“But I’ve never been to court. I cannot imagine what anyone would see in me.” Emma felt quite bewildered and more than a little flustered between the quick costume change and the widow’s intense scrutiny.
“My dear,” said the widow, “You designed quite a lovely walking dress. It is no fault of yours that you did not realize that even though it might be appropriate for a country ball that you could never carry it off at court. I suspect that this means that you are quite clever. I am surprised, however,” and she raised her eyebrows at Mrs. Brown, “that your aunt did not give you better instruction.”
Mrs. Brown flushed a little, obviously embarrassed. Emma quickly interceded.
“I told her I would take care of it out of my allowance. Only . . .” Now it was her turn to flush a little pink.
“Only?” Mrs. Pearthorne quirked one eyebrow at her.
“Only there was this wonderful book of natural history and another about the language of flowers. Then I found a new book by the author of Sense and Sensibility. I simply could not resist them. After that, I hadn’t the price of silk yardage.”
“Tsk.” Mrs. Pearthorne clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I quite understand the exigencies of living on an allowance. I have a similar constraint since my dear Jemmie was torn from me. Perhaps I will be able to instruct you in some of the ways to look as if you shopped at the most tonnish establishments without straining your purse. But now we must hasten back to the coach for if we stand about talking, we shall indeed be late.”
They arrived in good time, for people were still entering the palace and being ushered down an immensely elegant hall. Emma looked all about her, trying not to stare. She had always thought the main hall at home quite grand, but this immense space was utterly awe-inspiring.
“We are fashionably late, and have missed the crush at the main door,” Mrs. Pearthorne pointed out. “And I cannot begin to tell you how envious everyone will be when I introduce you at Almack’s. Lady Jersey will be here tonight, and I am certain I will be able to wheedle a voucher from her for each of us.”
“No need for me,” Aunt Alicia began to say.
“Of course, there is need! While I would be more than willing to chaperone her, I am not of a sufficiently respectable age to manage it. You must come to keep us both in good stead.”
“Very well, I shall act as gooseberry for both of you. But do not expect me to hover over you. I believe I shall have some other friends in attendance tonight, and it will be a rare opportunity for me to visit with them. Mr. Brown and I are so seldom in London, this is quite an occasion for me as well as for Emma.”
“Fair enough. But if our behavior becomes outrageous, you will only have yourself to blame.” The merry little widow shook her finger at Mrs. Brown and grinned in a most unladylike manner.
Emma placed one white-gloved hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Mrs. Pearthorne drew Emma and her aunt to a line of young ladies who were slowly advancing toward a doorway to the Queen’s withdrawing room. As they went, Emma noticed that the young ladies went in one at a time, and then backed out of the room.
“What are they doing?” Emma whispered to Mrs. Pearthorne.
“They are backing out of the room. You must not turn your back on the Queen. And do not take up her time with aimless chatter. You want to make a good impression.”
When Emma went in, it was all she could do not to gape at the wonders she beheld. The walls were hung with tapestries, with gilt-framed landscapes hanging in front of them. The ceiling overhead seemed to be painted with a celestial scene made of sky, clouds, and winged beings. Chubby cherubs danced around the top of the dark wood wainscoting.
Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte, sat in an ornate chair, dressed in a dark gown with a gauzy white apron that was so filmy Emma knew right away that it never saw service even as protection against dust. Somehow, the gown helped the Queen look both regal and motherly all at the same time. Her retainers were clustered on both sides of her.
As Emma approached, she realized that far from looking grand as she had first thought, Queen Charlotte looked sad and a little tired. It was at that moment that Emma decided to truly be on her best behavior. When she reached just the right spot, one of the ladies in waiting gave her just the slightest nod, and Emma executed the best curtsy she knew how to make. The queen beckoned to her to approach.
When Emma drew near, she repeated the curtsy. Queen Charlotte put out her hand, drawing Emma even closer.
“You look very much like your mother,” Queen Charlotte said. “I met her once when we were both very young, before she was wed.” Then the Queen leaned forward and kissed Emma on the forehead.
