She felt that taking a break the day after she had just committed to learn everything she possibly could about magic over the course of a month showed a weakness in her determination, though. “After all of this, I’ll hardly know what to do with myself for a whole day,” she confessed.
Viola smiled grimly. “You can always prepare for the Consorts’ Tournament. The preliminaries start on Monday, after all.”
The timing of Mrs. Olivette’s gala indicated as much, but Flora had heard nothing about it. Her annoyance showed on her face.
Viola actually laughed. “You look like I feel. This whole process is infuriating.”
“There are times when I dearly wish my dad would keep his mouth shut,” Flora replied. “I love him, I really do, and I understand why he spoke up, but I still feel like a lamb that got thrown to the wolves.”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as that,” said Viola, to her surprise. “It’s only a nuisance, that’s all.”
Her reputation and standing within the community weren’t on the line, though. According to her brother, she had already won, so she had no need to be worried.
But then, Flora had no need to be worried either. It wasn’t as though her performance for better or worse would make any difference whatsoever on the outcome.
Chapter Fifteen: A Day Off
I have discovered what became of all our mail. Mrs. Finch ordered the post office to hold it for us during our absence from the house. Then, she promptly forgot to retrieve it while we were at the hotel. She’s resumed its delivery, and the postman brought a lovely pile of it today while I was gone. Included were Mrs. Olivette’s invitation and an official letter from the palace, remarkably similar to one I’ve already looked over. The main difference is that this one gives a starting date for the consort interviews, as well as a specific appointment for me.
With the last name of Dalton, I am (happily?) near the head of the pack. My interview is scheduled for the second day, right around lunchtime. I think the Prince and his committee must only be seeing about ten people per day. Perhaps they figured that was all they could stomach. At that rate, though, it’ll take them half a month to see everyone.
Not that I’m complaining. It pushes back the spectacle of the walking course and gives me more time to think what I’ll submit for the exhibition. In the meantime, I can get my interview out of the way and return to my studies.
On that count, I really can’t tell whether Prime Minister Moreland wants me to succeed or fail. As he has lent me both Edmund and Viola, though, I’m inclined to believe that he’s giving me a fair chance. Or maybe he just can’t be bothered to send along any full-fledged magicians. It doesn’t matter. As I am a complete novice, their knowledge on the subject suffices.
Viola’s suggestion to rest for a day would have gone much better had Flora carried it out in a secluded place rather than the house on Lords’ Row. She awoke with a strange sense of foreboding and decided to listen to it for once. It told her that Georgiana Winthrop was going to pay her another unexpected visit. She didn’t care if the feeling was mere paranoia. As Georgiana had appeared uninvited on her doorstep twice before, Flora decided that she needed to be prepared for such an event anyway.
Besides, even if no one came the whole day, it wouldn’t hurt her to look her best. She wore one of her new dresses and sat patiently while Mary arranged her hair.
“Do you like fashion?” Flora inquired during the procedure.
Mary met her gaze in the mirror. “I do,” she admitted. “I mean, I like to look at all the pretty new styles and see how all the upper-class ladies wear them.”
“Would you be willing to learn everything you possibly can about fashion to make me one of those pretty upper-class ladies?” Flora asked.
Mary’s eyes lit up. She had come with Flora from the countryside and was only two years younger than her. Her family was impoverished and everyone worked from the moment they turned twelve, so she had never indulged in any of the frivolities of fashion in her own life. She took immaculate care of Flora’s clothes and seemed to enjoy dressing her hair.
“Would I?” she exclaimed. “Of course I would! Oh, I have ever so many ideas for you, but I didn’t know if you’d let me! And there are such pretty accessories in fashion right now—feathers and beads and such!”
Flora could see that Mary’s enthusiasm was genuine, but she wanted to test her intuition on the subject just the same. “What do you think of Georgiana Winthrop’s style?”
Mary hesitated, but then she said flatly, “It’s near perfect. I’m sorry, Miss. I know you don’t like her.”
