A Chance to Dream

by Lynne Connolly

  “Can’t you?” She met his soft gaze with a harder one. He had been short of money himself. Surely it couldn’t pass his understanding. He was being deliberately obtuse. “I have this Thursday afternoon and evening off. My mother is having a soiree, and I will be there. Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”

  “You take part?”

  “In what?” She knew he had never been to her mother’s house. She could only imagine what he thought. Her mother’s was the only house of that type she had ever entered, but she had read and heard of the activities in the ones lower down the scale. She put up her chin. “Come and see, my lord.”

  To her surprise he smiled. “I think I will.”

  Too late she realized her challenge was one he could meet with no ill effects to himself. She could only hope that on her own ground she might have some advantage. She determined to make him understand, to show him his fears were groundless. Or perhaps she would not. It would be enjoyable to punish him a little, for the unspoken criticism of her mother.

  He finished his brandy, lifting his arm and tossing the liquid down his throat with a gesture that seemed to indicate finality. Violetta rose to leave, but before she could go he laid a hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean this meeting to end like this. I’m sorry. I merely find the thought of you in such a house uncomfortable. Please forgive me my naggy temper.”

  His smile was so winning she couldn’t refuse him. She returned the smile. “It doesn’t matter. I daresay we can live without your approval.”

  He grimaced. “I deserved that. Thank you for your help with Perdita. I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.”

  She shrugged. “It could have been anyone.”

  “No.” He sounded completely sure. “It could only have been you.”

  She felt uncomfortable, moved to shake off his arm when she saw his gaze become more intimate. “Lady Perdita merely needed someone to have faith in her abilities. I didn’t realize it fully until I saw her with the doctor, but he must have been working for some time to diminish her in her own eyes.”

  “I should have done more.”

  She couldn’t bear the note of regret she heard. “No, you could not have known what Dr. Sewell was doing. You did the best you could.”

  “Not enough.”

  He didn’t seem to notice when she drew gently away and went to the door. On an impulse, she turned back. “I appreciate your faith in my abilities. Have the same faith in Lady Perdita. She will recover. I’ve made up my mind to it.” With an impish smile she turned the knob and left the room.

  Chapter Seven

  They were to go shopping. Some time ago Lord Blyth had reupholstered the sedan chair in the hall in a cerulean blue, Lady Perdita’s favourite colour, but she had never used it before today. Lady Judith arrived in good time to accompany them and the burly footmen his lordship had detailed to accompany them were ready and waiting.

  Violetta was nervous. The mantua maker, Cerisot, knew her in another capacity—as La Perla Perfetta, one of the very few people who had seen the young lady without her mask or maquillage. Indeed, she had seen La Perla Perfetta without anything at all. Those sharp eyes wouldn’t fail to detect the woman beneath the shapeless clothes, the mousy wig and the spectacles. Violetta had had no chance to warn the mantua maker that she was arriving, and could only trust in the quick thought that had helped to make Cerisot the most fashionable of all the fashionable mantua makers who thronged Bond Street.

  Lady Perdita was lifted into the sedan chair and Violetta reminded herself of her duty. Despite or perhaps because of the heightened hauteur on her mistress’s features Violetta understood that the lady was nervous and distressed. She let Lady Judith take charge, which she did with aplomb.

  Lady Judith walked alongside the sedan, chattering all the way, not allowing Lady Perdita to reflect on her situation or order the footmen to return her to the house. Violetta admitted to herself that Lady Judith succeeded very well, even surprising a laugh out of her rigidly anxious companion. Violetta was free to watch the scene she loved so well.

  It was why she loved London above all other cities. The bustle, the self-absorption of everyone in their business and the way people mixed so freely. Ragamuffins darted about the well dressed passers-by, some of them perhaps engaged in distraction for their colleagues, a chance to steal and cut purses. It wasn’t unknown for hats and wigs to be snatched off heads and the thieves to get clean away. Violetta wondered what it would be like to be a street urchin. She often lost herself in dreams, imagining herself into someone else’s shoes, trying to lose herself in someone else. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t done that.

