Pippa was all of twenty-two years old, and of course she was worried about beingtooold. It was absurd, as she would soon discover for herself. She was even more lovely now than she had been at the age of eighteen whensomething—she had never said just what—had happened to cause her to change her mind about going to London. She had a greater poise and maturity now. The dowager countess felt no doubt whatsoever that her daughter would take well with theton.But she desperately hoped Pippa would meet a man of honor who deserved her, not someone who was all flash and charm and very little substance.
Clarissa set to work with a will the day after they arrived in town, writing letters to acquaintances to let them know she was in London with her daughters.
Not that she was entirely alone, of course. George, her beloved younger brother, was in London too and was always available as an escort whenever he was needed—or as a companion or confidant anytime. Charles, the late earl’s brother, would be here soon with his wife, Marian, and Angeline, their daughter, who was the sameage as Pippa but had the advantage of four years of Seasons behind her and a recent betrothal to Ninian Fortescue to give her standing. He was a steady young man who had inherited a respectable fortune last year and a decently sized home near the Scottish border. Eloise Atkins, the late earl’s sister, would be in town too with Vincent, her husband, and their son, Leonard, now thirty-four years old.
Pippa had settled happily. She was delighted with her room, which was next to Stephanie’s on the second floor overlooking the back garden and the mews beyond it, where the horses were stabled and the carriages were kept on the lower level, while grooms and stable hands lived in the rooms above.
Stephanie had settled into the schoolroom and rearranged it to her liking. She had presented Miss Field with a lengthy list of places she wished to visit and made the case that all of those excursions would somehow be educational. Miss Field had confided to the dowager, her eyes twinkling, that she fully agreed with her pupil, though she had not said so. Stephanie would enjoy them far more if she felt she was getting away with something.
The first week was taken up largely with shopping. They spent hours on Bond Street and Oxford Street, purchasing everything from bonnets to dancing slippers, from fans to reticules, from silk stockings to kid gloves, from handkerchiefs to jewelry—to mention but a few essential items. Stephanie accompanied them only once before declaring that shopping must be the most fatiguing and tedious activity ever invented. She spent most of her month’s allowance on that one occasion on pretty clothes and toys to send to Joy at Penallen.
Pippa spent long hours posing for the modiste the dowager countess always patronized when in town, being measured and fitted, and sitting on a delicate chair with brocaded cushions and gilded arms and feet, looking through a pile of fashion plates tochoose designs she liked for ball gowns, morning and afternoon dresses, and walking and riding and carriage dresses. It amazed her that she needed all of them and more, and in large numbers.
They took out a subscription at Hookham’s Library on Bond Street and relaxed over tea and cakes at fashionable tearooms and even consumed ices at Gunter’s. They strolled in Hyde Park and visited several galleries. They went to St. Paul’s Cathedral, and Pippa and Stephanie insisted upon climbing all the steps to the Whispering Gallery high above the nave while their mother chose rather to sit quietly in one of the pews below to replenish her store of energy.
After a few days, invitations began to arrive by post and private messenger. One of them in particular gratified Clarissa. It was from Lady Catherine Emmett, a friend she had made during her own first Season, when she had been newly married to Caleb. She told her daughters about both the invitation and the friend, interrupting them at the breakfast table as Stephanie was reading a letter from Ben and Pippa was reading one Gwyneth had sent from Wales.
“Kitty was newly married too that year,” their mother explained. “In fact, we discovered the very first time we met that we had celebrated our weddings on the same day and at exactly the same hour. We became firm friends during that spring and the next and have written to each other regularly ever since. We have not met often, however. She came here with her husband during the years when I did not. And then, by the time I returned here, she was already widowed and had taken on the charge of her niece, who is unfortunately crippled and in delicate health. But this year we are both here. She has brought her niece to town.”
“I am glad for your sake she is here, Mama,” Pippa said.
“Kitty is quite delightful,” Clarissa told them. “You will both like her. Sir Matthew Emmett, her husband, was never a robustman, sadly. He died ten or more years ago, leaving her with a son and daughter. Her daughter is married to an Irish nobleman. Her son must be in his middle twenties and is still single, I believe. At least, she has not told me he is married, and she surely would have done if he were. He is a baronet.” She looked speculatively at Philippa. “Kitty derives her own title—LadyCatherine—from her father, who is a duke.”
“And she has invited us to tea?” Philippa said. “All of us? That will be delightful, Mama.”
“She is at the duke’s town residence,” the dowager explained. “Her niece cannot go out as much as she would like, I suppose. The tea is probably for her benefit. Kitty does say that Stephanie will be very welcome to go too, though she asks me to warn her that there will be no one else there below the age of eighteen and that she may find the whole thing a bit tedious.”
