by Fanny Finch
And, with the seamstress present and Georgia no longer entertained by a length of ribbon, Agnes could not ask him to clarify, ask him if he truly meant to say she could go whenever she pleased, or if she was reading too much into a few simple words.
She knew she ought to feel relieved if he had meant that she was allowed to come and go as she pleased. If he was releasing his grasp, then her life would be much easier. She would no longer have to battle with her employer when it came to making such important decisions as leaving... she would only need to battle with herself.
She ought to feel relieved. But she was not relieved. She wanted him to want her. She wanted him to need her. She had not realized until now just how much she was enjoying this. Much like his carefree attitude and obliviousness to social norms, what she had thought to be a major flaw was turning out to be one of his charms. He was attentive but in a sort of sweet way that actually flattered her. And now he was attempting to not be attentive, Agnes would be lying if she said she did not feel a little insulted.
As they completed their shopping, she found herself going out of her way to impress the duke. She went back and forth in the florist asking about when certain flowers would be blooming if any would go out of season by the time the ball was due, and how to best compose bouquets with the color orange as a focal point, to help tie the theme together.
She arranged for orange corsages to be made so that anyone who did not fit in, could. And she asked for a wide selection of baked goods that would last well overnight and be easy to eat standing, and ordered them to be delivered the day before the ball.
The whole time, she noticed the duke observing her very closely, and she felt somewhat satisfied that he was once again seeming infatuated.
"You know exactly what we need," he said in slight awe. "It is... I cannot even describe how magical it feels to watch you. You have a gift for these affairs, surely? Nobody could learn them."
And then her high came crashing down. What was she doing?
She had got what she supposedly wanted. She had persuaded him that she was not needed. She had managed to distance herself from a man she could not afford to be in love with.
And now, like the wretched, scheming woman she was deep down, she was undoing all her work. It was not supposed to be about her ego or her desire for him. It was not appropriate for them to be so close. She was acting so selfishly, so irresponsibly by attempting to attract him to herself again.
"I shall teach Your Grace," she said quietly, so as not to draw attention to herself. "Watch as I do and before long you too shall be able to make such arrangements, sir."
He seemed a little confused. "I doubt it. You seem quite the expert. Every time I believe I have mastered some other aspect of being noble you show me a whole new world of it, Agnes."
Georgia began to hum. It was the first noise she had made since entering the town. The child was being so well behaved. Agnes was in slight awe at how patient the girl had been. She was still holding onto the length of ribbon which the seamstress had given her to keep busy with, but she was starting to look a little tired.
"Are you tired, Georgia?" the duke asked, noticing exactly what Agnes too had observed.
Georgia shook her head.
The duke hummed a little to himself, thoughtfully. "Well, you have been very good, but I believe you need some more energy. Something to lift you a little as we finish shopping."
It seemed this was something that happened often as, although Agnes had no idea what they were talking about, Georgia's eyes lit up and she grinned widely.
"I shall buy you some sweets," the duke said to his sister, taking her little hand and pointing across the square at the sweet shop at the far side, its short, sun-faded awnings bright with ropes of ribbon, many glass jars shining behind the windows, the door propped wide open to allow customers through.
Georgia let out one of her usual squeaks of excitement and began half-skipping, half-bouncing as she walked beside her brother, saying something unintelligible other than for the names of different sweet delights she planned on eating.
"Do you do this often, sir?" Agnes asked.
"I do, unfortunately," the duke replied. "I know that it gives her a little too much energy, but if we are in town and she is tiring, I cannot get her home for a nap, so I buy her some sweets or a small cake."
As the duke spoke to Agnes, he was oblivious to what his sister was doing, tugging against his grasp. Georgia released her brother's hand and ran towards the sweet shop. It appeared she did not even notice the fountain that stood in the middle of the square as she made a bee-line for the shop. Agnes did not know where she summoned the energy, but she leaped behind the girl, seizing her and moving her away.
But as Georgia was gently lifted and placed a few paces away from the fountain, which she only just noticed, Agnes stepped on a stone that was especially slippery with green moss and water. Before she realized it, she was inside the fountain.
A huge splash sounded and the water soaked her through to the bone immediately. She could feel all eyes on her, hear a few people beginning to laugh, stifling their voices in case she happened to be someone important. She did not know what to do. She had never humiliated herself like this before. She pursed her lips and looked around, feeling relieved when she saw Georgia standing by the fountain, eyes wide in shock, but dry and well.
Then the duke caught up with them, the crowd parting to let such an important man through, the giggles stifling as they realized that the person who fell in was accompanied by the most important person in town. Agnes felt a slight flash of anger as she realized that their sympathy depended entirely on how noble they believed her to be.
