Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place)

by Claudia Harbaugh

  “Lady Joanna, I have just ascertained that the rain has stopped for the moment. It might be a bit damp, but would you care for a stroll. I thought that after your exertions you might need some air.” Lord Pelton’s voice was full of charm.

  Isobel waited, and watched Lady Joanna’s face, expecting some pert response and possible a rebuff, but was surprised by what she heard and saw. “That would indeed be welcome,” said Lady Joanna prettily, complete with a demure smile. And then Lady Joanna blushed, actually blushed! Would wonders never cease? The two young people walked out of the room, arm in arm, Lord Pelton’s head bent toward hers in order to hear some likely witty thing that she was saying. Isobel smiled and sat next to Mrs. Parrish, politely asking her about her parish work.

  Miss Hyde-Price also noted the couple who had escaped to the garden and determined that Saybrooke should take her there as well. He was talking at the moment to Lord Doncaster and she sidled up to the two men. Shortly after, Lord Doncaster excused himself when his wife called to him to settle a trifling dispute. Miss Hyde-Price gave Saybrooke her most dazzling smile and then remarked on the heat of the room. He offered to retrieve some lemonade for her. She declined the lemonade and pointed out with delight that the rain had stopped. He expressed pleasure as well, but no invitation to the garden was forthcoming. Frustrated, she tried a more direct ploy.

  “I do so love flowers. Do you not also, Lord Saybrooke?” she cooed, her eyelashes fluttering like hummingbird wings.

  “They are pleasant in their way, I suppose. Certain varieties make me sneeze,” returned Lord Saybrooke pleasantly, but with no offer to adjourn to the garden.

  Miss Hyde-Price, at a loss for but a moment, abandoned what she perceived was her subtle attempts and ceased to beat around the bush.

  “Lord Saybrooke, I would be ever so grateful if you would escort me to the garden. You can point out the flowers that cause you to sneeze and we will avoid them in the future.”

  Lord Saybrooke surrendered to her will, for the time being, offered his arm and went with the manipulative baggage into the damp garden.

  Chapter 6

  The day of the ball began with a light mist that the gardener, Jenkins, declared would give way to sunshine at mid-day. The preparations were well under way by the time Isobel went down to breakfast. She had just started on her toast with currant jam when Lady Mercer hurried into the room.

  “Isobel, you are just the person I am looking for,” she declared and looked around the empty room. “My goodness, are you all alone? Where on earth is everyone? I have been up for hours, so much to do.”

  “I assume that is why everyone is making themselves scarce. Lord Westcott informed me last evening that the men had formed a party to go fishing this morning in order to, as he put it, ‘stay away from the hubbub’. I am sorry I slept so late, but as soon as I finish my coffee, I will be at your service.” Isobel took a large gulp of coffee.

  “I was hoping you would say that. Lady Stoughton offered her services with arranging flowers, but she has such a heavy hand with the daffodils. I prefer airier looking arrangements and I know you are just the woman to do it. I myself know what I like to see, but do not have the knack of making it happen.”

  “I would love to help with flowers, but what of Lady Stoughton? I would not want to offend her. She already disapproves of me,” said Isobel with a smile, proving her concern not to be of a serious nature.

  “She disapproves of most everyone, but her husband is important to Mercer’s ‘career’ in politics and I was constrained to invite them. But as to the flowers, I have prevailed upon Lady Stoughton to make up cards for the dinner before the ball, claiming her penmanship was just what was needed to make elegant name cards for the table. It is not of course, but her penmanship is much better than her flower arranging. So, there you have it,” pronounced Lady Mercer.

  Isobel had managed to finish her meager breakfast during their brief conversation and pronounced herself ready to tackle the flowers. Lady Mercer was well pleased with the result and by early afternoon, after a brief nuncheon, Isobel was released to rest and get ready for the evening ahead.

  *****

  Lady Joanna stood behind Mary Parrish’s chair and played with her long, thick chestnut brown hair.

  “Your hair is truly one of your best features, Mary. You must wear it up tonight like this,” said Lady Joanna taking Miss Parrish’s locks with both of her hands and plopping the now tousled mass on the vicar’s daughter’s head. Miss Parrish looked unconvinced as she watched Lady Joanna’s work in the vanity mirror. “Of course, there will be dozens of cascading curls down your back and framing your sweet oval face. Please say you will let me fix it for you? Your usual severe bun will just not do for a ball!” Lady Joanna scolded.

