Chapter Seven
Mr. Blackstone hadarranged for the Harlowe family, and Lina—Evangeline rarely failed to point out to anyone within earshot that Lina’s surname wasnotHarlowe—to take up temporary residence in a townhouse in the ultra-fashionable Grosvenor Square, in the home of a man who had no family and had set off for Europe.
Lina had been required to take Mrs. Harlowe, and subsequently, Evangeline, at their word when they told her the area they were to be staying in was “very nearly exclusive.” She had supposed that it would be quite something. She had not expected the seemingly endless rows of white marble homes, all curiously interconnected, nor the bustle of the upper-class women strolling about in the most fantastical and, to Lina’s own mind, ridiculous costumes imaginable.
Evangeline ceased her endless complaining about the journey as soon as they arrived within the limits of the city, and became silent in awe, until they reached the wealthier neighborhoods and she began to heap praise, in a breathless, high-pitched voice, upon the fashion sense of the women she saw from the carriage window.
The household servants who had remained at the residence made a good show of not appearing entirely displeased to see the new family, though Lina thought personally the staff must have been somewhat dismayed, for with their master away in Europe, they had enjoyed free rein of the home and only had the duty to maintain it in proper order until his return. Their faces were stiff and revealed no trace of welcome, nor disdain.
“London servants are ever so much cooler,” Evangeline had confided to Lina. “It’s the way of their profession.”
Each girl had been given her own private quarters, a luxury that Lina imagined she might have appreciated had she not been so very overwhelmed. Anna appeared almost immediately at her door looking very much like a dour little child who was attempting to put on a good face.
“Whatever is the matter?” Lina asked her. “Don’t you like your room?”
“It’s beautiful,” Anna had replied. “It’s just... so very far away...”
So they had agreed between the two of them that Anna could come to sleep with Lina in her bed, at least until the wedding.
“After that,” Anna had pondered, “Shall you have your own room or shall you have to share?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Anna,” Evangeline said, entering the room at precisely that moment to survey Lina’s quarters and, undoubtedly, determine just how much better they were than her own so she would know how much to scowl. “Mr. Blackstone is incredibly wealthy and everyone will sleep in their own room. Do not ask such silly questions in polite company, either, lest the entire city of London be made aware that we share a room.”
Anna looked at her sister strangely. “But I like—”
“Sharing a room is low-class, and you shan’t speak of it again!” Evangeline hissed.
Lina was no longer listening to the two of them, but rather, tapping her fingers to her lips and looking blankly at the wall, thinking. Shedidwonder about such things. She knew that when a woman was married, she had certain responsibilities to her husband, and that they occurred at night, and she vaguely understood that they revolved around things Mrs. Harlowe considered “very naughty,” which meant intimate parts of the body and nakedness.
How very strange, she mused, it must be to see a naked man.
She wondered if the same would be expected of her. And why, precisely, it had to be so.
But not much more wondering could be done, for visitors arrived at that moment, and there would be, from then on, and endless stream of visitors and functions, and Lina would not be able to think her own thoughts except at night.
* * *
The first visitorsto arrive were distant cousins, who, like the staff at the home, appeared none too pleased at the arrival of the Harlowes, for all they managed to smile. There was the portly Mrs. Myrna Tilton, whose hair was a peculiar purple color, and whose sharp tongue lashed out upon her arrival. “Why, you must be absolutely bewildered as to what to do with yourselves, having come from... your estate. The first thing we must do, dears, is visit the dressmaker. A new frock can provide a girl with just the confidence she needs to pretend she has proper etiquette and upbringing.” Her eyes searched the drawing room like those of a hawk as the girls presented themselves. She glanced up and down Lina’s figure and muttered, “Well. Yes. Very lovely. I suppose we can see what has caught the imagination of the man.”
And then she breathed a haughty snort through her nostrils, and made a face that indicated she did not approve of such a thing, before sitting down.
Her daughters were named Elizabeth and Charlotte. Charlotte was quite plain, but had a warm and friendly smile that made her seem more becoming than she really was, and Lina liked her right away.
Elizabeth was a dark-haired girl with a pretty face ruined by the scowl that she seemed to have inherited directly from her mother. Elizabeth gave Lina the same quick up-and-down of the eyes that Mrs. Tilton had, and stiffly told her she was very pleased to make her acquaintance, though anybody could see she was not.
“I amsoglad you’ve come,” Charlotte gushed effusively. “Although we live in London, we see only the same people day in and day out and they ever so—”
