After asking directions, Lang finally drew up outside an imposing mansion on one side of a square in what was clearly one of the more fashionable areas. In the centre was an enclosed garden in which children and nursemaids were taking the late-afternoon air. The suns last rays were gilding the bare branches of the cherry trees there as the sisters were assisted from the carriage by the stately butler who had answered Langs knock.
Relieved of their cloaks and escorted to the upstairs drawing-room, the sisters made their curtsy to their fashionable grandmother. Lady Merion surged towards them, enveloping them in a mist of gauzes and perfume. Her blonde wig was perfectly set above a face still graced by traces of the pale beauty she had once been. Sharp blue eyes watched her world, set above a long straight nose and a mouth only too ready to laugh at what she saw.
My dears! Im so glad to see you safely arrived! Now sit down and let me give you some tea. My chef, Henri, has sent up these delicacies to tempt you after your journey.
Drawing them to sit around the fire, already burning brightly, Lady Merion noted that neither sister was looking her best. Tonight well have a very quiet time. You must both retire immediately after dinner. Tomorrow morning weve an appointment with Celestine, the most fashionable modiste in London. You must have recovered from your journey by then.
As soon as they had eaten the delicious pastries and drunk their tea, Lady Merion rang the bell. It was answered by Witchett, a tall, angular woman with sparse grey hair whose peculiar talent in life lay in being able to turn out her elderly mistress in the most suitable of the currently fashionable styles. She was burning with curiosity to view the latest challenges to her skill. A quick glance at the Misses Darent told her that Mellow, the butler, had not exaggerated. In spite of their tiredness, their potential was apparent. The younger, properly dressed, would be a hit. And Miss Darent had that certain something that Witchett, a veteran campaigner, instantly recognised. The sisters were therefore favoured with a thin smile.
Ah, there you are, Witchett. Please conduct Miss Darent and Miss Cecily to their rooms. I suggest, my dears, that you rest before dinner. Witchett will see your things are unpacked, and shell take charge of your dressing until we can find suitable maids. Off with you, now. She dismissed them with a wave of one heavily beringed white hand.
They followed Witchett to two pretty bedchambers, obviously newly refurbished, Dorotheas in a soft pastel green and Cecilys in a delicate blue. Everything was already unpacked, and Witchett helped them undress. Ill return to assist you to dress for dinner, Miss Darent.
Dorothea sank thankfully into the soft feather bed and immediately fell asleep.
Lady Merion had instructed her chef that a light and simple meal was all they required that evening. Consequently there were only three courses, each of some half a dozen dishes. Luckily both Dorothea and Cecily had recovered their appetites and were able to do justice to their first experience of the culinary delights of London.
Their grandmother was pleasantly surprised to find them considerably restored. Throughout dinner she monopolised the conversation. First and by far the most important task is to have you both suitably gowned. For that, Celestines is first on our list. Shes the best known of Bruton Streets modistes for good reason.
Lady Merion had paid a visit to Celestine as soon as she had decided to launch her granddaughters into the ton. She had made it clear that she required that ladys best efforts. Celestine had built her highly successful business through shrewd assessment of her clients abilities to display her creations in ton circles. Lady Merions granddaughters would be paraded at all the most exclusive venues. Having extracted a description of the young ladies, she had graciously agreed to do all possible to ensure their success.
Celestines talents are truly stupendous. After that, well have to get your hair seen to, and Ive organised a dancing master as well. I dont expect you know the waltz? She paused to help herself to some buttered crab. Once youre presentable, our first outing will be a drive in the Park. Well go about three, which at this time of year is the right time to meet people. Ill introduce you to a number of the leaders of the ton, and hopefully we can find some of the younger generation for you to make friends with. In particular, I hope well meet Lady Jersey. Her nickname is Silence, because she chatters all the time. Dont be put out if what she says seems rather odd. Princess Esterhazy should also be there. Both these ladies are patronesses of Almacks. You need vouchers from them to attend. If youre not admitted to Almacks you may as well give up the Season and go home.
Good heavens! said Dorothea. Id no idea it was that important.
Well, it is, answered her grandmother with absolute conviction. She continued in this style, pouring forth an abundance of information. Dorothea and Cecily listened avidly. Possessing a fair degree of common sense, they needed no urging to learn all they could of the mores and practices of the fashionable from their experienced grandmama before their first venture into the critical world of the ton.