But these spectators did not matter. Only two of the people before her mattered.
The duke took her hand and helped her up and out of the fountain. Instantly, his cloak was draped about her shoulders, protecting her from the sharp breeze that whipped through the square. Although she would have refused it had he offered first, she knew that it would already be wet from the moment it touched her dress, and so did not hand it back.
Besides, she was freezing. Shivering, she pulled the cloak closely about herself and held it shut, trying to block out the breeze that was plastering her skirts to her ankles and whipping her hair loose from her clasp. Her bonnet had vanished somewhere into the fountain, or else been taken by someone in the crowd, and would probably never be retrieved again.
"Thank you," Georgia said, embracing Agnes despite her cold, clammy dress. "You save me."
Agnes could not help but smile at the girl and, holding the cloak shut with only one hand, reached down to pet Georgia's hair ever so gently. "Now, now, Georgie," she said. "You must not hug me so tightly. Or else you will get soaked through as well, and then what did I save you for?"
Georgia let go of Agnes and inspected her own skirts, blotchy with little bits of damp, but otherwise still mostly dry. She smiled up, eyes full of love, respect, and admiration.
"You require a new dress," the duke remarked, pulling the hood of his cloak over Agnes's hair to preserve some amount of modesty for her. "Immediately. Not later. I have known many people to have got pneumonia from sitting in wet socks for too long. I am not sure that staying in a completely soaked outfit until we arrive home is a good idea."
"It is not possible that the dresses shall be ready yet," Agnes said, shaking her head.
"Then we shall take one from the rack and have it fitted," the duke replied. "One more simple dress is hardly an extravagance if it means preserving your health."
"You have already purchased me one dress," Agnes protested as he led her up to the tailor's door. "Two, in fact! You must allow me to pay for this one myself."
The duke all but glared at her. "You got yourself soaked through saving my little sister. Your dress may well be ruined, your shoes certainly are, your bonnet is gone, you embarrassed yourself in public, and you are frozen to the bone and risking your health, possibly even your life. The least I c
an do is purchase a pissing dress for you."
Agnes stared, wide-eyed, as she realized that a duke had literally sworn in front of her. "Sir," she said quietly.
A red flush covered his face. "I am so sorry, Agnes, I did not mean to... A thousand pardons, I... I do not know what came over me."
Agnes pursed her lips a little. "Whatever are you talking about, sir?" she asked.
For a second he did not realize what she was doing, then it dawned on him. "Thank you," he said, as he realized she was intentionally pretending she had not heard what he said. He hesitated a few seconds as they approached the tailor's. "But my point still stands. You have done more than enough to warrant my buying you another dress."
Agnes knew at this point that there would be no sense in arguing against it. At least the person who would measure and dress her was the tailor's employee, a seamstress, rather than the man himself, as he was once again looking for wares to show to the duke, hopefully to secure yet another sale.
However, the duke himself had no intention of making a further purchase and instead left the shop as soon as Agnes went into the back rooms with the seamstress.
"Oh dear," the lady said as Agnes took off the cloak. "You are a frightful mess, aren't you? Whatever happened?"
"I fell into the fountain," Agnes said, blushing a little. "Protecting the child, but..."
"I am sure she is going to be thankful it was not her, even at her age. The dress she is wearing would cost ten times more to replace than this one. But still, such a shame! It looked so lovely on you earlier," the seamstress bemoaned.
"It was an old dress," Agnes reassured her.
As Agnes passed the ruined dress over, the seamstress made a few more grumbles about how lovely it had looked.
Agnes simply stripped out of her wet garments and listened as the lady discussed how the new dress would be fitted. She was grateful to no longer be feeling quite as cold, but now she was completely bare, and feeling even more embarrassed than before.
She was quickly fitted for a new petticoat and undergarments, and, once they were on, sat, wrapped in a heavy, warm blanket, as the items were sewn to fit her perfectly.
"You shall be needing new shoes too, no doubt," the lady muttered, looking at the corner where Agnes's own leather shoes were quite visibly soaked and damaged far beyond repair. "And your bonnet and scarf are both missing."
"I know," Agnes said. "I would not be surprised if His Grace insists on purchasing those for me as well. His Grace does far too much for me."
"It sounds like it!" the seamstress exclaimed. "But His Grace is always most generous with everyone when he comes to town, so it does not surprise me."
"His Grace is like this with everyone?" Agnes asked.
The seamstress shook her head. "Not quite as generous as with yourself. But I suppose that, with you being such a lovely-looking lady, and his little sister taking such a liking to you, he is probably more than happy to spoil you."
Agnes felt herself blushing. "I am sure it is nothing to do with my person. His Grace is simply a good man and, as you said, his sister loves me dearly. I would suspect that my appearance does not come into it."
