At length, after much deliberation, Elizabeth settled for a round robe in Pomona green. It was simple, but cut with such exquisite skill that it was clearly the work of the best modiste in London. Puffed at the shoulders, the long tight sleeves ended at the wrist with rows of tiny buttons.
The straight line of the drapery, falling from beneath the bosom, made her look taller, though she wished that the prevailing fashion for low edge heels or none at all had not robbed her of the opportunity to use her shoes to give her height.
It was mortifying to be so very small, but the gown was elegant, and no one would mistake her for a schoolroom miss, an impression which she wished most particularly to avoid.
And during these last few weeks her hair had grown, she thought with satisfaction. It still gave her the look of a Botticelli cherub, but in time she might wear it in a classical knot. It would give her the sophisticated appearance for which she longed. She’d often envied it in older women.
Yet sophistication was not the word which came to mind when she was introduced to Perry’s mother.
The Dowager Countess of Brandon was dressed with such simplicity that Elizabeth was surprised. A second glance told her that the lady’s garments were cut to perfection.
She smiled as she walked towards Elizabeth, holding out both her hands.
“At last, my dear!” she exclaimed in a low, musical voice. “Perry has told me so much about you...”
Elizabeth avoided Perry’s eyes.
“May I present you to my daughter-in-law, Lady Wentworth? Prudence, this is Elizabeth Grantham.”
The Dowager Countess was so tall that Elizabeth had not noticed the girl behind her, but now her ladyship came forward with an unaffected smile.
“I hope we shall be friends,” she said. “I hear that you spent many weeks aboard the Artemis, with only Perry and Chris for company. Such a trial for you! Don’t you agree, Mama?”
The Countess smiled. “A dreadful ordeal!” she agreed. “My dear, how did you cope with them?”
“Ma’am, they were very kind...” Elizabeth did not dare look at Perry.
“But the two of them together?” Prudence cried in mock amazement. “Why, mischief is their middle name! Someday I will tell you of their goings-on. Perry was always ready for a lark. I doubt if he has changed.”
Perry was moved to speak at last. “Pru, you might have mercy on me,” he protested. “I’ve been trying to convince these ladies that I am a sober-sides.”
“You won’t succeed. I imagine that they already have your measure.” She laughed aloud.
Elizabeth joined in the general amusement. She felt drawn at once to Lady Wentworth. This vivid, vital girl didn’t look old enough to be the mother of two sons.
Prudence was no beauty, but there was a strangely arresting quality about her face, which was intriguing. It was hard to place, though it owed much to the light in the wonderful hazel eyes, her fine bone structure and the curving lines of that mobile, wilful mouth.
A lady of strong character, Elizabeth decided. Prudence would be a staunch friend, or an implacable enemy.
Now she was laughing up at Perry, pretending to beg his forgiveness for her forthright words. There seemed to be such easy camaraderie between them, and suddenly Elizabeth felt like an intruder.
Prudence sensed it at once, and drew Elizabeth into their conversation.
“Will you forgive us for our nonsense, Miss Elizabeth? Perry has been my friend for some long time, though he does naught but tease me. Now I have paid him out by making him an uncle once again. I know it makes him feel like a greybeard.”
A general ripple of amusement followed this sally. Then Prudence made a suggestion, intended to give the two older ladies the opportunity for a private chat.
“Miss Grantham, will you think me forward if I ask to see your laboratory? If you allow it, we shall be very careful.”
“It is scarce a laboratory, my dear, though the shelves hold some specimens. Elizabeth will show you...” She bestowed a smile on Prudence, aware of the tact involved in the suggestion.
As the door closed behind the three young people, she looked at the Dowager Countess.
“Well, Jane, will they do?” she asked.
“I believe so. Elizabeth is delightful. You must have guessed that Perry is head over ears in love. As you can imagine, I couldn’t wait to meet her. He speaks of nothing else, yet he says that she won’t have him.”
