Lina’s eyes were wide, and she had a tense, nervous feeling coiling up inside of her, connecting, as though by a taut string, her very private places, her chest, and her mind. She swallowed, to find her throat dry. “I too, overheard a conversation between my guardian and Mr. Blackstone,” she whispered. “And he said, Mr. Blackstone said, he required a wife that he could...” Her voice trailed off as her lips struggled to pronounce the word she had overheard, and when it left her mouth it plucked at the tight chord deep in her body and sent a shiver throughout. “Discipline.”
Lina could see by the way that Charlotte’s eyes flew to her lap that she had hit upon the very core of what the girl wanted to tell her.
But what sort of discipline? What sort of discipline was on par with sexual matters, and for that matter, sexual depravity?
Thoughts fluttered into Lina’s mind, as images and scenarios, and though they were vague because of her state of complete naivety and ignorance about all matters “sexual,” they were visceral enough—tickling her in the low, low regions of her abdomen—that she recoiled from them as one would from a hot coal.
Once, Lina had experienced a similar sensation, after reading a book locked away in the attic, which had described in great and sordid detail the proper discipline of a maid. A number of her father’s books had been sent with her to Green Grove Manor, and placed in the attic, she was told, because they were in French and unsuitable for tutoring. The book had seemed quite funny, and the material, if going by the title, quite dry. She could not even say why she had selected it and flipped through the pages. One chapter had been entirely dedicated to a description of how to cane a maid upon her bare skin, with her skirts over her bent figure, while having the maid count the strokes of her punishment aloud.
The same, cold-hot feeling that now snaked through her body had been set in motion by the chapter, and Lina had slammed the book closed, never to return to its pages again, for she feared she had stumbled upon something quite forbidden, which was not a handbook for discipline at all, but one of those érotique stories she had heard her mother’s friends chattering about in France.
Charlotte pressed her lips together and took Lina’s hand anew. “I know not, darling Lina, let us speak no more of it. Perhaps they are only rumors and nothing more, and anyhow we shouldn’t speak of such things.”
Charlotte stood up, smoothing her skirts with unnecessary haste, and made for the door, but not before Lina noticed that her countenance, ordinarily quite pale, had flushed in much the way Lina was certain her own had.
“Charlotte,” Lina whispered, taking her hand. “Thank you.”
Charlotte gave her a kind, almost pitying look. “I am uncertain if I have done anything for which you should thank me.” She leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “It could all just be rumor, dear Lina.”
And then she was gone.
Chapter Nine
The next few days passed like a dream for Lina, despite the burning thoughts regarding her marriage, and the secrets surrounding Mr. Blackstone and his “depravity,” which caused quite a flutter in her heart, though she could not explain it.
A parade of tailors and seamstresses were brought to the home, and the girls were accompanied by the very severe Mrs. Tilton to glorious shops, where Lina was permitted to select divine fabrics for gown after gown: evening gowns, ball gowns, dresses that she would have called gowns that were in fact to be used every day, and of course, the wedding dress.
Evangeline seemed quite content with her allotment of garments, and she had begun to thaw from her earlier jealousy, for Evangeline was quite easily distracted by shiny things and promises of balls and social climbing. All of these had been given to her because of Lina’s fortunes, so Evangeline, while jealous, could hardly remain in the terrible mood she had seemed determined to remain in for the rest of her life.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed only to grow darker. She never spoke to Lina, only glared at her across the dinner table or sniped, in her very clever way, by making the sort of comments Mrs. Tilton was so adept at. “But of course, you couldn’t be expected to know that, coming from your... upbringing,” she might say with a withering smile, before sipping her tea.
Lina was accustomed to this sort of treatment, and was therefore quite capable of ignoring it. If anything, Elizabeth’s subtle nastiness might have soothed her a bit, and even worked in favor of soothing some of her anxiety about her upcoming wedding with the mysterious and potentially “depraved” Mr. Blackstone. Elizabeth could scarcely conceal the jealousy that burned beneath her disdain for Lina, for, in the end, Lina might have had a most questionable background, but the wealth of Mr. Blackstone’s estate was evident in the lavish wardrobe and arrangements he had made for her. And while wealth was certainly not the only requirement for prestige in society, it did go a long way, and even Elizabeth could see that.
None was more adept at stoking the fires of Elizabeth’s jealousy than Charlotte, who seemed to make it a sport. “If Mr. Blackstone allows it,” she would muse, for instance, pretending that she was unaware that Elizabeth was listening in on their conversation, “you would easily be able to travel all over the world in such fine style. How marvelous.” And other such commentary, with a devious smile and sometimes even a wink in Lina’s direction.
The truth was that Lina herself entertained such fantasies when she lay in bed at night, unable to get to sleep. There was much to fear from this marriage, and much unknown about Mr. Blackstone, and she remained ever poised to run away from it all. On the other hand, the possibilities that could come from marrying Mr. Blackstone were nearly endless: what if she could travel? What if she could decide, like some wealthy women did, to summer in France? Or even further away? She had such desires to explore the world, and they would never be realized if she remained an unmarried bastard, or married a commoner and worked as a maid. There was also the matter of the Harlowes. In the end, they had done her such favors by taking her into their home, and Evangeline, for all her faults, was still like a true sister to her. And Anna was beloved, a real sister in her estimation. Her marriage to Mr. Blackstone promised to repay them for all of their kindness, and to lift Anna to new social heights and opportunities of her own. There was no reason, to be sure, that Anna could not be brought to live with them.
