Finessing Clarissa

by Beaton, M. C.

  ‘Did you mark her face as she turned it up to his?’ crowed Amy. ‘Love and happiness! Hurray. The Tribble sisters are triumphant!’

  Lady Clarendon shook her husband awake. ‘What is it?’ he asked in alarm. ‘She set the house on fire again?’

  ‘It’s those Tribbles,’ said Lady Clarendon severely. ‘They must be told to leave right after the wedding. They are quite mad. They are out on the balcony in front of the drawing room in their nightgowns, cheering and dancing and cavorting up and down.’

  ‘Probably drunk,’ said the viscount. ‘I’m going back to sleep.’

  The wedding of the Earl of Greystone and the Honourable Clarissa Vevian was a resounding success. As soon as Effy saw Clarissa floating down the aisle to the altar, a picture of beauty and grace, she began to cry with happiness while Amy berated her for being a ninny and then burst into sentimental tears herself.

  To both Mr Randolph’s and Mr Haddon’s consternation, the sisters cried all through the service and began to recover only when they were seated at the wedding breakfast.

  The Countess Clarendon had forgiven the sisters for their odd behaviour. Clarissa looked beautiful and was behaving beautifully. But as she saw her daughter’s radiant face turned up to the earl’s, Lady Clarendon could not help experiencing a certain qualm of jealousy. Her own marriage had been so very sensible. She had hardly seen Clarendon before their marriage. It had been arranged between her parents’ lawyers and his.

  Only when the earl and Clarissa had finally driven off did the Tribble sisters find themselves suffering from reaction.

  ‘Clarissa said she tried very hard to find us a new client,’ said Amy. ‘But no one’s bitten except these Kendalls, and I hear they are vulgar to a fault and terribly common.’

  ‘But rich,’ pointed out Effy.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Amy with a sigh. ‘We work for a living and must always remember we cannot be choosy. We’ll call on them tomorrow.’ She sighed again. There was a long silence.

  ‘Of what are you thinking?’ asked Effy at last.

  ‘I am thinking of a certain pair of nabobs, and I am thinking I would like to crack their heads together,’ said Amy. ‘Don’t they see us as women?’

  ‘No, dear,’ said Effy. ‘But there is always hope, Amy. For any woman of any age, there is always hope.’