Lizzie cleared her throat. "Your pardon ma’am, but we could change the bodice — décolleté, yes? And of course to balance that, we could shorten the sleeves, and alter the hemline to reveal more of the underskirt?”
"No,” Jane protested. "The gown is quite suitable as it is." She glared at Lizzie. What was the woman thinking? Décolleté, indeed. She brought her hand up to her neck.
“The gown is several years old, my dear, so you’ll allow me to judge its suitability," Catherine said. "I wish you to look well, Jane… You’re not going as a chaperone — you have had too many years of remaining in the shadows. For once, I mean you to take your rightful place as a lady of the fashionable world.”
Jane opened her mouth to speak, but Catherine swiftly shook her head. “No, I won’t brook your refusal, my dear. Lizzie, take the gown, and see what Lady Ferrymore’s seamstresses can do with it.”
Throwing up her hands, Jane gave in. Lizzie folded the gown, and left the room in triumph.
The next day, the day before the ball, Lizzie brought the gown back. "Two of Lady Ferrymore’s seamstresses worked on the gown my lady," she nodded to a woman who’d entered Jane’s sitting room behind her. “This is Fenella. She will fit the gown, and make any adjustments which are needed.”
Somewhat disgruntled, Jane allowed her day gown to be removed. Fenella stared at her stays and busk critically. Jane rolled her eyes, but forbore to comment. Finally the gown was lowered over her head. Fenella adjusted it, then Jane turned to glance into the mirror.
She winced. "No!" Once she’d had a moment to gauge the effect, she stared at herself in horror. The bodice had been cut far too low. Her face heated.
“You look very elegant, my lady.” Fenella’s tone was chiding. “The gown might have been made by Madame Lola herself.”
“It was made by Madame Lola!”
“Made by Madame three years ago, or was it four?” Lizzie said, folding her arms. “My lady, your gown is now in the latest style, and you look wonderful.”
However, no matter how much the two women protested, Jane refused to countenance the gown. She insisted that the seamstress add some lace to the bodice for modesty.
That evening, after Jane had climbed into bed, and settled herself to read, Catherine entered the room, with Jane's gown over her arm. Catherine tossed the gown across the bed, and raised her eyebrows at Jane. "Come now, I've heard about the fuss that you're making. This is a very simple gown, and stylish. I'd like you to wear it.”
“Why?” Jane asked. "Why all this fuss about a gown?"
"Jane — wear the gown.” Catherine folded her arms. “Please — and no more nonsense."
It was only a gown. Jane rolled her eyes, and slipped out of bed. When she looked the gown over, she saw that no alterations had been made to the bodice. "I asked the seamstress to alter it.”
“Lizzie came to me and complained about your instructions. And quite rightfully so. I don't know why you're making such a fuss, but you’ll wear the gown exactly as it is. You’ve had years of trying to turn yourself into a dowdy matron, and it's time you learned to dress appropriately. For heaven’s sake, Jane, Lady Gamlinghay and the other ladies will be wearing their most daring gowns."
Jane chuckled. "It hardly matters to me what that woman is wearing."
"Don't be any more foolish than you can help," Catherine snapped. “That woman has her eye on Kelly, and you can’t keep putting him off.”
Jane gaped at her. “Whatever do you mean?”
Catherine moved the gown aside, and sat on the bed. “Sit down for a moment, I wish to…” She paused.
Intrigued, Jane sat. She saw that Catherine had flushed delicate pink to the roots of her red-blonde hair, and frowned. Whatever was upsetting her?
Clearing her throat, Catherine took Jane’s hand in hers and squeezed it.
"This is very difficult," she said. "Jane, you’ve spent many years teaching young ladies how to make their first bows to the fashionable world. It occurred to me that your own education has been sadly neglected."
"Whatever do you mean?" How had her education been neglected? Jane tried not to feel put out by the remark, but she didn't succeed.
Catherine cleared her throat again. "What I mean to say is, no one ever told you how to present yourself so that you might appeal to… to gentlemen. What do you know of marriage?"
