Chapter Three
“This afternoon, we are going to see Madame Justine to order you some new gowns,” Lavinia told her sister. “I have given her enough custom that I believe I have won her grudging respect. She will help us choose the right colors and styles for you and will engage to have them made up quickly.”
Sophronia said, “This is your wedding, dearest, not mine. It does not matter what I wear.” She had never given much thought to her clothes.
“I blame myself for not thinking of it earlier,” Lavinia said. “I have been entirely too swept up in my own affairs. Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I had a sudden vision of you in poppy-colored silk. I think you would look glorious.”
Two o’clock found them ensconced in Madame Justine’s salon, viewing mannequins as they modeled gowns and day dresses that both the modiste and Lavinia thought would flatter Sophronia's slim figure. They chose several with clever, classic lines and no flounces or furbelows.
Sophronia watched in amusement as her sister supervised the process. It was rather endearing to have Lavinia make such a fuss over her. As the eldest of the two, Sophronia was usually the one to lead out.
When it came to choosing fabrics, Madame Justine had much the same thoughts as Lavinia had expressed about colors.
“Too many fair ladies, they make the mistake of wearing the pastels that wash out their looks. Your sister, she needs the warm colors.”
Bolts of silk, satin, and muslin were brought out. Sophronia stood as the two women draped her in various shades. Eventually, the ladies were satisfied. She was to have new gowns in poppy, royal blue, blue-green, and gold. Her day dresses were in similarly colored muslins. Madame Justine promised that she would put her seamstresses to work immediately that they might have the new frocks by the coming weekend.
Next, Lavinia took her sister to Monsieur Claude, her hairdresser. The man was very small and stood on a riser to practice his art, but he was apparently all the rage.
“You have the subtle beauty, my lady. You need a special look that I, Monsieur Claude, will create just for you.”
Sophronia watched with horror as the locks about her face were cut short, but was somewhat relieved when the hairdresser curled them with the iron. The softness made a flattering, wispy cloud about her small features. The rest of her hair was dressed high on her head, adding height. Lavinia watched carefully so that she could instruct their maid on the details.
With her new, fashionable look, Sophronia felt a bit giddy.
“Darling Lavinia, I feel like a new woman. Let me treat you to an ice at Gunter’s.”
Lavinia ordered a lemon ice, and Sophronia a raspberry, her very favorite. As they were seated in the confectionery among others of the ton enjoying this special treat, she said, “Lavinia, you are truly the best of sisters, but I fear that your efforts will be wasted.”
“Surely not!” her sister said. “Even you must have noticed how lovely those colors were on you.”
“It is my tongue that is the bigger problem. I fear I am not a submissive woman. I shall never experience your happiness.”
“You just need to meet the proper gentleman.”
Sophronia sighed dramatically. “And what is your idea of a gentleman who would put up with my temperament?”
“Someone who is not afraid of an intelligent woman. Or a woman who expresses herself with great sincerity.”
“Such a paragon does not exist, dearest. I dare not show my true colors even to your Lord Gilbert, lest he change his mind about our proposed living arrangements.”
“Lord Gilbert is very fond of you.”
“Ah, but he does not know me, Vinnie. It worries me a little.”
Her sister protested. “You are not going to put him off, my dear. Trust me.”
Sophronia spoke the worry that had lain upon her heavily since her talk with the duke. “I shall not be able to rein in my opinions if I am living in the man’s house year in and year out, Vinnie. He will find me tiresome, at best.”
“Even if that were true, you are not going to be living with us forever. You are going to be married yourself to said perfect gentleman.”
“Oh, Vinnie! It vexes me terribly that my future is entirely in the hands of men—my uncle, your Lord Gilbert, and just possibly some as yet unknown person. I should be perfectly content to live alone in a cottage with a garden.”
“You think so, but I know you would be miserable living alone. You are not formed for solitude, dearest. You are far too passionate. There is only one solution: you must marry for love to someone of equal passion.”
