“Can I go to the stables?” she asked after they’d departed the cramped, stuffy carriage and were stretching their various limbs whilst Mrs. White flitted between them pinning back stray wisps of hair and pinching color into their cheeks.
“Ouch,” said Violet, swatting their mother’s hand away. “Thathurts.”
“Beauty isn’t meant to feel good,” Mrs. White returned cheerfully, her spirits bolstered by their highbrow surroundings. “Now chins up, shoulders back, and no, Daisy, you cannot go the stables.”
“But–”
“Shutup,” Rose hissed, delivering a sharp elbow to Daisy’s ribs. “Here comes Lady Hollibrook, and you are not going to ruin this for me.”
Mentally resigning herself to three hours of dull conversation over lukewarm tea and stale crumpets, Daisy fixed a shape that vaguely resembled a smile on her face as the Marchioness of Hollibrook, wearing a cream-colored gown that probably cost more than their carriage, descended the sprawling front steps between sprigs of late-blooming jasmine and greeted her guests with all the warmth and welcoming expected of a hostess.
“Mrs. White,” she exclaimed, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “How lovely to see you again. Thank you for coming with such short notice. I’m sure you social calendar is exceedingly busy.”
Daisy shrugged. “Not really. What?” she asked defensively when three sets of eyes simultaneously narrowed in her direction. “We weren’t.”
Lady Hollibrook chuckled softly. “Regardless, I’m glad that you’re here. Your rooms are ready for you should you like to freshen up before we take tea in the parlor–”
I knew it, Daisy thought.
“–and my valets shall bring all of your belongings upstairs for the maids to unpack. I hope your girls don’t mind separate chambers. It’s standard for every guest, aside from married couples, to have their own room. But if they’d like them to stay together, we can make those accommodations as well. Whatever you prefer.”
Mrs. White appeared confused. “R-rooms? Belongings? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It was all there on the invitation, near the bottom,” Lady Hollibrook said brightly. “Didn’t you see it? Oh dear. You did, didn’t you?”
“Uh oh,” Daisy muttered, trying to slink away unnoticed, but her mother’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could get away.
“Daisy, my darling,” Mrs. White said between clenched teeth. “Is there something you’d like to share? Because I was of the opinion that we are here for a brief visit, whereas it seems our esteemed hostess is discussing a much longer stay that we are wholly unprepared for!”
“The other day, when the invitation arrived…” Daisy bit her lip. “Um, Mr. Waggles might have chewed on part of the envelope. And, ah, eaten it.”
Mr. Waggles was their family hound. She had found him cowering in a pile of hay when he was a pup, and had insisted that she be allowed to keep him. Her parents had relented, on the one condition that he be raised with impeccable manners.
It was a work in progress.
“Daisy Elizabeth White!”
Two full names in the same day.
This did not bode well.
This did not bode well at all.
“I cleaned up the slobber marks,” she said hurriedly. “And I trimmed off the part that he chewed. In hindsight, there may have been some pertinent information that he swallowed.”
Mrs. White’s eyes bulged. “Somepertinent information–”
“Not to worry,” Lady Hollibrook interrupted. “This isn’t a problem at all. If you’d like to stay for tea, I’d be more than happy to have you. If you’d like to stay for the duration of our week-long house party, then I will ensure that arrangements are made to fetch your personal accoutrements.”
A week?
Had she said aweek?
Daisy’s mouth opened, but before she cried out that she couldn’t possibly stay here for a week, she had far too many duties at home, how was a single person expected to eat seven days’ worth of stale crumpets, and what about Sir Vincent, her mother spoke first.
“We would be honored to partake in your house party,” she said, and then she even polished it off with a curtsy that Violet and Rose immediately copied.
Daisy remained straight.
