Catherine’s shoulders sagged, and she turned partially away from her relatives, staring unseeing at the gray-threaded marble fireplace. “At home, I was courted primarily for the money and property. When I came to London, I had some half-formed notion of being courted for myself rather than for my dowry and expectancies.” She smiled wanly and turned her head to look over her shoulder at her aunt. “I was also piqued at the letter you sent my mother. You assumed, without meeting me, that I would be without looks, accomplishments, or fortune. I decided to fulfill your expectations.”
A muscle in Lady Harth’s jaw twitched as she stared at her niece. She dabbed at her forehead with a lace-edged handkerchief and closed her eyes. “To think that I have nursed a viper to my breast these long weeks. I feel quite faint,” she said, though her voice lacked any fainting quality. “Go to your room. We shall discuss this in the morning.”
She dramatically flung herself back into one of the damask-covered chairs. The delicate piece rocked precariously under her momentum, tottering on its slender back legs before tipping completely backward, dumping the Countess of Seaverness on the floor.
CHAPTER 11
“Maybe it would be best,” Catherine mused the next afternoon as she moodily stared at the glowing coals in the fireplace in her bedroom, “if I cut my hair, bound my breasts, and ran away to be a groom.”
Susannah shook out the flounces of the dress she was mending for her cousin. “You’re becoming maudlin."
"No, I’m not,” contradicted Catherine. “I can’t become maudlin. I already am.”
Susannah laughed and laid the dress on the bed. “Catherine, this is not like you. You’re always so decisive and independent. I thought you didn’t care a fig about what Aunt Alicia thinks of you.”
“I lied. At least, I’m beginning to realize it was all a lie. As insubstantial as fairy dust.”
“Goodness, such die-away airs. Perhaps your calling is the stage after all!”
That drew a reluctant smile. “All right. I stand properly chastised. I’ve finished feeling sorry for myself. Now, if only Aunt Alicia would start talking to me again, even if it is only to rail at me! Unfortunately, I don’t think she will until her back stops hurting.”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen anyone take a tumble in that manner before, feet up in the air and petticoats down over her head!”
“It’s the screeching I’ll not forget.”
“Or how it increased when Pennymore burst into the room to see what the uproar was about. The poor man. I’ve never seen him so flustered as when he realized it was Aunt Alicia’s drawers and petticoats he was seeing.”
“I think it was Pennymore’s seeing her in that predicament that fueled her anger against me,” Catherine ventured. “Truthfully, Susannah, I don’t know how I should go on.”
“Excuse me, Miss Catherine,” Bethie said from the doorway. “But this box just come for you.” She laid a large dressmaker’s box on the bed.
“That looks like it’s from Madame Vaussard! I haven’t ordered anything else from her,” Catherine said, crossing to the bed.
“Do you think the Marquis would send anything?” suggested Susannah, moving the mended dress aside.
“Coo, but that would plop the fat in the fire,” Bethie said.
Catherine frowned and shook her head. “No, I don’t think he would. He has too nice a sense of propriety.” She pulled the lid off. On top of the white muslin covering the contents of the box was a letter. Catherine exchanged perplexed glances with Susannah and Bethie before slowly unfolding the note written with a fine, spidery scrawl.
My dearest Mademoiselle Shreveton,
On the day you visited my shop for your riding habit and told me of your circumstances, I knew you would one day need a gown befitting your true station. I took the liberty of making such a gown. Since it was finished, I have been waiting for a time when you would need it.
The world comes to my shop and the world gossips.
A wise businesswoman listens. When I heard of your contretemps with the Countess of Seaverness at Almack’s, I say to myself, "Augustine, the time has come. Miss Shreveton must now turn from the petite, ugly hatchling to the glorious swan and so bemuse the bon ton. Now it is the time for this dress.” Here it is, ma petite.
Bon chance,
Augustine Vaussard
P. S. I have taken the liberty of forwarding the bill to your uncle’s place of business.
Catherine laughed at the postscript and silently handed the note to Susannah. With shaking fingers she pulled back the covering material. The dress lying folded in the box was a shimmering blend of green, gold, and white. Slowly she pulled it out of its nest of protective fabric.
“Oh, Miss Shreveton!” breathed Bethie. She helped Catherine free it from the last of its covering and swept the box aside so Catherine could lay the dress out on the bed.
The dress was white lace over a white silk slip, finished with a rouleau of pale green silk edged with gold cording. The lower third of the skirt was embroidered with bunches of gold grapes and shaded green leaves. The bodice was of pale green silk cut square with a fall of white lace embroidered with gold lozenges set across the neckline. The sleeves of pale green silk were slashed with white lace and edged with gold cording and more lace embroidered with gold.
