Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  They both stared at her, unblinking. She realized she must actually say the horrible thing they desired. So be it. “Horace.”

  He laughed and clapped his hands. “Isn’t that better? Now we shall all be so happy together.”

  What was he blathering on about? “Pardon me?”

  “I’ve come to—”

  The door opened and Papa stepped in. Thank goodness. Now she was saved.

  Papa hung his hat and coat on the peg by the door, pivoted to face them and stopped. “Oh… Good day, Mr. Seymour.”

  Mama giggled. “We’re addressing him as Horace, now.”

  “We are?”

  She nodded, entirely too happy for something so benign and ordinary. What had come over her? It had been so long since her mother had laughed, that the sound came out sounding like a rusty door hinge.

  Papa crossed the room and stood next to Cecilia. “I… see.”

  Horace stood and pointed to the chair he’d just vacated. “Please, Andrew, may I call you Andrew? Please, take my seat.”

  Cecilia stared at the strange little one-eyebrowed man. What in the world was he doing? Didn’t he have anything better to accomplish in his day than to bother them, move furniture, and make inane conversation? What about the business? His patients?

  Papa’s eyes widened and he looked at Cecilia. She shrugged and Papa sat down.

  Horace paced back and forth in front of them, tapping his finger to his chin. Cecilia could think of at least five unpleasant tasks she’d rather be performing at the moment. Even cleaning up the remains of a dead mouse that her cat, Henry, had left under her bed that morning. Anything was better than this. Whatever this was.

  Her father leaned his elbows on his knees. “Pardon me, Mr. Seymour.”

  He stopped. “Oh, it’s Horace. Please.” His pacing resumed. Every time he turned to change direction his boots squeaked on the floor, sounding all too much like the mouse must have sounded moments before the cat pounced on it.

  “Horace.” Papa clasped his hands together. “Is your visit to do with the business? Is something amiss?”

  Horace stopped. “What? Oh no, nothing like that.”

  A loud whoosh of breath escaped Papa’s lips. “That’s good.” He paused. “Then, is there something I can do for you?”

  “I was dearly hoping you would ask, Andrew.”

  Oh no. That didn’t sound at all promising. Papa didn’t care for him either, but Horace had been the only one at the time with even marginal skills who was willing to take on the business.

  Papa stood, but Horace motioned him to reclaim his seat. “No, no. Please sit.”

  Papa blinked a couple of times and then sat. Why was Horace acting like the lord of the manor all of the sudden?

  “Then I suggest you state your reason for the visit. I have work to do.”

  Good, Papa has taken a stand. Now they could get rid of the ingratiating surgeon-dentist.

  Horace stepped closer to them. Cecilia startled when something touched her shoulder. It was Horace’s hand. His hand. Touching her. She jerked to the side but he held firm.

  Papa’s words came out as a growl. “Now wait a second…”

  Horace ignored the menacing tone of Papa’s voice. Was he mad? Her father was at least twice his size. “I’ve come for a purpose, and I won’t leave until I’ve stated my intent.”

  “By all means, speak your piece and be done with it.” Papa’s face had gone quite red. He clenched his good hand into a fist, while the other hung uselessly at his side.

  Horace stood up straighter, which still only put his head slightly above her seated-father’s shoulder. “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Cecilia gasped, slid from her chair, and landed in a heap on the floor.

  Chapter Five

  Amelia, Conrad’s wife, embraced Cecilia. “It’s so good to see you, sister.”

  Warmth encompassed Cecilia, inside and out. Amelia was so caring, so wonderful to her. It was as if they really were sisters. “It’s good to be with you, too.”

  “Come in the parlor and sit with me.” Amelia grabbed her hand and gave a tug. Cecilia bit her lip against a laugh. Her sister-in-law had a habit of yanking on Conrad’s hand when she wanted him to follow her, and so had taken up doing the same to Cecilia.

  They sat side by side on the settee. Conrad’s home was so lovely. What would it be like to live in such luxury? Immediately, she chided herself. No, Cecilia, you have more than you ever had a right to hope for. Be content.

