Candice Hern (11 page)

Emily returned to her room to find that Lottie had completed the unpacking. "Shall I have a bath prepared for you, miss?" Lottie asked.

"I would love a bath, Lottie. Thank you for suggesting it."

Lottie beamed with pride at having pleased her new mistress. She lost no time in ordering that a tub and hot water be brought up at once. Emily could not help but notice this new quiet efficiency of Lottie's since they had left Bath. She suspected that during the long journey Iris, the dowager's abigail, had given Lottie more than a little advice on the proper behavior for a lady's maid. Lottie had obviously paid attention and was now determined to prove her worth.

And so Emily spent the next hour feeling utterly luxurious and quite spoiled as she soaked in a tub of lavender-scented bathwater placed before the fire. She was almost able to forget for the moment that she was a woman in service and not a lady of leisure. She washed her hair and afterward sat by the fire brushing it dry. Lottie then helped her into a freshly ironed dress of pale blue sprigged muslin with a high-necked smocked bodice and long cased sleeves. Lottie also dressed Emily's still slightly damp hair into an intricate braided topknot taught her by Tuttle. During all this time, Lottie had said no more than "Yes, miss" or "No, miss" or "Whatever you say, miss," so that Emily was actually beginning to regret the apparent loss of the former chatterbox.

* * *

Emily knocked at the dowager's door and found that she was ready to go down to tea. A few minutes later the two ladies entered the drawing room with Charlemagne skipping behind. Emily noted with pleasure that this room was also very much in the English taste, with an Adamesque fireplace and plaster frieze of classical figures. Large antique portraits and Italian landscapes adorned the walls.

The earl had preceded them, and he was in the company of a dark-haired woman whom Emily did not recognize.

"Louisa, my dear child!" the dowager exclaimed as she spread her arms in a gesture of welcome. The woman rose, smiling broadly, and rushed into the dowager's open arms.

"Grandmama!" she cried. "I am so happy to see you."

"And I you,
ma petite
." The dowager hugged her granddaughter and then stepped back to look at her. She tilted Louisa's chin from side to side as she examined her face. "You are much too brown, my girl. Country life is ruining your complexion. But," she said, releasing Louisa, "what luck that you are in Town. Robert must have told you that I am here to give him an engagement ball."

"Yes," Louisa said breathlessly, "and I can't tell you when I've been so excited. Imagine our Rob finally tossing the handkerchief! When we saw his notice in the papers, I convinced David that we simply had to rush up to Town to meet my future sister-in-law. And what do we find but that Rob has bolted to Bath! I was never so provoked." She scowled at Robert, who stood leaning against the mantel grinning at his sister. "But you're here at last," she said as her scowl turned into a warm smile, "and I'm simply beside myself with excitement."

"Louisa, my dear," the dowager said, taking Emily by the elbow and drawing her forward, "I want you to meet my companion. Miss Emily Townsend. Emily, this is Robert's sister Louisa, Viscountess Lavenham."

Emily dipped a curtsy and said, "Lady Lavenham, I am very pleased to meet you."

"Oh, please, Miss Townsend," Louisa cheerfully replied, "you mustn't stand on ceremony with me. Why, Grandmama has written of you so often that I feel you are practically family. Besides, I feel positively ancient when someone curtsies to me like that. Please, sit down and be comfortable. My, what a lovely dress."

She had taken Emily by the arm as she chattered breathlessly, and led her to a chintz-covered sofa. Before Emily could respond, Claypool entered with a footman carrying the tea tray. The dowager claimed a large comfortable chair and settled Charlemagne next to her. She poured tea as Claypool presented trays of warm scones, slices of seedcake, and shortbread wedges. Emily was once again put in mind of the differences between this household and the dowager's, where standard tea fare usually consisted of exquisite tiny tarts, petits fours, and intricate puff pastry confections. Although she had always enjoyed Anatole's delicate French pastries, she experienced an almost childish anticipation for the traditional English treats offered by Claypool. The aroma of the warm scones almost undid her composure, and she had to force herself not to attack her plate with a very unladylike enthusiasm.

