“You may need to watch out for the elder Armitage though; his pockets are almost certainly to let since I gather that he is excessively extravagant as well as being a serious gamester. I hope you will not be swayed either by his looks or by a likely increase in his compliments. I should not like you to marry a gamester; they are nothing but trouble.”
“Certainly not! I do not in the least care for John Armitage. I think him a dissolute young man interested only in his own pleasure. If I favoured either of those boys, it would be the younger, who is modest and unassuming – but too young for me. Let us hope that the elder will not be able to attend.”
“Indeed. I own I have no desire to entertain him - he would find the stakes I shall permit excessively tame but it would be uncivil not to include him in the invitation.”
The card party was to take place only a few days before Lord Marklye’s dinner so that there was no time to be lost in sending out the cards and planning the arrangement of the tables and the supper.
For the next few days Mary was careful not to wander too far on her afternoon walks and to keep well away from the river. She and her employer spent a great deal of time conferring with the cook over the food to be served.
Lady Leland seemed to have taken on a new lease of life, refusing to allow Mary to do anything for her apart from reading a few chapters of Childe Harold every evening. It was plain that she did not listen to above half of what Mary diligently ploughed through because when, to test her, she read the whole of one portion two nights running, her ladyship made no remark. She put a veto on her companion wielding a needle in case she should prick her fingers and would not even permit her to play the pianoforte until she was certain that the cut was entirely healed.
“He will expect you to play at his dinner and we need to make sure that you will be quite better by then. It would not do if your finger still pained you for then you would play stiffly and he would not get the full measure of your skill.”
Mary laughed. “He is not thinking of employing me as a resident musician, is he? And, if I do not practise, I shall forget all my pieces.”
“Nonsense! It is only for a few days. You shall read instead and let us endeavour to finish that excessively tedious work you have been boring me with for so long that I can barely remember a time when we were not reading it.”
“I don’t believe you listen to half of it. If you do not care for it, why do we not abandon it and find something more to your liking?”
“Because it keeps you occupied, my dear, and because the soothing sound of your voice permits my mind to range over all sorts of subjects while you are reading. I know perfectly well that you read the same passage two nights running – did you think I did not notice?”
“I own I did although I was surprised; my manner of reading must be abominably dull; I daresay you dislike the work on that account; Lord Byron should probably not be held responsible for its soporific qualities.”
“No, indeed, but neither should you, my dear. I am looking forward to the card party. I wonder if you should buy a new dress – certainly you will need one for dinner at Marklye.”
“I hope you are not placing too much significance on either entertainment. Would it not look odd if I were all of a sudden to throw off my grey dress and emerge as a brightly coloured butterfly?”
“On the contrary, I think it would be odd if you did not. It will encourage people to look at you in a different light. We will make a little trip into Tunbridge Wells tomorrow and see what we can find. I shall not permit you to go alone for ten to one you would return empty-handed, stating that there was nothing to be had, or – even worse – you would purchase another grey dress made up to the neck. You look very well in grey but a more up-to-the-minute style is required and I shall oversee it. I don’t suppose there will be a great deal of choice in Tunbridge Wells but we don’t have time to go to London.”
“I should think not,” Mary agreed fervently. She hoped that the old lady’s new-found energy would not end in an attack of excessive fatigue.
Tunbridge Wells turned out to be well supplied with shops selling ladies’ gowns and it was not long before Lady Leland and her young companion found themselves comfortably ensconced in a shop rejoicing in the name of Madame Hortense’s Modes. Before they entered, the two women indulged in a lively discussion about the pronunciation of the word ‘Modes’: the first part of the shop’s name was undoubtedly French; on the other hand, the presence of the apostrophe was entirely English. Modes was an acceptable, if to their minds absurd, anglicised word and the primming of the lips required to render it entirely English perfectly suited to the female who darted forward to greet them as soon as they opened the door. She was dressed in a manner which her customers guessed must be the height of fashion although neither was in a position to be certain what that might be.
“Madam, my lady, Miss,” this person greeted them effusively in accents which were incontrovertibly English. She could no doubt discern that cost was unlikely to be an object with the old lady in spite of the antiquated design of her outfit.
“There are only two of us,” her ladyship snapped irritably.
“Yes, indeed, my lady.” The curt reply alerted the shopkeeper to the likelihood that the older lady – presumably the one in charge of the purse strings – probably was a lady. “How may I assist you? Pray come through to my sitting room where you will not be troubled by any other customers. I will lock the door so that we can be quite undisturbed.”
“Very kind, I’m sure,” Lady Leland replied, stemming the eager flow, “but, before we trouble you, I should like you to give me an idea of the sort of garments you sell. It will be of no use our sitting down in your back parlour and preventing any other customers entering your shop if you do not stock the sort of clothes we require. I am not looking for anything for myself, being perfectly content with what I have. However, my companion here finds herself in a position where she requires a couple of up-to-the-minute gowns: something colourful and youthful, suitable for an evening party.”
