PoetsandPromises (8 page)

Elisabeth’s gaze dropped and she concentrated on stroking
Revati as her positive feelings toward Lord Sherbourne evaporated once again.
Miss Thibeau. She must not have imagined the viscount’s interest in the
Frenchwoman. How lowering it was to feel that one’s betrothed was attracted to
another! At least Mr. Earlywine would be accompanying Lord Sherbourne to the
artist’s studio, she consoled herself.

“Very well, but do not forget the musicale tonight,” Lady
Parker reminded her brother.

“I shall not forget,” Sherbourne promised, and he and
Earlywine took their departure.

“I shall be interested to see how good a likeness Miss
Thibeau can render,” Lady Parker commented after her brother and Mr. Earlywine
had left.

“I must confess I am not,” Elisabeth confided impulsively.

Lady Parker looked consideringly at her guest. “You are not
worried about my brother developing a
tendre
for Miss Thibeau, surely,”
she said slowly. “I assure you that my brother would not be tempted to such a
breach.”

“He might not act upon it,” Elisabeth said slowly, “but can
one truly control how one feels? He danced the first waltz with her at Miss
Earlywine’s come-out ball and he has chosen to have her take his likeness. I
cannot help seeing how Miss Thibeau’s vivacious nature seems to attract
gentlemen, including Lord Sherbourne and Mr. Earlywine.”

“It is true gentlemen are often drawn to women of lively
character, such as Miss Thibeau,” Lady Parker agreed. “But it is most often a
surface attraction.”

“Perhaps you have the right of it,” Elisabeth allowed to her
hostess but her doubts remained. Had she imagined those moments between herself
and Lord Sherbourne when it had seemed that thoughts had flowed between them
unspoken yet understood? When her skin had flushed and tingled at his barest
touch? Surely she had not. Were gentlemen so fickle then? A small sign escaped
her lips as she turned and picked up a book lying on a small table, hoping its
contents would distract her from visions of Miss Thibeau smiling at Lord
Sherbourne as she painted the viscount’s likeness.

Several streets away in Grosvenor Square, a footman opened
the door to the home of the Comtesse de Fleurille for Lord Sherbourne and Mr.
Earlywine. After taking their top hats and walking sticks he ushered them to a
room located to the right of the entrance hall.

“Lord Sherbourne, Mr. Earlywine,” he announced. There was a
rustle of noise as paintbrushes were dropped into a large vaselike container
and Miss Thibeau came forward to greet her visitors.

“Good morning, Lord Sherbourne, Monsieur Earlywine. I am so
pleased you have chosen me to take your likenesses.” She welcomed them with a
brilliant smile. Once again her clothes were covered with a painter’s smock but
the hem of a fashionable morning gown peeped from beneath it and her abundant
dark hair was attractively arranged in two bunches of curls caught up at each
side of her face. “You see how kind is my aunt, to allow me to make of her
small drawing room a studio.

“Lord Sherbourne, please take this chair, if you please,”
Evonne said, indicating a Hepplewhite chair near the east window. “Monsieur
Earlywine, if you would sit here at the edge of the room for now, if you do not
mind. I must concentrate on my subject, yes?”

James had obediently headed toward the chair as ordered when
a movement caught his attention and he went instead to a corner of the room
behind Miss Thibeau where a large wooden crate with slatted sides stood.

“I say, Miss Thibeau, what a strange-looking dog! Why do you
keep him in a box?”

“That is not a dog, Monsieur Earlywine, but Monsieur Lapin,”
Miss Thibeau corrected with a laugh. “Monsieur Lapin, he is a rabbit for the
wool to make yarn like the sheep. My cousin, he raise them, but Monsieur Lapin
he run to me when they try to shear his wool and I keep him as the pet, yes?”

“Yes, I see,” James replied, curiously examining the
long-haired rabbit as the rabbit returned his gaze with one of equal interest.
“What an odd-looking creature he is with that long hair on his body and shorter
hair on his head and ears. Do you ever let him out?”

“Yes, Monsieur Earlywine, he is quite the pet, and sits in
my lap for the caress, but not in my studio! Monsieur Lapin, he like to eat the
canvases and that is very bad. But I think you say the insult about Monsieur
Lapin, he is not odd but very fine. Come sit where you are told,” Evonne ended
with mock severity.

James reluctantly returned to his seat by the wall while
Lord Sherbourne settled in the chair by the window.