Conversation centered on Lord Bradleigh's betrothal as Louisa insisted on hearing every detail, although in her excitement she interrupted so frequently that the earl actually imparted very little information. Unlike her grandmother, Louisa was very pleased about the earl's marriage, as she had despaired of her brother ever settling down. As she was not acquainted with the Windhursts, she had no particular objection to the match. Emily was pleased that Lady Lavenham's energetic personality eliminated any need for her to participate in the conversation. She was able to turn her full attention to the scones.

"When do we meet her, Rob?" Louisa asked. "I have it!" she exclaimed as the earl was opening his mouth to reply. She turned to the dowager. "Let's have her to tea tomorrow. Oh, do say yes! I'm simply dying to meet her."

"I have no objection," the dowager drawled, breaking off a tiny piece of shortbread, which she fed to Charlemagne, "as long as Robert doesn't mind." She looked over at the earl for approval.

"I think it's a fine idea," he said, "as long as you both behave yourselves. Lou, you must promise to allow Augusta and Lady Windhurst to say at least one or two words," Lord Bradleigh said, scowling at his sister, though Emily did not miss the twinkle in his eyes. "I would not like to give them a disgust of our family."

"Hmph!" the dowager snorted.

"And
you
, Grandmother," he continued, glaring at the dowager, "must promise to
try
to be polite to my betrothed and her mother, and not to look down your nose at Lady Windhurst with such obvious disdain." He turned to address Emily, who was daintily spreading a scone with honey and cream. "I think, Miss Townsend, that you are the only one I can count on to behave with the proper decorum. I shall have to trust you to rescue the afternoon from any improper behavior on the part of my female relations."

"I will do my best, my lord," Emily replied, smiling as she caught his eye in shared amusement.

"In that case, I shall send a note round to Cavendish Square inviting the Windhurst ladies for tomorrow," the earl said, rising to take his leave. "I am engaged for dinner this evening but will see you all tomorrow, I'm sure." He kissed both his grandmother and Louisa on the cheek before leaving.

"Louisa, my dear," the dowager said as she lifted Charlemagne onto her lap, "I hope that you are free tomorrow morning as Emily and I have much shopping to do. We are building her a new wardrobe and could use your advice."

"Oh, that would be great fun!" Louisa exclaimed. "I would love to join you." She turned excitedly to Emily, who was seated next to her, and grasped her arm. "You simply
must
visit Mrs. Bell's on Charlotte Street. Her designs are all the rage."

"I had planned on patronizing Madame Cécile, as always," the dowager declared as she offered another morsel of shortbread to Charlemagne. "I see no reason to change modistes."

"Of course Madame Cécile is perfect for
you
, Grandmama. She knows your tastes and preferences and has a wonderful flair. But," Louisa said hesitantly, her eyes darting from the dowager to Emily, "perhaps for Miss Townsend we could just drop by Charlotte Street? I am sure you will not be disappointed."

"I get your meaning, my girl," the dowager snapped. "You find Madame Cécile too old-fashioned for your taste. I suppose this Bell woman caters to the younger crowd. Very well. Never accuse me of standing in the way of progress, if you call simple straight gowns and pantaloons progress. If you can vouch for this woman, Louisa, we shall try her. But, my girl, how can you possibly trust a modiste who is not even French?"

"It is true, Grandmama," Louisa replied, "that Mrs. Bell is a native English artist, but we really should patronize our own while we are at war with France, don't you think? Anyway," she said turning to Emily, "you will love her, I know. Oh, this will be such fun!"

The three women chatted for a few more minutes about tomorrow's shopping expedition; or rather the other two woman chatted while Emily politely listened, occasionally taking surreptitious bites of seedcake. She was amused at Lady Lavenham's energy and enthusiasm which caused her to chatter almost nonstop without taking a breath. Her family was apparently quite used to her vivacity and had developed a habit of direct interruption in order to get a word in. Emily would require a better acquaintance with the lady before she would feel comfortable with such tactics, although she could see that it would eventually be necessary if they were ever to have any sort of dialogue.

In spite of her loquacity, Emily found that she quite liked Lady Lavenham. She obviously shared the same affection for the dowager as her brother, although she was somewhat more deferential and less teasing than Lord Bradleigh. She also had the same rich brown hair and flashing brown eyes of her brother and was equally handsome.