Jane thought for a moment. She shrugged. "I know a great deal, I imagine. I doubt whether most ladies have spent as much time in aristocratic households as I have."
"This is impossible. I can't do it." Catherine threw up her hands. "I'm convinced that you know nothing at all, and it’s most aggravating. I can't explain men to you — you'll just have to find out for yourself. But I assure you of this. You will wear that gown, or I will be out of all reason angry with you. Will you promise me to wear the gown precisely as it is?"
Jane considered for a moment. It was only a gown. “Yes — very well. Of course I will wear the gown if that's what you wish. It's just that I don't think that it's suitable –"
"Thank you. It's most suitable, even though you may not think so. Indulge me, and wear it, exactly as it is, and I promise you that I will be happy."
Jane shrugged. "Of course."
Catherine nodded to her and left Jane’s rooms. A few moments later Lizzie entered. She busied herself hanging the gown. “Will that be all, my lady?”
Jane was in bed again. She glanced up from her book — Lizzie. Perhaps she could ask her what Catherine had meant. Immediately, she realized that she couldn’t. She sighed. “Yes Lizzie, thank you — good night."
As much as Jane tried to put Catherine’s comments out of her mind, they came back to her when she was trying to fall asleep. Whatever did Catherine mean? What area of her education had been neglected?
The day of the ball arrived. Ferrymore Manor was a bustle of activity. Dinner was set for an hour earlier, so that the servants could arrange the ballroom and two large drawing rooms before remainder of the guests arrived. Lady Ferrymore said proudly that she expected at least 200 guests.
It was almost time for dinner, so Jane was in her rooms, seated at her dressing table. Lizzie was arranging her hair when Catherine entered.
Jane saw Catherine’s eyes widen in appreciation when she met her gaze in the mirror. “Wonderful — you look lovely Jane. Very elegant… Lizzie, I commend you on that style for Jane’s hair. Will you show Bessie how it’s done? I’d like to try it myself.”
Catherine set a large dark blue velvet box on the dressing table in front of Jane. “A small gift, my dear. It arrived this morning. I’m so pleased because now is the perfect time to give it to you.”
Jane blinked at the jewelry box. The gold name embossed on the lid said that it came from Rundell & Bridge.
"Open it my dear. It's a thank gift from Anne, and from me. We value you highly, you know.”
For a long moment, Jane couldn't say anything. She stared at the box.
"Open it."
Jane looked at Catherine, who smiled at her. She picked up the box. A long gold chain, its links cunningly wrought in the form of bamboo canes, nestled inside. The chain’s links were separated by gleaming emeralds. Jane's mouth dropped open. “Catherine, this… But why?”
"Anne and I wanted to give you something special, because you've been such a help to us both. You helped Anne while she was at Kingston House, and you’ve helped me too. You’ve made our lives much easier, and we wanted you to know that we appreciate you.”
Jane couldn't speak.
Catherine picked up the chain, and lifted it over Jane's head. "There – delightful is it not? I thought that it would be. It brings out the clear grey of of your eyes, and it goes perfectly with that dress."
“Ma’am, it's lovely," Lizzie said.
"Thank you," Jane managed to say finally, resting her fingertips on the chain. It touched her more than she could say that the ladies had though to give her this gift.
Catherine smiled, patte
d her shoulder, and said that she would meet her downstairs. Then she was gone.
Jane found herself close to tears and had to dab at her eyes several times while Lizzie finished arranging her hair.
The guests had gathered in the large salon before dinner.
Lady Margaret and Henry both exclaimed over the chain and pronounced it completely delightful.
"It's perfect," Lady Margaret said. “And most unusual — it’s elegant, just as you are, Lady Jane.”
Henry kissed her cheek. “It’s just the thing with that gown.”
Jane expected that she would be self-conscious in her daring gown, but found that she wasn't. Perhaps it was the emerald chain which gave her confidence, she thought.
A few minutes later, Jane was speaking with a gentleman who'd been part of the shooting party on the grouse moor. He’d arrived at Ferrymore Manor for the ball. He was congratulating her on having had a good shoot and talking about Alex’s dogs when someone took her arm.
