Maid of Honor

by Stephanie Lilley

  "Vultures?" Alianora asked with a smile as she began to understand. "I am rather good at training hawks."

  It was Mrs. Bowman's turn to appear startled. She knew nothing of falconry. "Alianora and her father raise falcons and hawks," Katie explained.

  Mrs. Bowman humphed. "Then, I might say lilies among the weeds."

  "William will be here in June," Katie assured her.

  "Yes. I shall be your bulwark until then. Just let a heathen cross this threshold!" She punctuated this fierce remark with a snap of her fork and a piece of asparagus flew past Alianora's ear. Alianora continued to eat calmly.

  "Any heathen would be properly terrified, I am sure," Katie observed. "I do, however, intend to enjoy myself. Alia, what do you think of the city thus far? Is it not amazing after Grassmere?"

  "Yes, it is amazing."

  "You don't like it already. I can tell."

  "Well, no, but I will try to like it while I'm here. I know there are parks." She let herself think briefly of Lord Cerestone. Was he already in the city? "I do like your house, especially the garden in the back. The rooms are beautifully furnished."

  She smiled. "Well, perhaps, some things are a bit dated, but I shall not know what is new until I begin visiting again." She brightened. "And tomorrow, as early as possible, perhaps noon, we shall go to have new dresses made, and spend the time shopping for bonnets, slippers, and gloves, and so much more."

  Just as Lord Cerestone had said—parties, so many parties. He hadn't mentioned the wardrobe she would need, but then a gentleman would not have.

  "And we'll find you a nice young man," Mrs. Bowman said brightly, quailing a little when Katie immediately and emphatically shook her head at her. Mrs. Bowman's small eyes widened and she covered her mouth.

  Alianora froze inside, slowly lowering her fork. Of course! She was here to find a husband—that was why William had ordered her to town with Katie, not just as a companion. She was to be put on the Marriage Mart!

  Katie searched for a topic to distract her. "You will be able to dance, quite frequently. There are so many balls, routs, ridottos, drums. You'll have so much fun! I know you love to dance."

  Alianora heard her dimly and nodded.

  “And, Alia, I have already received the Lord Chamberlain’s summons to the Drawing Room Thursday next so that you may begin your debut properly. As a matter of fact, that is the first thing we must do: have you fitted for a court dress. And we have vouchers for Almack's—my mama, when she was alive, was such a good friend of Emily Cowper's. There are already so many invitations that I shall spend the entire evening merely sorting through them."

  Alianora hesitated to say anything to stem the bright flow of chatter so she remained silent. She well remembered the subdued Katie at Grassmere last spring but also recalled how she used to be: just this way, charming, anxious to see that all around her shared her joy. It was, no doubt, why the somber, stolid William had been so struck by her.

  But marriage for her? She would have to leave Grassmere, her father. The thought almost made her lose her appetite. Even Lord Cerestone—a man she found kind and attractive—even he would take her away from her home if she married him.

  "—and I must bring in a dancing master, although, of course, you cannot waltz at any ball until one of the patronesses of Almack's has given you her permission. There is a new dance, introduced last year called the

  quadrille de contredanse

  that even I must be taught. So we may learn together."

  Alianora took a deep breath. "Yes. I would like to learn. Katie, I am a little tired."

  Katie was immediately all sympathy. "Of course, my love. It all is quite too much, isn't it?"

  Alianora nodded.

  "Of course, my little lamb," Mrs. Bowman added. "You must both be exhausted."

  Katie looked a little guilty. "I admit the excitement has given me unaccustomed energy, but I will retire early too; therefore, we shall not linger over dessert."

  The older woman glanced up in dismay, spoon poised over her wine syllabub. When she saw that Katie was quite serious, she ate quickly then rose and followed the two.

  "I shall just slip down to the kitchen and make up a posset for you both; nice soothing ones," she called after parting from them in the hall.

  Another difference between life in the country and life in town was that the latter moved much more swiftly. Alianora discovered this almost immediately as Katie whisked her from shop to shop to warehouse to bazaar, insisting that she have this or that article to appear well, holding up bolts of doth-merino, kerseymere, muslin—with colors ranging from white to primrose to pale blue, although Katie ended by rejecting the white. Alianora needed some color to offset her pale skin and hair.

