Arcana (6 page)

Grandmama stands in the middle of the room, her hands folded in front of her violet-hued tailored dress. Her hair has not yet gone gray, and is still a rich auburn. Another lady catches my eye; she waits behind my grandmother with her hands clasped, dressed in a smart tailor-made suit done in somber shades of charcoal. This must be the governess Grandmama brought in for Lucy. Her expression is one of polite interest, but her eyes seem kind.

After a brief hesitation, Grandmama steps forward and presses a dry kiss on my cheek. “Katherine, you’re as beautiful as your mother.”

She turns to Lucy and kisses both her cheeks. “Lucy, darling,” she says, gazing at her with a warm smile, “you look so grown up.”

“Thank you, Grandmama,” I say. “We’re delighted to see you. You were so kind to invite us here for the season.”

“Your home is exquisite,” Lucy adds, her smile brightening her eyes.

“I’m thrilled your father could spare you.” She holds her hand out toward the lady behind her. “If I may introduce Miss Coraline Watts, Lucy’s governess.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Miss Watts says with a reserved smile.

“Lucy, dear, I was just horrified when I discovered your father had not graduated you to a finishing governess. Miss Watts is extremely accomplished in all the things a young lady will need to truly shine: fine arts, piano, dancing, proper etiquette . . .” Her eyes briefly meet mine. “She will have you ready for your own debut in no time at all.”

Lucy smiles brightly at the mention of her own future debut, but the slight against Papa has me gritting my teeth.
Where were you, then, Grandmama,
I think,
if you believe him so incompetent?

“I thank you for such a glowing recommendation,” Miss Watts says, not quite meeting Grandmama’s eyes. “Miss Sinclair, we will begin your instruction tomorrow after breakfast.”

“Thank you, Miss Watts,” Grandmama says, and the governess shares a brief smile with Lucy before taking her leave. Grandmama gestures toward an ivory sofa. “Come, sit and have some tea with me. You must be parched after traveling all day.”

Another liveried servant appears to pour our tea and returns to his place against the wall.

“Now then,” Grandmama says, “we’ll have a brief chat, and then you must retire to your rooms. Rest is in order so you will both be fresh for the small assembly we shall attend this evening.”

I take a sip of tea to hide my disappointment. Going somewhere tonight is the last thing I want to do after traveling all day. At least she’s taken into account our need for rest. “What will this assembly entail?”

Her dark eyes narrow at me ever so slightly. “We have been invited to dine at Lady Hasting’s this evening.” She turns to Lucy. “Because it will be such a small affair with no dancing, you will be allowed to attend.”

Lucy smiles at her graciously. “Oh, how exciting. I only hope the gowns we brought with us will be fashionable enough.”

“You’ll find your wardrobes are already well-stocked,” she says in a self-satisfied way.

I think of the beautiful drawing Lucy did and frown. “Our gowns have already been chosen for us?”

“Naturally.” Her eyes scan my wrinkled and travel-worn skirt. “I thought you’d much rather have a new wardrobe for the season.”

What she means is: “I knew your own wardrobes would be unfit for London society.” It was true, but I find my defenses rising. Will we have no say in what we wear?

“I’m very grateful you’ve anticipated our need, but I hope we will have a chance to speak with your dressmaker while we’re here.” Her eyes widen, like she can’t believe I’m being so forward, but I press on—for Lucy. “Lucy has a talent for designing gowns, you see, and we’d hoped to show her drawing and have a dress made.”

I nod at Lucy, and she pulls out her drawing from her small reticule. She hands it to Grandmama, a hesitant smile on her face.

“What a fascinating skill,” Grandmama says, after glancing at the paper. “I’ll send for the dressmaker on the morrow.”

“Thank you, Grandmama,” Lucy says.

“Now then. We must discuss how important tonight will be,” my grandmother says. “As I’m sure your dear father has told you, the Earl of Thornewood has agreed to ease your debut into society.”

I nod, a prickle of worry tensing my shoulders. It’s a curious thing. Part of me is very much afraid I will embarrass myself in front of this man, and the other is nervous he will be just the thing to make my debut successful. Unfortunately, the only thing my father and grandmother will consider a success is marriage.

“He will be there tonight, so I’ve had your lady’s maid lay out a gown for the evening that will best showcase your fair coloring.”

“You make it sound as though the earl is a potential suitor,” I say, the tensing of my shoulders now spreading to my spine.

She raises her delicately arched eyebrows. “But of course, darling. What else would he be?”

“Someone to ease my debut into society?” Had she not said these very words to me? As had my father.

“He is that, but he is also an earl, and an earl is a potential suitor—no matter his original purpose.”

Nightmare images of my grandmother dragging me determinedly from potential suitor to potential suitor flash before my eyes.

“Tonight will also be a chance for me to examine your social graces and determine whether they are up to par,” she says.

“Our father has provided us with such tutelage,” I say. Lucy glances at me and raises her eyebrows. I’m sure she disagrees with the edge in my voice, but I do not heed her warning.

Grandmama waves her hand as if shooing a fly. “Country manners are quite different. Here your every move will be judged. You must be above reproach.” I open my mouth to let out another retort, but she gestures for one of the servants. “I’m sure you are both fatigued. Allow Mary to show you to your rooms.”

I’m torn between wanting to have my say and take my rest, but I know when I’ve been dismissed.

