by Jen Turano
“I didn’t realize Edwina was quite this determined, but . . .” Harrison frowned and considered her closely. “Your feelings have been hurt by this, haven’t they?”
Not particularly caring to discuss her feelings, hurt or otherwise, Gertrude gestured to where Gilbert had joined Permilia and Asher. “I’m fine, truly I am, but by the expression on Gilbert’s face, you won’t be fine if you delay your speech much longer.”
Harrison leaned toward her. “You’ll save a dance for me after dinner?”
Gertrude’s heart gave a bit of a flip even as she forced herself to shake her head. “You and I have already shared a dance. Because there are limited dances this evening, you should ask some of the other ladies in attendance to take to the floor with you.” She grinned. “Besides, since I’ve confided that I’m suffering from laces that are far tighter than I’m used to, by not dancing with me, you’ll be helping me maintain an adequate supply of air.”
He returned the grin, and after bowing over her hand while placing a kiss on it, he turned and strode across the room, leaving her feeling more than a little light-headed, and this time not due to a lack of sufficient air.
Realizing she was beginning to draw attention from a few of the guests, probably because they’d caught her watching Harrison far more closely than she should have, Gertrude turned on her heel and walked to the side of the ballroom, craning her neck as she tried to find Mrs. Davenport.
Panic began trickling through her when she found not so much as a glimpse of her employer. The panic quickly increased when she realized that, even though she’d vowed to keep a close eye on Mrs. Davenport, that vow had all but been forgotten while she’d danced with Harrison.
Knowing there was no help for it but to go in search of her missing employer, Gertrude began moving through the ballroom, hoping with all her heart that Mrs. Davenport had not seen fit to use Gertrude’s distraction with Harrison to get herself into any troubling shenanigans.
Chapter
Thirteen
Pushing aside the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, Gertrude drew in a large breath, regretting that action a second later when she began wheezing, her lungs apparently not having enough room to accommodate so much air. Just when she began feeling decidedly light-headed again, though, someone began pounding her on the back, the pounding immediately diminishing her wheezing, although it set her eyes to watering.
Lifting those eyes, she found Mrs. Davenport standing beside her, watching her with clear concern.
“Goodness, dear, what in the world is wrong with you?”
“She’s obviously suffering from having her laces tied too tightly,” Edwina said, stepping around Mrs. Davenport before she reached out and pressed a handkerchief into Gertrude’s hand. “I take full responsibility for your unfortunate state, and do know that from this point forward, I’ll not dismiss claims of not being able to breathe so easily.”
Gertrude dabbed at her eyes. “We would have never gotten me into this gown if not for your efforts, Edwina. I simply need to remember that gulping in air is not a luxury I can afford for the rest of this evening.”
“I fear you won’t be able to eat anything either,” Edwina said.
“Which will make it easier for me to get into smaller sizes in the future.” Gertrude tucked the handkerchief into the sleeve of her gown. “But enough about my unusual condition. Tell me, what have the two of you been up to while I’ve been occupied?”
Mrs. Davenport’s smile was far too innocent. “Nothing of any consequence. We’ve simply been discussing fashions and what Edwina will need to bring to Newport.”
“And you were discussing those fashions the entire time I was occupied?” Gertrude pressed.
Mrs. Davenport’s smile dimmed. “I did use the retiring room at one point, but that’s hardly a matter of interest to anyone.”
“Did you encounter anyone of interest in the retiring room?” Gertrude asked.
Mrs. Davenport, to Gertrude’s concern, waved that aside. “There are always interesting ladies in a retiring room, but what I find more interesting is how much time you’ve spent with Harrison this evening.”
“Dancing with a gentleman at a ball is scarcely interesting, Mrs. Davenport, especially since dancing is expected when one attends a ball.”
“But not every lady is fortunate enough to take to the floor with a gentleman such as Harrison. You should know that your dance was remarked on by numerous guests, all of whom have been interrupting my time with Edwina to inquire about your relationship with the man.”
