Not Just Lovely Laura

by Jessica Spencer

  If Bessie had plucked up her courage and asked Laura why she didn’t want to dress up to receive her mother, Laura wouldn’t have been able to explain. During the long wakeful hours, her anticipation had given way to old fears. Was she good enough for the woman everyone considered a great beauty? Did her mother really love her? Gareth had written she did. Gareth could be mistaken. His courtship could have blinded him to other matters.

  Bessie helped Laura into the gown and twitched it into place. She held up a hand mirror. Laura barely glanced at it. A footman came up to inform that Lady Helena awaited Laura downstairs.

  “My lady, the braid becomes you very well. I thought it would make you appear plain but you look even more beautiful,” Bessie said, ecstatically clasping her hands to her bosom.

  Laura smiled brightly without hearing a word. She left her room with measured steps and slowly descended the wide staircase. Lady Helena was at the landing, talking to someone who looked like an outrider. The butler and the housekeeper were busy lining up the servants.

  “My dear, let’s welcome your mother to Daventon House,” Lady Helena said, stretching out a gloved hand. “She is arriving in a few minutes.”

  Laura allowed her aunt to lead her to the foyer. They stood under the arched entrance, with a direct view of the drive. A carriage came in view. Laura stiffened and watched as it came to a stop in front of the steps. “They are here!” her aunt said, smiling.

  Laura watched as her brother helped their mother out of the carriage. He continued to hold her hand. Her mother’s smile was as bright as her own. And as brittle. She graciously inclined her head to the servants and greeted Lady Helena.

  Laura held back. The blood was pounding so hard in her veins she couldn’t hear what her mother and aunt were saying. And then her mother looked at her and opened her arms. Laura went into her mother’s embrace. Gareth walked across and held them close for a long moment.

  “Mother, you must be tired from the journey. Laura, why don’t you take Mother to her room and help her settle in?” he said.

  Laura took her mother’s hand. They were both wearing gloves. But Laura could feel that her mother’s hands were cold and shaking.

  “This is your room, Lady ...Mother. Aunt Nell says you and Father always used it when you came up to London.”

  Lady Catherine gazed at Laura, looking tremulous. “My daughter,” she murmured, reaching out to once again hold her close. At that moment Laura realized there was no need for words. A stronger language, of tears and heartfelt embraces, washed away years of doubt and separation.

  Chapter 4

  Laura looked up from her Minerva Press novel as an unfamiliar maid bobbed a curtsy. “Lady Maria sent me to help you dress for the ball, miss. I'm good at doing hair.”

  “That's kind of Lady Maria but there's no need. I have my own maid. Bessie has always attended to me.”

  “It's all right, my lady. Lady Maria asked me before sending Lucy. I don't mind,” Bessie said, coming in from the dressing room.

  Laura smiled. They were lucky in Gareth's choice of a bride. Lady Maria was all that was good and pleasing. Though it was merely three days since she had become acquainted with them, she understood that Bessie was more than her maid; she was her childhood playmate and companion.

  Bessie asked, “Shall we go up to your room, my lady? It's nigh time you were getting ready.”

  Loath to put aside the novel in which the intrepid heroine was hanging outside the hero's window by her fingertips, Laura made a face. “There's time enough for that.”

  “I must wash your hair before curling it, miss. Begging your pardon, we must hurry!” Lucy said, and along with Bessie, hustled Laura out of the room.

  Lucy set to work immediately. Bessie helped her and kept asking questions, trying to learn as much as she could. While Laura was satisfied with her limited skills, Bessie feared her ineptness could cause her mistress to appear inferior to other young women.

  “Do you have a plain strand of pearls for hair?” Lucy asked, removing the curlers.

  “There is a pearl necklace. Will it do?” Bessie asked.

  Lucy shook her head and Bessie’s face fell.

  Laura laughed. “I’m sure Lucy will think of something else. We have enough ribbons and trinkets to decorate a shop window!”

