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Charles stood. ‘That’s enough, Mama, you have clearly heard an exaggerated version of my plans. I would never tear down Howick, as you suggest, nor would I do anything to destroy our heritage. I am, however, looking to extend the existing building, and updating some of the older areas to give us more room as our family continues to grow, but you will never be homeless.’ He paused. ‘You can always live with George at Fallodon for a while if the work is too disrupting for you.’
Eliza watched and waited as Mary returned with paper in hand.
‘I thought perhaps we could return to London for the little season and have Christmas here. Think how charming that would be. We could invite all the family.’ He smiled at Hannah and Eliza. ‘Perhaps by then we may even have weddings to plan.’
Mary nodded with a frankly conspiratorial smile. ‘Perhaps we will be planning for someone becoming a duchess. Imagine that.’
Eliza had not thought it possible, but Mama turned even more rigid at that. ‘You are determined to see this through?’ she said to Charles.
‘I am,’ Charles said, not unkindly. In that moment, he reminded her of Papa an awful lot.
‘Then there is nothing more to be said.’ She got to her feet and walked over to the writing desk. Mary gave her the paper and Charles cut a new nib for her.
They all watched in silence as she wrote. The scratch of the nib on paper the only sound in the room.
When it was done, Charles dusted and folded the parchment. Once sealed, he placed it inside his coat. ‘I will see to this.’ He smiled at them all. ‘Don’t just sit there, you have ball gowns and a wardrobe to plan.’
Chapter 23
ELIZA
London
The days that followed were a storm of activity, the likes of which Eliza had never seen before. She was poked, pulled, and prodded in every direction. Covered with silks, fabrics, feathers and lace, with all manner of fripperies thrust upon her person. Clearly, Charles’s influence with the Lord Chamberlain was significant as her application had been accepted inside of a week, and her summons had arrived shortly thereafter.
She supposed it was all terribly exciting, but she had always imagined her come out would be a happier occasion. One where she, her mama and sisters would pore over fashion magazines, visit modistes, and have a wonderful time discussing balls, parties, dancing, and eligible men. Selecting a court dress and a wardrobe worthy of a London season should take place over a period of weeks, months even, but here she was being dragged through the process at lightning speed with little consideration to any but the broadest detail. Mary, bless her, tried to keep her spirits up and tried to be excited with her, but with Hannah’s frosty demeanour, and Mama looking every inch the spectre of doom, it was hard to remain wholly cheerful. But she quickly discovered that to be seen as anything less than in transports of delight saw her castigated as an ungrateful wretch.
In short, Eliza was tired and disheartened by the time they visited the modiste to try her court dress. She knew court dresses were traditionally old fashioned looking, but the one her mama had selected made her look every inch like a sailing boat. It was enormous. The hoops were so large and the enormous plumes of feathers in her hair were… startling. Eliza wondered if she would fit through the door. She felt deeply uncomfortable, but her mother nodded her approval and that was that. She had seen Hannah’s court dress, so knew what to expect, but had half hoped fashions might have changed a little. Apparently, this was not the case.
Because of the lack of time, the dress was one that the dressmaker had available altered to fit her. She looked at herself in the glass and wondered what had happened to the original owner.
Mary peeped around the door, took one look, and her eyebrows climbed. ‘Goodness,’ she murmured. ‘It’s very… stately.’
‘According to Mama, this is the fashion for court dresses. Is she right?’
Mary came and twitched at the sleeve, dodging a huge feather. ‘I’m afraid so, but you wear it very well.’
I was kind of her to say so, but Eliza remained unconvinced.
The dressmaker and a host of assistants came to undress her and then whisked the dress away to be safely stored leaving Eliza in her undergarments. Mary squeezed her arm. ‘The rest of your wardrobe will be more to your liking. Mama will make sure everything is of the first stare. She may be angry with you, but she has a reputation to uphold.’
Eliza nodded.
‘And we have dinner with the Wilton’s tonight. It will be informal, but they hold excellent parties. The company should be good.’
Eliza nodded weakly, deciding that one should be very careful about what one wished for.
‘Who knows, the Cavendishes may be there, and you can dazzle the duke!’
‘I really don’t think that an offer from Hart is likely, so please don’t get your hopes up.’
Mary rolled her eyes. ‘Stop being so modest.’
Eliza just smiled. At least Mary was being kind, and she appreciated that.
‘Anyway,’ Mary said, rubbing her hands together. ‘You’d best make yourself presentable. We are heading for a fitting with Mrs James.’ Mary lifted her eyebrows in a meaningful way.
Eliza’s heart fluttered. ‘Mrs James? The Mrs James… Truly?’ Mrs James was a noted modiste. Eliza had seen her designs in Ackerman’s Repository, and she created the most stunning gowns at eye watering expense.