“I fear you are a dreamer, Vinnie.”
Lavinia reached across the table and placed her hand over her sister’s. “And I know I am right.”
That evening, they attended a ball given for the engaged couple by Gilbert’s aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Montford. Lavinia had lent Sophronia a gown of gold and white striped tissue, and Sophronia felt quite a different person as she made her way through the receiving line. Her greatly improved appearance was to be given a test tonight. Would the “proper gentleman,” as Lavinia had termed him, notice her and fall hopelessly under her spell? She smiled to herself. Not likely. If she ever had a love affair, it would not begin like that.
The ballroom was richly adorned with red satin on the walls and, other than the space dedicated to the dance floor, was divided up into conversation areas with potted boxwood hedges and exotic flower arrangements featuring birds of paradise.
When Sophronia approached, Lady Montford, known for her supreme lack of tact, commented, “My heavens! Lady Sophronia, you are almost a beauty. Is she not, my lord?”
Her husband, an aging rogue, kissed Sophronia's knuckles. “I only hope you will save me a dance, my dear.”
When the receiving line was broken up, Lavinia’s fiancé paid Sophronia more than his usual attention. As they moved out into the ballroom, he said, “I understand that you put my brother in his place last evening.”
“He has been having you on. We had a lovely conversation, full of mutual respect,” Sophronia said, grinning with mischief. “I am only surprised that you never told me how charming he could be, Lord Gilbert.”
“Charming?” His eyebrows climbed in astonishment. “Mayfield?”
“We had a very enlightening discussion about politics.”
“My lady, you are having me on. My brother abhors politics.”
“So he said,” Sophronia told him.
“I would have loved to have been a mouse in the corner, listening to that discussion,” Lord Gilbert replied. Turning to his fiancée, he asked, “May I have this dance, dearest?”
“You may,” Lavinia said. “Is your brother to join us tonight?”
“I would be very surprised if he did. Mayfield is not a dancer, you know.”
Sophronia watched them move off toward the dance floor and thought how much she disliked balls. Because of her sister’s engagement, she was attending far more this Season than usual. Even with her improved appearance, she did not relish exhibiting herself. Unlike Lavinia, she had always been a wallflower, never knowing quite what to do while her sister danced with her many admirers. Because she was assertive in most other areas of her life, this state of affairs made her very uncomfortable. Now she stood fidgeting with her fan and was soon relieved to see her kind friend, Lord Tobias “Tubby” Stephens, approaching her.
“’Evening, Lady Sophronia,” his lordship greeted her. “May I say that you are looking lovely tonight?”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Do me the honor of dancing with me?”
As pleasant as Tubby was, he did not dance well. However, since she had seen no one with whom she wanted to converse, she agreed and was soon being guided inexpertly about the floor. Tubby’s conversation centered on his new geldings and the upcoming curricle race. Sophronia was only listening with half an ear, so she did not miss the announcement of the Duke of Mayfield’s arrival.
She placed a f
oot wrong in the dance and nearly took a tumble.
“Excuse me, Lord Stephens,” she said.
“’S all right, my lady. Not the best dancer myself.”
She scrambled for something to say. “I see the Duke of Mayfield has arrived. I hear he is to compete in the curricle race, as well.”
Tubby smiled. “Right. Got a brilliant pair. Difficult to beat. Favorite, in fact.”
“I do not know precisely when this race is to take place.”
“Saturday week. Do you plan to watch?”
“I think I shall.” Sophronia reasoned that Lord Gilbert would probably escort her and Lavinia if she asked him. Undoubtedly, he would be waiting at the finish line in Brighton for his brother.
“Splendid! Like to show you my geldings. Would you come for a ride with me in the park tomorrow? Five o’clock?”
The fashionable hour. She liked to take the air, and a ride in the park appealed to her.
“That would be lovely, my lord. I should like to see these horses of yours.”
“You are fond of horses? I had no idea.”
“I have a nice little mare that I ride in the park in the mornings,” she said. “But I am not a brilliant horsewoman.”