“What makes you think I don’t like her?”
The maid looked at her like she was daft. “You were grumbling about her under your breath the whole time I was dressing you the other night.”
A shameful blush leapt to Flora’s cheeks. “She does get under my skin, but her style is very good. I need mine to be just as good, if not better, if I want her to leave me alone.”
Mary tilted her head in confusion. “How d’you figure that?”
“Georgiana’s a queen bee. She surrounds herself with lackeys, not equals. Even Priscilla, who seems to have some sort of backbone, still knows to defer to her. If I can elevate my own style to her level, though, and make her think that by befriending me she’s putting her position at the top of the social pecking order in jeopardy, I can get her to leave me alone of her own free will. I just have to do it without tipping her over into the enemy category,” Flora added speculatively. She did not want Georgiana to start poisoning others against her. It would be a tenuous procedure.
“I don’t understand any of that,” said Mary in a matter-of-fact tone, “but if it’s fashion you want, I’ll give it to you. In fact, if we rearrange this…” She took down several tendrils of the hair she had already pinned and repositioned them in a more painstaking manner. The change was subtle, but even Flora thought it was more comely.
“If you could do my hair like this before, why haven’t you?” she asked.
Mary favored her with a flat look. “Miss, you never cared to sit still that long before. I used to ask you what you wanted, and you always said, ‘Just put it up in a knot or something. I don’t care.’”
That certainly sounded like an answer Flora would give. Mrs. Finch had always done her hair when she was a child, so when it came time for her to hire a personal maid, she had felt sheepish in the act, as though she was inconveniencing Mary by making demands of her.
“Are you really going to topple Georgiana Winthrop from her throne?” Mary asked abruptly.
“No!” said Flora. “I just want her to stop treating me like a… like a doormat. And don’t you say a word about it to anyone,” she added severely. “I don’t want it getting gossiped through the household, because there’s no telling where it will spread from there.”
When she left her room a short while later, she felt quite nicely put together. When both her father and Mrs. Finch told her that she was looking well this morning, she felt even more so. When the doorbell pealed at half-past ten and Miss Winthrop’s presence was announced, Flora could only hope that her confidence was not misplaced. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered the drawing room where her uninvited guest awaited.
Georgiana had not come alone—she never came alone, Flora mentally noted. Augustina and Dorothea were with her, and all three looked like they had dressed to the nines for this visit.
“Why, good morning!” said Flora with a congenial smile. “How well you all look today! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
This greeting was unexpected, if the strange expression that flashed across Georgiana’s face was any indication. She regained her wits soon enough. “Why, dear Flora,” she said, and she hurried forward to squeeze both of dear Flora’s hands in her own, “of course we had to come, to make certain you were well!”
Flora feigned shock. “I’m very well. Have you heard otherwise?”
“You disap
peared so suddenly the other night,” said Georgiana with a perceptive gleam to her eyes. “Prissy and I dropped by yesterday to make certain you were all right, but we were told you were away from the house. We were so worried that you had taken ill and were convalescing.”
“Oh, no,” said Flora openly. “I was at the palace. I should’ve told you I needed to leave the party early, since I had an appointment the next morning, but it completely slipped my mind! And then when it was time for me to go, you looked like you were having so much fun that I simply couldn’t bring myself to interrupt. I do hope I didn’t cause you to worry too much, for I’d feel dreadful if that were the case.”
Georgiana had turned whey-faced the moment she heard the word “palace.” The rest of Flora’s speech did nothing to ameliorate this. “Oh, dear, no,” she managed to say. “That is, of course we worried a little, but we know how sensible you are. But what sort of appointment did you have at the palace?” she added. She tried to sound disinterested and failed miserably in the attempt.
Flora waved one hand negligently. “Oh, nothing special. I had to speak with the Prime Minister, that’s all. But do sit down, all of you! Do you have time to stay, or were you just dropping by? Shall I summon Mrs. Finch to bring some tea?”