At nine oclock, seeing Cecily stifle a yawn, her ladyship brought her lecture to an end. Its time both of you were in bed. Ring for Witchett, Dorothea. Shell help you change. Go along, now. Youve had enough for one day.
As the door shut behind the sleepy girls Lady Merion settled herself more comfortably in the corner of her elegant sofa. She was going to enjoy this Season. Lately, her accustomed routine of fashionable pleasures had been sadly lacking in excitement.
She had not spent over sixty years at the hub of aristocratic life without learning to gauge the qualities of those around her. Every bit as shrewd as she was fashionable, she had been agreeably impressed by her rustic granddaughters when she had met them, for the first time in many years, at Darent Hall. On the basis of one afternoons reacquaintance she had decided it would be highly diverting to unleash them on the ton. While she had little doubt she would become sincerely fond of them, her main purpose had been purely selfish. Now, having re-examined their fresh faces and charmingly assured manners, she wryly wondered whether she would be able to cope.
Thinking again of the girls, she frowned. Dorothea had seemed strangely preoccupied. Hopefully she had not conceived a tendre for some country gentleman. Still, even if she had, the delights of a London Season would soon distract her from her sleepy country past.
Her cogitations were interrupted by a knock on the door. Dorothea, clad in a delicate pink wrapper with her dark hair swirling over her shoulders, put her head around the door. Seeing her grandmother, she entered.
The fair brows over the sharp blue eyes rose to improbable heights. Why, child, whats the matter?
Grandmama, theres something I must tell you.
Ah-ha! thought her ladyship. Now Im going to find out whats bothering her. She motioned Dorothea to sit next to her.
Sinking gracefully down, Dorothea fixed her eyes on the fire and calmly let fall her bombshell. Well, for a start I have to tell you that the Marquis of Hazelmere will call on you tomorrow.
Good gracious! The exclamation was forced from Lady Merion as she jerked bolt upright, her fascinated blue gaze riveted on her grandchild. My dear, how on earth did you meet a man of Hazelmeres stamp? I didnt know your mother was acquainted with the Henrys.
Hermione was conscious of a dreadful sinking feeling at the mere mention of Hazelmeres name. Drat the boy! Hed been the bane of many a hopeful mothers life, proving so fascinating to their impressionable daughters that there was no doing anything with the silly chits. As he had proved impervious to the charms of all but certain delectable members of the demi-monde, careful mothers were wont to advise their daughters that, in spite of his undoubted eligibility, Lord Hazelmere did not feature on their lists of likely suitors. Dorotheas words had started all sorts of hares racing in her mind, but why Hazelmere would want an interview with herself was more than she could imagine. She settled herself so that she had an uninterrupted view of her granddaughters face. Start at the beginning, child, or Ill never understand.
Conscious of the steady scrutiny, Dorothea nodded and carefully began. Well, the first time I met Lord Hazelmere was while I was berrying in Moreton Park woods last August. He had recently inherited the estate from his greataunt, Lady Moreton.
Yes, I know about that, said her ladyship. I knew Etta Moreton quite well. In fact, she wrote to me after your mothers death, urging me to take a hand in your lives.
Did she? That was news to Dorothea.
Mmm. But what happened when you met Hazelmere? I presume he made himself charming, as usual?
Dorothea reminded herself that she had no idea how charming Hazelmere might be expected to be. She stuck to her edited story. He introduced himself. Then, because I was unattended, he insisted on walking me home.
Lady Merion, reading into her granddaughters careful tones rather more than Dorothea would have wished, leapt to a conclusion. My dear, you neednt be shy about telling me he made love to you shamelessly. He does it all the time. That devil can be utterly undeniable when the mood takes him.
Her gaze wildly incredulous, Dorothea saw the crevasse yawning at her feet only just in time. Lady Merion had used the term made love in the sense in which it was used in her heyday, to denote suggestive flirtation. Swallowing the words she had so nearly uttered, she forced her voice to calmness. Charming? Actually, I found him rather arrogant.
Her ladyship blinked at this cold assessment of one of societys lions.
Her ladyship blinked at this cold assessment of one of societys lions.
Dorothea hurried on. I met Lord Hazelmere again at the inn last night.
Lady Merion would have described herself as being inured to the ways of those around her. It was consequently with some surprise that she realised that her granddaughter, having been in the house for only a few hours, had managed to seriously shake her calm. She repeated weakly, The Marquis was at the inn last night?