  Lady Catherine came in, holding a narrow velvet case. She had been in earlier, to see what Laura would be wearing for the ball. And then she had spent an hour delving into her jewel box for ornaments to complement the gown.

  “I found this. It’s a strand of pearls. I don’t know the current fashion but it used to be quite the rage,” she said, opening the box.

  Bessie swooped down upon it. “This will do very well, my lady!”

  “Mama, please stay until Lucy does my hair,” Laura said, and blushed.

  She knew why her mother kept coming into her room. She wanted to be with her. Laura also wanted her mother near her even though she found herself tongue-tied in her presence.

  Lady Catherine smiled brightly and sat down. Laura ignored the sheen of tears in her eyes. She prayed the evening would go well. It wasn’t her debut alone. Her mother and aunt would be appearing at a ton event after sixteen years. Her mother would draw the most attention. She could be at the receiving end of malicious talk.

  Gareth had tried to dissuade their mother but she had insisted on their coming to London. She was determined that Laura take her place in society. She also wanted to get to know her son’s betrothed.

  Lucy twined the rope of pearls into Laura's hair. Bessie tried to follow her deft fingers. “How did you do that?” she asked.

  “You can do the same with a little practice. I'll show you later if you want,” Lucy said, smiling at her enthusiasm.

  “Bessie is a quick learner. She also has a neat hand. Living in the country, we never had a need to keep abreast of fashion,” Laura said, even though it wasn’t true. They need not have rusticated. Her father was an earl. They could have entertained other notable families. Her grandparents had done so.

  “Do you like it, Lady Laura?” Lucy asked.

  Laura looked at her image. Was it really her? Her golden hair was piled high on top of her head, with one thick curl left to caress her shoulder.

  Lady Catherine murmured, “Beautiful. You look beautiful, dear.”

  Laura suddenly realized her mother was not yet ready. “Mama! I have delayed you!” she exclaimed, contrite.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. I shall be ready in time,” Lady Catherine said, and left.

  Lucy lightly dusted Laura’s face with white powder. She also teased a few curls out of Laura’s coiffure to frame her forehead. The style was very becoming. Bessie handed her the gown of white satin trimmed with fine lace and overlaid with a gauzy material of pale gold. Lucy slipped it over Laura without disturbing a single hair on her head. A necklace of pearl and topaz, with matching bracelets, and white dancing shoes completed her toilette.

  “You look lovely, my lady!” Lucy said, standing back to admire her handiwork.

  Laura smiled. “Your mistress helped me choose the gown. She has good taste.”

  “That she has, my lady, and a kind heart, too. She helped my sister when she got into trouble.”

  “What trouble?” Bessie asked, but Lucy looked stricken and said nothing.

  A maid scratched on the door. “His lordship wants to know if you are ready, Miss.”

  “Is it already time?” Laura asked and with a last glance at the mirror, darted downstairs. Her mother, aunt, and brother were waiting.

  Lord Daventon looked up and smiled. “I would never have expected you to clean up so well!”

  Laura made a face and punched him in the arm. “I wanted to thank you for the pearls and the flowers but now I shall not!” she declared.

  Lady Catherine smiled at this display of sibling love and Laura basked in the moment. Her mother loved them. Not knowing the truth, she had believed her mother had abandoned them because she didn't ca
re. Now every loving gesture and kind word thrilled her to the core.

  ***

  Maria’s grandmother, the formidable Duchess of Severn had decided that they would enter the ball as one party. The arrangement suited Laura and allayed her fears to some extent.

  The ride to Severn House was short as the house was on the same street. The Duchess of Severn and Lady Maria were waiting. Lady Maria looked striking in a burgundy colored gown. Lady Severn, though visibly old, looked regal and imposing.

  Before they left for the ball, Laura confided her fears to Lady Maria. “I'm worried there will be whispers and Mother will get upset.”

  “Lady Daventon is strong. She knows the ways of the ton. Moreover, my grandmother will keep her by her side and so will Lady Helena. What else is troubling you?”

  “I'm nervous!”

