Clementine’s smile slid directly off her face. “Why would you have suggested it then?”
“I’m sure I have my reasons, none that need concern you, though. But in the interest of avoiding another one of your very condescending and completely unacceptable gestures of friendship, or ‘friendly acquaintance’ business as I believe you called it, do know that I have no intention of furthering your cause with Harrison, nor do I care whether you acknowledge me out in public or not.”
Clementine dropped her hold on Gertrude’s arm and narrowed her eyes to mere slits. “I make a far better friendly acquaintance than enemy, Miss Cadwalader. But since you evidently don’t care to become one of my friendly acquaintances, consider yourself warned.”
Spinning on her heel, Clementine stalked away and disappeared into a waiting carriage, leaving Gertrude behind.
Chapter
Fourteen
TWODAYSLATER
“Gertrude, be a dear and trot back to the attic and see if you can locate one or two more traveling trunks,” Mrs. Davenport said, pulling Gertrude from a lovely daydream she’d been having about Harrison and the dance they’d shared at the Manhattan Beach Hotel. “I want to put my best foot forward this season in Newport, and I can hardly accomplish that if I don’t take the proper accessories with me.” She bit her lip. “Now that I think about it, fetch three traveling trunks. I don’t believe I’ll be able to fit all these reticules in the trunk I’m packing now, and we’ve barely started assembling the wardrobe I’m going to need as I go about the daunting task of ushering Edwina into the folds of high society.”
Setting aside the hat she’d been wrapping in paper, Gertrude quirked a brow at the large pile of reticules that were waiting to be packed, a pile that was significantly larger than it had been five minutes before. Reminding herself for what felt like the millionth time that it would not bode well for her to balk at what was yet another unreasonable request from a lady who was being more contrary than usual, Gertrude summoned up a smile.
“While I’m more than happy totrotup to an attic that seems miles and miles away from this room, I would like to point out that the summer season in Newport has a limited number of days, which means...”
“They’ll be filled to the brim with marvelous society events, so perhaps you should bring down four trunks instead of three,” Mrs. Davenport finished for her.
Unable to help but feel as if she’d landed smack-dab into the midst of some odd type of test she had no idea how to pass, or why she was being tested in the first place, Gertrude turned around and began counting silently under her breath, stopping when Mrs. Davenport begantsking underherbreath.
“I know you’re counting again, dear, a clear sign of a troubled mind if there ever was one. However, I must point out that if anyone should be troubled, it’s me. Why, I’m taking on the daunting task of launching a young lady who is very nearly a spinster, and believe me, that will be no easy feat.” She released a dramatic sigh. “Every eye will be upon us, remarking on the fashions we’re wearing, and that right there is reason for concern. I’m kicking myself for not suggesting you and I travel to Paris months ago to secure a summer wardrobe for me, a mistake that now leaves me at a disadvantage, unless...”
She sucked in a sharp breath of air. “On my word, why didn’t I think of this before? I’m simply going to pack a few of the designs I’ve been fiddling around with of late.” She fanned a face that was quickly turning pink with the reticule she’d plucked from the large pile. “You mark my words, Gertrude, once Newport sees how flattering a larger-than-life bustle can be for a lady’s figure, I’ll be granted the title of society matron extraordinaire—the one lady in society everyone will be clamoring to embrace. Why, it wouldn’t surprise me if, after our time in Newport, I become known not only as the society matron to seek out if one wants to launch a young lady with less than perfect credentials into society, but also an innovative designer of truly unique fashions.”
Gertrude frowned. “It almost seems as if you’re contemplating taking on a more visible role within society, abandoning the idea you’ve always embraced about maintaining a life best kept out of the spotlight.”
Mrs. Davenport waved that aside with a flick of a wrist. “I’ve decided to branch out a little because keeping out of the spotlight gets lonely after a while—not to mention boring.”
“You must know that branching out is not a good idea, particularly because of the questionable activities you enjoy pursuing.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you could possibly be implying,” Mrs. Davenport said with a sniff before she waved a hand toward the door of her bedchamber. “However, before you and I get completely at sixes and sevens with each other, I do believe I hear the attic calling you.”
