Chapter Nine
Livy
As more andmore items for the girls’ new wardrobe arrived, Aunt Ginny embarked on a whirl of visits and activities designed to allow her daughters and nieces the opportunity to meet other girls who were about to have their first Season.
Livy tried to cry off, since this would be her fourth year and she was years older than everyone else they would meet. Aunt Ginny refused to accept the excuse. “Your earlier seasons do not count, Olivia. Your father did his best, I suppose, but he should have called on me. These hired chaperones cannot possibly reflect credit on their charges. This time, I shall be introducing you to people who matter, dear. This year shall be different.”
She must have realized that Livy was about to argue, because she played the card that always worked. “Now, dear, I know you do not wish to disappoint Cilla. She will be so much more comfortable with you there, supporting her.”
And so, as the shopping wound down, the socializing ramped up. Dancing lessons with a score of girls and an equal number of reluctant brothers and cousins. Musical afternoons, where girls assessed one another’s talents. Gatherings for tea and talk.
And afternoon calls. Every afternoon that Aunt Ginny was not “At Home”, she took them on a succession of calls to matrons with daughters, nieces, goddaughters, and even—in onecase—a granddaughter to introduce to Society. On Mondays and Thursdays, Aunt Ginny’s days for receiving calls, those matrons, their charges, and often their brothers returned those visits.
Lord Curston usually put in an appearance, as did his son. Livy did not warm to either of them on further acquaintance. They were both pleasant enough to those who were present, though they ignored the servants as if they were furniture. But at various times, Livy heard both of them tell stories about others that were meant to be funny, but that Livy found just cruel.
The Sanderson brothers were there each Monday and each Thursday, neatly dressed, beautifully behaved, and gone again after fifteen minutes. For two weeks, those brief appearances were the only times Livy saw them, for Aunt Ginny refused to allow any more outings.
Not all their time was spent on callers, calling, and other social activities. Indeed, by far the bulk of it was dedicated to the ball that would launch the five cousins into the Season. Or, as Livy was prone to point out, launch four of them, for Livy’s come out was ancient history.
For several days, all five of them wrote invitations. After that, the focus shifted to the planning of the supper, the decoration of the assembly room that Aunt Ginny had hired, the selection of the music and dances, the designation and preparation of various rooms that would serve as card rooms, ladies’ withdrawing rooms, the supper room, and more.
Aunt Ginny revisited every decision a dozen times before a matter could be resolved, and even then, she was prone to relitigate previous arguments several days later. Livy, who had never before been involved in planning such a huge event, was interested at first, but soon became frustrated.
As she said to Cilla, “If Aunt Ginny would just make up her mind and stick to it, this would all be a great deal easier.”
“If nothing else,” Cilla said, philosophically, “we are learning what not to do when it is our turn to organize a ball.”
Livy did not expect to ever need to organize a ball. Nor could she imagine wanting to, though she wouldn’t have minded taking over from Aunt Ginny this one time, if only to get the job finished. Aunt Ginny had still not decided, for example, whether the tulle bows on the pillars would be Saxon green or spring green. Livy wanted to say, what does it matter? What does the supplier have in stock?
And if the cook and the caterer did not both resign before the night of the ball, Livy would be amazed, for the menu changed daily, and sometimes two or more times a day.
But in some mysterious way, bit by bit, all the items on Aunt Ginny’s lists were ticked. Somehow, the days passed until the day of the ball arrived. And, despite all the delays, they managed to negotiate a few last-minute changes without Livy screaming or tearing her hair out.
In the middle of the afternoon, Cilla and Livy returned to their own home to change for dinner and the ball. Pa, who was not coming to the ball, had steadfastly refused all Cilla’s pleading and would not change his mind. “You do not need your old father reminding the upper sort that you are related to the likes of me,” he told them.
Aunt Ginny agreed with him. “Your father is right, Lucilla. Perhaps once a gentleman’s attention is caught…” She trailed off, clearly unable to think of a situation in which a gentleman suitor might want to meet Pa in a social setting.
“Since Pa is providing Cilla’s dowry, which will undoubtedly be acceptable to the successful suitor, one assumes he will be willing to talk to Pa during the negotiations,” Livy suggested. “Even if he has to hold his nose.”
Aunt Ginny frowned, Cilla sighed, and Pa pretended Livy had not spoken.
“I should like you to dress for the evening at home, so I can see you, Lucilla,” Pa said. “Olivia, too.”
So, here they were, taking it in turns to sit under Barker’s skilled hands to have their hair done, with Cilla thoroughly enjoying every moment and Livy trying to pretend she was not dreading the night ahead.
This is not like previous years, she scolded herself.You are not without allies except for a chaperone who wishes she was with anyone else. Balls had been a battlefield, one Livy had faced unarmed except for her sharp tongue, and without reinforcements.Tonight will be different. That was what she told herself, but her churning gut did not believe her.
Cilla, who was the dearest girl in the world, saw at least something of what Livy was trying to hide. “It is going to be wonderful, Livy,” she said. “We shall be together, you and I, and with our cousins—and Aunt Ginny says she has organized partners for us both for several of the dances, so we need not fear sitting them all out.”
“It shall be wonderful,” Livy agreed, for what else could she say?
When they were ready, they went down to the study where Pa waited for them—Cilla a dream in her favorite pale shade of pink, with a white net overdress, and Livy feeling almost pretty in a color Madame Beauvillier calleddamascene, a sort of purpley-red.
“Come in, girls,” Pa said, when they knocked. He stood to greet them. “Let me look at you. Turn around Lucilla. How beautiful you are. I fear some young man is going to take you away from me.”
Pa took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of his eyes. “Remember, Lucilla, I shall not give any man permission to marry you until I have seen our Olivia settled. Ah, Olivia, howfine you look tonight! Just lovely, turn around, my dear? Yes, lovely.”
Surely Pa wasn’t serious about this idea of marrying Livy off before he would let Cilla marry? For Cilla’s sake, Livy decided not to say anything. Not tonight.
