Fenella Miller (9 page)

She frowned. ‘I have thirty minutes before I must go down. I wish you to crop my hair, Jane, I saw several fashion plates with the style I want. I hate all these bobbing curls. Cut them off.’

Her maid was horrified. ‘No, miss, I could not! Your hair is so lovely and you can almost sit on it.’

‘And it takes four hours to dry and is so heavy it gives me sick headaches.’

‘If you are certain, but you realize it will take years to grow back. Once it has gone that—’

‘Jane, I want you to cut it. Stop prevaricating please.’

Unwilling to sit down in her gown Marianne slipped it off again and, with a towel round her shoulders, sat in front of the mirror and waited, whilst Jane pulled out the pins. She almost changed her mind as she watched it cascade down her back in a wave of gold. But the decision was made. It would come off. She would have a haircut as modern as her fashions.

As the first tresses of hair fell she almost regretted her decision so closed her eyes until the job was done. She heard the busy snip snip of shears until finally Jane picked up a brush and ran it through her hair.

‘My, miss. What a difference!’

Marianne’s eyes flew open and she knew she had made the right choice. The hated ringlets were gone and in their place were shining golden curls that tumbled in a mass around her face. She shook her head experimentally and ran her hands through the crop.

‘I can hardly credit how light my head feels. It is as though I have been set free. Thank you, Jane. You have done an excellent job.’

She stood up and Jane removed the towel from her shoulders shook it vigorously. ‘I cut the hair off in such a way that it can be plaited and stored.’

‘Whatever for? Why should I wish to keep my redundant locks?’

‘To have a wig made up if you should ever have a need to.’

Marianne giggled. ‘I do not want it, but you may do with it whatever you wish. It is almost time for dinner. Quickly, help me back into my gown.’ As she had kept on her petticoats and slippers the evening dress was replaced and adjusted in minutes. She gazed, delighted at her stylish appearance, then holding her skirts carefully in one hand, her matching silk reticule in the other, she went to join the Griersons for dinner, knowing she was tardy.

She knew better than to run, dressed as she was, and so arrived more gracefully than was her wont. She paused at the head of the stairs to pass her small embroidered bag to the other hand, leaving one free to grip the banister as she descended. Tonight was not the night to arrive in a heap on the floor. She wished her entrance to be spectacular but not in that way.

A soft murmur of voices came from behind the double doors of the grand salon. Had it been opened up especially in her honour? She grinned—far more likely opened to pay homage to the wonderful gowns.

She glided across the hall, aware of the stunned expressions of the two footmen, and hesitated in the archway, unsure and wishing she had not made such a radical change in her appearance. Charles was the first to spot her framed in the candlelight. He almost choked on his drink.

‘Marianne! You look so different I hardly recognized you.’ He walked towards her, his eyes glittering. He reached out and took her free hand and drew her into the room—into a pool of silence and a circle of shocked faces.

‘Look at this. Have you ever have seen anything so beautiful, so perfect!’

Lord Grierson cleared his throat. ‘Well, my dear, I hardly know what to say. The gown is indeed lovely—but the short hair? Well! I never thought to say this about such a style but it is exactly right on you.’ He beamed around his family, assembled in their finery. ‘I shall have to hold an event here to show you off, my child.’

‘Thank you, Papa. I am relieved you approve. My hair was so very thick and heavy I have suffered constant megrims. I am certain I will be free of them from now on.’ She glanced at Emily, surprised her foster sister had not commented. ‘Emily, you look lovely in your gown. White is perfect with your dark hair.’

‘I am so sad you have cut off for your lovely hair, Marianne, but I agree with Papa, it does suit you. With your new crop and elegant gown I did not, at first, recognize you. You look so much older, does she not, Mama?’

Lady Grierson nodded. Her dark hair, still unsilvered, was dressed high and adorned with a crystal coronet in which several golden yellow plumes danced. The feathers matched her ensemble perfectly.

‘Yes, I declare that I approve. I would not wish you to do the same, Emily, for you have not her natural curls, but on Marianne it is indeed, perfect. And the gown! Well, my dear, the colour is not what I like to see on a young girl but again I am forced to admit that it works. Mrs Dawkins is a clever woman.’