Emma was so astonished, she scarcely knew what to do next. But one of the retainers slightly behind the Queen made little shooing motions, so Emma dropped another curtsy and almost whispered, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Emma then began backing away, which was not the easiest thing to do in the elaborate dress. The helpful retainer made little steering motions to her until she managed to back out of the door and away to the side so the young widow could take her turn.
Once Mrs. Pearthorne had made her way out of the withdrawing room, she also gave a sigh of relief. “That was not as much of an ordeal as I feared it might be,” she said. “I think there is a light supper laid out in the ballroom, with dancing to follow after. Shall we go see what might be had?”
Emma immediately assented. She realized that in her haste to be ready when her aunt and friend called for her that she had quite forgotten about eating. While making her curtsy to Queen Charlotte, she had been far too nervous to eat. Now she was ravenous.
Just then, Emma’s aunt spotted an old friend, and true to her word, went off with a cluster of older ladies, all twittering together like a flock of sparrows.
The tea laid out for the guests was modest, in keeping with wartime economies. There was tea, of course, white bread and butter, an assortment of small cakes and a delicate ice sculpture that was already melting in the warm air of the closely packed room.
Mrs. Pearthorne drew Emma over to a row of chairs against the wall, and they both sat, grateful for the opportunity. Emma had entirely loaded her plate with bread and butter, and three dainty little cakes. Mrs. Pearthorne had one small cake on her plate. Both had a cup of tea.
Emma bit hungrily into one of the slices of bread and butter.
“Small bites,” Mrs. Pearthorne murmured. “No doubt you are starving, but we do not want to appear as ravening wolves. Besides, you want to save some room for when your swains bring food to you.”
“Swains? What swains?” Emma asked, glancing around. “I see a large amount of space all about us.”
Mrs. Pearthorne took a sip of her tea. “Just wait, my friend’s dear niece, and they will shortly appear.”
Emma took smaller bites, but she still managed to clear her plate down to the cake in record time.
Just as she was biting into the first little cake, a lanky man in regimentals with a captain’s insignia came over to Mrs. Pearthorne.
“Mrs. Pearthorne!” he exclaimed. “Are you finally out of mourning?”
“I shall always be in mourning for Captain Pearthorne,” she replied. “But I felt a breath of fresh air would do me good, Captain Arnault.”
The captain snorted. “Fine chance you’ll have of drawing a breath of fresh air in here. I don’t suppose I could beg the honor of a dance?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Out of respect to my late husband, I shall remain on the sidelines. But let me introduce you to the niece of my dear friend. Emma, this is Captain Roger Arnault, who was on the Continent with my late husband. Captain, this is Miss Emma Hoskins, niece of Mrs. Herbert Brown, and daughter to Gilbert Hoskins, Baron of Calber.”
“Surely I might beg of you a dance, Miss Hoskins?”
“I only know country dances, Captain Arnault.”
“What good fortune it is that one is starting up right now.”
&
nbsp; Emma looked at the widow for guidance. Mrs. Pearthorne made little shooing motions with her hand.
By the time Emma returned, a little breathless because the dance was a fast one, Mrs. Pearthorne was surrounded by quite a crowd of young men. Most of them were in regimentals, but a few were in the quiet clothing worn by country squires, while one or two others were resplendent in the black and white favored by Almack’s. One tall gentleman bowed graciously and moved away as Emma approached. He was dressed all in black, as if he, too, were in mourning.
In a very few moments, Emma’s dance card was completely filled, with Captain Arnault having claimed her as his dinner companion. Mrs. Pearthorne was accompanied by the gentleman clothed in black. She introduced him to Emma, but she was in too much of a whirl with all the dancing and names to remember it.
After dinner, there was more dancing. Mrs. Brown came back from talking with her friends, and Mrs. Pearthorne went off to make up a fourth at playing cards. As the last dance was ending, Emma returned to discover Mrs. Brown speaking with a lean man who was clad in the highest fashion. He carried a walking stick, and bright gems flashed from every finger.
“ . . . have to apply to her father,” Emma heard her say. “I am only her chaperone, not her guardian.”
