by Jenn LeBlanc
“I’m fairly sure I’m more pale than that dress,” she said weakly to break the tension, and Louisa laughed. As she looked into her eyes, Louisa leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. So quickly that Ellie hadn’t a chance to prepare for it, or enjoy it, or even to remember the shape and pressure of her mouth. She touched her own nonetheless.
“I adore you, Ellie. Dress or no.” Then Louisa took her hand and pulled her toward the backroom, while Ellie kept that hand over her lips and attempted to savor the remainder of the kiss that seemed to reach all the way to her toes. She wanted more…then thought better of it. She shouldn’t want more of that, should she?
They moved to the back room, and Marjorie sent her girls to undressing both Louisa and Ellie, placing their clothes on a rack by the door so they wouldn’t be scuffed. They were positioned on two separate pedestals in the center of the room, facing each other as they were measured, every inch, from their insteps to their earlobes.
Louisa giggled and shook several times, obviously ticklish, which made Ellie smile.
“I remember Monsieur talking about the pleats, Marjorie,” Ellie said, wanting to help. “That the pleats must be perfect, that they must be an exact length to prevent dragging the floor, because it would damage them. He also said something about tacking them, to keep them pleated properly.”
“Good, good!” Marjorie said as she swept a bolt of fabric before Louisa, letting the end trail in front of her. It was a deep iridescent blue, like that of a peacock, and it brought out all the tones in Louisa’s eyes.
“Yes, that one,” Ellie said, then looked away before anyone saw how much she cared.
Louisa laughed. “I like it too,” Louisa said.
“It could work. The silk is watered so it could be structured enough to hold the pleats. Perhaps if we use another fabric under the bodice for stability…” Marjorie disappeared again, and Louisa reached out and took Ellie’s hand.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” Ellie replied, “even though I’m not entirely sure why I had to be undressed,” she said with a grin. Louisa laughed again, and one of the girls doing the measurements stopped.
“Stop moving, please,” she said.
“Of course. Apologies,” Louisa said.
When the dress arrived, the shop girls helped Ellie into it. Marjorie stared at her as though she were a statue, taking in all the delicate pleating and beadwork. Running her hands down the seams and against the hem. “Stunning, just stunning. Lady Mayjoy was correct. This is a masterpiece. I cannot recreate it, but I can make something similar. If only I could let some of the seams to see how—”
“No!” Louisa said suddenly. “I mean, you can’t possibly think to take it apart. Her mother would be incredibly upset I’m certain.”
“Quite so. We’ll do our best for you, of course,” Marjorie replied, but Ellie could see the disappointment in her face. Marjorie wanted to take the entire dress apart in order to see how it ticked, like a clock. But they never quite went back the same, did they? Once pulled apart? Perhaps a clock did, but this dress was a work of art, and you couldn’t undo a work of art and expect it to be the same once repaired.
She looked to find Louisa smiling at the shop girl, who’d apparently said something humorous. Ellie loved this dress. It was her favorite of all the dresses they’d had made in Paris. But when Lou looked up with joy in her eyes, Ellie would have torn it to shreds if she’d asked.
Louisa
Louisa walked the ballroom again, checking behind plants and decorations, hoping Ellie would be there. They hadn’t a chance to talk about upcoming events after the dressmakers, so she’d been attending all the best of them for the opportunity of seeing her again. She moved to the halfway point, disappointed that in this ballroom there were no large plants to hide between. She took up a position next to one of the large marble columns and waited, watching the crowd, trying to catch sight of her.
“Hello, dear.” The deep voice came from the other side of the column she leaned against. Baron Endsleigh.
She smiled but didn’t turn. Ender was the only person who was able to sneak up on her—then again, nobody else was interested enough to want to sneak up on her. “Hugh,” she said.
“Oh-so informal…we aren’t trying to impress anyone tonight?”
She kept her smile to herself. “Ender then, and who on earth would I have need to impress?” She smiled and rolled her eyes at him.
He made a broad arch with his arm in front of him. “Isn’t your future husband out there? Somewhere?” he asked coyly as he gestured to the whole of the ballroom.
Louisa laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Then she turned and curtseyed to him. “You have me there, my friend. I do yet have need of a husband according to my family. And society. And apparently the whole of London and the world beyond.” She pursed her lips. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, for shame, an unmarried woman.” She winked at him, and he laughed.
They’d an easy relationship since neither ever expected anything from the other beyond companionship. It was different from anything else she had in the ton and she loved it for the simple ease of it, for the companionship of it. He pined for someone promised to a duke, well beyond his meager barony, and she…well, she was undetermined. Though if she were forced to take a man, Hugh would not be a chore. At least he could make her laugh.
“May I fill your dance card? Or is the gentleman you seek here somewhere? You’ll introduce us, won’t you? I feel the need to extoll your virtues, secure your hand,” Hugh said excitedly.
“No,” she said. “Besides, I wasn’t—” She caught herself but not before his gaze narrowed. “I wasn’t necessarily searching for a gentleman. I was looking for my friend.”
“A friend? Never say it. You’ve a friend? I find that impossible to believe, Louisa. Didn’t your family teach you not to tell tales?”