“Certainly, my lady. It will be a pleasure to outfit such a pretty young lady. This is the sort of thing we stock ..,” she continued, presumably joining herself with the shop to legitimise the plural pronoun. She swept a couple of gowns off a rail and dangled them in front of her customers.
“Yes, they look like the sort of thing I was thinking of,” Lady Leland agreed graciously, taking a fold of the material in her fingers and pinching it.
“Allow me …” The eager lady opened a door and ushered her ladyship and Mary into a little parlour, charmingly furnished. “Pray be seated, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Lady Leland sat down obediently.
“What sort of an evening party will it be, my lady?”
“The first is a card party with a supper to follow; the second is a dinner party. We shall require at least two gowns as the entertainments are not many days apart and Miss Best cannot wear the same dress on both occasions. The card party is one I am giving myself so that Miss Best will be in some sense a joint hostess.”
The shopkeeper held up the two dresses she had snatched from the rails as evidence of the charm of her stock and requested her customers’ opinion on them. Mary, embarrassed at finding herself the centre of attention, said nothing.
Lady Leland submitted both gowns to a minute examination. One was fashioned from satin in a deep cobalt blue and trimmed delightfully with a froth of blond lace. The design of both clearly indicated that the female waist, which had apparently lain almost immediately below the bosom for some years, was slowly returning to its natural position. The other was crepe and an arresting yellow reminiscent of egg yolks. It was trimmed, shockingly, with violet ribbon in what appeared to be a determined effort to represent the colours of spring.
“Very interesting,” her ladyship said. “What do you think, Mary?”
“I hardly know,” she admitted. “I can see that there has been a considerable change since I last entered a shop. The
colour of the yellow is very strong, is it not? It reminds me of the irises.”
Lady Leland uttered a delighted bark of laughter which made the shopkeeper jump. “I think you should try it on,” she said, “and the other.”
Mary allowed herself to be conducted to a corner of the room behind a curtain where Madame helped her to put on the yellow dress. It was cut quite low round the neck, revealing a substantial portion of bosom. The dress fitted fairly well although it was a little loose around the top, having been designed for a female with a fuller figure than the slender Mary.
“I can easily alter that,” Madame promised. “Come and show your grandmama; I warrant she will be delighted. You look a perfect picture, Miss.”
“She is not my grandmother,” Mary replied tartly but allowed herself to be conducted past the curtain to stand before her ladyship.
“Yes, charming. It is a little big around the neck – we cannot have it gaping like that – and I am by no means convinced by the violet ribbons. You do look like an iris, my dear and, as a consequence, if altered to fit, it would become you very well. Yellow, to my mind, is a delightful colour for spring but frequently unbecoming to yellow-haired females. This shade, though, so closely echoes your hair that it is really quite remarkable. Could we change the ribbons, Madame?”
“Yes, of course, my lady. What colour would you prefer? I can bring some to show you – and I can take in the dress in a trice if you like it. Miss is so very slender – such a garment becomes her well.”
“Does it?” Mary asked doubtfully, fingering the top and endeavouring to hold it together.
“Oh yes,” her ladyship said. “Walk across the room, my dear. I should like to see how it falls when you move.”
Mary did as she was bid. The soft material clung to her limbs and caressed them as she walked. Apart from the over-large bodice, she found it a pleasing garment to wear. It clothed her like water, moulding itself to her form in a subtle and yielding fashion. The shopkeeper conducted her to a mirror leaning against the wall and, having placed her before it, stepped back out of the way. She was, in spite of her initial overpowering manner, wise enough to keep her thoughts to herself as the young woman looked at her reflection and beheld a changed being. Always clad in dark colours and materials without a great deal of ‘give’ in them, Mary had had little idea of the grace of her figure or the symmetry of her proportions.
“Why, I look like a fashion plate!” she exclaimed with a little laugh to cover her confusion.
“You look quite lovely,” the old lady said, nodding happily. “I can’t think why I didn’t insist on your throwing away those hideous rags before. You had better try the other one and, if you have any others which you think might be suitable, Madame, pray bring them forward before we grow bored.”
So it was that Mary tried on gowns designed for a variety of purposes: evening parties (of which Lady Leland seemed to think there would be several), picnics, dresses to wear in the morning, different ones for the afternoon and some especially designed for walking. There was, in addition, one in cream silk, trimmed with lace, for the promised dinner party at Marklye Hall together with a ball gown.
“Someone is bound to give a ball before we do, I should think. Lady Armitage might run to one once she knows about your improved prospects; if not, I daresay we can prevail upon Marklye to open his ballroom.”
The violet ribbons were ordered to be exchanged, after some light-hearted discussion on the merits of exaggerating the iris allusion by substituting green, for some that were a more restrained shade of cream. Madame Hortense, who was even more excited than Mary, promised to make a number of alterations.
After that they visited a milliner’s recommended by the dressmaker - whose proprietress claimed no connexion with France, introducing herself as plain Ann Brett - where they purchased several bonnets.