Emily slowly rotated, sending the hem of her dress swirling in a mass of white gauze and silk around her slippered feet. ‘And I love this gown. It is the finest I have ever owned. I cannot wait to invite Arabella over and show it off to her. Thank you so much, Marianne, without your being here, I would not have such wonderful clothes to wear.’

Marianne doubted Arabella would find even one of their new garments to her satisfaction. ‘We will have to wait until the event Papa has promised us to wear these gowns.’

‘Yes, Papa, what are we to do? Shall we have a ball, like Arabella?’ Emily asked.

‘No, my love; nothing so grand. Perhaps a neat dinner will suffice. You can play the pianoforte and our guests can dance afterwards.’

‘Nonsense, my lord. You will wish to employ someone to play. Emily shall not miss the dancing.’ Lady Grierson was strident and Marianne saw Lord Grierson’s complexion darken.

Quickly she intervened. ‘I can play most tunes, Mama, and I expect several of our guests can do so too. We can all take turns at the piano. That way no one will miss more than one or two dances.’

Lord Grierson looked unconvinced, then relaxed his rigid pose. ‘I think, on reflection, that is an excellent notion. Thank you, my dear Marianne, for offering. As we will be inviting only close friends, we need not stand on ceremony.’

The elderly butler appeared to announce that dinner was served. Edward sidled up beside Marianne and whispered shyly. ‘I think you look splendid. It must be such a relief to get rid of all that hair.’

‘Thank you, Edward. You are quite correct. It is as if a huge weight has been lifted from my head. I feel inches taller.’ She grinned. ‘But that, of course, could be due to the high heels of my evening slippers.’

Together they followed the others into the drawing-room. The main topic of conversation was, naturally, the proposed informal dinner and dance which was discussed to a standstill. Then it moved on to a horse race to be held on the coming Saturday, two days hence.

‘I hope you are all coming to watch me,’ Charles said. ‘I have been practising for weeks.’

‘You needed to, brother,’ Edward grinned at Marianne. ‘Last time he did not even finish, his mare went lame halfway round.’

‘Bess is a different horse now. She is race fit. I have been training her daily.’

Lord Grierson smiled. ‘We are all coming to support you my boy; I have a wager on the result, so I shall be watching with interest.’

Marianne noticed Lord Grierson did not specify on which horse he had placed his money, but Charles appeared happy he had his father’s complete confidence.

‘Where do these races take place?’ Marianne asked.

‘On Great Bentley Green. We race three times around the perimeter. There is a festive feel to the event and stalls are set up and people come from miles around to participate and spectate.’

‘It sounds exciting,’ Marianne replied. ‘I shall look forward to attending. It will be the first time I have seen anything of that sort.’

The party broke up late; the gentlemen had not lingered over the port or left to play billiards, but joined Emily, Marianne and Lady Grierson in the grand salon. There they played noisy games and sang songs around the piano. The supper trays came in at ten o’clock and after that they retired.

Marianne, noticing the brightness of the moon as she returned to her room, recalled her discovery of the boys’ clandestine activities. She had postponed her decision. Indeed had pushed the unwanted knowledge to the back of her mind. She was becoming too fond of them to contemplate informing, if indeed they were smugglers.

She smiled as Jane slipped a nightgown over her head. If she was not to expose them, she supposed she was now condoning their involvement. What a day it had been! She had discovered that her guardian was masquerading as someone he was not, she had decided not to report her foster brothers’ nocturnal activities and she had radically changed her appearance.

Martha Frasier would not have been so bold but Marianne Devenish was a brand-new person, she could do anything she wanted. She must trust that Cousin Theo would regard her sophisticated image with the same enthusiasm.

Chapter Eight

Sultan was now sound. Marianne was able to ride out on him next morning resplendent in her new habit. Jane assured her the dark blue superfine and severe military cut suited her admirably. Unfortunately without her abundant hair the matching peaked cap was too loose and slipped constantly over her eyes.

‘Here, miss, stuff some straw into the crown. That should do it,’ John suggested helpfully.

Marianne eyed the offering dubiously knowing the straw was possibly alive with unpleasant crawling things. ‘Thank you, John, but I think I would prefer to remove the cap.’ She handed it to Tom, who was waiting to toss her up.