FOUR

A
small gathering for dinner clearly does not mean the same thing to my grandmother as it does to me. I pictured perhaps ten people at most, including Lucy, Grandmama, and me. But more than twenty faces stare at me as we enter the room and a servant takes our coats. After a brief impression of the narrow, but well-lit, entryway, we are led to the drawing room.

As I take in the room, it seems the owner is rather fond of garish décor. Every wall is covered in crimson satin, and a tapestry hangs atop the satin on more than one wall. Though the room is of a modest size, it has two crystal chandeliers and so many light bulbs and lamps it appears as if it is the middle of the afternoon.

“Lucille,” a short round woman says with her arms open wide. She and my grandmother embrace, and she gives her a kiss on either cheek. “How lovely to see you.” Her owlish eyes turn to Lucy and me. “These must be your granddaughters.”

“If you’d give me a moment, Claudia,” my grandmother says with a touch of annoyance, “I shall introduce them.”

“Ah, yes,” Claudia says without a shred of remorse.

“This is Katherine, my eldest granddaughter,” she says, “and Lucy, my youngest. I have a grandson, too, but he is away at Oxford. Girls, this is Lady Claudia Hasting, the hostess to whom you owe your thanks for this nice party.”

Our first introduction to a member of the uppercrust of society, and she is nothing like I expected. I’d imagined someone with stiff manners and cold demeanor, but she is neither. As a baroness, she is technically of a lower station than Grandmama, but as Grandmama so kindly explained to us in the carriage, Lady Hasting is a great deal wealthier. And as the Americans have taught us, wealth can often overcome title.

We smile politely, and Lady Hasting says, “You see my youngest daughter, Penelope, there on the piano. Does she not play beautifully? She has a great love for music and has become rather accomplished.”

I look over at a girl with Lady Hasting’s same large eyes and silky brown hair pulled into an intricate style. A gentleman with rather severe-looking features watches from a nearby table as she plays a lilting Irish tune. Her mother didn’t exaggerate, though—she does play beautifully.

“My dear husband is there,” Lady Hasting says, indicating the man watching his daughter with a critical eye. “Of course you know you’re horribly late,” Lady Hasting says to Grandmama, “but I shall forgive you since we are awaiting the earl with bated breath, and your entrance was of little consequence.”

I stiffen in response to her slight, but my grandmother laughs her off good-naturedly. “Claudia, dinner hasn’t even been served yet.”

“Very well then. I shall make introductions later. No one will pay me the least bit of attention until Lord Thornewood has arrived—and perhaps not even then.”

Lucy and I seat ourselves upon the closest sofa—which happens to be the only one facing the drawing room door.

Lucy leans toward me. “So the earl isn’t here yet?”

“It would appear not.”

“Well, we have quite a nice vantage of the door,” she says with a grin.

I glance at two other girls about my age who watch the door like a cat watches for a mouse. “Yes, but they will certainly beat us there,” I say, and she laughs. “Not that I’m any more interested in the earl than I am in this sofa.”

“Even if he is very fine?”

A smile touches my lips. “Perhaps I could be persuaded to care a bit more if that were so.”

A commotion at the door draws my attention. The two watchful girls are tittering excitedly, but a wide woman with an even larger hat blocks my view. She shifts to the right, and then I see him. Dressed almost entirely in black, in an elegantly cut tail-coat and top hat, stands a man I can only assume to be the earl.

I’m staring. Every bit as rudely as the two girls who waited so eagerly for him. He is handsome in the same way the sea crashing against rock or snow-capped mountains are beautiful: in a way you can’t help but stare at. I need to look down, look anywhere but at him before he catches me.

I glance at Lucy, and her eyebrows rise. Something draws my eyes back to him, and now that he’s closer, I get a better look. Thick, dark hair, even darker eyes, and a strong jaw. Heat flushes my cheeks and my heart pounds as though I am in mortal danger.

Evidently the wide woman with the hat is related to the two girls, because she is quick to shoo them over to make introductions. But instead of waiting for her to do so, the earl continues forward as if he doesn’t see her. I cringe with vicarious embarrassment as the woman follows him.

“My lord,” she says to his back, “please allow me to introduce my daughters, Misses Jane and Mary Everley.”

He stops and turns toward the woman, and her whole face lights up. For one horrible moment, I fear he means to ignore them, but then he bows stiffly. “How do you do.”

The mother immediately recounts every one of her daughters’ accomplishments in nearly one breath. Lord Thornewood watches her with an expression that is not unlike Robert’s when he’s been cornered by Harriet—only the earl’s is more exasperated and less pained.

The lady is either one of those unfortunate breed of people who are blissfully unaware of social cues, or she is so determined she chooses to ignore the earl’s obvious disinterest.

When she finally stops to draw breath, Lord Thornewood bows to her girls and says, “You must excuse me.”

Before anyone else can set upon him, Lady Hasting draws our attention. “My dear guests, the first course will be served if you would be so good as to follow me to the dining room.”

She leads us to an adjacent room, one decorated in shades of gold and red. An ornate crystal chandelier hovers above the table, its light creating lovely prisms upon the walls. The table itself is covered with more crystal, fine china, and silverware than I have ever seen. At regular intervals is an ornate floral arrangement bursting with fresh flowers, greens, and fruit. Our names are written elegantly upon small cards, and Lucy and I find to our mutual relief that we have been seated together.

“My lord,” Lady Hasting says to Lord Thornewood, “We’ve saved you the seat of honor at the head of the table, just there.” She points to the seat next to mine, and I widen my eyes at Lucy.