But her adventure was not yet over. Their coach, arriving in Hill Street four hours later than expected, had just drawn up, and Lenora just alighted, when a link boy sauntered down the pavement, followed closely by a gentleman in a startling waistcoat and innumerable fobs and seals. As the boy was passing the horses’ heads, his hire let out an exclamation which caused the boy to turn quickly, flashing his torch too close to the near animal’s head. The horse reared and started forward, jerking free the halter, and the postilion at his head, who had been distracted by the rather fantastic dress of the gentleman, fell off balance and to the curb as the horses and the chaise bowled forward. Mrs. Breckinridge, still on the step of the coach, was flung to the side, but as she had a hold on the strap inside the door, she did not fall, but swung alarmingly outside the chaise as it jolted up the street, the link boy and his hire gaping and Lenora, terrified, watching helplessly from the base of the townhouse steps.
The chaise had thankfully not time to attain much speed, for another gentleman, walking down the pavement away from them, turned back at the commotion, and instantly jumped to seize the collar of the offending horse as it drew alongside. He threw his weight forward, aided by the nearest post boy, who had gotten his wits and also leapt after the coach, until the horses slowed to a halt. Leaving the handling of the animals to the post boys, the gentleman lost no time in rendering assistance to the dangling lady.
“Are you hurt, ma’am?” he asked as he set her, trembling but upright, on solid ground.
Mrs. Breckinridge, gripping the lapels of his coat, took several seconds to reply, her face hidden to him by her bonnet as she tried to steady her breathing. “I—I don’t believe so, sir. I am only—a bit rattled, I think.”
He waited until her grip loosened, then drew away from her, watching to be sure she could stand, but when she lifted her face to utter, “Thank you, sir,” he stared in as much surprise as did she.
At that moment, a shriek echoed from the door of Lady Cammerby’s house. “Joshua! Oh, you have saved her! Good gracious, Genevieve! What a blessing of providence!”
Sir Joshua’s eyes narrowed at the lady before him. “Mrs.—Mrs. Breckinridge?”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her pale cheeks flushing. “Ah, Fates! My mortification may not end in anonymity.” She drew a deep breath and looked again at her savior. “You have the advantage of me, sir. Though I believe I may assume you to be Amelia’s brother.”
“I am Sir Joshua Stiles,” he said coolly, his civility once more falling prey to darkling suspicions.
Lady Cammerby, meanwhile, had sailed down the steps and nearly collided with the other post boy, upon whom Lenora, having observed in rapidly reversing emotions her mother’s peril and rescue, could do nothing more proper than to fall in a swoon.
Mrs. Breckinridge, perceiving this circumstance in dismay, accepted Sir Joshua’s assistance to walk, and in reaching her daughter, she bent to pat the girl’s cheek, gently at first, then more sharply. “Lenora! No need for theatrics, my love!”
Having fainted more out of propriety than necessity, Lenora’s swoon was not deep, and her eye lids flicked open. “Mama! That hurt!”
Collecting with some disappointment that Miss wasn’t dead, the postilion heaved Lenora up to her feet and Mrs. Breckinridge put an arm firmly about her waist, turning to regard her hostess and her rescuer, who had stepped away from the group and stood viewing the proceedings through hooded eyes, his countenance disapproving.
“Good evening, Amelia!” Genevieve said in a bracing tone. “What an exciting entrance we’ve achieved! And Sir Joshua, I must sincerely thank you again.”
He bowed slightly to her, but Lady Cammerby forestalled anything he may have said by pushing forward to clasp her friend to her bosom. “Oh, Genevieve, my heart was in my throat! I am still all of a tremor, and can hardly speak! Cottam had only just informed me of your arrival, and no sooner had I come to the front window than the horses bolted, and I daresay I should have fainted dead away had Joshua not caught them! To think that he had just started out to his club after dinner here!”
“A lucky chance indeed,” said Sir Joshua, smiling cynically. “Your obedient servant, Mrs. Breckinridge.”