Gertrude forced a smile. “From what I understand, my friendship with Harrison has been remarked on frequently of late, so I wouldn’t put much store in any additional remarks made this evening.”
Mrs. Davenport lifted her chin. “I have no idea why you’re being so annoyingly obtuse. I’m not blind to what’s transpiring between you and Harrison, although I do hope you’ll afford me a small measure of notice before you decide to leave my employ.” She sent a fond smile Edwina’s way. “At least I can console myself with knowing I’ll not be completely abandoned.”
Gertrude fought the urge to roll her eyes. “There’s no need for any consoling because I have no intention of abandoning you. However—” she gestured across the ballroom floor—“since Mr. Gilbert Cavendish does seem to be encouraging everyone to find their seats, let us repair to a table and banish further discussion on this ridiculous subject.”
Mrs. Davenport tossed an injured look to Gertrude, then entwined her arm with Edwina’s, releasing an honest-to-goodness sniff if Gertrude wasn’t much mistaken.
“Shall we find a table, dear?” she asked, and then, without bothering to see if Gertrude was going to follow, led Edwina toward a grouping of tables, missing the silently mouthed apology Edwina sent Gertrude.
Smiling in response, with a silent “You have nothing to apologize for,” Gertrude fell into step behind the two ladies, vowing then and there to pay extra attention to Mrs. Davenport, who was clearly suffering from some imagined slight, especially since such imaginings normally caused Mrs. Davenport to embrace a melancholy attitude.
“Ah, Miss Henrietta, Miss Mabel,” Mrs. Davenport began, coming to a stop beside a table where the sisters were standing. “Would you mind if we join you?”
“How delightful,” Miss Henrietta exclaimed as Miss Mabel nodded in clear agreement. “It’s a rare occasion indeed when my sister and I get the company of two ladies who aren’t past their prime.”
Shuddering just a touch when Mrs. Davenport began swelling on the spot to what she obviously took as an insult to her somewhat advanced age, Gertrude breathed a small sigh of relief when a server approached them carrying a tray filled with champagne flutes, right as someone began tapping one of the flutes to draw everyone’s attention. Turning toward the sound, Gertrude was happy to see Harrison lifting up his champagne flute and smiling in a way that Gertrude couldn’t help but notice had more than one young lady—and even a few of the older ones—sighing.
By the time Harrison was finished telling everyone exactly how fortunate Asher was to have found such a lovely lady to soon call his wife, Permilia and Asher were both dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs Asher produced from his well-stocked pockets. Even Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel, two ladies who weren’t known to be overly emotional sorts, were sniffling into their own handkerchiefs, although what Miss Henrietta meant by muttering something about finally finding her true calling in life, Gertrude couldn’t say.
Taking the chair to Mrs. Davenport’s right while Edwina took the chair to Mrs. Davenport’s left, Gertrude pushed aside the disappointment that stole over her at the sight of a smiling Clementine being escorted into a chair by Harrison. Needing a distraction from that, she turned and found that Miss Henrietta was sitting in the chair directly beside her, regarding her far too closely for comfort.
“It speaks highly of your character, dear, what you did for Miss Temperance Flowerdew. There aren’t many ladies who’
d forgo sitting down to dine with that oh-so-delicious Harrison Sinclair simply to help a friend,” Miss Henrietta said.
Gertrude frowned. “Forgive me, but neither you nor your sister were anywhere near me when I suggested Harrison dine with Clementine.”
“We didn’t need to be,” Miss Mabel chimed in, leaning forward in the chair next to her sister. “As I’m sure you well remember, Henrietta and I have spent decades observing people, and during that time, we’ve become proficient at reading lips.”
“How . . . disturbing.”
Miss Henrietta winked. “Quite, but it does allow us to be well informed about even the most mundane of topics.” She spread a white linen napkin over her lap. “Our keen prowess with observation is exactly how we’re aware of the deplorable treatment that Miss Temperance Flowerdew receives at the hands of her distant relatives. And that is exactly why I’ve decided to include her, along with you if there was any question, into my new quest of taking wallflowers in hand and improving their lots in life.”
