Gradually, life took on a regular routine on the Talbot estate. April turned into May and the weather was more predictable and pleasant, allowing Dahlia to ride and train the horses her father took on. The high-walled pen that James had designed was built, but she only used it when outsiders or visitors came onto the estate. Her family and the staff, including some of the local crofters, were used to seeing her ride astride and even in breeches and never looked at her twice because of it.
She thought of James often: every time she passed the pen, when Matty told a Celtic story or fairy tale set in Scotland, and even when the papers had stories of new building projects. She thought of him when she resumed her acquaintance with the girls in the Gaggle at monthly assemblies in town, and hoped for news of him in every letter that came from Miss McElroy or to her brother Tom for she knew James wrote to him periodically.
Because they were addressed directly to her, Miss McElroy’s letters were much more detailed in their accounts of her seeing James and of his specific greetings to her. Last week Miss McElroy’s letter had even included a handwritten note from James. It was on a milliner’s ad for he had cut out of a London paper. The hat on the model, inspired by the empire’s conquests in India, had two huge peacock feathers sticking straight out of a large faux ruby centered between the model’s eyes. The note said, “I beg you not to follow the latest fashions! Your friend, James.”
Between letters, Dahlia sought out her friend Lady Sweet whenever she had time. Once a week, Lady Sweet would take the carriage to Talbot Hall. As the days became longer and warmer, the two women would take long walks up to the ravine where the air was cooler. Occasionally, Glenda would make them a basket and they would sit and talk. Lady Sweet didn’t have the answers Dahlia sought either, but talking through her fears and concerns and thoughts about the future still helped her.
On one such occasion, Dahlia rolled some rocks aside with her boot so they wouldn’t be caught under the blanket she would spread for them to sit on. She laughed, thinking of the stone cairns James had told her about. Once the blanket was spread, she knelt at the edge and started to pile the rocks into a pyramid shape.
“Whatever are you up to, Dahlia?”
Dahlia looked up at her friend and smiled. “James told me about stone markers for the dead in Scotland. Cairns, they are called. He said people treat them reverently, like a little plot of holy ground. It occurred to me to put one together for Mother. Silly, I know,” she laughed.
Sharon was not laughing, however. She looked at Dahlia curiously. “Why here?” she asked, quite seriously.
Dahlia was taken aback by her tone. Looking from Lady Sweet to the little cairn, she said, “Well, it is beautiful up here, and as I was moving the rocks away for our blanket, I just…did it.”
Sharon recovered herself quickly. Happenstance, then. Good. That meant that Dahlia had not heard any rumors about her mother’s death at the ravine. “That’s a lovely sentiment,” she said lightly. “Perhaps next week we can bring some flowers.” Dahlia nodded, glad whatever she thought she detected in Lady Sweet’s demeanor was gone. “So, since you brought him up,” she continued quickly to change the subject, “what news of Mr. Kent?”
As expected, Dahlia was only too happy to launch into the latest snippets of information from Miss McElroy. “Well, Miss McElroy says he is becoming quite the most popular guest at her dinner parties, but she assures me her guest lists still include more men than women.” Dahlia smiled, then became introspective, the little frown line appearing between her brows. “Lady Sweet, do you think with his new circle of acquaintances will make him think of me as far too beneath him? Perhaps he will begin to think of me as very provincial.”
“The city mouse and the country mouse?” Sharon asked with a smile. “Hardly, my dear. You have far and away more education than most young ladies of your acquaintance. I had begun to worry that your father’s decision to let you participate in all of your brothers’ lessons might do you an injustice.”
At Dahlia’s questioning look, Sharon continued. “Many men are threatened by well-educated women and prefer ignorant wives. Thank God there are exceptions. I believe your Mr. Kent is one of them. Besides, Miss McElroy knows that in London society, success is less a result of what you know than who you know. She is helping him forge connections that will be beneficial for his career. Despite Lord Telford’s rank in society, I daresay he does nothing to help his nephew’s position therein.”
“Why do you think that is?” Dahlia queried.