“I shall be sure to call on him,” the man said. “She has quite caught my eye, but I was too late to claim a dance. Mrs. Pearthorne’s military friends had completely filled in every space on her card.”
“I am sorry,” Emma said. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No, no.” The gentleman turned to her, “Au contraire. It is marvelous to see a young lady enjoying herself. I am only regretting that I was too slow to claim a dance. Perhaps,” he added, addressing her aunt, “you could introduce us?”
The expression on Mrs. Brown’s face was wooden, but she unhinged her set jaw enough to say, “Emma, allow me to introduce Percy Harlow, Earl of Cleweme. He has announced his intention to call on your father to ask for your hand in marriage.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open in a most unladylike fashion. “B-but, this is only my first dance. I thought I would have a whole season of dances.” She realized that she was nearly whining like a schoolroom miss and lifted her chin. “You are welcome to apply to my father, but I do not feel that I am ready to make a choice at this time.”
“Spirit as well as beauty,” the Earl said with a smile. “I like that. I shall be sure to apply to your father at the earliest opportunity.”
Mrs. Pearthorne floated up to the group. “Your Lordship,” she said with cloying sweetness, “What a surprise to find you here, fluttering around the brightest light at the ball.”
“You have always said that I had good taste,” the Earl said, “I am amazed that you have allowed yourself to be eclipsed.”
Mrs. Pearthorne sighed. “Alas, my time is done, my ship has sailed and taken my one true love on it. No other could rival him. Now, if you will please excuse us, Your Lordship,” she somehow managed to put a bitter twist on the title, “the hour is growing late. I have come only to collect my companions that we might travel home.”
The Earl gave them a shallow bow, “Then I will wish you Godspeed and safe journey. Miss Hoskins, I hope to be calling upon you soon.”
Mrs. Pearthorne folded in her lips and said nothing at all. For a lady who could keep up a non-stop flow of chatter in nearly any situation, this was ominous indeed.
When they were safely in the coach, the widow burst out, “Alicia, you cannot be contemplating that slime for Emma.”
“I am not. However, I could scarcely refuse him, so I directed him to my brother.”
“Father won’t care,” Emma said. “He would be happy to be rid of me. I am only an embarrassment and an unfortunate reminder to him.”
“Can this truly be so?” Mrs. Pearthorne turned to Mrs. Brown. “How could any father be upset at having such a lovely daughter?”
“Unfortunately,” Mrs. Brown looked down at her gloved hands in her lap, “Emma closely resembles her dear mother, who was lost to us in childbirth. My brother blames Emma for her mother’s death and can scarcely bear the sight of her.”
“Oh, dear. That is, indeed, unfortunate. I see why you might fear that he would marry her off to the first eligible bachelor to ask for her hand. In most cases, that would be a way for Emma to escape an intolerable situation, but I fear that Lord Percy would hardly fill the bill.”
“Why so?” Mrs. Brown looked worried.
“He has a certain,” Mrs. Pearthorne made a slight moue, “reputation. The ink was scarcely dry upon my marriage lines before he came around, insinuating that he could keep me entertained while Jemmie was abroad. Nor am I the first soldier’s wife to suffer such attentions. Fortunately, Jemmie had already made arrangements for us to live in Calais. I was never so glad for a ship to sail as the one that took us to the Continent. We were just in time, for it was not long after that the ports closed, with Percy Harlow firmly on British soil.”
“I don’t think I like him, Aunt Alicia. Can you intercede for me with Father? He is highly unlikely to listen to anything I say.”
“I will see what I can do, dear Emma. But I will tell you that my brother is more likely to do what I ask him not to do than to do as I request.”
“Then I’m doomed,” Emma said sorrowfully. “I meet Prince Ugly at my first ball and my Season is over before it is even begun.”
“Perhaps it shall not be so bad as all that,” Mrs. Pearthorne comforted her. “Perhaps your father will not like the cut of his jib any better than I.”
