Ivy pasted a smile on her face as the carriage pulled up in front of Percival and Clista’s home, and Sophia squeezed her mother’s hand as the footman opened the carriage door and flipped down the steps. “We will stay only as long as we must,” Sophia said. She had told Ivy that she wasn’t certain she could hold her tongue if Mary were insulted outright.
Ivy took a deep breath as they entered the lavishly decorated town home, and upon entering the parlor was relieved beyond words to see Nana already seated with a cup of tea in her hand. Ivy had mentioned the impending visit to Clista’s the night before, and how Nana had secured an invitation without appearing gauche, Ivy would never know. Only she could have managed it. Ivy motioned for Mary to sit next to Nana, and Sophia took a seat on a settee next to Ivy.
There were five others in attendance in addition to Nana. Four of them Ivy knew from their association with her mother.
“I am surprised not to see the Misses Delaney and Lady Roose, Clista,” one of the women said as the newcomers accepted cups of tea from the footman. “They never miss one of your teas.”
Clista flushed slightly, her nostrils flaring just a bit before she smiled and offered a laugh. “They replied that they were unable to attend today,” she said. “Life does get ever so busy as the Season progresses.”
Mrs. Graston, seated to Ivy’s immediate left, stirred her tea and nodded. Conversation picked up between two of the other guests, and Mrs. Graston leaned to Lady Hawthorne and murmured that Clista’s invitations had been refused with more frequency after Percival had been disinherited in favor of the new earl.
A glance at Clista confirmed that she had also heard the comment, and Ivy’s stomach clenched. How formidable an opponent would Clista be, Ivy wondered, if she were bitter enough?
Mrs. Graston turned her attention to Mary. “How are you settling in to your new accommodations, Mrs. Elliot?”
“Very well, thank you.” Mary’s voice was a bit thin. Ivy felt tension radiating off of Sophia in waves.
Nana smiled brightly at Mary and turned to Mrs. Graston. “Ladies, I would venture to guess that you are unaware we have an artist among us!”
Clista raised a brow. “Oh?”
Nana nodded and placed a hand on Mary’s arm. “I have seen Mrs. Elliot’s portfolio personally, and I must say I’ve not witnessed the likes of it in years. I have begged her shamelessly to allow me to host a showing for her, and she has finally consented. She is too modest, of course,” Nana continued with a gentle laugh, “and paints for her own pleasure, but it is absolutely not to be missed, and I anticipate her first exhibition most anxiously.”
There was an excited buzz then, and the women present turned to Mary with surprise and genuine interest. Ivy briefly closed her eyes and blessed the day Nana was born. Mary would be fine; she might even garner a reputation as a solitary, reserved artist. It would explain her shy nature and reluctance to be seen all over town as a woman recently stepped into a fortune.
Ivy felt Sophia relax next to her and glanced at her friend with a slight lift at the corner of her mouth.
“I do believe I love your grandmother,” Sophia whispered as she lifted her teacup to her lips.
Conversation continued to swirl around the room and gradually turned to opinions on fine art and the artists who created it, but Ivy watched Clista discreetly and with a wary eye. Lady Hawthorne turned to Clista and asked after the welfare of Lady Finster, Clista’s “bosom friend.” Ivy heard Sophia clear her throat and recalled the humiliation Lady Finster had attempted to heap upon Sophia at the funeral.
Lovely, Ivy thought. She had quite forgotten that Clista Elliot and Lady Finster were so intimately connected. She would have to alert Nana to the situation and be certain they managed to keep a finger on any gossip that might spread before the Norringtons’ ball, which was to occur in a few weeks’ time. It was the perfect large social event of the Season for Sophia and Jack both to be officially seen, and if Ivy and Nana could manage to keep the bitter, sharp-tongued women in check they might just meet with success.
For the first time, Ivy wondered if it wouldn’t be so much simpler to live a quiet life in the country tending sheep or milking cows. Animals tended to be easier to deal with than people.