Dorothea and Augustina both looked to Georgiana to answer for them all. She looked reluctant about committing to a full visit (especially one in which Flora persisted in dominating the conversation), but her only other option was to leave and never discover the mystery behind Flora’s palace appointment. From her hesitation, Flora gathered that she had not originally intended to stay, that this was meant to be a quick put-you-in-your-place-and-go sort of encounter.
“I suppose… we could stay for a bit,” she reluctantly said. “We did come unannounced and only meant to check on your welfare. We would so hate to put you out—”
“Oh, you’re not putting me out at all!” said Flora. “I’ve had such a boring week, and finally got to return home but didn’t get the chance to visit with any of you at the party. All my spare time has been spent up at the palace, so that I hardly get to see anyone anymore.”
“All your spare time…?” Georgiana echoed faintly.
“Yes. The Prince himself ordered it, on account of that nasty business that happened here last week. But you must tell me about the gala at Mrs. Olivette’s! I feel as though I missed it, even though I was there for at least an hour! It’s such a shame, too, for it was the first really big party I’ve been to since Dad and I moved here. How long did you stay?”
Georgiana rallied her senses and asserted her superiority again. “Why, my dear creature, we danced half the night away! I imagine you had been asleep for hours by the time we arrived home!”
“I imagine so,” Flora readily agreed. “Having responsibilities can be so tedious, you know. Did I miss any great spectacles? Did Mrs. Olivette feel the night was a success?”
The failure of her veiled barb irritated Georgiana. “Of course it was a success,” she said bluntly. “Anything Mrs. O puts her hand to is a success. As for spectacles, the only one I heard of was that you and Charles Moreland had an argument in the corner while everyone else was dancing. What on earth was that about, dear Flora?”
“I don’t recall that we did argue,” Flora lied, with just enough naivety in her voice to seem genuine. “I don’t recall what we talked about at all. I suppose it was something trivial.”
Georgiana’s smile seemed more brittle than serene, though she was certainly aiming for the latter emotion. “I suppose the rumors I heard were exaggerated.” From the way her eyes flitted in Dorothea’s direction, Flora could guess from whence those rumors had originated. “I should probably not mention this, but Charles doesn’t seem to hold any sort of charity towards you. When Prissy and I noticed you were missing, we asked him whether he knew where you had gone, and do you know what he said?”
Flora’s guard was up. “I imagine he said no.”
With a sidelong glance toward her two other listeners, Georgiana leaned forward and whispered, “He said, ‘Why the devil should I know that?’”
Dorothea gasped.
“Georgie!” Augustina cried, scandalized.
“It’s what he said,” Georgiana replied knowingly. “I’m only quoting.”
This little interchange gave Flora a chance to contain her instinctive annoyance toward Charles Moreland. “I wonder that you thought to ask him. He and I hardly know one another.”
“Even though you spend so much of your time at the palace?” asked Georgiana with a nasty little twist to her voice.
Flora was determined to maintain her composure. “I don’t spend it with him. Besides that, everyone knows how taken he is with you, dear Georgiana. How could you expect him to know the whereabouts of another woman when you were right before him? I know you had the very purest intentions in asking, but I must admit I feel a little sorry for Mr. Moreland, for it makes it seem like his ardor for you goes unnoticed. Perhaps that might even be the reason he could use such language among polite company. I do not know him well enough to say.”
The three girls all stared at Flora in astonishment.
“Do tell me you at least danced with him,” she said, determined to be a perfect picture of serenity.
Georgiana was instantly on the defensive. “Of course I danced with him! I danced with him at least three times! Charles is such a marvelous dancer, and such a gentleman! He danced with nearly every girl at the gala, but he singled me out specifically.”
“Doubtless he wants you to remember him as this tournament for consort begins,” said Flora with a knowing nod. “How enviable you are, dear Georgiana, to have a suitor so enamored of you even as you must interview to become the Prince’s consort! I wonder that you can even go through with the interview at all, for I know I should be driven to distraction with anxiety if I were in your place!”