“You know the circumstances?”
“Some of them, at least. I think he has not told me all.”
“We must give her time. She loves him, too. It is her pride which is keeping them apart.”
The Countess gave her a quizzical look. “I can believe it. Perry isn’t noted for his tact but he thinks the world of her. She is very lovely, though it is not that which has impressed him. He told me of their journey. Poor child! I thought she must have been afraid, but he says that she was not.”
A grim smile answered her. “I doubt if she’d fear the devil himself. I could scarce believe that she had gone among the wounded as she did. My brother kept her sheltered.”
“As your father did with you?” The Dowager Countess chuckled. “My dear Mary, blood will out! Even as a girl you surprised us all.”
“Stuff! I could not bear to be a milksop. And that awful Season! I did not take, you know.”
“I think you never wanted to, did you? When one’s heart is given already...”
Mary Grantham looked at her friend, and when it came, her smile was painful. “You knew? Strange, but it seems like yesterday, though it was fifty years ago. He was killed in the American colonies.”
“My dear, it has been hard for you. Have you found happiness at last?”
“I am content.” Miss Grantham shook her grizzled head as if to clear it of sad memories. “Now, Jane, what are we to do?”
“You are sure of Elizabeth’s feelings?”
“Certainly. Perry has no idea?”
“None! He thinks himself sunk beneath reproach in Elizabeth’s eyes.”
The two ladies smiled at each other, in perfect agreement as to the folly of the young.
“It was unfortunate,” Miss Grantham admitted. “The whole thing has been mishandled from the start. Perry was pressured into offering for her not once, but twice. I pointed out that it must go against the grain for any man of spirit, but she feels rejected.”
“But now, when it is his dearest wish to wed her?”
“She would not believe him, Jane. She is convinced that he dislikes her. They quarrel constantly...”
“I understand,” the Countess said drily. “Perry was always a hothead where his emotions are concerned.” She rested her cheek upon one slender hand. “I shall speak to Prudence. Perry has adored her since the day they met. She will think of something.”
“You think so highly of her?”
“I do, indeed, my dear. To see her now you would not think it, but her early life was passed in conditions that neither you nor I could well imagine. Orphaned at birth, she was thrown upon a parish in the north, and forced to work in a cotton mill.”
“Sebastian’s wife? You cannot mean it!”
“Sadly, it is true. Until she was seventeen, she thought herself a bastard. She was running away when Sebastian found her, and brought her down to Kent. Then we discovered her true parentage...”
Miss Grantham looked a question.
“Yes, she is both well-born and legitimate. You will forgive me if I don’t say more. I won’t speak ill of the dead, and it is just history now.”
“Jane, you are to be congratulated. Both your sons are undeceived by outward appearance. They have chosen women of character.”
The Countess smiled faintly. “I could wish that Frederick had done the same. You have not met Amelia?”
Miss Grantham shook her head. Then a glance of perfect understanding passed between them.
“Why not bring Elizabeth to the ball which Frederick is to give in Grosvenor
Square next week?”
“Jane, you know how I feel about such gatherings. It’s kind of you to suggest it, but I haven’t attended one for years.”
“Then it’s high time you did. Elizabeth must be considered, and I am asking for your support. Do say that you won’t refuse...”
Miss Grantham wrinkled her nose and grimaced. “My dear Jane, times have changed. You won’t be exposed to the odour of unwashed humanity. Society actually bathes these days, since the advent of the Macaronis.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” her friend said with feeling. “In my girlhood the stench was sometimes more than I could bear. Those exquisites were not just fashionable fribbles, then?”
“Their fashions were ridiculous, but they were clean.”
“Very well, you have convinced me. Brandon is a sensible man. I’d like to hear from his own lips if the Government is worried about revolution spreading to this country.”
“And Perry will have an opportunity to make his peace with Elizabeth,” the Countess observed slyly.