Gertrude blinked. “Is that what you were referring to when you muttered something about discovering your true purpose in life?”
“Ah, so you’ve a talent for observation as well,” Miss Henrietta said with a nod. “And yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Don’t you find assisting Miss Snook with her school to be rewarding enough?” Gertrude asked.
Miss Henrietta tilted her head. “While it’s very rewarding to know that a house Mabel and I never enjoyed is now to be used as a school dedicated to educating women of the working class, I also find myself drawn to assisting ladies of the wallflower set.” She smiled. “Because I’m privy to the many intricacies that unfold within society, as well as being privy to the nuances within the industrialists, I believe I can offer ladies such as yourself invaluable information and connections that will see you well-settled in the end.”
“Oh . . . I don’t believe there’s any need for you to offer such assistance to me,” Gertrude began. “I’m perfectly content with my lot in life.”
“Of course you’re not,” Miss Mabel said, leaning across her sister again and lowering her voice to the merest whisper. “You’re employed by a most curious lady and are expected to attend to business you’ve no business attending. Henrietta and I are going to do our very best to see you out of that situation.”
“How would you go about that?” Gertrude couldn’t help but ask.
“Get you married off to Harrison, of course,” the sisters said together, their words drawing Mrs. Davenport’s attention.
“I told you your time with Harrison was being remarked upon” was all she said before she turned back to Edwina and launched into a discussion of bustles, one that seemed to center around creating a bustle that would not make the wearer bottom-heavy.
“Don’t pay her any mind,” Miss Henrietta said as two servers approached the table carrying tureens of soup. “She’s worried she’ll soon be without a companion, and is probably only now realizing exactly how much she depends on you and your discretion.”
Having no idea what to say to that, Gertrude settled for saying nothing at all, attending to the soup one of the servers was placing in front of her.
Thankfully, Miss Henrietta and Miss Mabel were distracted with the many courses of the meal, and the conversation soon turned to the dishes they were sampling. Miss Henrietta enjoyed the terrapin, tongue, red mullet, and roast saddle of mutton, while Miss Mabel preferred the mayonnaise of chicken, quail, and compote of cherries.
Gertrude, on the other hand, only enjoyed the soup because with her laces being so tight, she didn’t have room for much food.
After the lemon ices were served, along with a glass of sparkling wine, servers stepped forward to clear off the tables as the orchestra members began retaking their seats.
“Returning to the subject of taking you in hand,” Miss Henrietta suddenly said, laying aside her napkin after she blotted her lips. “Do know that I have every confidence my sister and I will be successful with that. You only have to look to Permilia to see the proof of our success because, modesty aside, it was due to mine and Mabel’s observational skills that she ended up engaged to Asher.”
Gertrude blotted her own lips, using the time to compose a reply to what was a very unusual conclusion regarding Permilia and Asher’s courtship. “While I do find that an interesting notion, being under the impression Permilia secured Asher’s affections because they were immediately drawn to each other, I must state most emphatically that there’s no need for either you or your sister to take me in hand.”
“There’s every need, because without our assistance and expertise in these types of matters, you’re certain to miss a prime opportunity and lose the affection of . . .” Miss Henrietta stopped talking and smiled brightly at someone Gertrude couldn’t see.
When the fine hair on the nape of her neck stood to attention, she knew exactly who’d joined them, and after turning her head, she wasn’t at all surprised to find Harrison standing there.
“How was your meal?” he asked.
“The poor girl barely ate anything,” Miss Henrietta said before Gertrude could respond. “But I enjoyed my meal, as did my sister.” She nodded to Gertrude before returning her attention to Harrison. “Have you come to beg a dance from our charming Gertrude?”
Warmth settled over Gertrude, but she was spared further embarrassment when Harrison flashed a grin to Miss Henrietta. “Gertrude has, unfortunately, already informed me she’s unavailable for further dances with me because of the limited number of dances being offered. That’s why I’m here to beg a dance from you, Miss Henrietta, one I’m hoping you’ll grant me.”