There was much to consider, and when she lay awake turning it all over in her mind, she was unable to come to any decision about what to do. And so she floated along, attending the functions and making the preparations, unable to make a decisive move to commit mentally to the marriage, or to run away, or to even plan for either event.
Before long, the many weeks had passed, and a series of balls was upon them. Mr. Blackstone remained, still, at his estate in the north, and no definitive news about the wedding had been forthcoming. She had a dress and a date, and she knew that the affair, as per Mr. Blackstone’s peculiar tastes, would be small and private. It would take place in the town near his estate, but it did seem strange that he remained so far away, and sent no news.
For Lina, this was strange but in many ways a blessing. It allowed her to continue floating through life as though in a dream, making no decisions, putting off for tomorrow what might be difficult, in exchange for the glamor and excitement of her time in London.
Chapter Ten
Lina admired herself in the mirror for a bit longer than she might have otherwise—for vanity, according to Mrs. Harlowe, was the seed of naughtiness—and was reluctantly pleased with the image that looked back at her. The gown was an astonishing work of art, and had been selected and paid for already by the enigmatic Mr. Blackstone, as strange as that was, considering that he was not to attend the ball or even arrive in London for weeks.
The skirt was full, made of a paper-thin silk organza draped over a base of fine silk, and this alone would have made the dress quite beautiful, but it was, additionally, embroidered with thousands of intricate flowers in gold, navy, periwinkle, and lilac, giving it an ethereal appearance that
quite made Lina feel as though she had stepped into a living fairytale. As she moved, the fabric and the fine silk embroidery caught the light in such a way that she seemed to have been lit up by tiny candles within the gown. The bodice had been tailored to showcase her slenderness, and a border of extraordinary workmanship clung, just barely, to the tops of her shoulders.
“It’s scandalous,” Lina had heard Mrs. Harlowe mutter under her breath. Though in fact, there was nothing scandalous about it, apart from the amount of time that must have been spent creating it.
Charlotte had sent her very own servant to help Lina with her hair, which was decorated so elaborately and with so many curls, tresses, and plaits, that she doubted she would ever be able to remove them all.
Evangeline had been noticeably perturbed by the beauty of the dress, and so had selected a fantastical red dress, with so many layers and tiers, bows and ribbons and sashes, that she seemed visibly exhausted each time she moved. The dress itself required two servants to lower over the enormous hoop that came with it, and she required compacting in order to squeeze through the door of her bedroom.
Anna was disappointed, for she was unable to attend due to a cold she had acquired.
“You look like a princess from a fairy tale,” Anna told her. “Oh, I am so very happy for you!”
Lina gave her a brave smile and thanked her. But she wondered, as they gathered in the carriage—a separate carriage had to be sent for Evangeline and her absurd dress—if she was a princess in a fairy tale, who would have a happy ending, or if her fate were really much, much worse.
* * *
Charlotte’s face lit up when Lina and Evangeline arrived. “Lina,” she breathed, “you are utterly breathtaking!” Then, because she was a kind person and had sensed Lina’s strange affection for the miserable and sometimes petty Evangeline, she smiled in her direction. “That dress,” she breathed with as much sincerity as she could muster, “is quite spectacular, Evangeline. You are most glamorous.”
If Evangeline picked up on anything but sincerity in Charlotte’s tone, she did not show it. She seemed distracted enough by the task of maneuvering in the enormous dress that Charlotte might have said anything to her and she would have smiled politely and said “thank you.”
Charlotte herself was clad in a deep blue velvet dress, and looked quite pretty, and seemed to know that “quite pretty” was all she would ever accomplish, and that attempting to be the belle of the ball would make her look as ludicrous as Evangeline did now. Her graceful acceptance of this fact made her radiant. She linked arms with Lina, and the two tittered their way to the archway through which the guests were entering the ballroom, while Mrs. Tilton frowned behind them, her shapeless bulk swathed in legions of black chiffon that gave off the distinct effect of looking like she was at once attending a funeral and a gala.
Lina was relieved to see that Evangeline would be able to slip through the doorway without having to adjust or compact her dress. Arriving at the ball had required so many creative solutions centered on managing Evangeline’s dress that Lina already felt quite tired.
From the moment she entered the ballroom, Lina could feel that all eyes and all thoughts were upon her. The event glittered and shone, and a great orchestra played divinely. Candles and gas lamps and chandeliers twinkled and flickered over the beautiful frescoes of the grand room, and light caught in the expensive fabrics and jewels heaped upon the women, who were painted and decorated like pastries and flowers. She was overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer glamour of the event, the likes of which she had only imagined and had never been able to picture quite as grandly as what she now saw.