But Emma could tell that the words were empty. With heavy heart, aching feet, and a head that was beginning to throb, she got out of the carriage at her father’s townhouse and went up the stairs to bed. Why is it that just as I think something good might happen, it seems likely that Father will take it all away?
Chapter 3
By the end of dinner, Leo had satisfied himself that Mrs. Pearthorne was not in dire straits financially or emotionally. Captain Pearthorne had been a man with a solid head for business, and he had left his widow well provided for. She was saddened by his absence, to be sure and even more regretful that there had been no children. But she was, indeed, writing a memoir.
“With which I shall not bore you,” she announced with a wicked little laugh. “But you, of all the people who fear they might appear in its pages, actually do play a role as our stalwart sea captain.”
“Do I, indeed?” he drawled. “I hope you have not pierced me through with that wicked wit for which you are so famous.”
“Oh, la, no! Your Grace, you are portrayed in the most propitious light. We had such a lovely time on your boat . . .”
“Ship,” he corrected gently.
“Whatever. We had a lovely time, and I shall treasure those moments forever.” The little widow dabbed at her eyes with a white handkerchief edged in black lace. “I had high hopes of sailing home with Jemmie on the same boat. Alas, it was not to be.”
Seeing that her grief truly was genuine, Leo forbore twitting her about calling his lovely ship, the Menhiransten, a “boat” as if it were a wallowing tub of a freighter or a fishing vessel.
Leo nearly choked on his wine, when the Earl of Cleweme perched on a chair a little way down the table. “What is it?” the perspicacious Mrs. Pearthorne asked.
“Nothing. It is nothing,” Leo growled. “Just someone I had hoped not to see tonight. But there he is, the scoundrel.”
“Oooo, La! So fierce!” she commented. “Perhaps I should add him to my book.”
“Don’t. He would spoil the whole thing for he has neither grace nor charm,” Leo growled.
Mrs. Pearthorne glanced down the table, then gave a delicate little shudder. “No, I don’t want him in my book. I was quite glad to be on your sailing vessel rather than in our little cottage. Even France was better than spending month after month repulsing his advances.”
“Advances? And you a married woman?”
She n
odded. “But only to a mere Captain. He outranked Jemmie, so we chose to run away, and I became a camp follower. It was quite interesting, really.”
“I’m sure,” Leo said, a somber scowl on his face.
“Oh, do not look so! He will see and make life difficult. Right now, I think he is on the . . . oh, how do you say it? Hunt? Prowl? For a rich wife, or at least one with advantageous land.”
“And what kind of land would he find advantageous?” Leo asked quietly.
“Oh, a bit of seacoast, I believe. Cleweme is quite landlocked, you know.”
“Yes, I know. And I am grateful for it. Seacoast, is it? That is quite an interesting tidbit, my dear Mrs. Pearthorne.”
“It is, is it not? One almost wonders what he might be up to.”
“Yes, one does wonder. Still, I am out of it for now. I’ve made my leg in Parliament today and hope to soon go home to Menhiransten. I have had to give up command of one ship of that name, now I shall go see what sort of mess my father made of the other.”
“Was he not provident?”
“Well enough, very much a man of his day. Thank goodness neither he nor my brother were part of Prinny’s inner circle. I’ve heard that it can be quite ruinous.”
“Since I do not move in such rarified society, I really have no idea. But I do understand that there are those who profit from their behavior. Truly, I do believe it best to stay away, if at all possible.”
“You are a wise woman, Mrs. Pearthorne. Now, I must go bid adieu to Her Majesty, for it is my hope to make an early start for Menhiransten in the morning.”
“Must you go so soon? I have a young protégé here tonight. I had hoped to make her known to you.”
“I am sorry, m’lady, but I truly must go. It has been a trying day and attempting small talk with a miss fresh out of the schoolroom is not on my agenda.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Pearthorne. “Another time, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed and went to make his excuses to the Queen.
Leo had not quite made it to the Queen’s chambers when he was accosted by Captain Arnault. “Admiral!” the captain called jovially. “You are just the man I want to see.” Leo groaned inwardly but turned to face the man with a polite smile on his face. “Captain. To what do I owe the honor?”
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