With cheeks turning pink, Miss Henrietta was on her feet and grinning as she took the arm Harrison extended her. They made it all of three feet before she stopped, set her sights on Mr. Charles Dana, the editor from The Sun and the gentleman who had been Permilia’s editor when she was working as an anonymous society columnist, and nodded his way.
“I believe you were intending to ask Miss Gertrude Cadwalader to dance, weren’t you, Mr. Dana?” Miss Henrietta all but barked. “She’s sitting right there.” She nodded in Gertrude’s direction.
Mr. Dana’s eyes widened, but then, apparently not wanting to cross swords with Miss Henrietta, he practically jumped from his chair, and the next thing Gertrude knew, she was on the ballroom floor, smiling at Mr. Dana as they waited for the music to begin.
“You could have told her no,” she whispered right as the first note rang out.
“I think not,” Mr. Dana whispered back, and then they were dancing.
Gertrude soon found herself taking on the unusual position of leading when Mr. Dana, after trying to steer her in the wrong direction twice, admitted he wasn’t much of a dancer and was perfectly agreeable with her taking the lead.
Once she got them moving somewhat smoothly over the floor, they settled into a friendly conversation, Mr. Dana even broaching the idea of bringing her on as a new Miss Quill, since his readers were writing daily to the paper, bemoaning the loss of the column Permilia once penned.
“I’m afraid I’m kept busy with my position as Mrs. Davenport’s companion,” Gertrude said. “But why don’t you approach someone like Miss Clementine Flowerdew? She’s accepted in all the right circles and is privy to the latest news of the day.”
Mr. Dana stopped counting his steps and shook his head. “I approached her earlier, and while I’m sure she does know more than her fair share of the scandals traveling around society, I didn’t get the impression she’s a lady who enjoys responsibilities.” His brows drew together. “Perhaps I should approach that cousin of hers, the other Miss Flowerdew. She’s a wallflower from what Miss Clementine told me. And I have to say from personal experience that wallflowers are known to be quite knowledgeable about society matters, given the amount of time they spend languishing against the walls instead of . . .” His voice trailed off to nothing as if he’d just realized he was dancing wit
h a wallflower and might have insulted her.
Taking pity on Mr. Dana, who was red in the face and trying to cover up his slip by resuming his counting of steps, Gertrude smiled. “Wallflowers are notoriously underestimated, Mr. Dana, but since I’m personally known to Temperance, I’ll ask her if she’d be interested in doing a column for you here or there. She’s known to be rather shy at times, which is why I won’t encourage you to ask her yourself.”
Mr. Dana looked over Gertrude’s shoulder, brought her to a stop, and then gestured to where Temperance was dancing with Gilbert Cavendish, laughing at something he’d said and looking anything other than shy. “I believe she may have found a reason to come out of her shell.”
“You may be right,” Gertrude said as the music slowed to a stop and she walked with Mr. Dana off the floor, where he immediately found himself badgered into asking Edwina to dance by Miss Mabel, who’d apparently just agreed to partner Harrison next.
Sinking into the chair beside Mrs. Davenport, and claiming exhaustion when Miss Henrietta began casting her beady gaze around for another partner for her, she looked to her employer and found Mrs. Davenport watching her somewhat sadly.
Knowing it would take next to nothing to send Mrs. Davenport into a bout of melancholy that would not bode well for anyone, Gertrude began chatting about bustles, and before even a minute passed, Mrs. Davenport was smiling and explaining how she was going to improve on her latest bustle design, her smile widening when Gertrude offered herself up as a model for that design.
When the last notes of the last song faded away, Gertrude helped Mrs. Davenport to her feet, then waited as Gilbert rushed around with a pad of paper in his hands. That pad listed the carriages the guests were assigned to, and even though she was disappointed to not find herself in Harrison’s carriage since he was staying back to settle the hotel bill, she was relieved that Mrs. Davenport had abandoned any sign of melancholy.
Making their way through the hotel, she and Mrs. Davenport, with Edwina joining them once again, were about to enter their assigned carriage when Gertrude was hailed from behind by Clementine.