This was a dangerous remark to make, for it made Flora look as though she were trying to manipulate Georgiana into settling for Charlie instead of aiming for the Eternal Prince, and that she did so for her own advantage. After all, she was already spending her days at the palace. She had arranged the consort applications for the interviews. She was becoming nicely established with the Prince, and Georgiana had only Charles Moreland’s adoration to depend upon.
Georgiana read that subtext, at least. “Well, I am duty-bound to participate in the tournament, as are we all,” she said fluidly. “Charles understands that. I should be more conscientious of his feelings, though. Dear Flora, what good advice you give on other people’s love lives! It makes me wonder that you don’t have one of your own!”
The slow, steady smile that curved along Flora’s mouth appeared for the sole purpose of completely unnerving her audience. She didn’t have to say a word to Georgiana’s provocation. That smile was maddening enough, as though Flora kept a secret that she could not tell. Under the influence of that smile, Georgiana’s triumphant expression wavered and crumbled. She tried to rally her wits, but Flora didn’t give her the chance.
“Speaking of this tournament,” she said, and it was such an obvious change of subject that it lent that much more emphasis to the secretive smile of a moment ago, “when are each of you scheduled for your interviews? Mine’s the day after tomorrow. Augustina? Dorothea?”
The two girls, who had done nothing but listen this whole visit, started in their seats. “Mine’s at the end of the second week,” said Dorothea.
“Mine’s at the end of the first,” said Augustina.
“Mine’s the last day, still three weeks off,” said Georgiana. “My father’s on the interview committee,” she added with a glint of triumph in her eyes. “The Prince and Parliament chose him together.”
Flora had heard nothing of the committee’s formation, but she imagined that it must have been quite an ordeal to decide which lords would have that honor. “Did they? How lucky for you! Do you know who else they appointed?”
“No,” said Georgiana i
n a clipped voice.
Augustina hesitantly cleared her throat. “I heard from my father that the Prince nominated the Prime Minister’s wife,” she said in a small voice.
Georgiana gasped. “Mrs. Moreland? Why did you not say something sooner, Gussie?”
Dorothea’s eyes were as large as saucers. “Oh, I hope my new dress will be ready in time! I can’t appear before Mrs. Moreland in any of the clothes I have now!”
“Is Mrs. Moreland very conscious of fashion?” Flora asked curiously.
Georgiana favored her with a deprecating laugh. “Oh, Flora! So naive! Elizabeth Moreland is the paragon of fashion in Lenore! Her style is immaculate! Doubtless that’s the reason the Prince nominated her, for she’ll be able to tell in a glance whether a girl is suitable to be by his side! And for those who aren’t fortunate enough to update their wardrobe before their interview,” she added, and she glanced jealously at Flora’s modish frock, “that is very bad luck indeed. I have nothing to worry about, of course. Our seamstress is quite reliable, and I have at least an extra week! But those poor girls who have to appear before the committee first! You did them no favors, Flora.”
“I suppose I didn’t. But really, someone had to go first.” She had never met Mrs. Moreland, and suddenly she was afraid to. Having only decided this morning to become stylish, she didn’t think she was up to having “the paragon of fashion in Lenore” examine her just yet.
This emotion lasted all of two seconds, until she remembered that she was not aiming to marry the Eternal Prince so it did not matter whether Mrs. Moreland approved of her style or not.
“It’s something of a wonder that Mrs. Moreland would be so fashionable, but that her daughter seems not to care about such things at all,” she suddenly mused aloud.
This remark derailed the previous conversation nicely, for Georgiana immediately launched into one of her favorite pastimes: biased criticism of Viola Moreland. “She dresses like an absolute dowd!” she cried. “It’s a well-known fact that the only reason she looked so stunning at the Midsummer’s Eve banquet was because her mother intervened! I imagine that Mrs. Moreland will have to do so again for this tournament, and I don’t think it’s fair at all! It gives her such a base advantage over the rest of us when she doesn’t really deserve it!”
Tournament of Ruses Page 18