  Miss Parrish acquiesced. “But what about you, Joanna? How will you ever have time to get ready for the ball if you are attending to me?”

  “Oh, my abigail, Tessa, is quite adept and can make light work of getting me ready, though she would wish to have me at her mercy for hours. And besides, I care very little for how I look. I am not on the hunt for a husband!”

  “Nor am I,” countered Miss Parrish. “Mama and Papa already have someone in mind.”

  “Well, I hope it is Captain Danvers, for once he sees you tonight, he will propose on the spot!” Lady Joanna assured her.

  “Captain Danvers?” cried the young lady, her face suddenly crimson.

  “Did you not notice his partiality toward you? I think he is quite smitten with you.” Lady Joanna smiled conspiratorially.

  Miss Parrish, extremely embarrassed, flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I knew him to be exceedingly polite and gentlemanlike, but I had not thought… I was rather hoping that Peter- Mr. Collins would…”Miss Parrish stammered out in confusion.

  “Mr. Collins! He is just a boy. You need a man,” Lady Joanna pronounced.

  “But, my parents are quite set on us making a match. And I am not averse to it in the least. I have known him for ever so long and have always been drawn to him,” replied Miss Parrish in an attempt to be assertive.

  “The problem as I see it Mary, is that your sphere of acquaintances is much too narrow. Living buried in the country tends to have that effect,” asserted Lady Joanna.

  “I have no way of expanding my circle. While both of good birth, my parents haven’t the funds to give me a season in London.” Miss Parrish paused and said almost convincingly, “I believe I would be quite content with Peter. He is excelling at Cambridge and is to go into the law.”

  “Content? You would settle for content?” Lady Joanna shuddered dramatically. “Mary, I have heard you play the piano. You are a woman of passion. You must not settle for contentment! If Captain Danvers will not do for you, then we must find you someone who will.”

  “And how will I accomplish that?” asked Miss Parrish, truly wanting to know.

  “Leave that to me,” said Lady Joanna cryptically. “Now, about these dresses…”

  “Joanna, truly I have a dress that will be sufficient. You need not feel obliged to lend me one of your lovely gowns.” Miss Parrish thought of her light green lutestring gown, which though once quite fashionable, had seen at least one too many seasons. Also, because her mother had made it for her, it had an excess of flounces that did not suit Miss Parrish’s taste. She looked longingly at the three exquisite gowns that were lain out on her bed. One was a champagne shot silk, with small puff sleeves and exquisite lace. Another was a pale pink on pink patterned jacquard with the de rigueur high waist and a small train. The third was a primrose satin with a lace overskirt and a very daring neckline. How would she choose? she wondered and then she scolded herself for being tempted to wear one of these beautiful gowns.

  “Do not be silly, Mary. I can only wear one gown and I have no preference for any of them. You shall try them all on and we will choose which one does your sweet looks justice.”

  Miss Parrish was about to object yet again when she heard a li
ght tap on her door. Though it was her room, it was Lady Joanna who said, “Come!”

  The door opened to admit Lady Cynthia in a sunny yellow morning dress that somehow complimented her golden hair. As always, she looked stunningly beautiful.

  “I thought I might find you here,” drawled Lady Cynthia in her bored fashion. “Are you hiding to escape being conscripted by Lady Mercer as well?”

  “No,” answered Lady Joanna. “I offered to help. I had some wonderful ideas to spruce up the ballroom but my mother made me promise to stay out of the way. She has no appreciation for my sense of style.”

  “I have seen your bedchamber, Lady Joanna. Perhaps your mother has the right of it.” Lady Cynthia winked at Miss Parrish, who blushed in confusion.

  “Mary was about to model these gowns for me, so that we might choose which she should wear tonight,” explained Lady Joanna.

  Lady Cynthia looked at the gowns Lady Joanna had indicated and her eyebrows rose. “Miss Parrish, where in Hertfordshire did you obtain such fashionable gowns? I daresay, they have the look of Madame Giselle about them. “

  “They are not…that is, Lady Joanna was kind enough…” stammered Miss Parrish.