  It was enough that Papa had said no to Horace’s proposal for Cecilia’s hand in marriage. She shuddered, so thankful she wouldn’t be saddled with him for the rest of her life. He was repulsive, not to mention he was nearly Papa’s age. Mama had wept — actually wept — when Papa said no. Had her mother really thought that Cecilia would want to marry such a reprehensible man?

  “I thought we’d start with choosing some fabric for your new gowns.”

  Cecilia focused again on Amelia. “Gowns? I thought there would be one.”

  Amelia laughed. “Oh no, my dear. One simply will not do. There will be several. And they will all be lovely to complement your beauty.”

  “Beauty?” Cecilia’s face heated. To hear Mama tell it, Cecilia was too plain to ever catch anyone’s notice. Hair too wispy. Eyes too pale.

  “Yes. You are beautiful.”

  Cecilia blinked. “Truly?”

  “Of course. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

  “Papa, of course, but…” But doesn’t a father see his daughter as beautiful simply because she’s his child?

  “It’s nice when our fathers tell us such, but it’s ever more so exciting to have a handsome gentleman tell you.”

  “I cannot imagine that happening to me, Amelia.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “I’m not…” Not worthy, not special, not… deserving.

  “You’re not, what?”

  “I’m not of your class. I’m simply the daughter of a surgeon-dentist. Why would a handsome gentleman ever want to—?”

  “Cecilia, that’s why we’re preparing for your come-out.”

  She took Amelia’s hand. “I’m so appreciative. So very thankful that you—”

  “It’s not just me. And it was Conrad’s idea. He loves you, you know.” She squeezed Cecilia’s hand.”As do I.”

  Tears pricked the back of Cecilia’s eyelids. “I… I love you both, as well.”

  A knock sounded at the front door. Amelia glanced at the doorway of the parlor.

  Giles, the butler appeared. “Lady Lofton, Mrs. Egerton has arrived. Shall I send her in?”

  Amelia nodded. “Please.”

  He returned a few seconds later accompanied by a tall, broad-shouldered woman who had midnight black hair. She didn’t wait for an introduction, but instead bustled into the room, carrying a very large canvas bag. Brightly colored pieces of fabric peeked out from the opening at the top. Cecilia’s fingers itched to touch them. Are those all for me to choose from?

  “Darling, how wonderful to see you again!” Mrs. Egerton dropped her bag on the floor and unabashedly hugged Amelia.

  Good heavens. Cecilia hadn’t realized they were so close.

  Amelia laughed and acknowledged Cecilia. “Cecilia Fletcher, may I introduce Lydia Egerton, Mantua-maker extraordinaire.”

  Mrs. Egerton left Amelia and claimed the now empty seat beside Cecilia. Surely Amelia had told the Mantua-maker the story that Conrad was using — that Cecilia was a distant cousin who was visiting. Mrs. Egerton took Cecilia’s hands in hers. “Goodness, aren’t you a lovely thing?”

  Heat shot from Cecilia’s neckline to her eyebrows. My face must surely be red.

  Amelia stepped closer. “As apparent by her blush, she’s also quite humble.”

  “Th-thank you, Mrs. Egerton.”

  “Please, I’m Lydia.”

  “Oh I don’t think I could…” She pressed her hand to her chest.

&n
bsp; Amelia bent down in front of Cecilia. “It’s fine. She’s Lydia to me as well.”

  Cecilia nodded. Though it still didn’t seem right somehow.

  “Now.” Lydia reached down and pulled her bag onto her lap. “Let’s have a glance at my fabric samples and find what colors would go best with your lovely coloring.”

  Lovely coloring? It might take some getting used to, having a complete stranger give her such sweet compliments.

  Amelia had claimed a chair a few feet away. She leaned forward to eye the fabric pieces. Then she scooted to the edge of her chair. With a sigh, she stood. “This will never do.” She crossed the room and knelt on the floor beside Cecilia.

  Lady Lofton, sitting on the floor?

  Amelia glanced up as if she’d heard Cecilia’s thought and shrugged. “I couldn’t view the pretty colors from way over there.”