The lady blushed, but her eyes danced. “Yes, it seems that you are destined to be so, Sir Joshua.” He raised an eyebrow and she took his meaning, quickly making her face as grave as his. “We must put a stop to it.”
He blinked rather quellingly at her, and transferred his somber gaze to Lenora, who had been gazing at him in bemusement during this entire exchange. “Are you quite well, Miss Breckinridge?”
Lenora started. “Oh! Oh, yes, thank you, sir! Perfectly, sir!” She curtseyed to him, smiling brilliantly. “We are indebted to you, sir!”
Sir Joshua, regarding her somewhat doubtfully, gave an infinitesimal bow that included all the ladies. “I shall detain you no longer, then. Good evening.”
“But, Joshua, they have just arrived, and you have been waiting to meet them!” cried his sister.
He bowed again, fixing his hat firmly on his head. “And we have met, Amelia. But I have an engagement which has already awaited me these two hours, and which I am unwilling to put off longer.”
Lady Cammerby could only regard his retreating figure with consternation, but firmly dismissed his incivility from her mind in favor of shepherding her guests into the house, calling orders to her servants between exclamations of dismay.
“I daresay you are completely overset! Cottam, tea at once for our guests in the Blue Saloon. Four hours late! I cower to think what trials kept you on the road, and then such a calamity! Gerald, take the trunks up to their rooms. Come this way, my dears, upstairs. Such a near thing with that horrid link boy!”
She maintained this tirade as she saw her guests installed in the saloon, with the tea things set before them, then sank herself into a wing chair, groping for her vinaigrette.
Genevieve chuckled at her friend. “It seems you are the one to be overset, my dear Amelia! I shall pour out the tea while you recover.”
This heretical suggestion instantly revived Lady Cammerby, who sat up in her chair. “You shall do no such thing as a guest in my house, Genevieve! Only give me a moment.” Breathing deeply of her vinaigrette, she resolutely put it aside, declaring herself to be fortified against further weakness, and well able to do her duty. This she did, solicitously asking their preferences for milk and sugar, and entertaining small talk while Lenora gazed about in amazement at the grandeur of her surroundings.
Having been born in a manor house, Lenora had some experience of the elegancies of life, but it had been many years since her family had commanded the majority of these, and she had never, due to her father’s propensity to throw money to the four winds, experienced such comfort as she collected her hostess could afford. Upon entering Lady Cammerby’s house, she had counted two footmen, a butler, and two maids, and felt certain that several more maids, a cook, a housekeeper, and more footmen were most likely in residence. The entry hall of this London townhome was more spacious than that of Branwell Cottage, and the stairs swept up in graceful curves to the floors above. They had passed a well-appointed music room with a pianoforte and a harp in the corner, and a comfortable drawing room on their way to the Blue Saloon, which was furnished in the first style of elegance. Lenora had no doubt that the rest of the house, including the room in which she was to pass the next several months, was fitted up in just such a style, and her good fortune took her breath away.
When the tea things were removed, Lady Cammerby leaned back again in the chair with a gusty sigh. “There,” she said. “Now we are comfortable and may look upon the evening with composure.”
“I have always believed that tea heals all ills,” said Genevieve, twinkling at her hostess.
“That may well be true, but still, there was a deal of trouble for you tonight!”
“Oh, m
a’am, but it was such an exciting day!” put in Lenora, whose awe of her hostess’s magnificent home did not extend to its owner, the lady’s motherly manner upon their reception having banished all discomfort. “Only imagine, we met a man whose pig had won a prize for most closely resembling Prinny!”
“Good gracious!” uttered Lady Cammerby, grasping her vinaigrette once more.
“I thought it a most handsome pig, Amelia,” offered Genevieve. “I am persuaded that the Prince Regent himself would have been honored by the distinction.”
“Well!” said their hostess, but the mischievous glimmer in her friend’s eye elicited a reluctant chuckle. “For shame, Genevieve! One would think you a seditionist, from the shocking things you say! But it was ever so with you, was it not?”
“I have never done well with authority, it is true, but I fear I lack the spirit to topple an entire monarchy, Amelia. The Prince Regent is safe from me. The pig in his image, however, must beware. There is not much I would not do for a good ham.”