  “It feels overwhelming when you are newly come to the social scene. I'll make some debutantes known to you. It is important to have acquaintances of your own age otherwise you will feel left out on picnics and house parties.”

  “Will it be bad ton if I sit out the dances?” Laura asked and added hopefully, “Perhaps no one will ask me to dance.”

  “Have you looked into your glass? You are by far too lovely. You will be deluged with dance partners.”

  “What if I stumble or... or forget the dance steps? I've never attended a house party or a village assembly. This is a ball.”

  Lady Maria took her hand. “Laura, you dance well. I've seen you practice the steps. It will take a ball or two for you to feel confident. Until then I shall present you to young men who are also newly come or are rather shy. There is nothing worse than a partner who will chatter while you are struggling to count your steps!”

  Chapter 5

  Lady Malloy's ball was among the most sought after events of the Season. Laura would have gaped at the splendor of it had she not been brought up a lady. Her governess and her aunt had trained her in deportment and correct behavior. She managed not to stare but couldn't hide her excitement. It shone through her eyes, drawing admiring glances to her animated face.

  Her first dance was with her brother. She executed her steps flawlessly and managed to converse. True to her word, Lady Maria found partners who were not in the least intimidating. Lord Emsworth, her partner for the second dance, was heir to a dukedom but not at all stiff-necked. Laura caught him counting steps. He gave a bashful smile and shrugged. “I'm not good at dancing.”

  Instead of dissembling, Laura said, “My lord, may I offer a few pointers? I used them when I first learned to dance.”

  “Say, you are nice! Lady Priscilla was laughing at me. Not outright, she wouldn't because of my father. But I could tell!”

  After that, Laura found it easier to talk to her partners. Though some appeared to be more sophisticated, it was all pretense. They were only trying to make a good impression and were afraid of failing.

  As the dancing progressed, the ballroom became overheated. Lord Newington, a young earl not much older than Laura, asked, “May I bring you something to drink?”

  “Lemonade, my lord, if it will not be too much trouble.”

  Lord Newington offered to escort Laura back to her mother. “I'll wait there,” Laura offered, pointing to an unoccupied sofa. The ballroom was so full that she would expire of thirst by the time Lord Newington deposited her with her mother and made another trip for the lemonade.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Lord Newington escorted her to the seat and left. Laura was relieved to sit down. Her shoes were new and not very comfortable. She could feel a blister forming. Perhaps she could ease the pain if she repositioned the strap. She moved to one end of the curved sofa and spread her skirts wider. Bending down quickly, she removed her shoe.

  What a relief it was! She lifted the hem a bit to see the damage. As the lights were behind her, she couldn't make out. Sighing, she slipped her foot back into the shoe and straightened. Her eyes fell on a man. He stood a little away and was staring at her.

  Mortified that the man had seen her exposed ankle, Laura felt her face grow hot. She looked away. A moment later, she stole a glance. The man's stance was unchanged. Hands in his coat pockets, a shoulder negligently placed against a fluted pillar, and feet crossed at the ankles, he continued to look at her.

  This was the out and out of everything! Fuming, Laura glared at the man. The man started, as if only then noting her presence. Making her an elaborate leg, he turned away. Laura watched him as he threaded his way along the perimeter of the ball.

  “Your lemonade, Lady Laura.”

  Laura accepted the drink. Lord Newington sat down beside her. As she sipped the lemonade, he chatted about his home and his love for astronomy. Laura tried to pay attention but her mind kept wandering to the brooding gentleman. His knitted brows and the frown creasing his forehead spoke of troubled thoughts. Suddenly, she wanted to know what ailed him. What was the burden that prevented him from enjoying the glittering ball?

  “Lady Laura?”

  “I'm sorry. I was woolgathering. Please tell me more. Your sister seems to be wonderfully accomplished,” Laura said, and managed to give his lordship her attention until he handed her over to her next partner.

  ***

  The next morning, Laura was surprised to see pinpricks of sunlight through the curtains. Usually, she was an early riser.

  Bessie came in with her chocolate. “How was the ball, my lady?”