  “As I explained to Miss Parrish, I can only wear one gown. And you are correct, Lady Cynthia, these are Madame Giselle’s creations. How clever of you. Ah, but we all must have a talent for something. How fortunate you are that yours is so useful,” quipped Lady Joanna cattily.

  Lady Cynthia, used to Lady Joanna’s caustic tongue, ignored the gibe in her lofty way and changed the subject. “I am eagerly looking forward to the ball tonight, are you not?”

  “Indeed,” mumbled Miss Parrish.

  “It is just another ball,” Lady Joanna said dismissively.

  “Not for me it is not,” said Lady Cynthia looking secretive. “There should be an announcement tonight that will surprise you, Lady Joanna.”

  “Oh?” asked Lady Joanna, only slightly interested. “What announcement would that be?”

  “Ah, but that would be telling,” Lady Cynthia said in her lazy drawl and headed toward the door, her mission accomplished. She turned back to the other two young ladies before she exited. “If I were you, Miss Parrish, I would wear the pale pink jacquard. It would suit you most famously.” And with a sly little smile she left the room.

  “What did she mean?” asked Miss Parrish when Lady Cynthia had left.

  “That you should wear the pink gown and she is probably correct. Lady Cynthia is as dull as ditchwater and barely literate, but she understands clothes. You should try that one on first,” replied Lady Joanna obtusely.

  “No, not about the gowns. About the announcement,” Miss Parrish wondered.

  “Oh, that. Most likely she is to be engaged.” Lady Joanna was clearly uninterested in Lady Cynthia’s marriage plans.

  “But, to whom? I had no inkling that Lady Cynthia had a beau here at Adelphi,” asserted Miss Parrish.

  An inkling of interest awoke in Lady Joanna. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Perhaps it will be an interesting night after all. Now, put on the jacquard.”

  *****

  The fishing party was only partly successful, despite the well-stocked lake. They caught few fish, but succeeded in avoiding the chaos back at Adelphi. Saybrooke was an indifferent fisherman, as was Parrish. The two of them sat in their boat and argued loudly, if not heatedly about eschatology and free will. After an hour or so of little luck, Westcott and Lord Stoughton rowed over to Saybrooke’s boat.

  “Saybrooke, your pointless bickering with the good Reverend here is scaring the fish. Would you mind desisting and speak quietly if you must speak at all.” Westcott’s tone was mild, but his look was pointed and Saybrooke raised his eyebrows as his only response.

  “I beg your pardon, Lord Westcott, Lord Stoughton, I am afraid Saybrooke and I get a trifle worked up in our theological debates. All in good fun, mind you.” Fortunately, Mr. Parrish was repentant enough for the both of them, for Saybrooke had no intention to apologize.

  “Theology? Fun?” said Lord Stoughton with a bark that was meant to be a laugh.

  “For some of us, yes,” replied Saybrooke mildly. “Others enjoy fishing, while still others find a great amount of glee in feeling superior to the rest of mankind. I find that odd, but I have learned that it takes all kinds.”

  Lord Stoughton refrained from answering such a blatant insult, only because he could not think of an appropriate rejoinder. Westcott could, but refrained, choosing simply to smile at the prickly Lord Saybrooke. Saybrooke had a moment of shame at his own rudeness, but he made no apology.

  Mr. Parrish, anxious to cover over any discomfort lurched into speech. “Looking forward to this evening’s entertainment. A grand ball is rare in this neck of the woods. I am happy for my girl, Mary, for she rarely has a treat such as this.”

  “It promises to be a grand affair,” admitted Lord Stoughton and then added, “for a country ball.”

  Wescott added quickly, “The Mercer’s have gone to a great deal of trouble to make this a memorable night and I gather there will be a good many souls coming from hither and yon to attend.”

  “It should indeed be a memorable night, Westcott. There is to be an announcement that I in particular am looking forward to,” said Lord Stoughton with a gleam in his eye.

  “Indeed?” bit Lord Saybrooke.

  “Hush, hush,” said Lord Stoughton holding a finger to his lips, trying to be mysterious.