Lady Cammerby expostulated further over Lenora’s giggles, and the conversation moved to a description of the other adventures that had delayed their arrival—notably, the kindness of the engaging Mr. Ginsham.
“It seems, dear Amelia, that we are beset by Galahads,” observed Genevieve. “And only a few months past I had bemoaned the fate of chivalry to my cook.”
Lenora sat forward in her chair. “Oh, Mama! I had no notion such things happened outside the covers of a novel! When the horses bolted, I was so shocked that I hardly knew what to think! I cannot comprehend how you ever kept your footing!”
“Nor can I, my dear, except that I am incurably tenacious, if only for a few seconds, which is exactly as long as I was in any danger.”
“I will tell you,” inserted Lady Cammerby portentously, “that Joshua left this house only minutes before, I daresay just as you drew up. It was the hand of Providence.” She pressed a hand to her heart, which she declared to be palpitating as much with the memory as at the time of the incident.
“Your brother is very brave,” breathed Lenora, round-eyed. “Such presence of mind, and disinterested response!” She turned to her mother. “He saved your life, Mama!”
“Possibly, my dear, and I am enduringly grateful to him,” Genevieve answered ruminatively, “But my pride is a trifle injured that he did not appear the least gratified by the circumstance. Is he always so frigidly civil, Amelia?”
Lady Cammerby, uncomfortably aware of her brother’s opinion, however unjust, of her friend, valiantly attempted to explain away his coldness, and succeeded merely in satisfying her friend’s rather unflattering idea of his character.
“I see,” remarked Genevieve, looking thoughtful. “If I am to retrieve my standing with him, I must take care not to require his assistance.”
Her ladyship was greatly distressed. “You must not think so ill of him, Genevieve, for he truly is a gentleman!” she cried.
“I have no doubts on that head, my dear Amelia,” soothed her friend, “and quite consider him my knight errant, for though his reticence has rendered his armor a bit rusty, he did not, after all, hesitate to aid me.”
“How right you are, Mama!” declared Lenora, much struck.
“Your sentiments do you credit, Genevieve,” conceded Lady Cammerby. “And in the same spirit of good will, I shall endeavor to present you next to him in a more felicitous light, for I am determined that neither of you should, from cruel happenstance, wrong the other.”
All the ladies were late to the breakfast table next morning, the rigors of the previous day having rendered them exhausted. But a new day brought renewed vigor, and they each made a hearty meal as they entered energetically into plans for the season’s success.
“The gowns must be ordered first,” declared Lady Cammerby, cutting her toast into strips for dipping, “for dear Madame Francome will be beset with work before the week’s out and we cannot risk a delay to Lenora’s ball.”
Genevieve waved a hand. “Oh, but dear Amelia, we have provided for Lenora’s gowns already.”
Her friend blinked, a piece of toast poised over her teacup. “But Genevieve, how—”
“I have saved all my lovely gowns, from my season, the half of which I wore only once or twice, before Bertram whisked me away into the country.”
The toast fell from Lady Cammerby’s suddenly nerveless fingers, splashing into the tea as she stared horror-struck at her friend. “My dear, you cannot be serious!”
Genevieve caught Lenora’s eye, which gleamed appreciatively. “Why ever would I not be serious, Amelia?” she said, all innocence. “They were perfectly good!”
“You wish me to launch Lenora in your old dresses—”
“She is just my size, and has my coloring, too!”
“Dresses from the last century?” Lady Cammerby’s voice achieved an octave that rang in the glassware. “What can you be thinking?”
Delighted laughter bubbled from Genevieve, and Lenora covered her grin with her napkin. “Oh, Amelia, how can you be such a goosecap?” She wiped tears from her eyes. “I did save the dresses, for the fabric, and we have made new, and they turned out beautifully. I am convinced they shall meet with even your high expectations.”