  Taking a welcome sip, Laura said, “It was a grand affair. The ladies wore pretty gowns, some of them shockingly revealing.”

  “And the dancing? Did you enjoy it? You were worried you wouldn't.”

  Laura laughed. “Lady Maria was right. I only needed confidence. I'm already looking forward to another ball!”

  Bessie would have asked some more questions but she was eager to try out a new hairstyle. Lucy had showed it to her before leaving.

  When Laura came down, her mother and aunt were finishing breakfast. “You are a sight for sore eyes, dear,” Lady Helena said as Laura dropped a peck on her cheek. It was how she greeted her aunt every morning.

  “You look lovely, dear,” Lady Catherine said, her eyes suspiciously bright. Feeling self-conscious, Laura bent down to kiss her mother's cheek and received a tight hug in turn.

  “Thank you, dears. Bessie has done my hair differently. She's very clever. Can you believe she's already learned three new ways of doing hair?”

  “The rose muslin becomes you well, not that you didn't look lovely in your old gowns. These are of a fashionable cut, that is all,” her aunt said with a satisfied smile.

  “Have you seen the flowers come for you?” Lady Catherine asked.

  “Flowers? For me? Who sent them?”

  “I counted seven when I came down. You are a success, my dear!”

  There were eleven bouquets in all. A maid had arranged them tastefully in the drawing room. Laura took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of roses and lilies. In addition to the gentlemen with whom she had danced, four others had thought fit to send flowers.

  Laura skipped away to the library, to share her success with her brother. Gareth wasn't in there.

  “His lordship has gone to Severn House,” a footman informed her.

  Laura suppressed a smile. Her brother was well and truly snared. He had always protested he wouldn't marry for love. Love is a quagmire I will not be caught in, he was wont to say. And now he was living in Lady Maria's pockets.

  As Laura walked across the foyer, she heard voices. The butler was talking to someone at the door. She stopped behind an arrangement of potted plants and peeped. It was the man from the ball! John was telling him that Gareth was not at home.

  As the man turned to leave, his eyes locked with Laura's. He paused and flashed a smile. The man had dimples! Either that or the folly of hiding in her own home made Laura step out. In spite of the blush staining her cheeks, she stood ramrod straight and inclined her head. The man's lips curved into an appreciative smile. On
ce again he favored her with a bow, and left.

  “Who is he?” Laura asked John, miffed that the man hadn't come in and introduced himself. That would have been the right thing to do. Not at the ball, where he couldn't speak to her unless presented but surely, in her home, it would have been civil to make himself known.

  “Lady Laura, he is the Duke of Wimberley. He was here to call upon the master.”

  So the man was a duke. Well, his Grace was shockingly lacking in social graces, Laura thought, and with a toss of her head, entered the withdrawing room, to await the first of her callers.

  ***

  Laura was not prone to headaches or to fainting spells. However, after an hour of being surrounded by a cluster of young men spouting inane lines and making sheep eyes, her temples started to throb. To make matters worse, Mr. Bennett, a baron's son newly come to London, chose to wear a sickeningly sweet scent. He even carried a perfumed handkerchief. The cloying scents coming from him were making Laura nauseous.

  Lord Newington was on her other side. Laura decided he was a bore. He kept talking about his family, and about the sightings from a telescope, all in a monotone. After some time it was nigh impossible to unravel whether he spoke of his sister or a star.

  The third caller, she supposed, belonged to the dandy set. Attired in mauve, with an excess of pomade holding up his hair, he looked old. At least thirty, Laura thought, worrying how she would manage a conversation with him. It turned out she didn’t need to. Lord Hennicker liked to listen to his own voice.

  He paid extravagant compliments to Lady Helena and Lady Daventon and launched into a long-winded description of something to do with the upholstery of his carriage. Then he removed a sheet of paper from his coat. “Lady Laura, I wrote a poem about you.”

  “I don't...” Laura began and caught her aunt's eye.

  “I don't think I deserve a poem, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth.