‘A spring picnic? And arealmodiste?’ she whispered in a hallowed voice, as though all her Christmases had come at once. ‘I think we’d all be thrilled, Aunt!’
‘There’s a picnic in the book I’m reading…’
‘Will there be meringues and candy floss…?’
‘Who will be there,exactly?’ Phoebe’s voice rose above the clamour of the others, as she skewered her last piece of buttered toast.
‘Why, most of our acquaintances, dear! The Sydney Gardens social picnics are public and very popular, but so long as you avoid anyundesirables, they are entirely suited to respectable families.’
She lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Bath is a little more relaxed than London you see, so you don’t need to frettoomuch about not being officially out yet.’
Phoebe suppressed another smile, certain she couldn’t fret anywhere as much as her aunt, who fretted enough for the entire world.
‘Anyway, I’ve already taken the liberty of writing to your dear brother, and asking if your uncle and I could take you to a fewrespectablesocial gatherings for some gentle diversion. He was reluctant, such is his care for you all, but after I explained we’d be chaperoning you closely and the picnic hardly ranked on the Bath social calendar, he really was quite content.’ She beamed.
Phoebe could well imagine Thomas had only made it through the first couple of sentences of Aunt Higglestone’s very proper letter, before consigning it to the fire – but could have hugged her all the same. She’d begun to think their daily trip to the Pump Room, followed by abracingwalk along the canal tow path, was going to represent the peak excitement of their stay, and even she was struggling to see how she could turn one of those excursions into a remotely heroic adventure.
‘Isn’t the modiste next to a bookshop?’ Josephine enquired.
‘I don’t need a new dress, I need a bandana and pantaloons!’ Matilda announced, stabbing her poached egg.
‘I’ve always dreamed of attending a society picnic with a Prussian-blue parasol––’ Sophie began dreamily.
‘I do hope you won’t be put to any terrible great expense on our behalf, Aunt!’ Phoebe overrode, glaring at all her sisters.
‘We have brought our best dresses with us, and you and Uncle Higglestone are already looking after us, after all.’
‘Oh, hush now, dear! It will be our pleasure, and exactly what your dear mama would wish, too! Now, as I understand it, Thomas has the specialattirefor your forthcoming announcement well in hand…’
Phoebe glanced up sharply. It was the first she’d heard of the betrothal plans for a while, and her aunt’s reference suddenly felt too real. A small, hard lump formed in her throat.
‘… but I can’t imagine you’ve had the chance for too many frivolous shopping trips these past few months,’ Aunt Higglestone continued brightly, ‘and this will give me the opportunity to spoil my lovely nieces.’
‘None! We’ve had none!’ Sophie rushed, glaring at Phoebe.
‘I mean, dearest Harriet has no match when it comes to hems and frills, but Thomas considers hand-me-downs suitable for every occasion and, well, none of us have had the stomach to ask for anything new since…’
There was a poignant silence.
‘Since Papa had the poisoned toe,’ Josephine filled.
Uncle Higglestone grunted behind his periodical, as their aunt stretched a conciliatory hand over her favourite harebell butter dish.
‘Well, then, that settles it! We’ll each have a new muslin before the week is out, and I’ll wager we can even find something in Prussian blue at MadameParagon’s! Oh this is going to be such fun!’
* * *
‘This is not fun!’ Matilda scowled, slumping in the back room ofMadame Paragon’s boutique dressmakers for gentility.
‘Shh!’ Phoebe frowned, peeping through a jade velvet curtain separating them from the dressing space.
Sophie was parading in her fourth shade of blue muslin, while the rest of the Fairfax clan awaited their turn with significantly less enthusiasm.
‘Aunt Higglestone will hear you.’
‘But they all look soextremelythe same!’ Matilda moaned. ‘Why can’t Sophie just pick one? I had a choice of two, so chose the one I could cut up for a bandana and pantaloons when I tire of it!’
‘You must do no such thing!’ Phoebe chided, though her lips were twitching. ‘Sophie, for one, will never forgive you, but you must also consider that Aunt Higglestone is paying a small fortune for these dresses.’