Stephanie laughed. “She is very tactful, Mama,” she said. “I will not go, of course. And you must not feel you are neglecting me whenever you and Pippa go off to all the various entertainments for which you have come here. I do not evenwishto attend any of them. Miss Field and I will go to Westminster Abbey instead of the tea. She wants me to see Poets’ Corner. I want to seeeverything.”
“I will look forward to making the acquaintance of Lady Catherine and her niece, Mama,” Philippa said. And then, with a slight blush and a twinkle in her eye, “And that of her son if he is there too.”
“Fortunately, a few of your new afternoon gowns have already been delivered,” her mother said. “Including the sprigged muslin, which I know is your favorite. I will return an acceptance, then, for you and me?”
“Yes, indeed, Mama,” Pippa said. And she looked as though excitement were bubbling up inside her. It was lovely to see after thedepths of depression into which she had sunk and remained for a number of years after that wretched fete.
“It issogood to see you with a smile on your face, Pippa,” Clarissa told her.
“Remember,” Stephanie said, “that I insist upon being a bridesmaid at your wedding, Pippa.”
—
Lady Catherine Emmett, Kitty to her family and close acquaintances, had had a happy marriage, which had ended far too soon with the premature death of her husband. She had brought out her daughter, Beatrice, at the age of eighteen and had seen her married before the end of her first Season to a man of whom she thoroughly approved except that he lived quite inconveniently in Ireland. They now had two healthy, energetic sons.
Sir Gerald Emmett, Lady Catherine’s son, had settled contentedly on his late father’s estate. He had implemented a series of improvements on the land, all of which had increased its prosperity. Kitty would like to see him happily married too with children, but he was only twenty-eight years old and could be trusted to manage his own affairs in his own time.
Lady Catherine liked to be busy, and she liked to feel needed. Eleven years ago, soon after Beatrice married, her brother broke his neck and died when he tried unsuccessfully to jump his horse over an impossibly high hedge. Poor Franklin had not been in his right mind at the time, of course, having lost his wife in premature childbed less than a year before. The child, who would have been a second son and the all-important spare to Lucas, had never drawn breath. It had been a ghastly couple of years for the whole family, for Franklin had been their father’s only son and heir, their father being the Duke of Wilby. Lucas had become the duke’s heir at thetender age of fifteen and had been whisked off to Greystone to be educated for his future role.
Meanwhile Frank’s daughters had remained at Amberwell, their home in Leicestershire. Charlotte had been betrothed to Sylvester Bonham, Viscount Mayberry, at the time. Jennifer had been twelve years old then. If she had been a normal child, both she and Charlotte would almost undoubtedly have gone to Greystone with their brother. She wasnotnormal, however. She had suffered a debilitating illness at the age of five and for a year or more had not even been expected to live. Her legs had suffered first, with numbness and tingling, and then pain and paralysis. The illness had spread upward until for weeks on end even breathing had been difficult for her, poor thing. She had survived, though, and even recovered to a large degree. But the illness had left her thin and pale and unable to walk except very short distances with the aid of crutches. Her right leg, thinner than the left, was twisted out of shape. And sometimes she suffered relapses and a return of the pain and weakness in muscles all over her body.
The Duke of Wilby had decreed that Jenny should remain in the familiar surroundings of Amberwell, where she had always lived. Kitty, he had decided, with nothing much to do with her time now that her daughter was married and her son no longer needed her, would move in with her nieces to look after Jenny and arrange a wedding for Charlotte.
Kitty might have refused to comply with such a high-handed demand. She was, after all, no longer under her father’s authority. She was a widow of independent means. Her father was right about one thing, however. She did not have much to do with her time except visit her daughter and her grandsons as often as she could persuade herself to get into a boat bound for Ireland and allow it to transport her over open water that would never remain obliginglystill beneath the vessel. Besides, she had always had a soft spot for Frank’s girls, especially Jenny, who had endured the difficult years of her childhood and girlhood with cheerful and uncomplaining courage.
In apparent obedience to her father, whom, by the way, she adored, Kitty had descended upon Amberwell to console her nieces in their grief, which was considerable, and smother them with love and loving care. They might have resented her if she had not been wise enough to admit to her own grief and occasionally weep with them before rallying them and explaining that life was far from over for them despite the loss of their mama and papa and brother. And despite the fact that their living brother had been spirited away to Greystone just when they were most in need of him themselves.
Jenny had usually smiled cheerfully after these rallying talks, while Charlotte had sighed and complained that she sometimes feared her wedding day wouldnevercome. And then as like as not she would start weeping at the realization that her papa would not be there to give her away when the daydidcome. Or her mama to help her don her wedding clothes.
Those early days really hadnotbeen easy for any of them.