  That did not apply to the court dress, of course, which must be white. Alianora herself chose some darker colors for pelisses and riding habits: blues, greens, and violets.

  It was a windy spring day. The air was so fresh and crisp that between the absence of the soot/garbage odor and Katie's intense enthusiasm, Alianora found herself enjoying the outing immensely. The shops were, admittedly, quite crowded, but the people were friendly. Katie noticed just how friendly her acquaintances were, especially those mothers of hopeful sons when told that Alianora was the daughter of an earl.

  "You see," she exclaimed as they walked out to the waiting barouche. "We shall receive many more invitations now that everyone knows we're here. Why, I believe we shall not stay at home one night the entire time."

  This was not terribly appealing to Alianora, but she resigned herself to it, saying instead, "That will not tire you?"

  "Oh, my, no. I feel quite well." She laughed and clutched at her bonnet as a gust of wind threatened to remove it.

  "Too windy for my taste, lamby," Mrs. Bowman said as a footman helped push her up into the carriage. She sat down with a whumph. "Enough to give a body a violent chill. Is that wrap warm enough?" she asked Katie.

  Katie pulled up her Norwich shawl letting the beautiful border spill over her arms. "Yes, it is quite warm enough, although, Alia, you must note that the fashion is to be as delicately clad as possible."

  "I have noticed. It seems highly unreasonable to me. Are people in town not as susceptible to ills as those in the country?"

  "Why, yes, they are, but to be fashionable is worth the risk."

  "By Saint George," Alianora said, using one of her father's expressions and shaking her head in amazement.

  They stopped at a milliner's and spent some time choosing bonnets, some with the new materials in mind, some entirely frivolous. Alianora emerged from the shop, struggling to tie the bow of a new poke bonnet when a sharp gust of wind whipped it out of her hands. She watched in dismay as it rolled over the cobbles, bouncing like a child's hoop. A hand touched her arm and she jumped. It was Lord Savernake. He smiled and bowed.

  "What an inconvenience this wind is, to be sure. I have sent my tiger after your bonnet." He indicated a small man running and grabbing unsuccessfully at the recalcitrant article. "It would be a shame to ruin one of Madame Fleur's fine creations."

  Alianora looked after the tiger completely unaware of how the wind had put a colorful bloom in her pale cheeks, a sparkle in her blue eyes, how the sun turned her hair to spun gold. Lord Savernake did not fail to notice.

  "You have been shopping this morning?" he asked politely.

  "Yes, an extraordinary task. It would seem that we will keep all shops in business after this morning." She looked back at Madame Fleur's, wondering what might be keeping Katie and Mrs. Bowman.

  "I imagine I shall be seeing you at many balls then and insist that you save a dance or two for me —as a friend of your brother." He waited for her assent, his eyes widening with the conversational effort. She seemed unusually inattentive and he began to wonder if perhaps her mind was not all it should be. "May I drive you somewhere?"

  "Oh, no. Thank you, my lord. I am with my sister-in-law," she managed to say, indicating the barouche she
was about to climb into.

  "Ah. I did not imagine you to be alone here. May I have the honor of calling at William's for you? Perhaps we could drive in the park?"

  There was no Lord Cerestone to rescue her this time.

  She looked up at him. "Yes, perhaps, sometime."

  He was quite relieved. What a struggle it had been to bring her to this point! "I shall call for you then."

  Fortunately, Katie and Mrs. Bowman emerged, placing bandboxes in the care of the footman. Lord Savernake's tiger ran up with a slightly dirtied and bent bonnet and Alianora thanked him. Katie greeted the earl cordially then pushed Alianora ahead of her into the barouche.

  I suppose he will be haunting our doorstep," Katie sighed as they moved away. "One cannot deny him. He has entrée to the highest circles, but he is quite a—a rake. "

  "A rake?" Alianora asked, not liking the sound of that.

  "A heathen," Mrs. Bowman supplied.

  "Yes, he is a devil," Katie said with a slight smile.

  And I am bedeviled, Alianora thought with a sigh.

