Jasper ran his hand through his hair once again before taking the seat beside her. “I’ll hire the girls a governess first.” He promised. “And then I’ll see about finding them a mother.”
His mother cackled. “It’s not a mother for the twins that I’m concerned about, Willoughby. What matters most is that you find a mother for your sons.”
Tilde’s aunt Nettie, already dressed and coiffured as though she were attending a garden party, set her cup of tea beside her still full breakfast plate. “I forgot all about this one, but Lady Abbot says it’s going to be quite the crush. Apparently, she’s sent out hundreds of invitations. I realize it’s late notice, but I suppose we ought to attend.” Matilda had been in London for four days now. After visiting the menagerie, the museum and buying an ice at Gunter’s she was feeling refreshed and enthusiastic about stepping into her new post.
She’d squashed all thoughts of Jasper into the deep recesses of her brain. She’d refused to contemplate who he’d married, where he lived, whether or not he was in London, or if she’d see him again…
She’d not allowed herself to contemplate such ridiculous questions on her part. She couldn’t afford the melancholy, or the regret.
Or the hurt.
“Shall we attend then, Tilde?”
“Who? Attend what?” Tilde hadn’t been paying attention.
“I imagine it will be quite grand.” Betsy was only two years younger than Tilde but often had the outlook of a person twice her age. She’d not done well at school and when her fiancé died tragically, she’d determined to never marry. Aunt Nellie never questioned any of their life decisions, but Tilde secretly believed she’d not give up hope of finding husbands for them all.
“I’d think you’d enjoy partaking of a little entertainment before stepping into your new post.” Mrs. Nellie Maisley, although neither wealthy, nor of noble birth, was something of a fixture amongst the ton. She’d married the second son of a viscount and then outlived all but the most recent heir, a distant nephew twice––or perhaps it was thrice? ––removed. Although she no longer had direct access to the family coffers, aside from a measly widow’s portion, she retained a fabulous collection of outmoded dresses and a slowly dwindling collection of jewelry. None had ever dared to question Aunt Nellie as mistress of her London townhouse.
She received invitations quite often and, in the past, had taken her nieces along. Lacking any sort of dowry or great claims to beauty, Betsy, Chloe and Tilde often found themselves consigned almost immediately to the wallflower seating where their remade dresses weren’t as noticeable.
Of course, Mr. Joseph Fitzwilliam had fallen instantly in love with Betsy, but that hadn’t turned out so well either.
All in all, the orphaned sisters hadn’t fared well amongst Society. Aunt Nellie had paid for Tilde’s schooling with a particularly intricate garnet set. Betsy had demurred. Once employed, Tilde had paid for Chloe’s. The youngest of them all, Charlotte, remained a student at Miss Primm’s but had complained on more than one occasion at having Chloe as one of her teachers.
Miss Primm’s was a special school. They’d all been quite fortunate to have attended. If only Betsy hadn’t hated it so…
“What do you think Matilda?”
Tilde jerked her chin up. “Of what?”
“Shall we attend the Duchess of Marvelle’s Ball?”
She had not planned on attending a ton event ever again. She was in service now. It would be embarrassing to come face to face with one of her prior employer’s family members, or even one of their acquaintances who’d observed her. Just as she thought to decline, however, she caught a wistful expression on her sister’s face, as though she’d been waiting for just such an opportunity.
Betsy could attend alone with Aunt Nellie, but likely, that would not be the same as going with her older sister.
“Tonight?”
Betsy smiled and nodded.
“But… I’ve nothing to wear.”
As though taking this as only a minor impediment, Betsy clasped her hands together. “Oh, but I’ve the perfect gown for you. It will be like old times––”
Tilde laughed. “You and I, sitting together with all the other chaperones and wallflowers.”
Betsy grimaced. “We’ll have fun.” She then dropped her napkin onto the table and pushed back her chair. “If you’ve no objections then, we’ve no time to waste! I’ll pull out the gown and you can try it on right away. That will give me plenty of time to make any necessary alterations.”
“But I––”
“And I’ve a new style to try with your hair. And you can do mine! Oh, Tilde, I’m so happy we’re going to go to a ball again.”
Tilde gave in with a sigh and stabbed her eggs with more force than necessary. It would likely be her last opportunity to dress up and mingle in elegant society in her own right, for a very long time. More likely, forever.
And then Betsy—sober-minded, quiet Betsy—squealed. “Come up as soon as you’ve finished!”
In the quiet that remained after Betsy’s departure, Tilde glanced at her aunt with questioning eyes. But Aunt Nellie only shrugged.