Chapter 15
To do something for another without expecting payment
in kind is the purest form of friendship.
Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette
Ivy scribbled the last of her notes for her next advice column and checked her pocket watch, deciding the final draft would have to wait. She and Sophia had an appointment downtown—Sophia had a package to deliver to a friend and had asked Ivy to come along. As she looked over her scribbles, she remembered the moment in Jack’s garden when he’d asked about the papers she carried around. It had felt like a near miss that she had escaped without him discovering she wrote incognito for a ladies’ circular. Her anonymity was the one thing that allowed her to continue writing the advice column. If her identity were known, it would hardly be the thing for Society to realize she was engaged in an activity that paid.
She took a look around her bedroom—decorated in soft blues and silvers—and reflected upon a lifetime of dreams to which the walls had been witness. A perfect home, a perfect husband, perfect children. She had envisioned such things as far back as she could remember, and Caroline’s blunder had abruptly derailed all of it—or at the very least had postponed it. Ivy had also once been much more carefree with her joy, much less restrained in demeanor. When the family had come up against scorn and ridicule, she’d realized that all would be lost for her if she didn’t rein her emotions firmly in.
And she was happy, for the most part, she told herself as she left her small writing desk and wandered to the four-poster bed. She wound her arm around one of the posts and turned her gaze to the window, which looked out over the picturesque square. So many dreams, hopes, plans—she had once been certain that everything she wished for would come to pass without question. And now she was the sister of a fallen woman, writing for pay, and training a toughened sailor in the ways of propriety. When had the world shifted so significantly? Was it inevitable? Was there anyone, really, whose dreams and goals actually came to fruition in the exact manner the dreamer had anticipated?
Shaking off her musings, she gathered a light shawl and her reticule and went downstairs to summon the carriage. Well-ordered, perfect on the surface; it was the way the Carlisle household had been managed since before Ivy had been born. But it was often cold. The bright spot, the warmth in her life, had always been Nana. Nana, who was anything but strictly conventional, who gently mocked Society behind its back and did as she pleased, but with style and class.
She exited the house and climbed into the carriage. It was rather unsettling to suddenly find herself dissatisfied with the life her mother had outlined for her. Thoughts of her future as she’d always envisioned it didn’t feel as hopeful, somehow, and parts of her life that had become routine now seemed ridiculous and of little consequence.
She didn’t do anything for anyone. She had tea and cakes, made calls, attended the theater, and anonymously gave advice to London’s finest on how to behave properly. She thought of Jack muttering that there must be more to life, and for the first time in hers, she saw the truthfulness in the statement. Nobody had ever expressed such a sentiment to her, and now that it rattled around in her brain, she knew it would be impossible to shove it back into a corner.
Ivy was still deep in thought when the carriage pulled up in front of Mary and Sophia’s home, and when Sophia climbed into the carriage, Ivy blinked and tried to bring her focus to the fore.
“My, but that seems some serious woolgathering,” Sophia said as she settled in across from Ivy and the carriage began to move.
Ivy frowned and chewed on her lip. Her mother had often scolded her for gnawing on her lower lip, and she fought the impulse to immediately cease and desist.
“Are you ill?” Sop
hia tipped her head to the side and regarded Ivy.
Ivy smiled. “I am maudlin today, I suppose. Thinking of my future, wondering what it will hold. Wondering what I would like it to hold.”
“A house with a wealthy husband, children, and a nanny—isn’t that what we are supposed to strive for?” Sophia said, her smile softening the bite of her words.
“What did you hope for, before all of this?” Ivy asked her friend, motioning to the carriage with a sweep of her hand.
Sophia sighed and turned her gaze to the window. “I hoped to survive, to outlive my mother so that I would always be able to take care of her. A family of my own wasn’t a dream I ever entertained. Mama gave her all for me, loved me, and worked so hard to provide for us that when she fell ill with consumption the first time, the effects weakened her physical state to the point that I don’t believe she will ever be fully well.”