  Violetta found she was invisible. She didn’t look prosperous enough to be worth stealing from, and not attractive or well dressed enough to draw any interested looks. She loved it. Her distinctive hair, white clothes and eye colouring tended to draw attention if she entered it in her other persona, but with this disguise she was no more notable than any other maid or companion in the street.

  Bond Street was one of the most fashionable shopping streets in London, and therefore in the world. The street was full of people preparing for the coming season, dressed in the height of fashion, their dress inviting admiration and even adoration. Violetta thought some people were there not to shop, but to watch and she had to admit it was a fascinating sight. With more free time she would come here in this guise, just to observe.

  The shop door was flung open when they approached, forewarned of their coming. The sedan chair was taken right inside the premises. Cerisot waited just inside the doors, and lost no time greeting her customer. “It is such a delight to see you here, my lady! Good morning, Lady Judith! Such a lovely day, too, to greet you!”

  “Indeed.” Violetta heard Lady Perdita’s voice, small and tight. She felt nervous for her, and tried to understand how this bustle and haste must overwhelm Lady Perdita after a year’s close seclusion. Perhaps a visit to the theatre might have been preferable, so at least her ladyship could observe from the seclusion of a box. It was too late to reconsider now.

  Violetta moved forward in case her mistress should need her and it was then that Cerisot spotted her. She glanced up, looked down and then looked again, her dark eyes sharp with speculation. Violetta calmly met her gaze and then raised one eyebrow above the level of her spectacles. She kept her expression bland. An instant stretched to an eternity. Cerisot blinked and looked away and Violetta knew she was safe. “Do come this way, Lady Perdita, a room has been prepared for you.”

  Forewarned then. Violetta knew who had sent word, recognizing the hand of Lord Blyth in this. Of course he would not allow his sister to enter the lion’s den without drugging the lion first. His protection was comprehensive, though not suffocating. He merely smoothed the way. Now it was up to her ladyship.

  Lady Perdita was installed on a waiting armchair, and the footmen lifted her to carry her across the salon. The lady stared straight in front of her, ignoring the stares of the ill-bred, the glances flicked at her from the more knowing. It would be all round London by nightfall that Lady Perdita Garland had broken her self-imposed seclusion. Violetta knew they could expect a number of cards of invitation in the morning and wondered how Lady Perdita would react.

  The room was small but well appointed, furnished with a couple of chairs, a table, a sofa and a long mirror, all in the first stare of fashion. Such items were expensive. Cerisot must be doing extremely well. With a bright smile to Lady Perdita and a puzzled glance at Violetta, Cerisot set to work.

  She had prepared some drawings and gathered some prints from various publications. Her tape measure sat ready on the table together with a number of other items. “Lady Perdita, I am honoured you chose to visit me here. I trust your journey was uneventful?”

  Lady Perdita smiled and replied in the affirmative. Violetta stood silently behind her mistress’s chair and prepared to admire. Cerisot had the measure of her client, as she had of everyone. While Lady Judith e
xclaimed over the exquisite designs, she set to making Lady Perdita comfortable and assessing her needs. It was masterly. More than anything else it showed why Cerisot was the most sought after mantua maker in London. The designs were good, but the flattery and luxury must make the difference.

  Violetta stayed on the alert, waiting for the sound of petulance in Lady Perdita’s voice that she had come to recognize as a sign of tiredness. But it did not come. Until one moment. “Can you stand for a brief time?” Cerisot asked gently. “It would be better if I took the measurements with you upright, my lady. If you cannot, I am sure we will contrive, but the fit will be so much better!”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Lady Perdita. Her voice wavered.

  Violetta decided it was time. She came round to stand in front of her mistress. “You have been held up in the last few days,” she reminded her. When she had helped Lady Perdita from one chair to another she had been careful to hold her upright, just for a moment. “You have been leaning less on me recently. If I stand on one side and Lady Judith consents to stand on the other to support you, I’m sure it will be possible.”

  Lady Perdita stared at Violetta, horrorstruck, before the familiar arrogant mask settled over her features. “That will not be necessary. I’m sure Cerisot can manage without that.”