Unaware of the plans being made on their behalf, Perry and Elizabeth were standing either side of Prudence in Miss Grantham’s study.
“Heavens, how grisly!” Prudence eyed the specimens with distaste. “They would give me nightmares. I believe I’d rather see the garden. Let us leave Perry to improve his mind. I want to hear what you’ve been doing since you came to London.”
Elizabeth gave her a suspicious look. Was she to be quizzed about her time aboard the Artemis? The Dowager Countess might have suggested questions which she did not care to ask herself.
At first, she answered only in monosyllables. Then Prudence turned to face her squarely.
“Don’t you feel that you can trust me?” she asked in her forthright way. “I’m not a spy for anyone, but you don’t seem quite at ease.”
“I’m not!” Elizabeth was equally blunt. “You may think me foolish, but you and the Countess can have no high opinion of me...”
“We think you very beautiful. As to the rest...we do not know you well, but that is easily remedied.”
Her friendly manner was encouraging, but Elizabeth turned away.
“I didn’t mean that. My aunt informs me that in Society there are strict rules as to conduct... and...well...I travelled on the Artemis without a chaperon.”
This worthy attempt at honesty brought a peal of laughter from her companion.
“Great heavens, is that all? I almost went to sea myself, you know, but I was the victim of a press-gang.”
“Oh, no! I won’t believe it! Women are not impressed—”
“I was dressed as a boy,” Prudence told her blithely.
“But why?” Elizabeth was round-eyed with astonishment.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it some time. I thought Sebastian loved someone else, so I decided to run away. I can’t remember where now, but I think it was to Australia.”
“Alone?”
“I had a young friend with me. Dan was twelve or thirteen at the time.” Lost in thought, Prudence wound her finger about a curling feather in her bonnet. “It all seems so long ago.”
Elizabeth looked at her with new respect. Prudence could be no more than five years older than herself. To all outward appearance she might be any young and fashionable young matron, yet there was a will of iron beneath the surface, and Elizabeth sensed it.
“I should not have doubted you,” she murmured. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“Plotting some mischief, are you?” Perry had wandered out to join them. “One woman is bad enough, but when two get their heads together...?”
Elizabeth looked up, saw the twinkle in his eyes, and caught her breath. It wasn’t fair. He had no right to be so handsome. When he looked as he did now, teasing, chaffing, and in the greatest good humour, it was impossible to resist his charm.
“We’ll leave the mischief to you,” Prudence replied. “You are something of a hand at it. We had best return indoors. Your mother will be wondering what has become of us.”
But Miss Grantham and the Dowager had not missed them. Their talk was all of the forthcoming ball.
Elizabeth gave her aunt a look of enquiry, but Miss Grantham was all smiles.
“Thanks to the Macaronis, and their notions, I am promised that I shall smell nothing more noxious than powders, perfumes and pomades. Such a relief, my dears, I have a nose for odours.”
Elizabeth was mystified. “The Macaronis? What are they? In Italy, macaroni is a food...”
“And the Macaronis were the food of legend.” Perry grinned at her. “Dandies to a man! Their wigs alone were the size of beehives, and they carried huge bouquets.”
“But they were obsessed by cleanliness,” his mother interjected, with a significant look at her hostess.
“Spotless!” Perry agreed. “Where are they now, I wonder?”
“Transformed into worthy grandpapas, I should imagine.” The Countess rose to take her leave. “Until next Thursday, then?” She bent to kiss her friend. “Come, my dears, Frederick and Sebastian will be waiting!”
As the sound of their carriage faded into the distance, Elizabeth looked at her aunt.
“Shall you mind attending this ball, ma’am? If it is something you dislike...?”
“Not at all, my dear. I must not become a hermit. Besides, the Earl of Brandon is at the heart of Government. I shall be glad to speak to him.”
Elizabeth was doubtful. She suspected that Miss Grantham was considering her niece’s pleasure.
“How good you are!” she said impulsively. “I fear I don’t deserve it.”
