“Goodness no.” Bess took the dress from Violet and set it aside. “Much too dull for courtship.” She then lifted the lavender dress and velvet spencer. “I doubt you’ll need your pelisse today as the sun is bright and the weather mild.”
Violet did appreciate living along the coast because even in December the weather wasn’t unpleasant. At least not so cold that one would not wish to be out of doors.
“When are you to meet Lord Ferrard?”
“In an hour,” Violet answered.
“An hour,” Bess practically cried. “We’ve hardly any time.”
“I can assure you that it won’t take me long to dress, as you well know. You’ve been my maid for six years.”
“When meeting a gentleman, your entire appearance must be set to rights, which means we need to do something with your hair.”
Violet frowned and stepped before the mirror. Her hair was still in a long braid so that it didn’t tangle when she slept. All she need do was brush it out then affix achignon at the nape of her neck and all would be well. After all, she’d be wearing a bonnet so there was no need to make a fuss.
Before she could point such out, however, Bess rushed toward the door, threw it open and called down to Maggie. When the other maid appeared, Bess began giving instructions for the gown to be pressed as she set about heating the hair irons that had miraculously appeared from somewhere and pushed Violet into a chair. Other maids arrived and began fussing about her belongings to find the proper stockings, make certain there were no scuffs on her half-boots, and choose a bonnet. “Had you given me any warning we would have seen you properly prepared,” Bess tsked.
“We are simply going for a stroll,” Violet reminded her. “Not attending a ball or being presented at court.” She knew from experience that preparations for those events took hours. A lot of fuss so that one was presented in a manner in which Society would approve. Violet had often abhorred the inactivity of time of being seated before a mirror while Bess had pinned and curled her hair.
“It’s courting and nearly as important,” Bess insisted. “Though this is the first I’ve heard of such courtship,” she scolded. “Does His Grace know?”
At the question, each maid within the chamber stopped what they were doing and turned their attention on Violet. This was no surprise as their servants were often interested in the private lives of Violet’s family. Therefore, Violet offered an abbreviated version of the events, omitting the part where Lord Ferrard had feigned an interest in Violet to save Lucinda the pain of his rejection. Nor did she tell them that the courtship was scheduled to end on January sixth because one of them would report such to Grandmother.
“It’s fortunate that you decided to visit someone in Laswell, or you might have missed the opportunity.” Bess was grinning as if she were excited about this turn of events.
There was little to be excited about, but then again, Bess didn’t realize that a deadline had been set for the courtship to end.
However, if Violet was truly honest with herself, which she always strived to be, she was looking forward to spending time with Lord Ferrard this afternoon. Not only was he handsome and intelligent, but he thought her unique and didn’t condescend, and she’d quite enjoyed their conversations yesterday afternoon.
“His Grace must be so pleased. Two daughters might be betrothed before Twelfth Night.”
“There’ll be no betrothal. At least not for me,” Violet insisted.
“You’d not allow him to court you unless it was a possibility.”
“I’m certain that I won’t know Lord Ferrard well enough in such a short time to make a decision,” Violet stated.
“Perhaps, but you might be surprised and fall in love.” Her maid was grinning again. It was as if Bess couldn’t wait to see her married away.
Then, in a blink of an eye, her maid’s eyes widened as the smile slipped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Who is going to accompanying you? I cannot leave the inn, as you know, nor can any of your father’s servants chaperone as they’ve duties at Forester Hall.”
“We are simply to walk about Laswell.” Violet did not need a chaperone. She’d not had one yesterday when she and Lord Ferrard drove about the area. “Anyone who lives in the village and is out and about will see us, all proper. Besides, they know that I’m above reproach.”
“Yes, you are correct, but it still isn’t proper.”
“I promise that my reputation will not be harmed.” Violet glanced at the clock. “Goodness, why does time seem to move quickly when one is busy? It’s a conundrum, as time is time and moves at the same speed regardless of activity.”
Bess quickly finished her hair then helped her into the freshly ironed gown. Thankfully, she was still on schedule when she stepped from the inn to find Lord Ferrard approaching from the direction of his brother’s home.
He was certainly pleasing to look upon, and Violet felt herself warm as he drew near just as her stomach gave a flip.
This was most definitely attraction. It might not be the heart palpitations or pulse racing her friends had described, but there was no denying that something certainly changed within her being when Lord Ferrard was near.
Perhaps there was a slight increase in her pulse.
