by Laura Locke
“I...nothing, really,” Cornelia said awkwardly. “It was probably something else troubling you.”
“Well, it was,” Alexandra said quickly. “There's no reason I would object. Unless, of course, it was because I wished you to use a proper hairdresser. Which reminds me. What think you of the latest fashion for Romanesque curls?” she pointed to the elegant ringlets that touched her forehead and cheeks.
“They suit you,” Cornelia said guardedly. Why are you hiding your disapproval?
“Well, thank you.” Alexandra smiled, clearly pleased. “They would suit you, too. Would you care to try them for the dance tomorrow?”
“Dance tomorrow?” Cornelia's brow went up.
“Yes. Oh! I forgot to mention. Lady Marckel sent us an invitation. That includes you, my dear. All three of us. It should be a most diverting evening – she is one of the most sought-after hosts in town.”
“That sounds nice,” Cornelia said, feeling uncomfortable. After one afternoon at Lady Marckel's, she wasn't sure she wanted a repeat performance.
“It does sound nice. Now, I called you here because I wanted to ask you: have you forgiven my brother for his ill behavior?”
Cornelia frowned. Surely that was a matter for her and Richmond? What had Alexandra to say about that? “I have,” she admitted. “He was very gallant about it, and contrite.”
“Good, good.” Alexandra mused. “You know...I should not say this, but I like you. You know that. And I would be so happy if you could, well, become closer to the family.”
Is she saying what I think she is? That she intends me for Richmond? “I already feel close to you and your family, Alexandra.”
“Oh. Good.” she smiled, a distinctly satisfied smile. “That is satisfactory. Now, have you seen the latest fashion for gowns? One must always keep up, so I follow the periodicals. The best ones have pictures from France...even now, they do lead the fashions. Here.”
She passed Cornelia a copy of the Woman's Gazette, showing her some woodblock-printed pictures of gowns. They had elegant long sleeves, caught at wrist and elbow, and were white and high-waisted, classically-elegant.
“They're very simple,” Cornelia mused.
“Yes! That's it! Simple and classic and elegant. That is what one must be, to be modish nowadays.”
“Indeed.” Cornelia nodded. She sipped tea and looked at magazines and sampled some of the biscuits Allanson had brought. They were crunchy and nut-flavored and matched well with the rich, dark flavor of the tea.
This is such a far cry from home, where by now I would be practicing my singing, or walking around the estate with Pauline. Or Francis. She felt a lump in her throat at those sweet memories and swallowed it hard. No. Don't think of him.
“Cornelia?”
“Mm?”
“You don't mind my little steps to modernize you, do you? Only you are very countrified, and my brother is one of the leading examples of fashion. You are lucky to have ensnared him so.”
“Ensnared him?” Cornelia chuckled.
“Oh, he's devoted.” Alexandra said with round eyes. “But even so, a little modernizing is what you need, my dear. I would feel most awkward else.”
“Oh.” That was hurtful. Cornelia set down the cup, feeling that same mix of shame and pain she often felt with Alexandra. “Well, if I am such a disgrace you cannot go out in public with me, then...”
“Oh, Cornelia! Never that. We have been out in public, with no ill result!” she laughed. “It's just that...you know, with ladies like Lady Marckel, one cannot be too careful of one's appearance.”
“No,” Cornelia said in a small voice. “That's true.”
“It is. So I think I shall have a gown done with these new sleeves. And yourself – you could consider ordering one, or at least having one adjusted.”
“Adjusted?”
“Oh, yes! I know of a seamstress who could manage the task – a good way to incorporate new fashions at short notice, of course.” That shuttered look crept over her face again, and again Cornelia wondered why.
It's almost as if she is embarrassed for having adjustments done on her clothes. Why?
“Well, I'd like to try the fashion,” she said cautiously. “After all, as you say, it cannot hurt to be too fashionable.”
Lady Alexandra laughed. “Well, there you have it! There's no such thing as too fashionable, is there?” She stopped laughing and her mouth pulled down at the corners, a bitter smile.