  Cerisot looked at Violetta, the first time their eyes had met. Lady Judith, missing the unspoken exchange, stepped forward. “Would you like to try, Perdita, my sweet? I won’t let you down, I swear it, and if we keep the chair behind you it will give you somewhere to fall if you tire.”

  Lady Perdita gave in. “For a moment, then.”

  She stretched up her arms. While Lady Judith caught hold of one, Violetta bent and seized her mistress around the waist, but did not attempt to pull. With her face close to Lady Perdita, she murmured, “Ready?”

  Lady Perdita nodded. This close Violetta saw the fear in her eyes, a fear she had not seen her without since she had first arrived at the house. She showed no sign of noticing, but tightened her hold.

  Lady Perdita got to her feet without a sound, even though Violetta felt the effort she was making. She wore no hoops, since she spent most of her time sitting, but quilted petticoats that bulked up the thin body beneath to a semblance of the belled skirts currently in fashion. Looking at the mirror, Violetta saw the slight body tremble, and then felt the muscles tighten.

  Her heart went out to the lady. For all her snappy temper, arrogant air and haughty demeanour, Lady Perdita was a frightened woman. Afraid that her legs would break once more under the strain of holding up her body, afraid that she would appear clumsy and foolish in society, afraid she would be pointed out for all the wrong reasons. Violetta caught Lady Judith’s triumphant gaze. “If we step back, my lady, and hold her ladyship carefully between us it should be possible for Cerisot to take her measurements. Madame Cerisot,” she corrected hastily. Her status here wasn’t such that she could use the name unadvisedly.

  Lady Judith glanced at her, but apart from the heat rising to her cheeks, Violetta retained her calmness. When she stepped back, Lady Judith stepped in front of her, forcing her to let go. Lady Judith was a sturdy young woman, and Violetta had no fear she would drop Lady Perdita, or let her fall, unless she wished to. Considering her designs on Lord Blyth, Lady Judith needed Lady Perdita’s approval.

  Violetta caught herself on the thought. Even if it were true it wasn’t her place to think so waspishly of the woman who had kept Lady Perdita company during her illness. The realization had grown on her that it gave Lady Judith enviable access to his lordship, but she told herself firmly that was nothing to do with the matter. Lady Judith probably sought out Lady Perdita for her own sake. In fact, now she came to think of it, Lady Judith took great pleasure in Lady Perdita’s company. She watched the two ladies together, Lady Judith holding Lady Perdita around the waist in an almost possessive gesture. They looked like a couple.

  Dear heaven!

  The way Lady Judith touched Lady Perdita, so tenderly, the way she met her gaze so often. Violetta had put it down to a close friendship, but had not seen any more. It was not unusual for ladies to indulge in such friendships. It would not be her concern, if Lady Perdita assented. She watched. At a singularly intimate caress, when Lady Judith curled her arm around her friend’s waist to pull her closer, Violetta saw Lady Perdita pull away, and cast her friend a doubtful look. Then all was well again and Cerisot continued in her work.

  She watched her mistress for any sign of fatigue but there was none. Violetta was conscious of a feeling of pride. The exercises and massages were bearing fruit, whether the recipient of them realized it or not. She felt sure that success was just ahead of them. It was time to encourage Lady Perdita to take a few steps. Perhaps tomorrow. If she left it too long the lady might regret it or refuse to comply.

  “Shall I go and fetch some refreshments?”

  “Yes, do that, my dear,” Cerisot replied, her mouth full of pins, her gaze distantly absent. Violetta left her unlacing Lady Perdita’s gown to go and find a maid.

  She returned to a scene of disaster. Lady Perdita was lying on the sofa, pale, with her eyes closed. Violetta put down the small tray of tea things and rushed forward to kneel by the side of the sofa. “What is it?”

  Lady Perdita opened her eyes. To her surprise they were amused, laughing. “I did it! I stood all on my own for a full minute! Dear Judith thought I should rest after such exertion, and I do feel tired. I’ll go home presently.”