Jane turned. It was Lady Gamlinghay.
"My lady?" She asked.
Jane was startled, but maintained her composure.
"Come," the woman said.
Jane tried to pull her arm away but the woman tightened her grip until it became painful. "Let go of me,” Jane muttered, and tried to pull her arm away.
"Stop struggling,” the woman hissed. “I wish to speak with you."
Lady Gamlinghay dragged Jane to an alcove, which hid them from most of the guests in the salon, before she released Jane’s arm.
"Well?" Jane rubbed her arm. She was wearing long gloves, and was certain that when she removed them she would see bruising.
"You're old," Lady Gamlinghay said baldly. “Why can you not see that Kelly isn't interested in you? Why do you insist on monopolizing his attention? I've heard that you’ve arranged a ridiculous shooting contest between you. Why would you do something like that — make a complete exhibition of yourself? Stop trying to win his attention."
Jane bit her lip to stop herself laughing aloud. Old?
She met the young lady’s furious gaze. It pleased her that she was half a head taller than Lady Gamlinghay. “That’s what you wished to say to me?"
"I want you to understand that Kelly is mine, Lady Jane.”
"So you've informed me. Is there anything else?"
Lady Gamlinghay reached out to her again, and Jane stepped back. “That’s enough. Touch me again my lady,” she said pleasantly, “and I will hit you as hard as I can — with my fist. I promise you that I will leave bruises on you, too…” She looked up. “Where is your husband? Didn't he arrive yesterday? Perhaps I should go and introduce myself to him."
She pushed the woman aside, and stepped out of the alcove.
Then her temper got the better of her. She turned back, and shoved Lady Gamlinghay’s shoulder so hard that the woman stumbled backward.
Jane’s fingers curled, and her gaze narrowed on the woman. “Stay away from me, you foolish lightskirt,” Jane whispered. “Or I will speak with your husband. I imagine that the man doesn’t care what you do, unless and until it makes him look a fool. He won’t countenance that… Do you understand me? Yes?”
Lady Gamlinghay’s eyes widened. She looked frightened.
Jane realized that she was looming over the crouched woman and had clenched her fists. She inhaled deeply, and recovered herself. She turned back to the salon. After casting another glare at the woman behind her, she smoothed her expression.
A quick glance around the room filled with chatting guests assured her that no one was paying attention to her. She was still angry, and realized that she needed a few moments alone to regain her composure.
Why had she become so angry?
She slipped between the guests to the door, and hurried upstairs. Lizzie was still in her rooms. “My lady? What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” Jane assured her. “I just — I need to change my gloves, and sit for a moment.”
Luckily, at dinner Jane wasn’t seated anywhere near Kelly. He was seated at another table in the large dining room. She felt his gaze on her, but refused to look up. Although she knew that she shouldn’t blame him for his mistress’s actions, she realized that she did.
She forced her attention to her two dining companions, and chatted easily with them. Both asked for her dance card, and entered their names.
At last, the meal was over. The musicians had already started to play in the ballroom, and several men men bowed to Jane, and begged the honor of dancing with her. Smiling, she allowed them to add their names to her dance card.
“Whatever’s the matter?” Catherine asked, linking arms with Jane when they followed Lady Ferrymore upstairs to one of the rooms which had been set aside as ladies’ retiring rooms. “You’re looking pale.”
“It’s nothing,” Jane assured her. “Just a small headache.”
“Come, I’ve a little lavender oil. I’ll put some on your handkerchief. A few breaths of that, and your headache will clear.”
“No — I’ll take a turn around the gardens, I think. I need some air.”
“Very well.” Catherine lifted her hand for Doyle, who was walking behind them. “Escort Lady Jane into the gardens for some air — it’s too hot and close in the house.”
Doyle bowed to Jane. “Of course, ma’am,” he said to Catherine.
Chapter 13
Jane left the house via the French doors in the large downstairs drawing room, then strolled through the courtyard which led to the flower gardens, and the shrubbery walk.