“No, really! Hugh, she’s absolutely lovely. In every way. Every way. Her eyes—” She felt her cheeks heat as Hugh watched her.
“Her…eyes.”
Louisa raised her fan in front of her mouth as she tried to stop her panic. But why? She was allowed friendship. His gaze measured her before he spoke again.
“So you are yet in need of a dance partner. Good. I’ve no interest in dancing this evening either, at least not with these new chits,” he said as he leaned a shoulder against the column.
“Don’t be cruel, Hugh. It’s beneath you.”
“Become soft in our old age, have we, Louisa? My apologies, the new set. Better?” he asked and she wondered when she’d become so protective of the girls who’ve recently come out.
She turned back to him. “Thank you, yes. I am in fact in need of a dance partner. So you’re it, as always.”
“Perhaps even a turn around the balcony?” he mused, and her heartbeat seemed to speed up. “Since there’s no fear of embarrassment now, will you introduce me to your friend? Perhaps she’s in need of a dance partner as well,” he asked, suddenly serious.
She measured him. She knew his attention was elsewhere, but part of her didn’t want to introduce them. As stunning as Ellie was, if he became enamored of her it would break Lousia’s heart. That was an interesting idea, though… Ellie wouldn’t be refused her company if they were wed. Still, Hugh was set upon another. Whom he most absolutely couldn’t have. “I suppose I should. Perhaps the two of you should be friends.”
“Or possibly more, if she’s that stunning,” he replied. Her eyes snapped to his, shocked as he’d read her thoughts so effortlessly. He raised his hands toward her. “I jest! You know I’m not interested in anyone, particularly not a green girl. I’m much too occupied elsewhere,” he finished.
“How is she?” Louisa asked then, searching to change the subject. “This girl of yours that you cannot sever from your thoughts.”
“She’s well, or as well as can be expected, I suppose. I miss her, Louisa.”
“It’s hard being so far fr
om her?”
“Yes, quite,” he replied, gazing across the ballroom.
She wondered what that felt like, that want to be close to someone at all times. She thought again of Ellie and began to cast her gaze once again around the room.
“What does she look like?” he asked. “I shall help you find her.”
“I don’t know if she’s even attending tonight. I—” But then her breath caught as her eyes landed on the perfectly done blond hair she knew was Ellie’s.
“Where?” Hugh said. “Show me her.”
Louisa felt herself pointing her fan surreptitiously in the direction of the gardens as Ellie was lead from the ballroom on the arm of a tall gentleman with bright red hair. She shuddered– their children would never be in the sun for fear of the burn.
“I didn’t see. Are you sure?” he asked.
Louisa felt herself nod. “Yes, nobody has hair like that, like an angel.” She felt Hugh’s stare on her again, and knew she was blushing. “I only meant— If you saw it you would understand what I meant.”
“Careful, Louisa. I believe I do understand what you mean. For your sake and hers, please be cautious.”
A chill ran her spine at his words. Did he know? He knew she wasn’t much for marriage, but…could he know that she wasn’t much for men altogether? She turned to him then for the first time, frightened of what she’d find, but all she saw was an anxiousness in his countenance.
His shoulders pitched, his jaw tight. He reached for her hand and took it. “I’m merely concerned for you. We’re friends, Louisa. I’m concerned. Please be careful. Your father…”
She was sure what he meant by that last bit, even she’d never heard a woman speak of another woman in this manner…but there was no other way to speak of Ellie. And Hugh was the only person she felt safe in telling. And she had an idea as to why that was. And he was correct.
He kissed her knuckles as she considered that absentmindedly until he squeezed her fingers and cocked his head as he watched her. Then someone called to him. “Forgive me, my dear friend, but I must go as Trumbull has deigned to grace us with his presence and if left alone for long, he’ll raise havoc. However, I am at your disposal should you need to present a strong front. If you need another champion tonight, I’ve no doubt Perry would happily oblige as well.”
“I’m not going to be seen dancing with that rake. My father would lock me in a closet regardless how he wishes to be rid of me.”
Hugh laughed again, and all tension left with the sound.
“Did someone say rake?” Peregrine Trumbull sidled up in all of his fitted finery, and Hugh closed his eyes briefly, then winked at Louisa before he turned to Perry, taking him by the shoulder and steering him away from her. She watched as they walked across the room so easily.
She wished to be a man if only to be at ease no matter where she went. She was required to be ever wary of her surroundings and behavior, and it was exhausting. The only time she could be herself…well. She felt some semblance of that with Ellie in the gallery. Hopefully that would happen again.
Ellie
Ellie stared up at the bobbing boy Lord and wondered how she could get away from him to find Lou. She’d seen her speaking with a tall blond man when she’d walked into the ballroom but had been waylaid by her mother and another introduction to some peer who had requested one. Her mother had been thrilled, of course. Ellie on the other hand, was exhausted. Over the past week she’d met, danced with, spoken to, ridden with and been taken to the park with no less than twenty eligible peers. She’d no idea they were in such supply. She also failed to understand why they were all so enamored of her.
