Someone to Love (Westcott #1)(25)
“You have good deportment, at least,” the dowager said at last, “and you speak without any discernible regional accent. You look, however, like a particularly lowly governess.”
“I am lower even than that, ma’am,” Anna said. “Or higher, depending upon one’s perspective. I have the great privilege of being teacher to a school of orphans, whose minds are inferior to no one’s.”
The aunt who was beside the dowager’s chair gasped and actually recoiled.
“Oh, you may sheathe your claws,” the dowager said. “I was merely stating fact. It is not your fault you are as you are. It is entirely my son’s. You may call me Grandmama, for that is what I am to you. But if you did not call me that, ma’am would be incorrect. What would be correct?” She waited for an answer.
“I am afraid, Grandmama,” Anna said, “that any answer I gave would be a guess. I do not know. My lady, perhaps?”
“What are the ranks directly above and below earl?” the aunt—Aunt Matilda?—asked. “And what is the difference between a knight and a baronet, both of whom are Sir So-and-So? You do not know, do you, Anastasia? You ought to know. You must know.”
“I believe, Cousin Matilda,” the young lady by the window—the earl’s sister, Elizabeth?—said, “you are bewildering poor Anastasia.”
“And there are far more important matters to be dealt with,” the dowager countess agreed. “Do sit down, Matilda, and stop hovering. I am not about to fall out of my chair. Anastasia, those clothes are fit only for the dustbin. Even the servants would scorn to wear them.”
If it was possible to feel more humiliated, Anna thought, she could not imagine it. Her Sunday best!
“And your hair, Anastasia,” the duchess’s younger sister—Aunt Mildred—said. “It must be very long, is it?”
“It reaches below my waist, ma’am—Aunt,” Anna said.
“It looks thick and heavy and quite unbecoming,” Aunt Mildred told her. “It must be cut and properly styled without delay.”
“I will have a modiste come here with her assistants tomorrow,” the duchess said. “They will remain here until they have produced the bare essentials of a new wardrobe. Anastasia absolutely must not leave the house until she is fit to be seen. I daresay word has already spread among the ton. It would be strange indeed if it had not.”
“It was being spoken of in the clubs this morning, Louise,” the older man—Aunt Mildred’s husband—said. “Both the blow to Harry and his mother and sisters and the sudden discovery of a legitimate daughter of Riverdale’s. And Alexander’s good fortune, of course.”
“I have yet to discover what is good about it, Thomas,” the new earl said.
Looking at him, Anna concluded that her first impression of him yesterday had been quite correct. He was the most perfectly handsome man she had ever seen. He looked like the prince of fairy tales. She pictured herself describing him to the children in Bath while all the girls sank into a happy dream, imagining themselves as his princess.
“Do you know what the ton is, Anastasia?” Aunt Matilda asked sharply. She was seated now on a stool beside her mother’s chair.
“I believe it is a French term for the upper classes, Aunt,” Anna said.
“The very crème de la crème of the upper classes,” Lady Matilda told her. “We in this room are all of it, and so, heaven help us, are you. However are you to be whipped into shape when you are already twenty-five years old?”
It was hard not to strike back with equal sharpness and declare that she had no intention to being whipped into any sort of shape that was not of her own choosing. It was hard not to turn tail and stalk from the room and the house and find her way back home. Except that she had the feeling there was no real home at the moment. She was between two worlds, no longer belonging to the old and certainly not yet belonging to the new. All she could do was explore this new world a little more deeply and then decide what to do with the knowledge. She called upon all the resources of an inner calm and held her tongue.
“Matilda,” the earl’s mother said reproachfully, “be fair. Anastasia cannot help either her age or her upbringing. She must feel that she is facing the enemy here from every side when in reality we are her family. Have you ever known any other family, Anastasia? On your mother’s side, perhaps?”
“No, ma’am,” Anna said. “I am sorry. You are Cousin—?”
“Althea,” she said, smiling.
“No, Cousin Althea,” Anna said. “I knew nothing of my identity until yesterday. I have always been Anna Snow.”
“Then this must be overwhelming,” the lady said. “Perhaps you would like to return home with Alex and Lizzie and me for a few days since this is a large house and you cannot remain here alone.”
“You would be very welcome, Cousin Anastasia,” the earl told her.
“No,” the duchess said. “She must absolutely remain here, Althea. I will be arranging for a modiste and a hairdresser to be here early tomorrow. And her belongings, for what they are worth, are being fetched here from the Pulteney. You are quite right, though, that she cannot stay here alone without a companion or chaperone. Perhaps Matilda—”
“Oh, I would be delighted to remain here for a few days with Cousin Anastasia, if she will permit it,” the earl’s sister said, her smile as warm as her mother’s. “May I, Anastasia? I promise not to overwhelm you with a litany of all that must be changed in you before you are indistinguishable from all the rest of us. Rather, I would like to find out about your life as it was before yesterday. I would like to find out about you. What do you say?”