“Jolly good! Will join you some time, if I may.”
When the dance ended, they joined Lavinia and Lord Gilbert. Sophronia noted that the duke was making his way across the room toward them. Bother the man!
“Lavinia and I should very much like to accompany you to Brighton for the curricle race,” she told her sister’s fiancé.
Lord Gilbert looked surprised, but Lavinia looked stunned. “We would?” her sister said.
“Why ever not? I think it sounds to be great fun!”
Lavinia’s eyes took on a sudden sparkle. “If we go to Brighton, we shall not be far from Harcourt!” Turning to Gilbert, she said, “Oh, my lord, I should so like to see my new home!”
Was that a look of panic chasing across Gilbert’s face? Before Sophronia could react, the duke joined their circle, and she became distracted. He came first to her, and she gave him her hand in greeting.
Bowing over it, he said, “Lady Sophronia, good evening.” He looked remarkably handsome with a lock of his wavy hair curling over his brow. Through her gloves, she felt the heat of his hand and quickly disengaged herself.
Lord Gilbert greeted his brother heartily, and Tubby immediately engaged the duke in talk of the curricle race. Soon all the men were talking of horses. Uncomfortable in the duke’s presence, Sophronia looped her arm through her sister’s. “Come, let us go greet Lady Saunders and her sister. I have heard that their brother is very ill.”
“Very well,” Lavinia agreed.
They spent the next hour mingling with London acquaintances until Lord Gilbert came to claim Lavinia for the supper dance. With him was the duke.
“Are you engaged for this dance?” he asked Sophronia.
It was odd, but she could not think of a thing to say. She shook her head. Offering his arm, he led her out onto the dance floor.
The duke was surprisingly skilled at the minuet. Sophronia concentrated on her steps, more self-conscious than ever of her lack of grace on the dance floor.
“You have changed your hair,” he said. “It suits you.”
Amazed that he had noticed, she said, “Thank you, Your Grace. Lavinia has taken me in hand.”
“I understand from Tub—Lord Stephens that you are to be in Brighton for the finish of the curricle race.”
“If Lord Gilbert will escort us there. Since they have caused such a stir, I have a mind to see these blacks of yours in action. Lord Stephens says you are favored to win.”
“I am surprised at your interest, I must say.”
For a moment, Sophronia concentrated on her feet. “I have an interest in many things, Your Grace. Believe it or not, one of my interests is horses.”
“Hmm. Horses, politics, and literacy for the poor. I must say you are an unusual young lady.”
“I also enjoy the theater and medical science,” she said, stifling a grin.
“Surely you jest!” He looked genuinely appalled.
“Not really. I began reading Shakespeare at the age of six years . . .”
“Now that I do not find surprising, but medical science?”
“Someday I may discuss my reasons, but not at present. A ball is no place for serious conversation.”
He gave her his one-sided grin. “Precisely the reason I usually avoid them.”
Keeping a straight face, she answered, “So I would imagine.”
As he led her into supper, she said, “I think we are finally to see Harcourt. My sister has asked Lord Gilbert to take us there when we go to Brighton.”
To her surprise, he stiffened and gave her a searching stare. “Gil agreed to that?”
“Why would he not?” she asked. “It is to be her home.”
He did not answer, but frowned instead. Sophronia grew puzzled.
The supper consisted of the usual lobster patties, fruit compotes, jellies, and cold meats. She found she had a hearty appetite.
“I see you do not subscribe to the sanction against eating adhered to by most delicate young ladies,” Mayfield observed.
“How ungentlemanly you are to remark on it,” she said. “I do enjoy food when it is well-prepared, and I particularly dislike having to pretend ennui in the face of a lovely spread.”
“I perceive that your aunt must starve you, for you are thin as a rail.”
“Another ungentlemanly comment. How refreshing you are, to be sure.”
The duke said, “How happy I am that my conversation pleases you.”