Sharon shrugged and passed Dahlia a cucumber sandwich. “Family politics, perhaps. The difference in how warmly Mr. Kent speaks of his mother’s family in Scotland and how he rarely speaks of his uncle at all is notable. I think there is something to that. Perhaps Lord Telford felt that his brother married below his station.”
“But Mr. Kent told me his mother’s family has a castle in the Highlands. Surely they hold rank?”
“Rank among the nobility is not the only station considered. Many titled families are broke. Also, as you know, we do not put as much emphasis on rank here in the country as society does in London. For example, your father and my husband are titled, but Mr. Standford and Colonel Parkinson are not. Yet everyone in the county gives all the Quartermasters the same respect and deference.”
Mention of Mr. Standford brought Dahlia’s thoughts to Alyce Standford. “Miss Standford sent a message saying she would not be able to come for lunch on Saturday after all. I admit I am somewhat relieved.” Lady Sweet arched a brow at her young friend. “Well, as much as I want to be a friend to her, it is very difficult to be fond of her,” Dahlia said defensively. “And I would look forward to our visits more if Edward did not always escort her!”
Sharon could not argue that Alyce Standford made forming a friendship with her very hard but, like Dahlia, she was resolved to continue trying. “Randal mentioned that he sees Edward quite regularly in Cirencester. Perhaps he has an apprenticeship of some sort there, and would not even be able to escort Miss Standford if we changed our invitations to a weekday,” she suggested.
Dahlia nodded her head and giggled. “Yes, let’s do that. Can you come next Thursday?”
“If she accepts, I will be there.”
Alyce did accept, but much to Dahlia’s chagrin, Edward was her usual escort. Seeing him walking up to the entrance with Miss Standford, Dahlia whispered to Lady Sweet, “So much for that theory!”
Miss Standford continued to wear her long-sleeved dresses, despite the discussions of fashion that Dahlia and Lady Sweet introduced to gently persuade her to change their style. Edward was his usual pesty self, insisting on staying with the women while they had tea and talked about everything and anything women do that would send any other young man running for more masculine pursuits.
So the rhythm of life continued for Dahlia throughout the summer. Riding, music, correspondence, walks to the ravine with Lady Sweet and visits to the Sweet estate to play with baby Randy, and the occasional teas with Miss Standford and the ever-lurking Edward. Once a month she would attend the assemblies in town and suffer the Gaggle. Convinced she had gleaned all the education she could from them, Dahlia did her best to fit in. Three of the eldest girls had become engaged over the summer and all the talk was of their weddings and trousseaus and where they would live. Even within the Gaggle there were ranks and the newly-engaged girls rocketed to the top. Dahlia’s own standing within the crowd was diminished somewhat with the absence of Mark and Leland from the local dances and the marriage of Steven. The admittance of younger sisters and cousins to the Gaggle pushed Dahlia firmly in the middle of the ranks now because of her age. Even the younger girls seemed to know decidedly more about fashion and society and flirting than she did at their age, but Dahlia realized that she had quite successfully learned what she needed from them and the Gaggle’s value to her declined. When Dahlia mentioned this to Lady Sweet, the older woman reminded her once again that she would need their support while she remained in the cou
nty, so she continued to make her appearance at the assemblies and to accept the invitations to the bridal showers.
“Growing up can be quite tedious,” Dahlia commented to Lady Sweet one day. “It appears there are more rules for adults than for children!”
“Yes,” agreed Sharon. “And one of them is to stop fidgeting when being fitted for a dress!” Dahlia rolled her eyes and stood still while the seamstress continued her work. Dahlia continued to outgrow her gowns at an alarming rate, and this was her second fitting this year. It was also the first fitting for a corseted dress and Dahlia was finding the constraints of the stays uncomfortable and unnatural.
“How do you breathe in these things? No wonder women swoon – it is from lack of air.”
Lady Sweet laughed. “You become accustomed to it.”
