A Proper Companion

by Candice Hern

  "I believe I met Townsend once or twice," Robert said as he stood up and moved to the sideboard to pour himself another cup of coffee. "Unbelievably reckless. I never joined his table, though. He seemed too pathetically desperate. Makes a man feel dashed uncomfortable. Didn't realize the man had a family."

  "Nor did he," the dowager snarled as she held out her cup for Robert to refill. "When Catherine died, I decided I would ask Emily to come live with me here in Bath as my companion. I admit it was impulsive. As you say, I've never had need of a companion. But I haven't regretted it. Emily has been a joy to have around. And, believe it or not, my dear, I really am getting older and unfortunately slowing down a bit. I have found that it is really quite helpful to have a companion."

  "It's a touching story. Grandmother," Robert said as he sipped his coffee. "But, I suspect, incomplete. No offense, my dear, but I have never known you to be particularly charitable toward your fellow man. In fact, I am sure I have heard you more than once tell me that your opinion of humanity was so low that—"

  "Oh, hush!" the dowager snapped. "Surely I can offer help to one well-bred but impoverished female without having my motives questioned?"

  "On the contrary. I know you too well, my dear. I believe you must have other plans for the lovely but impoverished Miss Townsend."

  "Hmph!" the dowager snoited in reply.

  Robert continued to glare at her in that piercing way he had often found to be most effective, and she finally sighed in resignation.

  "Well," she began slowly, straightening the lace at her sleeves, not daring to look at Robert, "I thought that being here in Bath would give her an opportunity to get out more in Society. Perhaps meet some nice gentleman .. ."

  "Oho! Now we get to the core of the matter," Robert interrupted. "You old fraud, you are acting as matchmaker!"

  "And so what if I am?" she cried defensively. "Emily is not meant for the lonely life of a paid companion or governess. She is lovely and intelligent and well educated and charming. She is not bred for the shelf, my boy. I declare, if her father had provided her a come-out Season, she would have taken on the instant."

  "You astound me, ma'am. You have deceived me all these years into believing that matchmaking games were beneath you."

  "And so they always have been, Robert. I find no joy in interfering in other people's lives. But I tell you, this girl is special. It honestly pains me to see her reduced to such a life. I want to help her."

  A rustle beneath the table made Robert aware of Charlemagne's presence. He reached down for the pug, placed him on his lap, and began to scratch him behind the ears. The pug panted with pleasure. Robert returned his attention to his grandmother. "Is Miss Townsend aware of your true purpose?" he asked.

  "I believe she suspected at first," she replied. "She knew that I was aware of her background and made me promise to keep it to myself, as you must do, Robert. She also made it plain that she was content to be an employee and did not seek to improve her station in life. She is a very proud young woman and fully believes that a female of her circumstances cannot afford to cherish dreams of Society. That is why, if I ever find the right candidate, I must be as circumspect as possible and orchestrate matters so that they appear the most natural of situations."

  "And how is the campaign progressing?" Robert asked. "Sir Percy certainly seemed smitten, although it would be highly uncharacteristic for him to pursue an impoverished companion with any sort of honorable intentions. A squint-eyed heiress, perhaps. The man's always been under the hatches. He's not truly a serious candidate, is he?"

  "Good heavens, no," the dowager snapped. "At least, I hope not. Emily would be better off alone than with that old bird." She caught Robert's eye, and they, both chuckled. "Besides, Percy has apparently experienced a reversal of fortune. He came into unexpected funds about a year ago. Can't recall the circumstances precisely. An inheritance or something, I suspect."

  "Indeed?"

  "But as to your question regarding the 'campaign,' " continued the dowager, "although I have little experience in these matters, I believe she is a truly difficult subject. I have tried to introduce one or two eligible gentlemen to her acquaintance, but she shows no interest. Oh, I realize she is all wrapped up in her station as an employee, but she is making it deuced difficult for me to help elevate that station. She seldom looks up from her needlework when we have callers and barely speaks when she joins a dinner party."