They joined Lavinia and Lord Gilbert with a table full of friends who were discussing the theater. Soon the others drifted back to the ballroom until Sophronia and the duke were alone with Lord Gilbert and Lavinia.
“I would so like to see Harcourt,” Lavinia said. “It is close to Brighton, is it not? Do you not think we could stay there on our way back to London after the race?”
Normally, Lord Gilbert would do anything to please her sister, so Sophronia was surprised to see his brow furrowed over eyes dark with consternation.
“Unfortunately, the staff is on holiday while I am having some repairs made. It would not be a good time to visit,” he said. “I want everything to be perfect for you, dearest.”
Sophronia detected a false heartiness in his voice. Was Lord Gilbert prevaricating? She told herself she was imagining things. Why on earth would Lavinia’s fiancé not want her to see her future home?
She felt the duke’s eyes on her and looked up at him. His expression was unusually solemn. There was an undercurrent here she did not understand.
The duke adjourned to the card room following supper, and Lavinia seemed to have grown suddenly weary. She asked Lord Gilbert to see them home.
It seemed they were all a bit tired after the second ball in as many days, and the conversation lagged in the carriage. They said their good-nights, and the sisters climbed the stairs to their joint dressing room.
“It is late,” said Lavinia. “We can help each other undress without calling Hannah at this hour.”
“Very well,” said Sophronia. “Did you enjoy the evening? Gilbert’s aunt and uncle have a lovely home, do they not?”
“Yes. And the ballroom was most creatively decorated. I shall make a note of it in my journal, and maybe sometime years hence when I hold a ball, I will use the idea of the boxwood hedges. They were very effective at breaking up the room.”
“I am so thrilled at the idea that you will have your own home,” Sophronia told her sister.
“Yes, it will be lovely. But did you not think Gilbert acted a bit strange when I asked to see it?”
“I did, actually. But perhaps he just wants it to be perfect for you.”
Wednesday was a quiet day with afternoon visits and only the sisters at home for tea. Among London Society, their aunt was very much in demand as a whist player and
never home unless she was receiving.
“Tubby is to take me riding in the park this afternoon,” Sophronia commented.
“He is very smitten by you, dearest. I hope you are not going to break his heart.”
“He is very kind. I was thinking last night that I could do worse, you know.”
“But you are not in love with Tubby!” protested Lavinia.
“I think in my case an alliance with a friend is all that I have to look forward to, Vinnie. We have discussed it before. I am five-and-twenty, and you are to be married. Tubby has no hardened vices of which I am aware. I believe he would be an attentive husband and a good father.”
“Oh, dearest, I should so much like to see you in love.”
Sophronia smiled gently at her sister. A man of mercurial temperament such as Gilbert could never appeal to her. He was either in alt or feeling glum. Much better to marry someone steady. She had her own interests, after all. “Tubby would suit me very nicely, if only I can bring him up to scratch.” Patting her sister’s knee, she said, “I must go change if I am to be ready for him.”
The park appeared at its loveliest that afternoon. This early in the spring, the blossoms were still on the trees or blowing about on the breeze. Tubby’s geldings were indeed top quality. They were bays and did very well in the crowded park, considering they were racing horses.
“Like to take the ribbons?” he asked her.
“You would not mind?”
“If you were not a sensible woman, I would not offer,” her companion said with a laugh. “They would be able to tell if you were flighty or inclined to hysteria.”
“You believe them to have human sensibilities?”
“Of course.” He smiled at her, and she thought how transparent his feelings were. His lordship never postured or boasted. He appeared to be that rare human being who was content.
But Sophronia was never content. Whenever she looked about, she saw things she wanted to change—the plight of the poor, the morals of the rich, the irresponsibility of the nobility . . .
As though she had conjured him, the Duke of Mayfield pulled up beside their carriage. He rode a white stallion and was dressed entirely in black. Raising his beaver hat, he said, “What, ho, Lady Sophronia and Tubby! Are these the famous geldings?”
Spring in Hyde Park Page 10