“I never thought to say this, Sophia, but you are luckier than I.”
Sophia turned to Ivy, one brow raised.
“You have a mother who loves you and expresses it. I had nannies who are long since gone and a mother who feels it a weakness to show affection.”
Sophia watched Ivy with wise eyes, and Ivy wouldn’t have been surprised to see that Sophia could read her mind. “What has happened, Ivy, with your Season? You ought to be making your own rounds right now, not helping misfits become Society darlings.”
Ivy pursed her lips with a wince. She told Sophia of Caroline’s indiscretions from beginning to end, leaving nothing out and feeling such a vast sense of relief at confiding in someone that it made her eyes sting with tears. “That I am not ruined entirely is a miracle in itself,” she finished and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “And I find it vastly unfair, the more that time passes, that I am made to suffer for someone else’s sins.”
“Take comfort in the fact that your family is well enough established that you were able to weather the storm relatively unscathed,” Sophia noted. She was astute and, of course, correct. Ivy felt foolish that her problems were of such little consequence compared to the trials Sophia and Mary had faced for years. And yet Sophia understood the depth of disgrace Caroline had wrought.
“And besides,” Sophia added, “the ton is ridiculously shortsighted. You know full well that this Season’s scandal is old news by the time the next one comes.” Sophia paused for a moment. “Ivy, your defense of me at the graveside with Mrs. Finster—I am grateful beyond words. Nobody has ever done such a thing for me.” Sophia flushed and looked away from Ivy. “Nobody aside from Mama and Jack has ever believed the best of me.”
“Oh, Sophia,” Ivy murmured. “Envy is a toxic thing. Most people would hardly believe that possessing beauty can be a heavy curse. Especially in a position of servitude to others who have fewer talents at their disposal. You carry yourself in such a way that your physical beauty is but icing on the cake. I am very glad that, for whatever reason, the old earl made things right.”
Sophia shook her head with a rueful smile. “Poor Jack. This has battered his pride more than anything ever could have. But we have both agreed that we will do whatever is best for Mama. And I must selfishly admit, I’ve gained a perverse sense of satisfaction purchasing things for myself that the families for which I worked couldn’t have afforded.”
Ivy laughed and Sophia joined in. “I would say you’ve deserved every moment of that satisfaction,” Ivy said. “It is long overdue.”
Ivy told Sophia about her relationship with Nana as the carriage made its way across town and realized she’d never had a friend, a true friend, who listened and seemed to genuinely care. By the time the carriage came to a stop at the address Sophia had given the driver, Ivy felt significantly lighter in spirit.
“I have entirely monopolized all conversation,” Ivy told Sophia as they stepped down from the carriage. “Tell me where we are and what we’re going to do.”
Sophia smiled. “We are here to deliver some clothes to a few friends of mine,” she said as the footman retrieved a large portmanteau from the back of the carriage.
Ivy took in her surroundings, noting the close proximity to the docks and the suspicious glances she and Sophia received as people passed them on the street. Sophia indicated the rickety building before them. “This is where my mother and I used to live.”
Ivy kept her mouth from dropping open, but only just. She had known that Sophia and Mary had lived in some degree of poverty, but the surroundings were horrific and her heart tripped as she thought of Mary Elliot, in her frail state, spending her days and nights in those rooms trying to keep her family alive doing piecework as a seamstress.
Sophia was watching Ivy carefully, likely judging her reaction. “Sophia,” Ivy began, “I hardly know what to say. I am ashamed that this exists and I knew nothing of the particulars. I knew . . . but I didn’t really, I suppose . . . know.”
“What difference would it have made?” Sophia asked her.
“I don’t know.”
Sophia gave her a wry smile, absolving Ivy of guilt. “You can’t singlehandedly save London.”
Ivy’s eyes clouded and stung, and not entirely from the soot and foul smell in the air. “It isn’t right that I spend my time pursuing such mundane activities when this occurs under my very nose.”