“Please to hold your head up, Lord Sherbourne,” Miss Thibeau
commanded her sitter and he lifted his head to gaze at the papier-mâché
decorations that edged the ceiling. “No, no, lift the head to the right so the light
from the window it shows your features.

“Like this,” Miss Thibeau said, coming forward and tilting
Lord Sherbourne’s head a bit to the right, her fingers under his chin.

“Yes,” she said, satisfied. She picked up a sketch pad and
piece of charcoal and took a chair a few feet away. “Now it is not necessary
stay absolutely quiet, Lord Sherbourne. We may talk to pass the time. This
likeness, it is to be for Lady Parker?”

“Perhaps. I have not yet determined,” Lord Sherbourne
answered honestly. “I thought to see how it turns out. Perhaps, if they find
the likeness well-done, my sister and Miss Ashwood will enjoy having their
likeness taken as well.”

“Ah, I see, this is the test, yes?” Evonne said teasingly.
“And you, Monsieur Earlywine?” she asked, turning to the other gentleman.

“I wish one for my mother,” James answered frankly. “She has
been at me this age to have a likeness done and now that I have met an artist
it seemed a good time.”

“Then I am happy I am the first I am the first
artiste
you meet, Monsieur Earlywine,” Evonne said as she began to draw with quick,
sure strokes.

Lord Sherbourne watched Miss Thibeau with amused interest,
enjoying her flirtatiousness while not responding to it. He could not but find
the Frenchwoman’s lively character and beauty highly appealing but he had
become more and more satisfied with his decision to arrange a marriage with
Miss Ashwood over the last weeks. Although she was generally quiet and sweetly
serious, he had observed moments she relaxed into playfulness and was sure that
with time she would become more at ease with him. Most appealing to him was the
hint of unawakened passion that he sensed flowing beneath the surface of Miss
Ashwood’s calm earnestness, and he looked forward to being the one to bring it
to light.

“That one, Miss Ashwood, she is a little in love with
Shelley, yes?” Miss Thibeau said conversationally as she sketched, interrupting
Sherbourne’s train of thought. “Or so it seemed that day at the Park. All the
women, they love the poets,
n’est-ce
pas
?”

“Do they, Miss Thibeau?” Sherbourne asked.

“But of course, for the poets they are romantic. Your
sister, she sponsor Miss Ashwood for the season? She must find Miss Ashwood the
match in the poet, yes?”

“And you, Miss Thibeau—you love the poets also?” Earlywine
asked, sparing Sherbourne the necessity of returning a vague answer to Evonne’s
personal question.

“I?” Evonne laughed, showing perfect white teeth between
cherry-red lips as she continued to sketch. “I am the
artiste
myself—the
artiste
with paint as the poet he is the
artiste
with words. The
mystery, she is not there for me. No, I find the proper gentlemen more curious,
more alluring,” she added provocatively and then laughed, the clear tinkling
sound letting them know she spoke lightly. She put her charcoal down and rose
from her seat.

“Now, how do you like?” she asked, approaching Lord
Sherbourne and holding out the sketch.

Earlywine came forward to look at the sketch as well and
admired the artistry that had enabled Miss Thibeau to capture Sherbroune’s
stern yet approachable profile in a few quick strokes.

“It is very like,” he acknowledged.

“Next time I will begin the painting with oils,” she said.
“Now, Monsieur Earlywine, you must trade the places and I shall see if you also
will be satisfied.”

“What is appropriate to wear to Almack’s, Lady Parker?”
Elisabeth asked early the Wednesday afternoon of the first assembly they would
attend. “I know there are rules one must observe at their assembly rooms, and
if there are any on dress I do not wish to start off wrong.”

“White is the best choice for young unmarried women,” Lady
Parker informed Elisabeth. “And I believe it is required at Almack’s for those
young women having their first Season. But do not worry about the evening
overmuch, be polite and courteous and you will find it to be no different than
the ball at Miss Earlywine’s. Except I believe you must not waltz without the
permission of one of the lady patronesses.”

Elisabeth thanked Lady Parker and went to instruct Molly to
lay out her finest new ball gown, a simple high-waisted white muslin with two
self-fabric ruffles at the bottom of the hem and also at the end of the long
under-sleeves.