As the seamstress turned Dahlia around to face the mirror, Dahlia’s eyes went wide. “Good Lord!” she exclaimed, covering her décolletage with both hands. She knew her bust had grown, but the corset accentuated her cleavage so that two round mounds appeared above the dress line. “I can’t go out in public like this!”
Now both Sharon and the seamstress laughed aloud, and Dahlia’s face turned crimson with embarrassment. “You will become accustomed to that as well. You don’t think my dress is indecent, do you?”
Dahlia looked at Lady Sweet’s dress as if she had never noticed that she, too, had cleavage showing. “Well, no, but…” she didn’t know what to say. She looked at the seamstress, whose dress, although in not so fine a material as Lady Sweet’s, had a similar expanse of her breasts set above the collar. “You are grown women,” she finished feebly.
“You are almost fifteen, Dahlia. Your body is nearly full grown as well. In your case, your body is catching up with your intellect – but your self-image is still that of a girl.”
“I’m not ready for this,” Dahlia said, knowing she sounded pitiful.
“Alas,” Sharon sighed with a wan smile. “It happens whether you are ready or not.”
Four new dresses arrived the following week – corsets, bustles and all. Dahlia put off wearing any of them until Sunday dinner. Matilda was there to assist, and Dahlia was never more thankful. She tried to connect the metal eyelets of the corset from the top down. Matilda quickly intervened to show her it was easier starting from the middle. Dahlia made a comment about needing instructions with the new clothes. Matilda just laughed.
“Now I understand why ladies have dressing maids! When Lady Sweet sent you home with me, I truly thought it was just so I would have company, since I have dressed myself since my mother died. Now I can appreciate her forethought. Thank you, Matty.”
Matilda made minor adjustments to the ensemble and stepped back to look at her handiwork as Dahlia stared at the young woman in the mirror.
“I hardly recognize myself.” She had become used to the elegant hair styles Matilda had perfected over the past year, but everything below the neck appeared to belong to someone else.
“You are a vision,” said Matilda in her beautiful Irish lilt, pleased with her contributions to the reflection in the mirror.
The surprised reaction of Dahlia’s father and brothers was similar to her own. Her father froze mid-step when he saw her enter the dining room. “Penny...” he whispered.
“It’s me Father. Dahlia.”
“Of course, my dear,” he said, recovering himself. He walked over and took her hand, looking her up and down. “You have become a young woman when I wasn’t looking,” he said with pride. “You are every bit as beautiful as your mother. If she could see you now!” He led her to her seat and seated her.
Dahlia thought she would tear up thinking of her mother, but the entrance of Tom and Michael saved her emotions from spilling over. Like their father, both did double takes upon seeing her. Tom looked at her critically, then smiled his devilish grin and said, “Who are you and why are you sitting in Dahlia’s chair?” His teasing eased the poignancy of her father’s reaction.
Michael, always the serious brother, walked around the table and took her hand and bowed to kiss it. “You look stunning, sister.” He, too, was smiling, but there was no irony in his delivery.
The initial shock of her altered appearance over, the meal progressed as it always did with lively conversation and Tom’s amusing anecdotes. Everyone seemed to be comfortable with Dahlia’s new attire – except that she found she was quite full before her plate was empty. She put a hand on her stomach and felt only the hard stays of the corset. No wonder, she thought.
Determined to get used to the constriction of her new dress code, Dahlia dressed in the corset as soon as she was done exercising the horses. Lady Sweet had been right, one did get used to it.
Dahlia was so comfortable with her new clothes that she forgot that only the people at Talbot Hall and the Sweet’s estate had seen her in them. When she walked into the assembly in September, everyone seemed to stop what they were doing for a moment and stare at her – from head to foot. She felt ridiculous and would have turned to leave if it hadn’t been for Lady Sweet placing a steadying hand on her back and pushing her gently into the room.
