“Wherein the guests arrive and Longwold is a hive of activity.”
December 6th 1817
St Nicholas Day
Violette looked at the prettily wrapped parcel and felt her heart thud. As she looked up, she saw her brother staring at her with that uneasy, watchful look he had of late. It was as though he believed himself a monster, not fit for society, and was waiting for them to throw him out when they discovered it.
That dreadful day in his library, she could have believed that was true. She had been afraid that the stories of the taint in their blood weren’t just malicious gossip and slander as she’d always believed. There had been febrile look in his eyes and such ... rage. It had truly frightened her.
But now on St Nicholas Day, the traditional day for gift-giving, he had handed her a present and she knew this was the only way he could make amends.
There had been many callers so far today. From the poorest in the neighbourhood offering anything from a song, to corn dollies, or baskets of apples. Yule candles, too, had been offered, along with some rather more decadent sweet meats to those tradesmen who relied most heavily on Lord Winterbourne’s patronage. But now they had gathered to give their own gifts, and Edward had waited until last to give his into her hands.
“Thank you, Eddie,” she said, her voice soft.
“You haven’t opened it yet,” he replied, looking awkward.
She glanced over at Aubrey who was watching her brother, a cautious and wary expression in his own eyes. When he’d discovered Violette after that dreadful row, he’d been fit to be tied, and it had been all she could do to persuade him not to go and call him out. They’d had words, though, she knew, though Aubrey said the marquess had said little in his own defence. It hadn’t helped the simmering animosity between the two people she loved most in the world, though. The thought saddened her.
Since then, they’d barely seen Edward, and she was ashamed to say that everyone had been a great deal more relaxed when he wasn’t around.
Violette gave the purple silk ribbon a tug and pulled the paper away to reveal a leather jewellery box. Opening the little clasp, she gave a gasp as a familiar set of emerald earrings and a stunning necklace glittered before her.
“Oh, Eddie!” she exclaimed.
“They were Mother’s,” he said, walking away a little to stand by the fire. “I know she intended for you to have them, so ...”
He shrugged, looking more awkward than ever. It was as though he didn’t fit in his own skin anymore, she thought with a surge of pity. There was resentment, too, though, towards the war that had taken the brother she had known and adored, and put this angry, uncertain man in his place.
She got to her feet and reached up, kissing her brother on the cheek.
“Thank you, Eddie, you’ve made me very happy.”
She squeezed his hand and saw the relief in his eyes. They’d barely spoken since that terrible row, and she knew that this was his apology. She found she was only too willing to accept it.
“Well, then,” she said, her tone a little too bright to be natural. “The guests will be arriving shortly so ... I suppose we’d better get ready.”
***
Belinda looked across the carriage and wished with all her heart that there was anyone else in the world other than Aunt Grimble who could have chaperoned them. If their own lack of dowry wasn’t hurdle enough to scramble over, the mean-spirited, vulgar creature in front of her was the biggest. Surely, they would scare off any suitable gentleman unless perhaps he was head over heels in love.
The idea of any man feeling so passionately about her was so unlikely that Belle had to stifle a bubble of laughter and covered her mouth with her hand. Crecy could, of course; she could inspire such devotion and passion with barely a lift of one elegant blonde brow, provided she kept her mouth shut.
Oh God, they were doomed.
Such gloomy thoughts fled however as they caught their first glimpse of Longwold.
“Goodness gracious!” Belle exclaimed as the vast building came into sight. “Would you look at that!”
Crecy had been positively bouncing in her seat for the entire journey, which was most out of character, but the chance of seeing Longwold seemed to have awoken something in the young woman. She had been full of excitement at the chance to see and explore the building, though Belle well knew she was dreading the house party itself.
“How impressive it is!” Crecy agreed, as the huge, sprawling castle appeared, lit by a weak winter morning sunshine that glittered upon the frost tinged countryside. “I wonder how many ghosts there are?”
“I wonder how much a man like the marquess is worth?” Aunt Grimble mused, her avaricious little dark eyes glittering.