  Lydia laughed. “Perfectly understandable.” She spread out some squares across her lap.

  Rose pink, buttery yellow. Sky blue. “So pretty.”

  “Indeed.” Lydia chuckled.

  Oh dear. “I said that out loud?”

  Amelia patted her hand. “You did and I’m glad. Perhaps spending more time here in the house with me and your—” She glanced at Lydia then back. “—Conrad, you’ll realize that it’s fine to relax and have some fun.”

  Lydia held the blue piece of fabric next to Cecilia’s face. “Oh yes, with your blond hair and light blue eyes, this color is stunning next to your skin.”

  “You think so?” Cecilia’s heartbeat quickened. She loved the blue as well, but didn’t want to seem presumptuous.

  “It’s darling.” Amelia tilted her head. “Yes, definitely a gown in the blue. Lydia, try another color, would you?”

  The pink was next. Amelia and Lydia sighed in unison.

  Cecilia raised an eyebrow. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Yes,” they said together.

  Lydia next picked up the yellow and lifted it to Cecilia’s hair. “Oh my.”

  “Yes.” Amelia nodded. “We’ll also need gowns in the pink and yellow.”

  “Three gowns?” Cecilia bit her lip. “But that’s—”

  “Perfect is what it will be.” Amelia smiled then looked back to Lydia. “What other colors have you in that magic bag of yours?”

  Cecilia couldn’t imagine anything as lovely as the three they’d already been shown. But when Lydia produced a lavender one, her mouth went dry. The violet hue brought to mind fields of lilacs, swaying in a gentle breeze. Sunny days and leisurely strolls though a meadow.

  “Oh, let me try.” Amelia took the fabric square and held it next to Cecilia’s cheek. “Will you look at that?”

  Cecilia gasped. “What?” Had the color made her skin appear hideous? Yellowish? Or a gruesome shade of green?

  Lydia nodded her head. “I wondered as much.”

  She could hardly contain herself. “What’s happened? What is it?”

  Amelia lowered the fabric and grasped one of Cecilia’s hands in hers. “When I placed the lavender next to your face, your beautiful blue eyes took on the cast and they in turn appeared lavender.”

  My eyes?

  Lydia sighed. “I’ve only observed it one other time, but the girl had similar coloring. Cecilia, you’re a beautiful girl, but in that lavender dress, you will take some lucky man’s breath away.”

  Oh… my…

  Lydia eyed Cecilia’s dress. “Amelia, hadn’t you mentioned something about day dresses?”

  “Yes, several of those, as well.”

  Day dresses too? It was all too much to take in. Cecilia glanced down at the serviceable grey gown she’d worn for her visit. What must Lydia think of her, dressed as she was? Cecilia held up her hand. “But—”

  Amelia nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, you’ll need day dresses as well, for when gentlemen call on you during the day.”

  “What if there aren’t any of those?”

  Lydia and Amelia laughed. Amelia stood up. “There is no doubt in my mind that you will have callers. Although you really only need one. The right one.”

  “And how will I know if it’s the right one?” Cecilia chewed her lip.

  “Oh, you’ll know.”

  “Did you know with my—” She flicked a glance toward Lydia. “—with Conrad?”

  To Cecilia’s surprise, her sister-in-law blushed. “Yes. I… I knew.”

  What in the world could have happened between them to cause such a reaction from Amelia? But then, perhaps she didn’t want to know.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia tapped her chin. “Since you are working on dancing with Conrad, you and I need to go over some rules of etiquette.”

  “Very well.” Cecilia rose from the settee and faced her. “Where do we begin?” The parlor wasn’t normally used for instruction, but for today it doubled as a classroom.

  “Remember to stand up straight. You don’t want to slouch, neither do you want to push out your cleavage too far.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Although, sometimes showing off your… assets can hurry along the process of gaining a certain gentleman’s attention.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “I’ll have you know I used that very, uh, trick to gain your brother’s attention and, well…” Amelia’s face reddened. “Anyway, stand up nice and straight.”

  Cecilia stood on her toes.

  “No, dear. You can keep your feet flat on the floor. Elongate your spine.”