On returning from her morning ride she retired to the library to read until the time to change for her drive with her guardian. A light tap on the door heralded the entrance of a footman carrying a silver salver on which was a note. She removed it.

Her name, Miss Marianne Devenish, was written in a bold black scrawl across the folded paper. Her heart skipped and her lips curved. Left alone, Marianne turned the note over; the missive was sealed with a blob of red wax, no imprint on it. Why had Cousin Theo written to her? Was he unable to keep their appointment later that day? She opened the letter, knowing the answers would be inside.

Disappointed she read that there was to be no phaeton ride that afternoon for her cousin was engaged elsewhere. She was used to spending her days alone with only a book for company, rather than in the frenetic activity she had encountered over the past few days. However she had been looking forward to the drive and getting to know her Cousin Theo a little better. Now she would be obliged to sit quietly in her sanctuary. She could not settle to her book, she was flat and bored—surely missing a drive with her guardian was not the cause of her dissatisfaction?

* * * *

The Grierson party were ready to leave for Great Bentley races by noon on Saturday. Marianne was to travel in an open carriage with the other ladies and the men would ride. It had been deemed unnecessary for more than Tom and Billy to accompany them therefore the majority of the Frating Hall staff had been given the afternoon off to enjoy the entertainment on The Green.

Lady Grierson settled herself more comfortably on the faded squabs and instructed her two youngest daughters, Beth and Eleanor, to sit still and stop wriggling.

‘I can hardly believe the difference in you girls; I declare I shall be quite blushing with pride.’

Marianne grinned at Emily who was sitting beside her. ‘Your pale-yellow sprigged muslin was an inspired choice, Emily. And your charming poke bonnet, with its matching ribbons, will surely turn a few heads.’

Lady Grierson nodded her agreement. ‘Emily’s dark hair is set off to perfection, is it not? But I wish you had agreed to bringing more than that light wrap, my dear, it might well be chilly by the time we return this evening.’

‘A spencer would have ruined the hang of the dress, Mama. And anyway I do not feel the cold.’

Beth decided to venture a comment. ‘I think Marianne’s gown is lovely, too, Mama. What is the colour called, I forget?’

‘
Eau-de-nil
, my love. And you are quite right to say so. It is a pity that your smart new haircut is invisible under your dear little chip-straw bonnet, Marianne.’

Marianne reached up and fingered the large bow tied stylishly under her chin. ‘I own I could wish this to be a little less conspicuous.’ She smiled. ‘But I admit I am pleased with the cut and colour of this outfit.’

Their carriage was forced to join the queue of like-minded vehicles all heading for the festivities at Great Bentley. This gave Marianne ample opportunity to glance, surreptitiously, at the occupants of the other carriages, and also at those travelling on horseback. They seemed affable, nodding and waving when they saw the Grierson carriage, but even to her untutored eyes, none were clothed quite as well as they were. The complacency on Lady Grierson’s face showed that this had not escaped her attention either.

However, the admiring looks from the many members of the military were beginning to make her uncomfortable. She supposed it was inevitable that there would be officers present, owing to the fact that there was a large barracks at nearby Weeley and, according to John, a second barracks at Colchester.

‘Oh, look, there is dearest Arabella with Lord and Lady Hawksmith,’ Emily exclaimed.

Marianne pinned on a happy smile. ‘How delightful! I am so looking forward to meeting the Earl of Fennimore and his Countess.’

‘I shall take your across directly we arrive.’ Emily promised. ‘I do believe that is Charles riding beside them. Does he not look smart in his dark green riding coat and beaver?’

‘Indeed he does, Emily. And Bess looks in fine heart too.’

Marianne watched Lady Arabella smiling, her usual affectations absent, as she conversed with Charles. Then she noticed the two other occupants of the smart equipage. A gentleman of short proportion and middle years, his dark blue jacket straining and his neck cloth a froth of white, looked amiable enough. The stony faced woman sitting by his side told her, instantly, Charles’s suit was doomed to failure. The Countess was directing a glare of such venom in his direction that she was amazed he had not fallen from his horse. She was quite sure she did not wish to be introduced to the formidable Lady Hawksmith.