Belle started at her aunt’s vulgar words. Oh God, please don’t let her get any foolish notions about Lord Winterbourne, she prayed as she regarded her aunt in disgust. The woman was too lost in whatever covetous daydreams she was indulging to notice the twin expressions of revulsion opposite her, but Belle and Crecy exchanged a horrified glance. Heaven help them.
They were ushered into the vast building by a daunting butler and more footmen than Belle had ever seen in one place in her life. Glancing over at Crecy, she knew her sister was feeling just as far out of her depth as she was and they stood close together to try and gain a little courage. She found she had never been more relieved to see a familiar face than when Lady Russell appeared with their hostess, the marquess’ sister.
“Here we are, Violette,” Lady Russell said, smiling on Belle with great warmth. “This is Miss Belinda Holbrook, the young lady I spoke of, and this charming creature must be your sister?”
“Yes, Lady Russell, this is Lucretia, and my aunt, Mrs Grimble.”
Lady Russell’s shrewd eyes took in her aunt, and Belle flushed as she felt quite certain Lady Russell knew exactly what kind of woman she was. Stirring herself to draw the elegant older lady’s attention away from her aunt, Belle drew Crecy forward who smiled at Violette, looking a little less daunted under the young woman’s unaffected greeting.
“We’re so happy you could join us,” Violette said, clasping Belle’s hand. “I do hope you will forgive my brother, the marquess, for not being here. He’s ... he’s most terribly busy, b-but he’ll be at dinner this evening, of course.” She gave a slightly anxious-looking smile and stepped closer. “In truth, I’ve not been much out in society, and I don’t know half of the people here either, but dear Seymour assures me that we shall get along famously, so I have nothing to fear, do I?”
“Well, not on our account, I hope,” Belle replied, laughing and finding herself charmed by the lovely young woman. Seeing her and Crecy together, two blonde beauties making a perfectly stunning picture, made her realise her chances of finding a husband here were slim indeed. No man in their right mind would even notice her. But nonetheless, she was touched by the genuine warmth of their greeting, and was determined that she would make the most of whatever opportunities came her way.
***
“Oh my word!” Belle exclaimed once they were left alone, as Crecy gave a shriek of delight and bounced onto the massive four poster bed, laying herself out like a stranded starfish.
“It’s big enough for four!” Crecy cried in astonishment.
Though a little scandalised, Belle could only laugh and agree. They both shared a poky, dark room at home with narrow single beds. This, by comparison, was luxurious beyond her wildest dreams, and to think, the best rooms had been reserved for the most important guests! It seemed impossible.
“I feel like I’ve fallen into a fairy story,” she said, trying to take in all of the details so that she wouldn’t ever forget them.
“Well, let’s hope it’s the one where the handsome prince sweeps you off your feet,” Crecy said, laughing as she cast her bonnet aside.
“I doubt that somehow,” Belle replied, moving to look out of the window and exclaiming once again at the beautiful grounds that surrounded them. “And I’d settle for a kindly fellow with a comfortable income. But I think you could have every man here at your feet, if you felt so inclined.”
She glanced around to see her sister turn onto her stomach, her hand resting on her chin, feet kicked up behind her and a scowl on her lovely face. “A handsome prince? No, thank you!” she replied with heat. “I’d rather marry the dragon.”
“Oh dear,” Belle said with a sigh, and consoled herself with looking out the window again.
***
“Oh Crecy, you do look a picture,” Belle said on a sigh as her sister flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Oh no, don’t you dare!” she scolded, grasping Crecy’s wrists and hauling her upright. “Don’t you dare crease it!”
Crecy muttered and scowled and Belle shook her head. “Oh, dearest, do please try tonight. You did promise, after all.”
With an unladylike huff, Crecy gave her one last glare of disgust and then began to float around the room, mimicking the simpering manner that many girls seemed to adopt when eligible bachelors were present.