Swallowing the hundred or so reasons that were on the very tip of her tongue in response to Mrs. Davenport’s decision to“branch out a little,”or the thousand or so responses she could make about the denial Mrs. Davenport had voiced pertaining to her“questionableactivities,”Gertrude folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Since you’ve decided we need four trunks fetched from the attic, it will be a more effective use of our time if we send a footman up to the attic instead of me. That way I can remain here with you, packing up the choices you’ve made, which will ensure our unpacking will go much smoother once we land in Newport, a landing that has now been pushed up considerably since you want to depart with the tide tomorrow.”
Mrs. Davenport’s expression turned stubborn. “I don’t know why you seem so cross about changing the date of our departure. I told you, we have no choice but to leave tomorrow because Edwina simply can’t miss Mr. Ward McAllister’s picnic. Everyone who is anyone will be at that event, and I’ll enjoy better success of seeing her well launched if I do that initial launching with Mr. McAllister’s support. You know he’ll take one look at Edwina’s stunning face and give her his blessing, something that will immediately guarantee her inclusion with the most fashionable set.” Mrs. Davenport settled a stern gaze on Gertrude. “Surely you must understand why I’m insisting on keeping to such a tight schedule, even if it might require a touch of extra work for you. I’m sure Edwina would do the same for you if your roles were reversed.”
Throwing her hands up in defeat, and feeling just a little resentful that Mrs. Davenport was so keen to assist Edwina even if it meant working her trusty companion to the bone, Gertrude spun around and headed for the door. “Far be it from me to point out the obvious, but sending a footman instead of me to fetch additional trunks would go far in allowing me plenty of time to see us packed.”
“You recently vowed to embrace a more active attitude to diminish the number of stitches you’ve been experiencing of late,” Mrs. Davenport called after her. “I imagine traveling to the attic a few times a day is extremely beneficial to a lady’s constitution.”
Gertrude stopped in her tracks and turned. “I’ve already been up to the attic at least seven times today. I think my constitution has suffered enough, thank you very much. In all honesty, four more trips to the attic—and hauling four more trunks out of that attic—could very well do me in.”
“Or provide you with improved physical stamina,” Mrs. Davenport said with a nod. “Besides, I don’t trust anyone but you to visit the attic, so sending a footman up there is completely out of the question.”
“Since when have you not trusted anyone but me to visit the attic?”
Mrs. Davenport turned back to her pile of reticules, pretending an absorbed interest in them while she neglected to answer Gertrude’s question. Knowing it would be easier all around to give in and trot back to the attic—four times at least, from the sound of it—Gertrude lifted her chin and marched from the room.
Striding down the long hallway of the second floor of Mrs. Davenport’s brownstone, Gertrude drew in a deep breath, the corners of her mouth curling when the odd thought sprang to mind that at least she could draw in a breath today, a circumstance she was never taking for granted again. Drawing in an even deeper breath simply because she could, she reached the flight of stairs that led to the third floor and began climbing.
As she climbed, she reminded herself how ridiculous it was for her to get her feelings injured simply because Mrs. Davenport was treating her exactly how one was expected to treat a paid companion.
Paid companions, as everyone knew, occupied a curious position within most households. They were not as lofty as the butler, or as essential as the housekeeper, but they were considered above the footmen and maids, even ladies’ maids. They were also given the privilege of attending society events, but while they did enjoy a certain elevated status, they were still the paid help, something she’d apparently begun to forget.
Reaching the landing to the third floor, Gertrude set aside thoughts that were leaving her somewhat depressed, an attitude best left abandoned when faced with the task of ambling around a gloomy attic filled to the brim with abandoned odds and ends. Walking to a door that led to the narrow steps of the attic, she picked up the candle she’d left on a table in front of the door because the attic was not attached to the gas that was used to light the rest of the house. Striking a match, she lit the candle, headed through the door, and began navigating her way up the stairs.
