“English servants are malignant and stupid and make life barely worth living,” Lois said. “And I should like to hang a few and burn the rest at the stake.”
A laugh bubbled up inside of Cordelia and it felt like relief to let it out. “They’re impossible.”
Lois nodded wisely. “I know, it was the same way when I arrived here five years ago.”
“Does it get any better?”
“It took me a little time to learn all the ins and outs of life in my beloved household. And I realized that none of the servants had ever really grown up; they are like children. They have always done things the same way. And I found it is easier to indulge them and work around their silly little rules.”
“I don’t understand half of their rules,” Cordelia said.
“You will,” Lois said, patting her hand. “It has only been a few months.”
“It feels like an eternity.”
“I know. Oh, how I know. I was not created for a life living in a dreary country estate. Once the London Season starts in a couple of months, you’ll not have two minutes in your day left for pining.”
“Is it as lovely as Parisian parties?”
“The London Season is not quite as gay as Paris, but the events are sparkling and full of snap. But watch out for the Prince of Wales,” she said. “Tum-Tum’s fond of pretty American girls, but his flirtations are mostly harmless. All of his lovers are married women who are much older than you.”
Cordelia reddened and wondered if Lois was one of his lovers.
“Oh, Cordelia, I forgot how young you are,” Lois said with another laugh. “Are you already in the family way?”
“No. Not yet,” she said, feeling a blush form on her cheeks. She was still a virgin.
“Don’t let it worry you. It took me over two years before I had our darling little Duff, and then his sister arrived not twelve months later.”
“Do you have more children?”
“Only the two,” Lois said. “The prerequisite heir and a spare. Once I’d done my duty, I was finished having children. It was so uncomfortable, and I got quite fat.”
Still blushing, Cordelia managed to give a wan smile. “I look forward to the London Season and making new friends.”
“You’ll find plenty of American women among the elite,” Lois assured her. “You can always tell an American.”
“By their accent?”
“No! By theirclothes!” Lois said with another tigerish smile. “I could tell at once that you were American. Is your dress from Worth?”
“Yes.”
“No one makes clothes as well as Charles Worth. He’s worth a visit to Paris anytime of the year.”
“He made my entire trousseau,” Cordelia said, hoping to steer the conversation to less-murky waters. “All ninety gowns.”
“I cannot wait to see them all!” Lois exclaimed. “You know, you should throw a weekend party with a ball before the London Season. That way you can make some acquaintances before you are surrounded by a thousand people you do not know.”
“A weekend party, here?”
“And a fancy-dress ball would be perfect in this setting,” Lois continued, as if Cordelia hadn’t spoken. “There is such a haunting atmosphere about this old abbey. It quite gives me the shivers every time we visit. I’ve never stayed a night under the roof.”
“We have a ghost…a murdered monk.”
“Excellent,” Lois said, and clapped her hands. “I know just the costume I will wear. I picked it up while I was in Egypt in December. It’s the most gorgeous Egyptian dress and the jewelry is to die for. Tell me you’ll throw a party so I can wear it? Your house party would be the perfect start to the London Season.”
“I suppose so,” Cordelia said. “But I’ve never been to a fancy-dress party.”