  That sounded painful. “I don’t understand.”

  Amelia stood next to her, placed Cecilia's feet a few inches apart, and straightened her legs and torso. “Shoulders back, but not too much or else—”

  “Too much cleavage?” Not that I have much of that to display anyway.

  “Now you’re getting it. Lengthen out your neck. Raise your head.”

  Cecilia closed her eyes and tried to do Amelia’s bidding. “Like this?” She opened her eyes just a fraction.

  “Don’t lift your chin, dear. Keep it level to the floor. Imagine the top of your head is floating toward the ceiling.”

  Cecilia closed her eyes again. She pictured the ceiling, painted an off-white, and tried to imagine the top of her head rising to touch it. What would happen if she suddenly floated up? If she were several feet from the ground? Don’t look down! With a gasp, she opened her eyes. “Oh!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I imagined it too well.”

  Amelia’s lips curved into a smile. “Just remember not to slouch and you should be fine.”

  “I’ll try. What else?” Cecilia wrung her hands together. Would she be able to remember all of Amelia’s instructions the night of the dance?

  “When you walk across the room, pretend you are a princess.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Of course you can! Doesn’t every little girl long to be one?”

  Cecilia shrugged. “I never thought there would be any hope of that, so I didn’t bother, I guess.”

  Taking Cecilia’s hand, Amelia gave it a warm squeeze. “Well things are about to change.”

  “Do you think so?” She couldn’t imagine anything better than what her generous brother had already done for them.

  “I know so.”

  “Very well. When I walk, I am a princess.”

  Amelia flicked her hand toward the door. “Walk there and back and let me observe.”

  Cecilia spun around and in her best princess set of mind, stepped across the floor and back. “How was that?”

  “Hmm. While I know you were trying to do my bidding, I’m not sure I conveyed exactly what I meant.”

  “What did I appear to be doing?”

  “I’d say you were tiptoeing.”

  Cecilia giggled. “Was I?”

  Amelia laughed. “Yes, but it’s fine. Here, let me show you what I mean.” She slowly stepped across the floor, toe of her slipper pointing straight ahead, steps small, w
ith a slight bend to the knee. The fingers of her right hand flexed out ever so slightly from her wrist, just next to her hip, while her left hand rested languidly at her side.

  “Amelia. You look as if you’re floating.”

  “Thank you. That’s how it’s done. Now you try.”

  “I’m not graceful enough. I’m like a cow wearing too-tight slippers.”

  “Don’t be silly. Here, I’ll help you.” Amelia wrapped her arm around Cecilia’s waist as she walked beside her. “Now, make your steps small and light, as if you’re walking on a cloud.”

  Cecilia smiled. “A cloud? What if we fall through?”

  “It’s a very sturdy cloud.” One corner of her mouth rose. “Move not as if you’re walking, but gliding, your entire person in one fluid—”

  “Ouch!” Cecilia rapped her knee hard againt a chair leg, sharp pains shooting toward her toes. She bent down and rubbed her leg.

  “But be careful of pesky pieces of furniture.” Amelia pointed to the dark oak of the chair. “They’re not considerate enough to move out of one’s way.”

  “I didn’t realize they had those on clouds.” The pain in her knee had lessened to a dull throb.

  “There may perhaps be some on the cloud at the dance. That or someone else’s foot.”

  “Either one wouldn’t be good to trip over.” It might help matters if I was not so clumsy!

  “No.” She grabbed Cecilia’s hand and tugged her to a nearby set of chairs. “Here, let’s sit down for a while. No use injuring yourself before the dance.”

  “Thank you.” Cecilia smoothed the fabric of her dress over her knees.

  “Let me think…” Amelia narrowed eyes and peered somewhere above Cecilia’s head. “Some things to remember. A gentleman may not ask a lady to dance if they have not been previously introduced.”

  “And if they haven’t, then what does one do?”

  “If no one else is about who offers to introduce you, there is always a Master of Ceremonies who will take on the task.”

  “But what if—?”

  Amelia touched her hand. “Don’t worry too much about that. Conrad and I will both be there, so you won’t be left alone.”