  "A heathen," Mrs. Bowman repeated, diving into her favorite subject. "Gambled away a fortune, now he's hunting for another. Mark my words, lamby." She patted Alianora's arm. "He's not to be trusted. 'Tis a shame, though, a terrible shame to waste fine looks on such a libertine."

  "Cousin Sarah!" Katie admonished but could not help agreeing with her.

  Sarah Bowman stiffened her lips and nodded emphatically, saying that what she said was what she meant. Alianora told her of Lord Savernake's invitation and Katie looked thoughtful, saying nothing. In fact, she wished William were here to guide her. She could not refuse Lord Savernake her house—should she refuse him Alianora's company? She would write to William immediately.

  Their last stop that day was Hatchard's in Piccadilly to acquire the latest in Gothic novels for Katie.

  "You must read them, too, Alia," Katie told her. "So that you may speak knowledgeably to anyone. That will not brand you as a bluestocking but as someone who is au courant."

  "Oh," Alianora said with a serious look that spoke volumes for her true opinion of this fashion.

  "Everyone passes through here at one time or another. You go there to be seen that you go there."

  "Then, I am to understand, that people do not go there because they find pleasure in reading?" Alianora asked in amazement.

  "Oh, no. Few people would pick up a book unless compelled to do so," Katie told her complacently.

  Once inside Hatchard's, AIianora was introduced to the owner, John Hatchard, dressed in his usual severe black frock coat. He expressed sympathy at Katie's loss but remarked that she was looking well. She and Alianora then circulated, leaving Mrs. Bowman to snooze in the barouche. Katie found many friends to speak to, moving on toward the reading room where Alianora met Lord Palmerston and was forced to admire a rare enameled snuffbox from Brazil, where she met a number of literary figures who were arguing languidly around a table, pointing to an article in the Morning Post.

  "Once one could meet Lord Byron here," Katie sighed. "He was quite often to be seen in the afternoon—before he left for foreign parts."

  "Who is Lord Byron?" Alianora asked and a number of heads turned in her direction.

  Katie hurried her away to where they might collect their purchases, saying she would acquaint Alianora with the details of Lord Byron later and that she must not again admit that she knew nothing of him. Alianora promised.

  They met three of Katie's friends as they were leaving: Mrs. Rathbone, Miss Totheringham, and Lady Eliza Ribbesdale who had all come out with Katie some six years earlier. They chattered in the entranceway, completely oblivious to the people struggling to enter or leave the building, making dates to meet for tea and comparing notes on which balls to attend.

  Alianora looked at each of them, remembering to smile only when Katie nudged her, thinking that each looked like a species of exotic bird. One wore a satin-ruched bonnet with a fruit garden on top; another had long feathers curling up and back like a crest; the third had cornered the warehouse on lace with a bonnet rivaling Mrs. Bowman's for constant movement. It reminded her of how strange and uncomfortable she'd felt while trying on headgear earlier.

  It was a game, she told herself. A game with so many rules that it was impossible to know them all. And, breaking even the smallest of rules led to being gossiped about. Gossip was something, Katie had informed her, that one might indulge in, but at all events one must avoid being the subject of.

  Katie signaled that they were ready to leave and the two of them walked out, driving off just as two young men paused outside the bookseller's.

  "Double it, my dear boy," said the first. He looked after the barouche, lifting a Malacca cane in the head of which was embedded a quizzing glass.

  "I say, isn't that—? By Jove, it could be," he said. "But with my demmed vision, perhaps not. Hal, that barouche that just departed the shop, was that not the Wynyate gal inside?"

  The other young man swung around and stared. "Familiar, yes," he agreed. "Yes, believe so."

  "Ah, then. Shall we wager on the outcome when she meets friend Cerestone?" the other offered.

  Henry held out his hand. "A side bet. Cerestone will be first to be legshackled."

  * * *

  Alianora met with the dancing instructor later that afternoon. The furniture of the small drawing room had been pushed to the walls and Katie had recruited the butler to play the pianoforte. Dancing was something Alianora truly enjoyed. The medieval dances—admittedly more Tudor than medieval —were no less complicated so she learned the new steps rather quickly: the various sets, the movements in the columns, the swift step called the "lovers' knot," the fifth variation in the quadrille called the "flirtation," which involved a continuous exchanging of partners.