"His Grace is a good man," the seamstress said with a smile as she passed Agnes the first layer of clothing to put on.
Chapter 28
Riding home wearing a brand-new dress was one of the most surreal things Agnes had done. She had bought new dresses when out and about before, yes. But her father had usually had her measured, selected the dress for her, and it had arrived weeks later. As a noble lady, the idea of shopping and wearing the new dress home was somewhat ridiculous.
And, once all her wealth was lost, the concept of a new dress itself was ridiculous. She had not shopped for a new dress since arriving at the School for Noble Women. She did not have the money to spare, and her dresses were all in such beautiful condition, there was no point.
It was an awkward feeling, to be on her way home in the first new dress she had worn in over a year.
But although she still felt cold and uncomfortable, she knew that much more needed to be done yet towards the ball. There was no point dwelling on what had happened that morning, after all, as the halls needed to be cleared in preparation, seating needed to be arranged for those who would arrive in time for tea before the ball began, and servants needed to be informed of their duties.
There was less than a week to go, and already the house was going to be worked into a frenzy.
Once safely inside and much warmer, Agnes looked through the plans. "Your Grace, there seems to have been a mistake. You have placed Lord Chester and Baron Fitzroy beside one another at the table. That must be rectified."
The duke looked at her as though she had suddenly sprouted another head. "What is wrong with seating them side by side?" he asked.
Agnes hesitated. "Sir, are you honestly asking me?"
"I am. I wanted to seat them together," he replied. "Why not?"
"Well, sir, first of all, we must alternate gentlemen and ladies, especially with them both being eligible older gentlemen of some fortune," she explained.
He paused. "Very well, that makes sense. Shall we move them along one?"
"Secondly, sir," Agnes continued. "Secondly, we must not forget that they are mortal enemies and have been for nearly a decade."
The duke continued looking at her with confusion. "They are? I do not know them in person. I would not know."
"I do not know them in person either, Your Grace, but it is of the utmost importance that gentlemen and ladies learn the qualities of the people of high society, their interests, their habits, their history, their friends, and their enemies," she said. "We must study the families of nobility, so that we may learn where we belong and what it is that we must do to better fit in with them, perhaps climb a rank or two."
The duke shrugged. "It all sounds rather foolish to me."
How could he not know they were mortal enemies? It was bad enough to invite both to the same ball, let alone to seat them together. He truly was clueless when it came to propriety. Agnes contemplated chastising him yet again, but she was not sure what it would achieve. After all, it seemed that he genuinely did not care about what society thought of him.
"Sir," she said hesitantly. "May I speak plainly?"
"Of course, Agnes," he replied with a smile.
Agnes drew a deep breath. "Sir, what is the point in holding a ball if you will not do your best to adhere to the rules of society?"
"What do you mean? Do those rules truly matter? My father always said to ignore them," he replied.
"And that might be why, even when I was learning of all the important high society families, yours was not mentioned but in passing, sir," Agnes said.
The duke paused. "You mean to say that...?"
Agnes nodded. "Because of your father's callous attitude regarding society and his status, he all but lost it and was not as respected."
"So I must make an effort to adhere to the rules of high society if I wish to impress?" he asked, in the tone of voice of a man who quite clearly believed he only needed to spend money and time to impress others.
"You must, sir," Agnes confirmed.
The duke's hands were shaking a little. "I am not sure I can do this. I am making such simple errors, Miss Hubbard. I do not know what I am doing."
"You shall be fine," she assured him. "I know that it is complex, but you have navigated far more complex situations before, sir. And with your sensitivity to the emotions and needs of others, you shall no doubt be able to assess each situation individually so as to fit in. You have no doubt done it before at other events."
"But I am holding this ball, and I do not know what I am doing," he repeated, looking increasingly alarmed. He seized her hand and squeezed it hard. "Please. Assist me. I cannot do this on my own, Agnes."
"Do not fear, sir," Agnes replied. "I shall assist you in all ways that I can. It was never to be doubted that I would. However, Your Grace must remain confi
dent. If fear or distress takes over, then there could be many mistakes made. We must all keep a clear mind to ensure that the ball is a success."
But, even though she said this, Agnes could tell that the duke had good reason to be nervous. An event such as this one put a lot at stake, and he was not sure of how exactly to behave so as to secure a better place in society, or even maintain his present, fairly low profile.
She was nervous also. She had never arranged her own ball. She had never been to a ball. She had no idea how they were supposed to look, how they were meant to make a person feel. The duke did. He knew what to expect and what he desired from the event. She had no idea. But the difference was, she had been shown how. The duke had seen them but never taken part in the organizing. Perhaps...