“I haven’t had so much fun for an age,” Lady Leland declared when they were once again seated in the carriage and on their way home. “When I was young I used to enjoy spending money, particularly on clothes, but I always berated myself for my vanity afterwards. Spending on you has been just as enjoyable, which makes me realise that I was probably misguided to censure myself for conceit; clearly, all along, it was the garments which gave me such pleasure. I cannot think why I have not done it before.”
“I fear I shall not know how to behave in my new guise, my lady.”
“I daresay you will learn fast enough but we cannot permit Marklye to have it all his own way, which is where the Armitages come in – and perhaps even poor Sir Adrian. You may not like John Armitage – and I own to being relieved that you do not – but he is the sort of man who will give Marklye a run for his money.”
“Are you suggesting I should play them off against each other?” Mary asked, affecting shock.
“Yes; why not? I own I should find it amusing although I would not advise you to form an attachment to Armitage.”
“There is nothing for you to fear in that direction, I promise. He shows too many of the faults with which I am already horridly familiar. Do I take it that you liked Lord Marklye?”
“Yes, I did, although he is quite a dark horse. Where in the world did he come from or – rather, we know that, he is the nephew of the former Viscount – but where has he been all this time and what has he been doing? He appears to have inherited a nabob’s fortune – from whom, I wonder?”
“I have not the least notion. Is that what you have heard?”
“Yes, that is what Lady Armitage told me when work first began on his house. I have no idea whether it’s true – perhaps he is doing the whole thing up on credit and actually has not two pennies to rub together – in which case he will be glad of your fortune.”
“I think you are going a great deal too fast. Are you implying that you hope to attach him by means of my prospects? Is that why you have changed your will? I do not believe I wish to be courted for my thousands.”
“No, no one does; on the other hand, most women like to be pursued and most find it difficult to believe that their thousands shine more brightly than their eyes. Would you prefer to be courted for your face? Up until now you have been and to what can you lay claim as a result? You have an infatuated calf in the shape of Sir Adrian, a scoundrel who would no doubt seduce and discard you in the shape of Mr Armitage – although the fortune will almost certainly change his approach - and a man who has probably fallen in love with you at first sight in spite of your being somewhat bedraggled at the time. I think many women take more pride in their faces than in their thousands. I have come to the conclusion that they – we – mistakenly judge the possession of a beautiful countenance almost as though it were a virtue but, in truth, I cannot see that there is much difference: both face and fortune are impermanent and hard to preserve although the face will inevitably lose its value whilst the fortune can, with careful management, be retained – perhaps even increased.”
“I own I would rather be valued for my character,” Mary admitted prosaically.
“That is what I value you for, my dear, but it is asking rather a lot of most gentlemen, who will hardly have time to form an opinion of it before they embark upon courtship. And here both Sir Adrian and Mr Armitage fall short for they have known you for some time and yet have not progressed beyond admiration of your face. Now that you have expectations as well, we shall see what they do next. Marklye will be unmoved; his next step is likely to be closer examination of your character. If that does not disappoint, I believe we can safely conclude that he is well on the way to forming an attachment.”
“Where then does the fortune come in?”
“It will give you the freedom to reject him if you decide, on closer acquaintance, that his character is not what you are looking for; it will allow you to see out your days as an old maid if that is what you would prefer. It gives you a choice, my dear.”
“You relieve my mind,” Mary said. “I thought you had set your heart on my marrying him.”
&nbs
p; “At first glance he looks decidedly promising,” Lady Leland owned. “He has a respectable title – well, in point of fact not altogether respectable because the Marklyes have been inclined to be dissolute, although I think he has put such conduct behind him - a fortune of his own and he lives nearby. He is not unattractive in his person either. And, since he is such a near neighbour, I should not altogether lose you if you were to marry him. However, the most important factor is that you look on him with some favour – much more so than poor besotted Sir Adrian.”
“It’s my belief Sir Adrian sees me almost as a wild animal which has strayed into the neighbourhood.”
“Oh, yes, I believe that describes his attitude very well. So far as I can make out, he is almost entirely inexperienced in dealing with our sex. The poor young man has no sisters, and not even a mother since he was a very small boy, and you are so excessively dazzling that I am not at all surprised he finds himself tongue-tied in your presence. But the same is not true for you. I own I had almost begun to despair as you seemed entirely uninterested in the male sex until Marklye pulled you out of the river. Was it his heroism or his person which set you on fire?”
“I deny altogether the charge of being ‘on fire’. I can only suppose he has lit something in you, my lady, that you have become so excessively eager to promote my friendship with him. I shall always be grateful to him for saving my life, but otherwise he has the air, as you say, of a man who, if he is no longer so, has in the past been decidedly degenerate. If poor Sir Adrian, as you call him, has no experience of meeting gently bred females – or indeed any females – I am fairly certain Marklye has a great deal of experience with all manner of women. I find him patronising.”
“Do you so?” her ladyship asked rhetorically.
Mary was not looking at her but gazing crossly out of the window so that she missed the satisfied smile which passed across her ladyship’s face at this over-lively rebuttal of interest in the gentleman.
Mary Or The Perils 0f Imprudence Page 11