They chatted a bit longer, and Cornelia left the room feeling vaguely disturbed. There was something not quite right happening here. Whatever it was, she had no idea what it might be. The argument, the bitterness, the suspicion...They all added up somehow. Cornelia could just not quite fathom how.
Shortly after they had sat down to luncheon Richmond came home. He looked tense and quiet and Cornelia felt the need not to question him. She discussed the countryside and the springtime and how beautiful it was – small, ordinary things that could not impinge on whatever was on his mind.
“Brother. You must be starved,” Alexandra said as soon as Cornelia finished. “Sit. Take some gammon – excellent gammon it is, too.”
Cornelia chewed hers, noting absently that it was a little tougher than it might have been. But still, there was a good sauce to go with it, and that made it better. The click and scrape of cutlery on crockery filled the room, and the delicate clink of glassware.
“I am a little hungry, yes,” Richmond admitted. “These financial types do know how to keep on at it! I thought I'd never get away in time for a meal.” he made a rueful face and Cornelia laughed. She couldn't help it. She did like him.
And since Francis is such a wicked person, what reason do I have for keeping aloof? As much as the thought pained her, Cornelia knew it was common sense. Whatever anyone said, she wasn't so naive as not to realize when a thing was necessary.
“You made it back just in time, though,” Alexandra commented. “And in time for a stroll about the grounds, no doubt?”
“I invited Cornelia to dancing – she is eager as I am to learn the quadrille.”
“Oh. Good,” Alexandra smiled. “A capital notion. We can all dance it at the ball tomorrow.”
“Indeed.” Richmond gestured with his glass, saluting her. “Capital.”
Alexandra smiled, clearly pleased. She was wearing the red dress again, Cornelia noticed, and it brought out the brown of her eyes. She is so beautiful. If only there was not such a bitterness in her soul, we could truly be friends.
“If you could help me with something after luncheon, brother?” she said to Richmond. He blinked but nodded.
“Whatever it is, I would be pleased to help.”
Cornelia noted a strange look pass between them and frowned. There was some secret here – several secrets, perhaps. She wished she knew what it was. It made her uncomfortable to have so much secrecy around her.
“Cornelia,” Richmond said, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin.
“Yes?”
“If you'll be patient a while, as I need to talk to my sister, I'd like to show you around after lunch.”
“Of course,” Cornelia nodded, frowning a little. “I'd like that.”
Alexandra looked content and Cornelia had the sense she approved of her and Richmond. Which made little sense, really, since she'd spent most of the morning casting subtle barbs at Cornelia about her appearance, her awkwardness, her lack of style. Why would she want me as a part of her family? I find it hard to believe she likes me, as she claims.
When dinner was cleared away, Cornelia went to the drawing-room while Alexandra and Richmond talked. She stayed where she was, then, unable to resist, tiptoed into the hallway to listen.
“...and it seems we have some months left.”
“How many?”
No answer. A long pause. “Three?”
Lady Alexandra sighed. “Well. That is as it is. We shall have to act fast. I tell you, brother. Seize our opportunity. That's what we must do.”
No answer. Cornelia could almost sense Richmond was unhappy about something. She heard Alexandra speak into the absence of answer.
“Richmond? You agree, yes?” She sounded brittle and demanding.
“Yes.” His voice was harsh and resigned and Cornelia could not help but feel sorry for him. She waited a moment to hear more, but no sound came and she decided she'd best move out of the hallway before someone caught her overhearing.
She had just repaired to the drawing-room when footsteps came down the hallway. She moved hastily to the pianoforte, as if she'd been just there all along, heart thumping. It was Alexandra. She had guessed she was listening. She was furious.
Cornelia was holding her breath, waiting for the fireworks, when Allanson strode past the door, heading purposefully off.
“Whew.” Just Allanson. Even so, just in time: what would she have thought if she caught a visitor hiding in the hallway, spying on her employers?
And why was I so frightened of Alexandra?
Cornelia didn't have time to think about the answer, because Richmond appeared at the door. His face was less tense than before and he gave her a warm smile.