But any sense of awe she experienced from the surroundings was overtaken promptly by the most obvious fact that wherever she walked, whispers snaked through the clusters of women or men who watched her, some furtively, some openly. Heads leaned together, attempting subtlety, but there was no escaping that all heads moved together, and all eyes remained on her, and lips moved quietly but spoke, everywhere she passed.
“Everyone is talking about you,” Charlotte whispered. “They have been so anxious to see you they have forgotten their etiquette entirely. I think Mrs. Chattoway shall be mistaken for a fish and be served as an hors d’oeuvre if she remains gaping as she is for much longer.” Charlotte patted her arm reassuringly and smiled, overly brightly, at everyone they passed. Lina was grateful to have her as a companion.
Lina was also grateful to Charlotte for having dispensed a great deal of advice about what to expect at the ball, for without it, Lina might have been mystified. “Is there a supper room at this ball?” Lina whispered to Charlotte.
“We shall soon determine. But remember what I told you. You must find a man to escort you there, and then you should dance with him, and you must never, ever go to the supper room with the same man twice. D’accord?” Charlotte enjoyed practicing her French with Lina. Her accent was comically terrible, but Lina had grown accustomed to it and now found it rather charming.
And so, as Charlotte had instructed, they found a suitable place to sit and wait for the manager of the party to introduce them, so they might be asked for a dance, and subsequently, to the supper room.
* * *
Though much of what transpired at a ball such as this one centered upon proper etiquette, and gentlemen would not allow a lady to remain seated for long, or not to be asked to the supper room so that, embarrassingly, a host was required to ask a free gentleman to do so, there were still ways to measure the desire of gentlemen to engage with a lady, and it was quite evident that Lina drew much attention.
It was common knowledge and society gossip that Lina was the lady engaged to Mr. Blackstone, and Mr. Blackstone’s wealth was widely known and discussed. But every gentleman to whom she was introduced requested a dance with her, and before long she felt as though the world was spinning about her in a blur of glittering lights and brilliant colors.
Charlotte whispered to her, as they passed each other on the floor, “You simply must ask to go to the supper room, Lina, I’m famished.”
She had forgotten the supper room entirely. Her current dance partner was a smiling, sandy-haired gentleman she had seen before during her stay; she felt certain he had tipped his hat at them in the park or at a museum. Lina was hardly paying these gentlemen any mind; she was focused solely on the act of behaving as properly as possible and marveling at the scene around her.
Charlotte had agreed to request to go to the supper room when Lina did, so as not to abandon her in the event she required assistance with etiquette or rules. Lina whispered back that she was most sorry and would ask after the dance, and so she did, and the gentleman, a Mr. Carrington, obliged, as was required by proper etiquette.
He escorted her down an enormous staircase to the refreshment room, and Lina had to exert a great deal of effort not to make an exclamation upon entering it.
At the center of the supper room was a table heaped with such extraordinary culinary items, and so many of them, that she could scarcely believe her eyes. In the center of the table was a sculpture made of ice. She felt a bit dizzy at that moment and grasped the gentleman’s arm to steady herself, for she had never seen such a display in all her life, or even imagined it.
Mr. Carrington and Charlotte’s dance partner, a gentleman friend of Carrington’s—who plainly had asked Charlotte to dance as a favor to his friend, but, like Charlotte, was handsome in a plain and friendly way and was getting along quite amicably with Charlotte—escorted the ladies to chairs. They seated themselves and then, smiling, Charlotte rattled off such a list of requests from the table that Lina’s head spun, for she hadn’t any idea what most of those things were. Charlotte ordered for her and sent the two men looking for champagne as well.
“You are only supposed to have one glass,” Charlotte said, her voice serious. Then she whispered, “but I often have two.”
The champagne, which Lina had never tried, was terrible tasting, but intoxicating as promised. They
sat, ordering their dance partners about to retrieve food for them, but at last Charlotte told Lina that they might as well return to the dance floor, for the gentlemen were required to stay with them as long as they liked, and would likely wish to dance with more partners.
And so they returned, and danced for what seemed like hours, and the party became louder and more glittery than it had seemed before. The intoxicating drink had quite gone to her head, and Lina felt after a while that she wished to return to the supper room, if only to refresh herself.
She would never be sure exactly how everything transpired, for Charlotte had explained all of the rules to her extensively, but insisted that everyone at this ball would be so proper and concerned about their appearances as gentlemen, that Lina would never need to remember the rules herself. But she found herself separated from Charlotte at the end of a waltz, and Mr. Carrington came right to her side at that moment, his arm extended for her to take. Another hopeful was approaching her at the same time, and Lina felt quite overwhelmed, as she could not recall what she was supposed to do in this particular instance.
“The lady has already promised the next dance to me, my good man,” Mr. Carrington said confidently. While the approaching gentleman quite clearly knew this to be untrue, he backed away, and requested the next dance, which Lina granted only because she was uncertain what else to do.
Mr. Carrington grinned at her as they spun about the dance floor. Lina smiled back. “I think I may have made quite an error, Mr. Carrington,” she said, blushing slightly. “I believe I have already danced with you once this evening. Is it not improper to accept your invitation more than once?”
“It is improper,” he said, spinning her about, “for me to ask you more than once.”
Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance Page 5