The Gaggle immediately surrounded her, commenting on her dress, asking her to spin around so they could see her bustle. She felt like one of the horses her father would show to prospective buyers and half expected someone to ask to look in her mouth at her teeth. Dahlia gathered quickly that her status within the group of girls had been elevated a notch – corseted girls were obviously senior members just below those who were betrothed. Dahlia’s cynicism bubbled to the surface as she quietly thought about why the addition of whale bones to one’s attire should change anything about the person.
The reaction of the county boys was even more baffling. She was the same girl who last month they still treated as nothing more than Tom and Michael’s younger sister. Now, they looked at her appraisingly, and she was sure she noted a marked increase in the civility and politeness of their addresses.
Dahlia was grateful when the event was over and she was tucked into the carriage beside Lady Sweet, her brothers across from her. “Lord, but that was trying!”
Tom and Michael smiled. “You should have heard the male side of the comments! All of a sudden, you are quite the object of speculation in the area of courtship.”
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’m quite sure it would only make me want to hit one or more of the boys and Lady Sweet would undoubtedly tell me that is not acceptable behavior.”
Sharon laughed. “It wasn’t when you hit them when you were younger, either, but there wasn’t much I could do to stop you then.”
Tom laughed. “To this day, Joe Granby won’t come within an arm’s length of you! Although after tonight, I believe he may rethink his position.”
Dahlia tried to ignore him, but she was smiling, amused by all the fuss. “I never thought I’d say it, but Edward Standford delivered the only suitable response. He scowled when he saw me!”
Everyone laughed. The comments of Cirencester’s youth continued even after they had dropped off Lady Sweet. Over the worst of her embarrassment, Dahlia was as equally entertained as her brothers. “Just wait till next month,” she said as they pulled up to Talbot Hall. “I’m going to wear that peacock hat Mr. Kent wrote to me about!”
Chapter 34
October brought the expected cooler weather and shorter days as well as two unexpected letters: one brought good news, the other bad. The good news was found in a letter addressed to Dahlia’s father from her brother Steven. All was well with the Roma, who were encamped in Bristol. A promising sale of the beautiful black colt had fallen through, owing to the prospective owner’s overestimation of his riding skills and, according to Steven, his “apparent and complete inability to train a donkey, let alone a prized stallion.” Alvaro thought his prospects would be better if he had the colt trained prior to selling it as the majority of the men with the means to purchase the horse did not want to spend the t
ime to train it. He therefore proposed that Steven and Diego ride back to Cirencester and leave the colt at Talbot Hall to be housed for the winter and trained by the Talbots. When she heard this, Dahlia clapped her hands together and squealed. This was a dream come true!
She was so excited about the colt – and seeing Steven – that she could think of nothing for nearly a week. Without realizing it, she kept playing the colt’s music over and over – until Michael asked her to stop. She replaced it with every happy tune she knew.
Two days before Steven and Diego were to arrive with the young horse, the felicity of Dahlia’s music ended. Everyone noted that she played nothing for a full day, then only somber, melancholy tunes. When Michael questioned her selections, she responded only that she was worried about a friend. She had confided in Matty as soon as she had read Miss McElroy’s letter, and then to Lady Sweet when they took their walk up to the ravine.
“I’ve heard through Miss McElroy that Mr. Kent is to go to Paris as part of his studies,” she began. Lady Sweet studied Dahlia’s face. It was the complete lack of emotion in it that tipped her off to the fact that Dahlia was making an effort to shield how she felt.
“Well, that’s exciting. Did she say how long he would be there?”
“Six months.”
Ah, thought Sharon. There’s the rub. “I imagine it’s a very good opportunity for him, but I’m guessing you are disappointed by his good fortune as it will rob us of his company over the holidays.”
Dahlia looked at her friend and smiled wanly. “It does no good trying to hide anything from you. You always know what I am thinking. Yes, I had hoped to see him either in London when we go again for the holiday concerts, or at the Cirencester Ball.” She stooped at the little cairn she had set up for her mother, adjusted over the course of their many visits to have a little hole through the middle so she could place flowers in it. She had brought a little bouquet of flowers she had dried over the summer, knowing fresh flowers would likely wilt the first night of frost that threatened to occur at any time now.
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