Certainly she had money, but so did so many other of the new girls, and those girls also had titles and connections. Not so with her. Ellie was exhausted, and bored. Not a single one of these men caught her interest, and she’d expected to at least be entertained. At the very least. It wasn’t so.
Most of these men took her out to discuss how much she was going to love taking care of their household, bearing their children, and minding their beds, wink wink. What was it with this courting process? Barely a week in, and she wanted out. So she’d insisted they go to the gardens, away from the noise of the ballroom. Because at least there she could enjoy the plants. Bushes. Grass. Perhaps watch it grow in the dark. Her shoulders drooped as she sighed.
Boredom.
“Miss?”
Damn. “Sorry…My Lord, I was considering my next cross stitching project. I thought perhaps a small pillow with a bible quote appropriate, My Lord,” she repeated. Thank goodness they could all be called My Lord, or Sir, because she’d already forgotten who he was. She smiled up at him. Way, way up at him. So far up his forehead was in shadow.
She wondered what Louisa was doing with that blond. He was beautiful—of that, she found herself jealous. Not that he was beautiful, but that he’d spoken with Louisa. She’d seen them across the room all smiles and banter, and her hands had itched to separate them. Though Louisa had been smiling, genuinely at that, so perhaps he was a friend, someone with a sense of humor? But she’d said she had no friends.
She looked back toward the house and wished to see more.
“Miss Eliot Rigsby?”
Damn. “Yes, so very sorry. Perhaps I should return to the ballroom because my mind is elsewhere.” She shuddered falsely, pulling her wrap around her shoulders as he tried to see down her dress. He grunted and looked away, and she caught sight of the blond at the entry with another man. “Do you know him?” she asked, attempting to stay her curiosity a bit.
“Trumbull? Or do you mean Endsleigh? Either one should be avoided,” he replied contemptuously, the boy Lord did, whomever he was. She really should practice paying attention if she was to survive these meetings.
“The blond?” she asked, ignoring his warning and his tone.
“That’s Baron Endsleigh. He’s young, not interested in marriage. More interested in shenanigans with Trumbull—who is a rake.” He enunciated each word with aplomb before continuing heedless. “You would do well to avoid the both of them. I have much more to recommend me. One day I’ll be an Earl, after all.”
“Yes, of course, my Lord,” she replied, and he smiled at his success. Perfect, all forgiven. “Should we return?” she asked again, and his eyebrows came together with a sudden crash and she realized she’d offended him once more. She winced. She needed to do better, but this boy Lord needed a few years and perhaps a dead father before he would be impressive to anyone, even her. He didn’t speak, only turned toward the ballroom and lifted his elbow to her. He wasn’t all that bad. But he wasn’t Louisa.
Once inside, Ellie searched for Lou, finding her where she’d seen her, leaning against the column. This time without her companion. She turned to Lord whoever and curtseyed. “Thank you, my Lord, for the walk in the gardens. It was lovely.” She smiled, and he grumbled something in return then walked away.
As she turned back to Louisa, she saw them—the men and her mother—descending. It seemed she wasn’t to have a moment’s peace, and her mother was quite beyond thrilled judging by her smile. Ellie looked away then dodged through the crowd toward Louisa; she didn’t slow as she passed her but reached out and took her hand, pulling her along through the crush, pinching and poking the people in her way as she ducked her face and went full steam ahead for the main part of the house. She didn’t stop at the entry. She led her up the main stairs, only glancing back to see that Louisa was with her.
They reached the landing and Ellie paused, then Louisa led the way. “This way,” she said breathlessly and like a slingshot they were off down a darkened hallway until Ellie, caught in a fit of laughter, pulled Louisa to a stop.
“Please,” she begged through her smile. “Please, a moment to catch my breath?”
“Oh, I see. Now you need a moment. I hadn’t a moment to pause when some wicked thing reached from the crowd and took me by the arm, pulling me through, and into, half the ton in the ballroom…
but now you need a moment?” Louisa said with a grin.
Ellie smiled, her hand on her belly as she tried to still her breathing. “Yes, yes, I beg you. The rush is gone, please.”
Louisa smiled at her and glanced down the hallway once more waving to an open room. “In here. Let’s get out of the hall where someone might come upon us and force us to return.”
Ellie lifted her skirts and followed her into the room, which, as it happened, was a library. “Oh, Louisa, did you know?” Once again her breath was stolen as she considered the magnificent collection, so many books she could live two lifetimes and never read them all.
“In a manner. I was here last season. I knew the library was down this way but I wasn’t certain.” She reached for the gas lamp switch and turned the lights up.
“We shouldn’t. Someone will see,” Ellie said, not wanting to be disturbed in here. Ever.
Louisa walked back to the door and closed it. “There, undisturbed. So you like to read?”
“Oh yes, I— Yes. Very much so.”
“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?” Louisa asked, and Ellie turned so fast her skirts caught on a shelf and wrapped around her legs.
“Yes, yes, I adore Alice. Could you imagine a world so colorful? So different and enchanting? They were all so wonderful.”
“Except for the Queen of Hearts,” Louisa reminded her.
“I think perhaps she needs a hug. Nobody can get close to her. She won’t allow it. Sometimes I believe people need to be held.”