“Why not, my love?”
“Sometimes I am out of reason cross. Have I been a trial to you?”
“Not yet, Elizabeth. Tell me, how did you like our visitors?”
“Very much! The Countess is not at all what I expected. I feared she would be very grand.”
“Jane is a dear. When we were girls we were much in each other’s company.” Her eyes lit up with a smile of reminiscence. “And Prudence?”
“I thought her fascinating. She told me something of her early life. I could scarce believe it.”
“Yet Jane assures me that it’s true. You are not the only girl to have adventures, you see.”
“Hers were truly dreadful...much, much worse than mine. She made me feel ashamed to be so missish.”
“Missish? I do not find you so. My dear, I’m happy that you have made a friend today.”
“Lady Wentworth said that I might call her Prudence, ma’am.” Elizabeth twinkled at her aunt. “She thinks it a misnomer.”
“I don’t doubt it. She is such a vital creature. I liked her open manner.”
She looked at Elizabeth’s rosy face, still flushed with the pleasure of the visit. It was little short of a miracle that the child had turned out so well, reared, as she had been, without friends of her own age. Over-protected as she had been, and with only the company of her elderly father and his sick wife, she could have had little to amuse her.
Then she remembered certain of her ancestors and she began to chuckle.
“What is it, Aunt?”
“I was thinking of our own history. Someday, I will tell you the story of the distaff side. There is a certain curious streak of individuality which appears at intervals in the ladies of the Grantham family.”
Elizabeth could well believe it. She had not, in the past, met anyone remotely like her aunt.
“Now, my dear, will you forgive me if I leave you? I have done no work today upon my treatise.” With that Miss Grantham disappeared, and Elizabeth was left to her own devices until the supper-hour.
She had much to occupy her mind. In the company of his family she’d seen Perry in a different light. He’d seemed so easy, and so full of fun. But behind the laughter there was something in his eyes.
She’d seen it when he joined them in the garden. She’d turned and caught him unawares, to find that there was a certain glow in his expr
ession which she found hard to understand. She might have thought it tenderness had she not known better. She shook her head. She must have imagined it. She was allowing her own longing to deceive her.
Yet when he spoke his voice had been almost a caress. Could it be that he was changing his opinion of her? A tiny flicker of hope stirred in her heart.
He had kissed her once, but that was long ago. Perhaps he had forgotten it, but she had not. How could she? The memory of his lips, warm and demanding, were imprinted on her heart for ever. Such thoughts were deeply disturbing. She rang the bell for Bessie.
“I haven’t been paying much attention,” she announced. “Did you unpack all my purchases?”
“Yes, miss. See, each drawer is labelled. Gloves and stockings in here, scarves and shawls in the one below, and your underthings in the top.” Bessie fingered the contents of that particular drawer with loving fingers. “This gauze petticoat weighs no more than a cobweb...”
Then she hesitated. “Miss Elizabeth, shall you wear these pantalettes? Some folk consider them immodest.”
“They are the latest fashion,” Elizabeth told her firmly. “See, they are trimmed with lace, and very pretty.”
“But, miss, they are divided...like trousers.”
“I can’t help that. I must wear something, after all, and next week, Bessie, I am to attend a ball.”
This exciting prospect banished all else from Bessie’s mind. “Have you decided what to wear?” she asked.
“Not yet. I had best look through my gowns again.”
This task kept Elizabeth occupied until she heard the dinner-gong. She was torn between an entrancing toilette consisting of an over-dress of spider-gauze, to be worn over a slip of plain white satin, or a pink silk decorated with the serrated trimming known as “Dents de loup’. The teeth of a wolf seemed an odd description for the fine embroidery, but the cut of the garment was flawless, though the décolletage was very low.
“Is it too revealing?” Elizabeth studied her reflection in the mirror, concerned by the expanse of milky skin, and the way the bodice exposed the upper curve of her rounded breasts.
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