’t anything I want you mentioning to my brother, not even a right ‘un like Ev.”

“Oh, ho, wild oats, is it? You’ve sown barley and wheat and turnips, so why not? From what I heard, Smoky did his share.” She refused to consider whether her husband had put such ways behind him or not. “If it’s a loan you’re needing—”

“Stokely would have my hide, discussing such things with you!”

“But the problem is money?” she asked, her blue eyes looking troubled now.

“Ah, not exactly ...”

She tapped her fingers on the account books. “Then what is it,
exactly?’

She was like a dog with a bone, this fragile-looking sister-in-law of his. A big dog with a meaty bone, and she was never going to let go. So he told her, between his embarrassed pauses and her impatient prying, about the previous evening’s event. He and Rem had decided to seek more excitement than watching the sobersides at White’s and Watier’s and had left for a visit to Drury Lane. They couldn’t really afford the high fliers at the greenroom, but the night was still young so they left, this time to the Daffy Club and the Cocoa Tree, using Smoky’s name to gain entry. Stakes were awfully high there, and they weren’t much into gambling, so they wandered the streets awhile, until Remington recalled hearing about a place where the dealers were all women....