Emily's attention was snapped back as she realized the dowager was addressing her. "Would you mind, my dear," the dowager was saying, "hunting down Mrs. Claypool and telling her that I will simply have a tray in my room later this evening. I find I am still somewhat exhausted from our journey and would like to have a quiet, early evening. By tomorrow we shall be caught up in the full swing of the Season, and I wish to be completely rejuvenated by then."

Emily rose to leave, with a fleeting regretful glance at the tray of scones, and made her good-byes to Lady Lavenham after agreeing to meet following breakfast the next day for their shopping trip.

* * *

Once Emily had left the drawing room, the dowager quickly launched into a monologue on Emily's situation before Louisa was able to open her mouth. She recounted the story of Emily's background and the plans for a little matchmaking while in Town. She also explained that Robert had agreed to help by introducing some of his friends to Emily.

Louisa was uncharacteristically quiet while she listened with interest to her grandmother's plans. When she was finally able to interrupt, she claimed to be more than happy to fall in with the dowager's schemes, that she liked Emily very much, and that she should have no trouble finding an appropriate match.

"But, Grandmama," she said, "I am sure I heard David mention that he had recently seen the current Earl of Pentwick and his son Viscount Faversham here in Town. I remember it clearly, as David made some very unflattering comments about the earl, whom he cannot like. It was so unlike David, you know—he always finds something good to say about everyone, he's such a darling— anyway I could not help but remark upon his dislike for the earl. Well, the point is, what if Miss Townsend were to run into her uncle or cousin at some social function? Might it not be very awkward for her?"

"Yes, I suppose we must tell her," the dowager said. "It could be very unpleasant for her meeting up with her mother's family without some warning. Perhaps she will never actually run into them, but she must be prepared. We will tell her tomorrow." She sighed and leaned back in her chair, absently stroking Charlemagne. "Oh, dear. I hope this doesn't cause her to withdraw even further into the background, as she is wont to do. I had such hopes for her, especially with Robert's cooperation. He has been marvelous help at drawing her out of her shell. If she can be comfortable with such a rogue as Robert, then she should do well in Society."

"You know, Grandmama," Louisa interrupted, "it really is too bad that Rob did not meet Miss Townsend before his betrothal. They seem especially well suited. And she is
so
beautiful. Why, it was plain as day that Rob couldn't take his eyes off her. Oh, well. That is just his way, after all. I am sure Miss Windhurst is even more lovely. And since we can no longer do anything to match up Rob, the next best thing will be to enlist his help in matching up Miss Townsend."

"Yes," the dowager drawled, "the next best thing."

Chapter 8

Early the following afternoon the entry hall of Bradleigh House was bustling with activity as Emily, the dowager, and Lady Lavenham returned from their shopping expedition. Tuttle, Iris, and Lottie competed for the attention of footmen to help carry in the packages. Emily watched with some embarrassment as most of the packages were directed to her room. Once again the dowager had been lavish in her generosity, encouraged by the effusive Lady Lavenham. Emily had found some consolation, however, when she discovered that Lady Lavenham was more amenable to her own preferences for simplicity, and was able to temper the dowager's extravagant partialities. The enthusiasm with which Lady Lavenham selected dresses for Emily in preparation for this ball or that rout or Lady So-and-So's musicale left Emily with no doubt that her employer had enlisted her granddaughter's aid in her matchmaking campaign. Although she was still extremely uncomfortable with the dowager's plans, Emily was also aware of the underlying kindness motivating both ladies, and was therefore reluctant to offer any further objections.

She had completely lost count of the number of dresses ordered on her behalf.

Once the purchases had been appropriately dispatched, the dowager and Emily retired to change their dresses in preparation for afternoon tea with the Windhurst ladies. Lady Lavenham returned in her carriage to her own town house a few blocks away in Berkeley Square, with intentions to return to Bradleigh House in time for tea.

A short time later Emily sat at her dressing table in a fresh gown of teal muslin with narrow vertical stripes in pale gold, while Lottie refreshed her coiffure. Her thoughts were no longer on the embarrassment of riches bestowed upon her by the dowager, but on a particularly disturbing conversation that had taken place when the ladies had stopped for refreshments between visits to the modiste and the milliner.