She’d keep to the flower gardens and the light of the flambeaux, she decided. Doyle kept a discreet distance. When she looked back, she couldn’t see him, but she felt his gaze on her.
Flambeaux flared over the garden pathways, and a few minutes in the cooler air helped to settle Jane's nerves. Whatever was the matter with her? She couldn’t understand herself. Why had she become so angry? She rarely allowed her temper to get the better of her.
It hadn’t happened in years. The last time she’d become so enraged had been when the brother of a young lady she was tutoring had trapped her on the servants’ staircase of the house, and tried to manhandle her into an embrace. She’d kicked his shins, then pushed him down the stairs.
Lady Gamlinghay was a fool of a woman who was jealous, and Jane knew that she should be more understanding. The woman was young, she told herself. Young enough to believe that youth was an asset, but not mature enough to realize that that asset depreciated with every day and week that passed.
Suddenly she stopped walking. She sat down on a bench.
Jealousy… She blinked, and put her gloved hand to her mouth. How stupid. She, Jane, was jealous of Lady Gamlinghay… She snorted softly. The woman was the major’s mistress, and she was jealous of her.
How lowering to imagine that she could be prey to such an emotion, and over the major. She had to control the stupid tendre — it was ridiculous — she was not in love with Kelly. She wouldn’t allow it.
Kelly Baker-Cornhill was a rake, a spy, and who knew that else — and he wasn’t interested in her.
Although she would rather have retired, she knew that she had to go back to the ball, otherwise her behavior would cause comment.
Besides, she had to look after Lady Margaret and Henry. Since the girls were not out, they wouldn’t dance. They and the other young people were being supervised while they played games in one of the upstairs salons. They’d both seemed happy enough about that, but Jane had decided that she would check on them frequently.
Jane looked about her. She wasn't the only person in the garden, several couples were also strolling along the paths, enjoying the cool air after the close atmosphere of the dining room.
Turning resolutely to go back to the house, Jane looked up to see a broad-shouldered figure walking towards her. It was Kelly. She shook her head in exasperation. What did he want? She fought down irritability. Perhaps Catherine had sent him to see how she was.
Squ
aring her shoulders, she forced a smile. "Major,” she said.
He held out his arm. "I wanted to enter my name on your dance card,” he said, his tone light, “but you weren’t in the ballroom… Has the air relieved your headache?”
He took her hand, and guided her directly into the light from one of the flambeaux.
Her dance card was attached to her wrist with a ribbon. She held up her hand while he wrote his name on it. “Stay a moment,” he said, when she turned away. “Will you take a turn around the garden with me?” He proffered his arm.
“Just for a moment,” Jane agreed. She rested her fingertips on his sleeve. She would be pleasant, she decided.
“I wanted to talk to you about our shooting contest, and make my apologies. I’m sorry, but I’ve received a message that I’m needed at Horse Guards. I leave tomorrow. Our shooting contest must be postponed."
She shrugged. “No matter… I’m disappointed, of course.” She was, she realized.
He chuckled. “Where will you travel after the house party?"
“To Gostwicke Hall, I imagine, unless Mr. Kettering asks me to London. He may wish to speak with me about his tour of Lady Delmere’s estates.” She could feel tension in his arm, and wondered at it. “You’re returning because there’s news of Madame Parisi?”
“No, there is not… You will be at Sommerforth Abbey in November?"
She nodded. It occurred to her that he was concerned about his sister. “I’ll make certain that Lady Margaret’s tutors carry forward her education for next year. She’ll be ready for her season."
"It's not Meggie that I’m concerned about."
She had the impression that there was something he wasn't saying to her, and frowned. "Major?” She asked.
"I need to compliment you on your gown."
She chuckled, and felt her face heating. “Thank you — you’re generous.”
“Indeed I’m not. You’re the loveliest lady here…” He cleared his throat. “I was told that Lady Gamlinghay behaved badly."
“Oh? I don't know the lady well,” Jane prevaricated. She wasn't getting into a conversation with him about his mistress.
The Lady And The Military Man_Conquer My Heart Page 15
