An arm around her shoulders he walked with her through the square.
“Lord Beaumont. Lady Henrietta.” Two ladies curtsied as they passed.
“Good day to you, Mrs. Freeman, Mrs. Brown.”
Henrietta calmed, reassured by her father’s unruffled manner and the deep, calm timber of his voice. She was proud that he was known in the district to be a fair man, despite the lean times. A widower, he had not remarried after the death of her mother, and many a female gaze followed their progress as he strode among them, sweeping her along with him to the waiting carriage.
The carriage traveled along the gravel drive bordered by ancient oaks. When the twisted apricot brick chimneys of her home came into view, the tightness in Henrietta’s shoulders eased. She tried to shrug off the unnerving experience and convince herself it was of no real consequence.
They alighted at the entrance to Beaumont Court, a rambling Tudor mansion which had been in the family since it was built over two hundred years ago. Nanny Felton greeted her at the door. “Henrietta, do I spy a stain on your new muslin?”
“It’s just dust, Nanny,” Henrietta gave her skirt a shake. “See, it brushes off. I wish you wouldn’t nag so.”
With a roll of her eyes, Henrietta hurried past her old nanny who had long since become a member of the family. She mounted the staircase carved with endearing gargoyles. A few steps farther on, she suffered another attack on her dignity. “Your hair has come down,” Nanny called from the paneled hall below. “I despair of turning you into a lady, Henrietta, I really do!”
Henrietta held up her skirts, thrust out her chin, and hurried out of range along the corridor.
She ran to her bedchamber, hoping to find Molly. There she stood, at the armoire with a lace fichu in her hand. “How did you manage to tear this, Lady Henrietta?”
An upstairs maid who was now her lady’s maid, Molly had lived at Beaumont Court most of her life, and she and Henrietta were more like friends.
“Don’t you start, Molly.” Feeling besieged, Henrietta picked up her heavy cat, Juliet, soon to have kittens, from the chair. She sat and stroked the cat’s black fur. Juliet’s loud purr soon filled the room. “Nanny has just scolded me, and I’m upset.”
“Nannyupset you?” Molly raised her eyebrows. She put down the fichu and crossed the room, a concerned frown on her freckled face. “What has happened?”
“Not Nanny. She just forgets I have grown up.” Henrietta recounted her experience at the fair.
Molly’s brow cleared. “’Tis a lot of rubbish. I went to see the gypsy myself.”
“You did? What did she tell you?”
Molly rubbed her forehead then adjusted her mobcap over her hair. “She said my Tom, who as I told you promised to marry me, will leave me.” Molly returned to her work, her hands busy folding a lawn nightgown. “How could I believe such a thing?”
“Then nothing she says can be true!” At Henrietta’s loud tone the cat leaped from her arms. Tom and Molly had been betrothed for almost a year. Tom worked with the farrier in the village. He and Molly planned to marry as soon as he set up his own business.
“Let us forget such nonsense,” Henrietta said in a brisk tone. “We have the trip to London to prepare for.”
She took the maid’s hands and danced her around the room. “London, Molly, just think about it!”
* * *
The days passed in a flurry of activity for Henrietta as dressmakers and milliners worked to provide an adequate wardrobe for her first London Season. Apart from her ball dress, she’d given the work to the village dressmaker who was skilled at copying the latest fashions.
They were to leave in an hour. Henrietta stood before the glass and angled the point of her bonnet over her forehead. She considered the effect to be as stylish as anyone might find in London. Molly finished the last of the packing, wrapping the delicate silks, satins, and muslins in silver paper. She placed them in the trunk on top of the dancing slippers and new shoes with pretty buckles.
Yesterday, Papa had presented Henrietta with a matched set of silvery pearls. He promised to allow her to wear the family sapphires, worn by her mother in the Gainsborough portrait in the long gallery when she ventured into London society. The parure of valuable gems had been in the family for generations.
Henrietta wished her mother was still with them. She had died when Henrietta was twelve. She hurried to her mother’s portrait. She often talked to her, a habit she’d adopted over the years. Her mother’s gentle eyes, filled with humor and intelligence, seemed to look directly at her, and Henrietta sensed her spirit was near. How beautiful she was, her fair hair soft around her face beneath the wide-brimmed straw hat. She stood beneath a huge oak in the oldest part of the garden, wearing the fashion of the day, a pale blue silk gown with rows of delicate lace at the elbow, the sapphires at her throat a sparkling contrast to her serene beauty.
“Goodbye, Mother. I will make you proud of me. I’m not nearly as beautiful, or as sweet as you. My impatience, I do try to control it!” She chewed her bottom lip. “But I will try to be everything you would have wished me to be. I promise.”
The Beaumont carriage drew up in Grosvenor Square before aunt’s townhouse designed in the French style by the famous Robert Adam. A liveried footman helped them alight. Henrietta had not seen her aunt for some years but remembered her with fondness. Her mother’s sister was known to be a ‘blue stocking’. She had been a close friend of Madame du Deffand when she lived in Paris and now held her own French-imitated salon of letters and literary breakfasts here in her London mansion.
“Henrietta, at last!” Aunt Gabrielle drew Henrietta against her soft bosom. “Let me look at you.” She released her. “Turn around. You have grown beautiful. Just like your darling mama.”
Her aunt kissed her father on his cheek. “How good it is to have you here, Anthony. I can’t tell you how much I have longed to see you both. Everything is arranged. Henrietta is to be presented at court at the next debutante ball, and Lady Pembroke has given us vouchers for Almack’s. How long might we have your company?”
“I must return home after the presentation. It’s hay season and many depend on me.”