“Well!” Lady Cammerby pressed a hand to her bosom, her lips pursed. “What a schoolgirl prank to play upon one, Genevieve!” She pushed her teacup of soggy toast away and went to the sideboard for another cup, glancing in disapprobation from one to the other of her mirthful guests. “I vow I never imagined you would be so rag-mannered as to—as to—” But in the face of such good-humor, her umbrage failed, and her lips began to twitch, and then her stiffness vanished altogether. Joining in their laughter, she said, “The tables have not turned, have they, my dearest Genevieve?”
“Not in the least.” Genevieve smiled mischievously at her. “I promise I shall endeavor to be more grown up from now on, but I could not resist when you almost begged for such a trick, you know I could not!”
“No, you never could.” She rejoined them at the table, her look becoming reflective. “Though, I wonder that your humor survived—well, everything, my dear.”
Her guests’ mirth was stifled, as if a jug of cold water had been tossed over them. Lady Cammerby lowered her gaze. “Oh, pray, do forgive me! It was unfeeling of me, and—and—”
Genevieve reached quickly to press her friend’s hand. “There is nothing to forgive, my dear Amelia. That my marriage was an unhappy one is universally known. But perhaps it was because of good humor that I survived it.”
The other two ladies’ eyes sought relief in the pattern of the tablecloth, and Genevieve tossed her napkin onto her plate. “But enough of ancient history! We have much more agreeable things to discuss. Gowns we are sure of—”
Amelia put up an imperative hand. “Made-over gowns may be good enough for picnics and parties, but I depend upon providing Lenora’s ball gowns, my dear. I shall brook no arguments on that head! I have no daughters of my own, and if there is one thing for which I have an eye, it is fashion, and one derives only so much satisfaction from the dressing of oneself!”
“Oh, but Amelia, the expense!”
“No, I insist upon it, Genevieve!”
Genevieve cast her daughter a droll look, and answered, “You are too, too good, my dear friend.”
“Oh, pish! A mere trifle, and it will give me far greater enjoyment than it will either of you, I'll warrant!”
Thus, rising from the breakfast table in perfect charity with one another, the three ladies set forth on a week of dissipation and extravagance the likes of which at least two of them had never before experienced, but if one of the three was afforded more enjoyment than the others in this, none was the wiser. Lenora emerged from this experience the dazed possessor of not only three new ball gowns—which would be delivered as they were completed—but also three pair
of long, white satin gloves, a silk net shawl, and a dainty silver reticule, all of which her hostess assured her were indispensable to her toilette, and so must be purchased.
Within the week came Miss Chuddsley to add to Lenora’s pleasure, and no sooner had the two been reunited than a scheme arose to take them to the new but already legendary Soho Bazaar where, Elvira assured her friend in an awed undertone, one would find the most incredible bargains on everything required for the happiness and success of a young lady embarking upon her first season in London. Mrs. Breckinridge and Lady Cammerby being engaged to visit an old school acquaintance, the two girls were given use of the carriage and a footman to carry their purchases, and set out together with every expectation of enjoyment.
“Lady Cammerby seems a most agreeable hostess, Lenora! Much better than my stuffy Aunt Isobel,” confided Elvira as they sorted through a dizzying array of reticules at one of the tables at the Bazaar. “If she gives a single party this season, other than my ball, which Mama nearly had to extort a promise from her to give, I shall count myself shocked and amazed. Oh, Lenora, wouldn’t this be just the thing for my figured muslin?”
“But surely your aunt won’t need to put herself out! You’ve told me of three invitations you’ve received already this week, and you have hardly set foot in town!”
Elvira giggled. “It is gratifying, to be sure! But it is all Mama’s doing. Though little George’s health will not permit her to stay long after the ball—she will stay for yours, of course—all her friends have engaged to take me in hand, so she need not worry for my success. And Mama has already received a promise from Lady Jersey to permit me a voucher for Almack’s! Has Lady Cammerby procured one for you?”
“Oh, she has spoken of it, but I doubt she has had the time to pursue it, so busy has she been about my gowns and things. I have no doubt but that she will, however! She has been all that is generous, and I could never be happier! Look, Elvira, I declare this is the exact pattern I saw in that expensive modiste’s shop last week! And at such a bargain!”
Two in the Bush Page 5