“Cornelia. First the gallery, then the dance? Yes?”
Cornelia nodded. “Yes, please.”
As she laced her arm into his elbow and he patted her hand, he smiled at her. “If I may say so, my lady, having you here makes me so very happy.”
Cornelia smiled. “Thank you, Richmond. I am happy to hear it.”
They walked down the long gallery, admiring the portraits of Richmond's long-departed ancestors.
“Of course, the best portraits are at Findlay, in the countryside. Our house's seat. But these ones are reproductions. Look, here is my grandmama...”
“She's beautiful. Like Alexandra. And like you.”
He flushed. “My lady, you do me great honor. And I assure you, I had no ancestress as fair as you.”
Cornelia looked into his eyes. He looked into hers. The silence stretched between them and waited. He bent down and his lips brushed hers. The kiss was nothing like those she'd had, those she tried so hard to forget, now. But it was warm and tender and, at the end of it, she found herself feeling true warmth for Lord Richmond.
They moved apart. He looked into her eyes, a little dazed. Cornelia slipped in beside him and let him lead her to the end of the row of paintings and out through the front-most doors. There are, so often, many matches made in which neither party even likes the other! At least, with me and Richmond, I do like him. And he has proven he can be gallant.
The more she thought about it, the more Cornelia felt resigned to the idea. She would forget Francis. Marry Richmond. It was the only way.
Mama will like him. Aunt will like him. Even I like him. I could not ask for more. I am lucky to do so well. A country mouse has few such options in London.
Chapter 13
The seamstress Alexandra knew had worked wonders for Cornelia's old white gown. From being what she called dreadfully out-moded, it became overnight a thing of high fashion, with its elegant Renaissance-inspired banded sleeves and flowing gauze-covered skirt.
With my pearl earrings and this new Romanesque hair, I look quite nice.
“You'll pass at Marckel's,” Alexandra said as Cornelia twirled blissfully in front of her. They were getting ready for the ball together and Cornelia stopped abruptly, the comment taking some of the shine off her excitement. The thought of facing the society ladies again was far from appealing.
“Thank you. You look very pretty too.”
Alexandra smiled. “Oh, come, Cornelia. I did not say you did not look pretty, did I? You surely know how pretty you look. Would Richmond like a plainer girl?”
“No, probably not,” Cornelia mumbled. Far from being reassuring, that made her feel a little bit more insecure, a bit more indebted to Richmond.
“Exactly. Now, come and help me here. Do you think the pearls, or the jasper?” she held up two different sets of beads. One was deep red and matched the color of her gown, which was a rich red color.
“I like those,” Cornelia said, choosing the red. Alexandra smiled.
“As do I. It makes me think of the hunt. When the new hunter is bloodied. You've seen it?”
“I have not,” Cornelia said, feeling slightly uneasy. Alexandra's face was flushed and whatever she was thinking of, it seemed to fill her with unwholesome pleasure. Cornelia shuddered.
“Well, it is an experience,” Alexandra said. She looped the pearls around her neck and fastened them behind her. Allanson was somewhere else – evidently finished her duties.
“I can imagine,” Cornelia nodded. “You attend the hunt?”
“Once,” Alexandra said thinly. Cornelia frowned. There again, she had stepped on some hidden weak-spot. She shook her head.
“I'm sorry to have raised a gloomy topic,” she said. “Especially when I'm so happy. And grateful to you, my friend. Look at this beautiful dress!”
Alexandra patted her cheek fondly. “I feel wretched sometimes,” she murmured.
“Why, Alexandra?”
“Well, I suppose because you're so good,” she said frankly. “It makes me feel like the worst sort of person.”
“Oh, Alexandra!” Cornelia gave her a brief, firm hug, wreathed in the clove-scent of her perfume. “You are a lovely person. Who else would be so generous as to have a dress adjusted for a guest?”
Alexandra chuckled. “You are too quick to please, my dear. I suppose I should say it's an unbecoming trait, but I don't want to change it in you. I like it too well.”
Cornelia felt happy. That was easily the first real compliment her friend had given her. Perhaps she, Cornelia, was not such a hopeless case after all!