  The dancing master was a tall, lanky Frenchman who spoke little and criticized, in the main, with the movements of his thick eyebrows. Alianora learned that "up" meant she had executed a step he had never encountered before; "down" meant she had done something completely wrong; "sideways" meant that perhaps she would do. After a succession of "sideways," she began to feel quite comfortable, even with the waltz, which was, in her experience, a little too intimate. She did enjoy the dizzy, flying sensation it created as they twirled about the room.

  Before an early supper, she spent the evening in the garden, listening to the birds and watching the sunset, letting her mind roam to the easy solitude and magical atmosphere of Grassmere. After supper, she joined Katie for her first lesson in whist and penny loo.

  A cool, sunny morning found Alianora dressed in an amethyst velvet surcoat, split up the sides with a long train for riding. Underneath she wore a rose linen gown and snug top boots designed by her father. None of her new riding habits had arrived as yet. She had thrown open a window and a fresh breeze gently lifted the gingham curtains and ruffled the blue and white toile bedclothes.

  Sitting before a dressing table, she frowned at her reflection. She had never paid much attention to her appearance before—being far more concerned with comfort. At Grassmere she spent a great deal of time outdoors. Being so closely confined with Katie, who thought appearance a vital concern, one could not help but become conscious of it.

  She slowly brushed her hair, pulling it over her shoulder so that she might plait it. In truth, she had no idea of the standards of beauty. Her father had always said she was pretty enough without adding folderols. Her mother, who everyone declared to be beautiful, had told her she was lovely.

  She peered into the mirror, deciding to braid in a green satin ribbon. Could she also be beautiful, even though she was completely unlike her mother? Or was she, in truth, quite plain? She had such deep blue eyes, such pale hair. Was that good or bad? She had never wondered about it before. Nor did it truly matter, she decided, not when she could go riding in the park and enjoy the spring day.

  Finishing the braid that hung down to her waist, she stood up, pulled on her gloves, and
left.

  With an undergroom trailing her, Alianora rode down the street, adjusting her knees to the unfamiliar sidesaddle. She sang a little, nodded at an herb seller, a baker pushing his cart of wares, a girl with new strawberries to sell. All the merchants turned to stare at the exotic sight that rode past them, then with a comment on the odd tastes of the aristocrats, they returned to their labors.

  What a pleasure it was to gallop this frisky mare across the dewy spring grass! The cool wind whistled past her ears, polished her cheeks. Few people were abroad so she rode easily anywhere she wished, half the time allowing Hypatia her head. When Hypatia tired, Alianora set her to walking, moving in among elms to the banks of the Serpentine. She dismounted and led the mare along behind her, finally handing the reins over to the undergroom.

  Before her, on the lake, a black swan and her cygnet swam gracefully toward Alianora, with open bills as if expecting to be fed.

  To Alianora's left, a little up the bank in the shadow of the trees, a small girl in a Bath chair tossed out chunks of bread to the swans. The girl looked up when Alianora walked toward her.

  "These are my friends, Lady Black and her baby, Miss Sygnette," she said and giggled.

  Alianora nodded, sitting on a stone bench nearby. She had never had trouble speaking with children. "They are both quite beautiful."

  "Yes. And these are my friends, Lady Jane and Princess Alianora." She presented two dolls from among the colorful myriad of shawls that covered her. Lady Jane had dark curls and Princess Alianora had long blond hair decorated with scarlet ribbons.

  Alianora looked at the dolls then at the little girl in surprise.

  "Alianora," she echoed.

  "Oh yes. My brother told me Alianora was a mid-evil princess who lived in a castle on an island. He said he saw her on his way to London but that is hard to believe, is it not?"

  "Yes, I think so," she said with a smile to herself.

  "Oh, I didn't mean to be rude. I am Fanny. My brother is a viscount, Lord Cerestone." She spoke most proudly.

  "Lord Cerestone," Alianora repeated.

  "But you have not told me your name," Fanny pressed.