  "And yet she was quite lively last evening," Robert said.

  "She is more comfortable with a small, intimate group, which, as you know, is not my usual style. And she knew all the guests quite well, which put her naturally at her ease. Not to mention that you were at the top of your game last night, Robert. No female can be expected to resist such charm! And that is just the problem. There is no one in Bath with half your address. Bath is full of dullards and dotards, mediocre males, the lot of them. I declare, I don't know why I stay in this town, since it's been taken over by retired civil servants and middle class merchants. I cannot bring myself to foist one of them off on poor Emily. Yet that's all we seem to have here in Bath. There are few eligible men of our own class, to be sure, and certainly no young, handsome fellows in the entire town." She grinned with a coquettishness quite astonishing for a woman of her years. "Believe me, I would be the first to know it if there were."

  "Ah, but you will soon take her to London, where the field is much wider," Robert replied, adding a conspiratorial wink.

  "Ha! You're on to me. Robert, my dear boy, you are as intelligent as you are handsome. What a pity that you are now to be leg-shackled. I declare, you would have been a perfect match for my Emily."

  Robert raised a quizzical brow. "Indeed. A pity."

  The dowager waved away the thought with her long-fingered hand. "It is of no consequence. We will find a more eligible parti for Emily, never you fear. Despite her circumstances and her age, I believe she could still take. I will keep my eyes open for those elusive eligible bachelors with comfortable fortunes. He must be well enough set up so that Emily's lack of fortune will be of no consideration. And, since she is not precisely in her first blush of youth, he should be appropriately mature. But he must have his wits about him! Emily has a sharp mind and mustn't be saddled with a fool. Perhaps you can be of assistance, Robert. Surely you have friends who might fit the bill?"

  "I will put my mind to it," he said, grinning at the enthusiasm with which the dowager faced her new project. He might be able to enjoy a little diversion himself by falling in with her plans. He began ticking off a mental list of suitable friends in Town.

  "And she is, of course, quite lovely," the dowager was saying when Robert's attention was drawn back to their conversation, "despite her efforts to hide that fact. If only I could convince her to update her wardrobe before we go to Town. The poor girl looks such a dowd in those tired old gowns. Unfortunately I can't simply present her with a pile of new dresses. She is so stiff-necked, you see, about not accepting any gifts from me outside of her regular salary. She will, though, stitch up an occasional new gown if presented with the odd bolt of fabric. But always something plain and serviceable, never the least fashionable."

  "So I noticed," Robert said as he absently stroked Charlemagne's back. "Well, perhaps you can convince her that when in London she would do you a disservice to appear so plainly dressed. After all, the entertainments as well as the company will be much more à la mode than she is accustomed to in Bath. Make her believe that she owes it to you to look more fashionable. Perhaps she can be made to feel guilty enough so that she will allow you to have a gown or two made up for her by one of your London modistes."

  "My boy, you amaze me. You are more like me than I ever imagined. I shall do it!"

  "And maybe the hair, a little softer on the face ..."

  The dowager smiled.

  * * *

  That evening the dowager asked Emily to come to her room before she retired. Iris, the dowager's abigail, answered Emily's kn
ock and led her to the dowager's bed, where the old woman was propped up on at least a dozen pillows, wearing a frothy lace bed jacket. Steel-gray curls peeked out from beneath a fetching lace cap. Charlemagne, curled cozily at her feet, was snoring quietly. Iris left, and the dowager asked Emily to pull up a chair next to the bed as she wished to have a particular conversation with her. Emily did so and, after being seated, said, "Do you wish to review the London preparations, my lady?"

  "Yes, my dear, I do," the dowager said in her usual drawl. "There is one item of preparation we have not discussed, as I had not wished to upset you. But I do not have time for roundaboutation, so I will speak plainly if you do not mind."

  Emily's back straightened, the only sign of increased tension. "I hope you feel you may always be frank with me. Lady Bradleigh."

  "Well, then. It is about your clothes."

  "My clothes?"