  Westcott, seemingly impatient to get back to his fishing, said, “if you would kindly make an effort to reign in your passion, or at least express it in a less rambunctious manner, we would be supremely grateful.” Lord Westcott bestowed a gracious smile and inclined his head toward the two men in the opposite boat in lieu of a bow. “Lord Saybrooke, Mr. Parrish.” And the two Lords rowed off to catch some fish, leaving Parrish embarrassed and Saybrooke puzzled.

  Not ten minutes later a shout echoed on the lake from Mr. Collins. He had drawn the short straw and was subjected to sharing a row boat with Lord Edgerton, who had eventually nodded off, fishing pole in hand. Unfortunately, Lord Edgerton was one of the few successful fisherman. What proved to be a large fish tugging on his line had jerked Lord Edgerton awake. He instinctively stood, rocking the boat and before Mr. Collins could help him, Lord Edgerton had fallen into the lake. Wescott, Danvers and Saybrooke all jumped in to help the Earl, who could not swim. Captain Danvers reached him first and swam him to safety. The fishing party officially ended with four of them dripping wet. The sodden fishermen made their way to their rooms, followed by several maids with towels, doing their best to eradicate the watery trail that was left in the gentlemen’s wake.

  “My Lord!” declared Wilkes with horror when he saw his master.

  “I am fine, Wilkes, just a little wet,” Saybrooke assured him.

  “Fine?” replied the distressed valet. “Your new waistcoat is ruined!”

  *****

  Westcott’s first glimpse of Isobel in her aqua satin gown with a daring décolletage took his breath away. He smiled at her from across the room where he was deep in discussion with Lord Stoughton. She returned his smile and sat next to Lady Mercer. Lord Mercer had returned to Adelphi a few hours earlier and Henrietta was beaming. Lord Pelton and Captain Danvers were equally breathless when Lady Joanna and Miss Parrish entered the room. In fact, a good many of the party were astonished at the change in Miss Parrish, including her own mother.

  “Mary, what have you done with your hair and where did you get that gown?” Mrs. Parrish, her eyes wide with astonishment, hissed when her daughter approached her.

  “Lady Joanna fixed my hair, mama, and lent me this gown. Is it not heavenly?” Miss Parrish asked her disapproving mother.

  “I do not know about heavenly. The neckline is certainly not what I would consider proper,” began Mrs. Parrish at a loss, not wanting to offend Lady Joanna, but stunned at the unwelcomed change in her daughter.

  “Oh, it is all the ra
ge in London, Mrs. Parrish. This neckline is actually quite modest compared to most. I think she looks divine and will turn many heads tonight,” said Lady Joanna trying to be helpful, but actually making the situation worse.

  Lady Mercer intervened. “My dear Mrs. Parrish, I know it is a bit of a shock, but you and I both know dear Mary has a good head on her shoulders and is not easily corrupted . She simply wants to be fashionable for her very first ball and I can see no harm in it. After all, you have raised her to be a proper young lady and I am certain that she will not veer from that path. Miss Parrish, you look charming; just give your loving mama a minute to adjust. Would you care for a touch of sherry Mrs. Parrish before the dinner gong?”

  Mrs. Parrish accepted the sherry and barely had time to make a dent in it before dinner was announced. Captain Danvers offered his arm to Miss Parrish and they went in to supper together. Lady Mercer had declared at the outset that the dining would be informal and that any gentleman could escort any lady into the dining room, rather than using the formal method of escort by rank. It suited most everyone quite well. No matter the escort, however, there was a seating arrangement every evening. This evening the places were marked with place cards written in Lady Stoughton’s unexceptional hand. Isobel was placed between Lord Pelton and Captain Danvers. Lady Joanna sat on Pelton’s other side and Miss Parrish was seated on Danvers right. Saybrooke was bookended by Miss Hyde-Price and Lady Cynthia. Westcott was to Lady Cynthia’s left and Lady Edgemont on his other side. Dinner was delicious, as always, and the general atmosphere was celebratory, as everyone anticipated the coming ball.

  Isobel entered the ball room and breathed in the enchanting scent of the myriad of flowers that adorned the immense room. Flowers were everywhere in vases and urns and pots. Lengths of sheer white fabric were artfully draped around the room, giving the impression of a fairy land. Hundreds of candles glittered in the three elegant chandeliers that graced the room, the crystals twinkling in the candlelight. It was magical. Isobel could not contain her excitement and allowed herself a smile of sheer delight.