Sophia was quiet. She nodded once and then motioned with her head toward the front door. “I had hoped you might feel that way. I’m going to propose something to Jack, but I suspect it’ll be an undertaking I can’t handle entirely on my own.”
“What is it you want to do?” Ivy asked as they drew closer to the building.
“I want to form a training school to equip women to go into service as housemaids, perhaps even ladies’ maids. A home. But I would like to train women who have been forced into occupations rather . . . distasteful.”
Ivy blinked, and she leaned a bit closer to Sophia. “You want to take prostitutes and transform them into housemaids?”
“Yes.” Sophia didn’t hesitate in her response. She said nothing further, didn’t try to argue her case, and Ivy realized she didn’t need to.
“I will help you any way I am able,” Ivy said.
“It isn’t a pretty sight,” Sophia said, her brow raised, “and I imagine it will take some time before you are accustomed to interacting with people who have no concept of what your daily life is like.”
Ivy stood a bit straighter. She was Olivia Knightley Carlisle’s granddaughter. She could do anything. “I shall adjust,” she told Sophia, who grinned widely at her. “Lead the way.”
Ivy followed Sophia into the drafty and darkened interior of the decrepit building and climbed two flights of stairs before they finally came to a stop at one of four doors on the top level. Sophia knocked firmly, and they waited for what seemed an interminable amount of time before the door finally cracked open a sliver.
There was an audible gasp, and then the door was flung wide open. “Sophia!”
A woman who had likely seen fewer years than were manifested on her face clasped Sophia to her rail-thin frame and laughed. “An’ look at you! All dolled up!”
“Gilly, this is my friend Lady Ivy Carlisle, and we are bringing you and the others some clothing.”
Gilly looked at Ivy with wariness, and Ivy offered a smile, hoping to put the woman at ease—or at least to stem some of the mistrust.
Gilly fidgeted a bit and said to Sophia, “I haven’t prepared anything for tea.” Sophia waved a hand at her. “And the others are out . . .”
“We don’t expect tea, silly. But do take these.” Sophia handed Gilly the portmanteau and smiled. “There are enough gowns in here for the four of you, and they are practical but certainly well enough made that they’ll last for some time.”
“I don’t like charity,” Gilly said, taking the portmanteau with a longing in her face that was at odds with her statement.
“It isn’t charity,” Sophia said. “It’s payment for the kindness you’ve always shown to me and Mama.�
� Sophia cleared her throat and shook her head slightly. “At any rate, Gilly, I will return again soon, and in the meantime, be safe. Tell the others hello from me and from Mama.”
Gilly stood uncertainly in the doorway and Ivy glanced at Sophia, who seemed equally confused. Her worlds had collided, and Ivy wondered if Sophia was at a loss as to which identity belonged to her.
Gilly looked at Ivy, who extended her hand to the woman. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Gilly,” Ivy told her and shook her hand slightly when Gilly seemed disinclined to do anything with it.
“And you,” Gilly said.
“I included some bread and cheese in the bag as well,” Sophia told Gilly. “Also a card with my new address. Please send word if you need anything.”
Gilly’s eyes filmed over and she nodded. “Thank you,” she said and pulled Sophia forward in another embrace before backing into the apartment and closing the door. Sophia stared at the closed door for a moment, then turned her attention to one farther down the hall. She pointed to it and murmured, “That is where Mama and I lived.”
Ivy couldn’t imagine how frail, little Mary had survived as long as she had. She didn’t say as much to Sophia, but she wondered if Mary’s love for her child had propelled her forward each day.
“Do you want to look at it?” Ivy asked Sophia.
“No. I’ve seen it enough.”
Ivy followed Sophia’s lead, and they stood in the hallway for a few more moments before finally making their way down the stairs and back outside.
Chapter 16
The call to do something greater than oneself
should be heeded without delay.
Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette
My Fair Gentleman Page 10