  "Yes. My dear, I am afraid they simply will not do. In London I will expect you to accompany me to many social engagements and to join me in my own entertainments at Bradleigh House, not to mention the engagement ball. I must insist that you be properly turned out."

  Emily squirmed slightly in her straight-backed chair as she mentally reviewed her wardrobe. "I do have my gray silk gown which I could update with new ribbons," she said hesitantly. "And I suppose I could modify the blue sarsnet with a new flounce or lace at the hem. And—"

  "No, no, my dear," the dowager interrupted with a wave of her hand. "I did not mean that you must go to any extra work yourself. You have too much to do as it is. I want you to be fitted by Madame Dubois tomorrow so that she can have a few dresses made up for you before we leave Bath. Once in London I will take you to Madame Cécile for a complete wardrobe."

  Emily jumped to her feet. "Oh, no, my lady. I could not—"

  "Oh, yes, you could, and please sit down so I don't have to crane my neck."

  Emily sank stiffly back into the chair, frowning furiously. She did not like the direction of this conversation. She had just today been pondering the fortunate circumstance of her position with the dowager countess. But she would walk away from it all if she was made to feel a charity case.

  "Now, Emily," the dowager continued in a serious tone, "I will listen to no arguments. I realize that you have never wanted to accept any gifts from me in the past, but this time must be an exception to your self-imposed rule. I simply cannot have you marching around London in those plain round gowns of yours."

  "But, my lady, I cannot accept your charity. If I am unable to provide myself a wardrobe appropriate to your requirements, then I am unfit for this position. I am—"

  "Balderdash! Emily, my girl, I will need you in London. I cannot take on the preparations for a ball without your help. So let's not have any ridiculous talk about resigning your position. That is most definitely out of the question. Besides, I've grown quite fond of you, my dear, and will sincerely enjoy having you with me in Town. But we absolutely must update your wardrobe."

  Emily heaved a sigh and looked up at the dowager with knitted brows. Her lips were drawn tightly together, and her spine was rigid with tension. She loved the old woman, but she was beginning to feel like a trapped animal, helpless to escape from an intolerable situation. There was nothing more repugnant to her than to receive unsolicited offers of what could only be considered charity. She had fought hard the last seven years to make her own way in the world, without relying on any sort of charitable assistance, no matter how well meant. If she accepted a new wardrobe—and Emily was not unaware of the expense involved—what would be next?

  The dowager reached over and took Emily's hand in her own. "Emily, my love, you are a proud young woman. I understand what kind of life you've been saddled with, and, as much as I detest what your heartless father has forced you to endure, I cannot but admire your courage in facing the realities of your life. But, my dear, you must take care that your pride does not intrude on your good sense. It would give me great pleasure to provide you with a wardrobe that is, after all, appropriate to a woman of your background. You must never forget that you are the granddaughter of an earl. Please indulge an old woman and allow me to do this small thing for you." She gently squeezed Emily's hand.

  What could she do? How could she reject such a sincere offer? Emily knew that a rejection would hurt the old woman's feelings. She dropped her gaze to the floor as she considered her position. If she refused this offer, she would likely have to give up her position. She knew that the dowager was right, that her current pitiful wardrobe would not be appropriate for London. And she did so want to go to London. Perhaps just this one time she should swallow her pride and allow herself this indulgence.

  Emily raised her eyes and smiled at her elderly employer, blinking back the tears she was on the verge of shedding. How could she deny this sweet old termagant anything? She reached over and kissed the dowager's cheek.

  "Thank you, my lady," she said as she reluctantly came to a decision. "You are too kind to me. I shall never forget your generosity."

  Chapter 5

  The next day the dowager's barouche took Lady Bradleigh and Emily from Laura Place to Milsom Street to the establishment of Madame Dubois, one of Bath's most well-respected modistes. Madame's showroom was one of many bow-windowed shop fronts that lined the popular thoroughfare, tucked between a print seller and a plumiere. The dowager had long been a good customer of Madame Dubois. Emily was aware that the tiny Frenchwoman held the dowager in much awe due to her past association with the court of Louis XV and in particular her friendship with the Marquise de Pompadour. But today Madame seemed especially pleased to be asked to outfit Emily.