“Come,” Lady Alexandra continued briskly. “We should go and find my brother. I'm sure he's ready, waiting with impatience.”
Cornelia laughed and slid her arm through Alexandra's companionably. She noted with some concern how her friend's arms were thin and sinewy, her ribs tangible through the cloth of her dress, as if she had not seen a decent meal for a good many days.
Nonsense. Alexandra is just naturally tall and thin.
She walked slowly down the winding marble stair to the entrance-way, where Richmond was indeed waiting. His eyes warmed when he saw her and Cornelia swallowed hard, feeling touched.
He really does seem to like me.
She curtseyed to him and he bowed. “My lady.”
“My lord.”
“May I say, you look absolutely ravishing tonight.”
Cornelia felt her cheeks burn with flushing. “Thank you, Richmond. You look very handsome.” He was wearing his black velvet suit, his dark hair combed to one side in a way that showed its natural curl to best advantage. His eyes held hers, mysterious and dangerous and warm.
“Thank you, my lady.”
He slid his arm possessively through hers, and Cornelia let him, squeezing his strong arm a little in her hand and feeling only distantly uncomfortable this time.
Why shouldn't he touch me? Francis is not here. He is no longer important to me.
Cornelia sat down on the leather coach-seat and soon they were speeding off to Marckel Place.
As the imposing house rose up on the skyline, Cornelia swallowed hard, feeling her stomach knot with apprehension. She recalled how unkind the host had been last time and tensed, waiting for more of the same. She slipped her arm through Alexandra's, Richmond forming a protective rearguard, at least in her mind, as they went up the stairs.
Over the sound of the chatter, as guests greeted and glided inside, she heard Lady Marckel greet them.
“Ah! Lady Alexandra. And Lady Cornelia! My, but you cut a fine figure, the pair of you!”
Cornelia felt her brows rise in surprise. It didn't seem possible that a few curls in her hair, a gown with different sleeves, a straight back, could make all that difference! From absolute vitriol to effusive welcome, literally overnight! She frowned at Alexandra, who gave her a stiff
little smile.
“Now you know why I do it,” she murmured to Cornelia out of the corner of her mouth. Cornelia gripped her wrist in a friendly way, feeling sad for her.
“I do,” she whispered.
As Alexandra was hailed from a group of elegant dandies and white-gowned women and headed off to join them, Cornelia looked after her, feeling sorry for her for the first time ever.
She was right. There is no such thing as too fashionable. Not for some people, anyway.
It made her see the place – the glittering crystal chandeliers, the marble-inlay floor – in a new way. And all the people in it, too. This world – so serene and elegant – was a vicious, alien place. A land where everyone watched everyone else, and something as simple as the wrong kind of plume in your hair became something to destroy you.
I don't like this world. It scares me.
Cornelia shuddered, wishing she was somewhere else. It seemed as if there was no escape from this world for her – at least not for the moment. Richmond was there, her guide in this hell.
“My lady. If I could invite you to join me on the dance-floor? I believe the quadrille will be danced very soon. And what was the point of all that practice, if we don't show it off?”
Cornelia laughed. She already felt better. And, it seemed, so did he. Away from his sister, he seemed to loosen up, become more affable. When he was around her, he was tense and watchful, as if acutely aware he might make the wrong move.
As am I. As is all of this society. Everyone watching everyone else, keeping them schooled into one way of being.
“That is true, my lord,” she answered his comment. “We may as well air all that practice. Let us to the dance floor.”
He laughed, and Cornelia laughed with him, the first real laugh she'd had for quite some time.
“We should outshine the rest in our new dance,” she whispered as he took his leave, heading across the dance-floor.
“You already outshine them.”
Cornelia felt her heart suffused with warmth.
As he led her to the dance, she found herself wondering if she hadn't ended up in the right place after all. Richmond was arguably perfect – she couldn't help noticing how stunning he looked, standing opposite her across the dance-floor, his shoulders squared and full, waist narrow, body regally-poised. And he was pleasant.