“Oh, your grace,” she trilled, curtseying and turning her face away in a coy manner. “How naughty you are to say such things, and me, an innocent maid!”
She fluttered her eyelashes at Belle and blew her a kiss.
“Wretch,” Belle replied with amusement, though inwardly she was quaking. Lucretia looked like a dream, but if she said something outrageous, they were sunk. She prayed no one noticed that her own dress had been furbished up with scraps of an ancient gown she’d found mouldering in the attic. Was that mildew she could smell? Oh, surely not?
And then there was Aunt Grimble.
Belle raced to apply some perfume and prayed Lily of the Valley outweighed any less savoury odours. She wondered if she could plead a headache? An evening alone with a good book in a room like this sounded perfectly heavenly. But then she would leave Crecy at Aunt Grimble’s mercy and ... Good heavens, no!
“What on earth are you flapping about now, Belle?” Crecy demanded.
“Can you smell mildew?” she asked, feeling panicked suddenly.
Crecy scowled and wrinkled her nose, moving close to sniff at her sister before bursting out laughing. “Of course not, you goose! Whatever are you worrying about? You look ... actually, Belle, you really do look very lovely.”
“Oh,” Belle replied, rather taken aback by the compliment. It was rare indeed for Crecy to notice such things at all, for if she dismissed her own looks, she certainly had no interest in anyone else’s. “Thank you.”
Crecy nodded and they moved towards the door as Aunt Grimble came into the room without so much as a knock.
She was quite a sight.
A short, stout woman with a square jaw and small, glittering eyes, she certainly made an impression in all her finery. Sadly, it wasn’t an impression either of them wanted to be associated with.
Iron grey curls bobbed around her rather masculine face in a style that might have been girlish on a woman forty years younger or with a sweeter nature. On her, it simply looked ludicrous.
“Well, girls,” she said as they gaped at her with open mouths, too astonished to even react. “This is a very important few days for you and you’d best not mess up all of my hard work and planning.”
Belle tore her eyes away from the stupendously vulgar purple gown her aunt was wearing to blink in astonishment at her words. Hard work and planning? Ha! The indolent creature hadn’t lifted a finger to help them prepare everything they needed; it was Belle who’d secured the invitation and Belle’s meagre savings that had been sparingly used to try and buy the things they most desperately required for the season. Crecy believed her own had been equally touched upon, though in truth, Belle had covered most of the costs herself.
And it was now perfectly obvious the odious creature had spent a small fortune on her own wardrobe. Was that monstrosity actually trimmed with ermine? Every sense was revolted. However, while the violet gown might be vulgar and in poor taste, it was clearly new and must have cost a pretty penny. Belle seethed with fury and had to clamp her jaw shut to keep her tongue between her teeth.
Their aunt stepped closer and Belle was assailed by the strong scent of ambergris. Crecy sneezed.
“Hmmm,” Aunt Grimble mused, casting a disdainful eye over Belle’s attire before turning her attention to Crecy. She inspected Crecy’s gorgeous white crepe gown over a Hibernian bodice of holly green and satin underskirt, and gave a tut of annoyance. To Belle’s astonishment and horror, the appalling woman reached for the neckline and gave a sharp tug to expose rather more of Crecy’s creamy white décolletage.
Crecy gave a cry of fury and slapped the woman’s hand away, and before Belle could gather her wits enough to add her fury, Aunt Grimble drew herself up to her full height, which barely reached Belle’s shoulders and wagged her finger.
“Now, you listen here, you little fools. You’ll do well to do as I bid you if you seriously want to catch yourselves a husband. There’s more flies caught with honey than vinegar, and no use hiding your light under a bushel. Let them get an eye of the goods, and then we’ll see what we can make of you.”
This little homily was so shocking to both sisters, even having become used to hearing such indelicate advice offered before, that they were both stunned into silence. Assuming her advice had been taken on board, their aunt sailed to the door like a short purple galleon.
Belle and Crecy could do little more than exchange looks of mute despair, and follow her out.