  "Such a fine figure and graceful carriage," Madame said with heavily accented enthusiasm, as she circled Emily and eyed her from head to foot.

  As Madame tossed bolt after bolt of fabric on the counter for inspection, the dowager had unfailingly voiced her preference for the brightest colors and the boldest patterns. Emily, however, stood her ground. She had agreed to accept the new wardrobe, but she would not be bullied into colors that made her look like a circus tent. She was firm in her selection of clear blues and greens in fine cambrics or textured sarsnets. She had also selected one simple printed India muslin. As she and her employer perused the fashion plates in the latest issues of La Belle Assemblée, the dowager was wont to select those dresses with the most flounces, the most ruffles, and the most elaborate trimming. Again, Emily stood firm. She had no desire to be thrust upon the ton looking like a wedding cake. Ever conscious of her position, she preferred the simplest styles.

  "Here is a lovely confection," the dowager said as she pointed to a hand-colored engraving of a very elaborate evening full dress of pink satin trimmed at the bodice with swags of seed pearls and with countless tiny ivory satin bows at regular intervals along the long sleeves. "You would be just the thing in this dress, my dear."

  Emily studied the fashion plate and looked up to catch Madame Dubois's wary eye. "I am sorry, my lady," she said to the dowager, "but I think I would prefer something much simpler. Like this, for example." She indicated a plate showing a soft green half evening dress trimmed at the neck and waist with pink ribbon embroidered with a green leaf pattern.

  "Hmph!" the dowager snorted. "You may choose as you like, my dear, although please remember that our purpose is to have you appear fashionable during the height of the London Season."

  "Mais, oui, my lady," Madame Dubois interjected. "And this design," she said, pointing to the fashion plate in Emily's hand, "is la dernier cri. In the right fabric it will be stunning on Mademoiselle, accentuating her height and graceful neck." She pulled out a length of pale green silk and with a flourish swiftly draped it across a very startled Emily. "Voilà! See how it matches the green of her eyes."

  Emily, amused at the Gallic enthusiasm of the modiste, raised questioning brows to the dowager.

  "It will do," the older woman snapped. "Proceed, Madame."

  Emily was then taken to a private room,
where for the next two hours she was subjected to endless poking, prodding, measuring, and pinning. The dowager sat nearby, her brows furrowed skeptically throughout the fitting. She was still opposed to the simple styles Emily had selected.

  "In my day," she said at one point, "we prided ourselves on achieving the most elaborate styles. Why, our bodices were literally covered with bows. I will never understand, Madame, how we came to these simple vertical designs. And, Emily," she scolded, "you disappoint me in your conservative selections."

  Emily kept quiet, determined to maintain a simple, albeit fashionable, appearance, in keeping with her position. She had an unexpected ally in Madame Dubois.

  "Ah, but Mademoiselle has excellent taste," she crooned. "You are very wise not to be—how do you say?—a slave to fashion. You must define your own style. Simple, uncluttered elegance will serve you best. Fine fabric in a clean line is more becoming to your height and bone structure. Follow my advice and avoid all furbelows, fruit, or flowers. Jamais, jamais, jamais! Let the fabric speak for itself, n'est-ce pas?"

  Emily was quite overwhelmed when they left the modiste's, having ordered two morning dresses, two evening dresses, a walking dress with matching spencer, a carriage dress, and a pelisse. After much protestation Madame Dubois promised to have everything ready in ten days. She also happened to have a simple evening half dress already made up for another customer who had changed her mind at the last moment. With the most minor adjustments, the gown fit Emily perfectly, so that she was able to take it with her. To Emily's amazement, the dowager informed her that this new wardrobe would take her through perhaps their first week in Town, and that many more dresses would be required for the remainder of the Season. The dowager intended to make a visit to Madame Cécile's soon after their arrival in Town.