  Her laughing countenance was so unlike her usual cold hauteur Violetta forgot herself, and gripped her hand tightly. “I knew you could do it! Slowly but surely, you are getting there.”

  “She only did it because I was here.” Violetta could hardly believe Lady Judith had said such a thing, but when she looked up the triumph was unmistakable. “I shall come and encourage her every day. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

  Violetta bit her lip and got to her feet. She was not sure the haste was advisable, but she could say nothing. She had not been present for the minute Lady Perdita had stayed on her feet. It had been Lady Judith’s moment and Lady Judith was beaming triumphantly. “It won’t be long before we can enter a ballroom together, dear Perdita. I long for the moment.” As though Lady Judith had helped, had a significant part of the recovery. Violetta was not a saint. She resented the credit that Lady Judith fully intended to draw to herself. The possessive look, the way she blocked Violetta from coming any closer told its own story.

  Cerisot, until now silent, made a small sound that drew attention to her. “If I may leave you ladies to your tea, I could inform Miss Lambert of our decisions about the clothes. Then she may assure the correct delivery of the items and not discommode her ladyship in any way.”

  Violetta bowed and followed Cerisot out of the small room and into another, on the other side of the large, central salon. As soon as the door closed Cerisot rounded on her. “You did not warn me, Miss Palagio. I could have given your game away in a moment.” The heavy French accent, so noticeable in Cerisot’s dealings with the ladies of the ton, had dropped away and now Cerisot spoke in the soft tones of the Devon countryside.

  Violetta laughed, her expression light hearted. “It’s no game. It started as one, but I am determined to see Lady Perdita on her feet before I leave her.”

  Cerisot threw up her hands. “Why on earth did you do this? And where did you get that dreadful gown?”

  “Not from you.” Violetta laughed again and pirouetted in front of the mirror, showing off the folds of the green gown. “Not my colour, is it?”

  “Dear Lord, if you want to look dowdy. It’s second hand, isn’t it?” Cerisot reached out and shook out a corner of the offending gown, pulling it straight to see the worn lines left by over-pressing the pleats.

  “If not third or fourth hand,” Violetta agreed. “I got it from a shop on Ludgate Hill. I have three others.”

  Cerisot shuddered theatrically. “I hate to think there are su
ch garments in existence.”

  “You haven’t seen the brown one. That wouldn’t suit anybody! I looked for an age before I found them!”

  Cerisot regarded her with a mournful expression. “You are the most exquisite creature. Why should you want to do this? I brought you here to give you a severe scold, but I can see you’re not a whit abashed. You don’t care what I think.”

  “Oh no, of course I do! I’ll come and see you soon for some new gowns. Some good ones.”

  Cerisot sniffed. “I don’t make any other kind. What are you up to?”

  Violetta smiled, feeling light-hearted. “I only took this position with Lady Perdita to see society without being seen, to get a taste of what I might have had.”

  Cerisot frowned. “To what aim?”

  Violetta giggled. “I’m turning respectable.” At the deepening of the frown, she explained. “My father died two years ago. There’s no need for my mother or myself to hide any more. When I finished school I went to Tuscany, to the family estates and they welcomed me. I’m accepted as a Palagio, Cerisot. They gave me the legacy they said should have been my dowry and their blessing. Did Mama not tell you?”

  Cerisot shook her head. “No. It can make little difference to her now.”

  Violetta’s mood plummeted. That was true. It was too late for La Perla. Her mother had been delighted at the news of her abusive father’s death, but she could not return to what she once had been. It was far too late for that. “You’re right. The difference is for me. It means I don’t have to hide any more. I’m planning to go to Italy.”

  “Will you join the fashionable world?”

  Violetta laughed, an edge of bitterness in her tone. “I can’t do that here, not immediately. If I’m recognized as La Perla’s daughter I’ll be ruined, and so will everyone who wants to associate with me. In Tuscany, I won’t be forced to do anything I don’t want to do, and I’ll be another Palagio to add to the brood. I may even find a husband there, or I may return to England in the company of my family. I won’t seem so unusual in their company.”