When Molly finished her mistress’s toilette early that
evening Elisabeth felt she looked acceptable and pleasing if not out of the
ordinary. “Do you think this carnelian pendant is better than the pearls?”
Elisabeth asked her maid, holding the warm-colored necklace across her breast.

“I think the pearl, miss. I’ve heard tell that is more
acceptable for young ladies during their come-out.”

“I am not precisely in my first youth,” Elisabeth said with
a sigh, laying the carnelian aside and allowing Molly to fasten the pearl
necklace around her throat.

“No one will know, I’m sure, miss,” Molly reassured her
mistress. “You look that fine. Almack’s, miss! Did you ever think?”

“No, I did not,” Elisabeth admitted. Taking courage from her
maid’s honest admiration, Elisabeth descended to the drawing room to wait for
Lady Parker and Lord Sherbourne.

As their carriage clattered down the streets toward the
assembly rooms that evening, Lady Parker revealed that she also was
apprehensive about the evening by the slight frown marring her wide brow. “I
wish I could recall all the rules of conduct for the rooms,” she said worriedly.
“I do recall now that there is a rule that a young woman making her come-out at
Almack’s will have her partners chosen by the patronesses—but that would not
apply to you, Miss Ashwood, since it is not your come-out ball.”

“Sister, I believe you are in more consternation about
appearing at Almack’s than is Miss Ashwood,” Lord Sherbourne teased. “You are
both in excellent looks and need not fear a thing,” he added, glancing at the
women with approbation. Elisabeth looked young, fresh and singularly charming in
the requisite white and Lady Parker was elegant in a deep wine-colored
underdress overlaid with a cream lace overdress.

Elisabeth saw the admiration in Lord Sherbourne’s eyes and
relaxed slightly. She was rather overawed by Sherbourne’s appearance. Almack’s
had requirements for the gentlemen as well and he looked remarkably fine in the
requisite black knee breeches, white shirt and cravat, waistcoat,
chapeau
bras
and evening coat. Elisabeth frequently found her gaze straying to the
muscular calf outlined by the tight-fitting white silk stockings. Although
before her ideal had been her friend’s husband, the vicar, Elisabeth now found
she had a decided tendency to find the rugged appearance of Lord Sherbourne
more attractive.

“One does not think how many changes may take place when one
is gone thirteen years,” Lady Parker mused. “I confess I fear putting a foot
wrong—for Miss Ashwood’s sake more than my own.”

Elisabeth looked up at Lord Sherbourne, wishing suddenly
that it
were
generally known she and Lord Sherbourne were to marry. Then
she would not have to fear Miss Thibeau, she reflected, or other young women
and their matchmaking mamas who might hope to marry their daughter off to a
nabob. And why wasn’t their betrothal announced now that they had established a
rapport? Why wait?

The carriage rolled to a stop before the building that
housed the assembly rooms, interrupting Elisabeth’s musings. Lady Parker and
Elisabeth were handed down by Lord Sherbourne and joined the others gathering
for the night’s assembly. They displayed their tickets to the attendants at the
door and soon after they entered the rooms a tall, hawk-nosed woman approached
their party.

“Lord Sherbourne, Lady Parker, I am pleased to see you here
tonight. I am happy to see you returned to England.”

“Lady Sefton.” Sherbourne and Lady Parker greeted one of the
foremost patronesses of Almack’s. “You remember Miss Ashwood?”

Elisabeth gave her best curtsey, aware of the eagle eyes
missing nothing of her appearance and deportment.

“Miss Ashwood, we are pleased to see you at the assembly
rooms,” Lady Sefton replied, apparently approving what she saw. “Young women of
modest appearance and demeanor are always most welcome. We are pleased to have
had the opportunity to grant you vouchers.”

“Thank you, Lady Sefton,” Elisabeth replied. “I am most
pleased to attend.”

With a final regal nod of approbation the patroness moved on
to other guests as Lady Parker and Elisabeth breathed sighs of relief.

“I believe I see Lady Earlywine and her daughter,” Lord Sherbourne
said as he scanned the room. “Come, let us find seats by them.”

“Miss Ashwood,” Miss Earlywine said, a smile spreading over
her plump cheeks as the three came up to the Earlywines. “I am so happy to see
someone I know. I saw Lady Sefton speaking to you. I should have perished of
nervousness, it was frightening enough to appear before them when they were
considering giving us vouchers. Are you not uneasy, coming here for the first
time? I fear I shall make some dreadful error.”