Suddenly You(12)

Sukey hurried to fetch her mistress’s black velvet evening cloak, her animated chatter filling the tiny entrance hall. “Never ye mind the cold, Miss Amanda. There’s time enough for ye to spend yer days and nights before the hearth when ye’re too old and frail to stand the winter breeze. These are the days when ye must make merry with yer friends. What’s a bit of a chill?…I’ll have coals in the warming pan and a glass of hot brandy-milk waiting fer ye on yer return.”

“Yes, Sukey,” Amanda replied dutifully, smiling at the maid.

“And, Miss Amanda,” the maid dared to instruct her, “ye might try to curb yer tongue a bit when ye’re around the gentlemen. Just flatter them, and smile, and mayhap look as though ye agree with all their gabbing about politics and such—”

“Sukey,” Amanda interrupted wryly, “you’re not still harboring hopes that I’ll marry someday, are you?”

“It could happen, sure enow,” the maid insisted.

“I’m not going to the supper-party for any reason other than the need for companionship and conversation,” Amanda informed her. “Certainly not for husband-hunting!”

“Aye, but ye do look fine tonight.” Sukey’s approving glance swept over Amanda’s black evening dress, made of shimmering crinkled silk that had been cut very low across the bosom and fitted tightly to her voluptuous shape. Rows of glittering jet beads adorned the bodice and long sleeves, while her gloves and shoes were of soft black chamois leather. It was a sophisticated ensemble, one that made the most of Amanda’s looks and generously displayed her bosom. Although Amanda had never dressed in a particularly stylish way before, she had recently consulted with a reputable London dressmaker and ordered many fashionable new gowns.

With Sukey’s help, Amanda shrugged into the ermine-lined cloak, slipped her arms through the silk-trimmed armholes, and fastened the gold clasp at the throat. They settled a large Parisian hat, made of black velvet and lined with pink silk, carefully over her coiffure. At Sukey’s suggestion, Amanda had decided to wear her hair in a new style this evening, with several curls spilling from a loose-braided topknot.

“I vow ye’ll catch a husband yet,” Sukey insisted. “Mayhap ye’ll even meet him tonight.”

“I don’t want a husband,” Amanda said crisply. “I prefer my independence.”

“Independence,” Sukey exclaimed, raising her gaze heavenward. “Ye’d like a husband in yer bed a sight better, I ‘spect.”

“Sukey,” Amanda remarked in disapproval, but the maid only laughed, daring to speak freely because of her age and long familiarity.

“I warrant ye’ll catch a finer man than either of yer sisters, bless them both,” Sukey predicted. “The best things come to those who wait, I always say.”

“Who would dare to contradict you?” Amanda commented wryly, and squinted at the sudden freezing blast of air as the footman, Charles, opened the door for her.

“Carriage is ready, Miss Amanda,” he said cheerfully, a lap blanket folded neatly over his arm. He escorted her to the old but well-kept family carriage, settled her inside, and draped the blanket over her.

Leaning back against the worn leather upholstery, Amanda huddled beneath the length of silk-fringed wool and smiled at the thought of the supper-party to come. Life was very good, she thought. She had friends, a comfortable home, and an occupation that was not only interesting but profitable. In spite of her good fortune, however, she had been annoyed by Sukey’s insistence that she should find a husband someday.

There was no room for a man in Amanda’s life. She liked being able to act and speak with no checks on her freedom. The notion of a husband whose legal and social authority completely eclipsed her own…intolerable. In any disputes that arose between them, the last word would be his. He could take away all her earnings if he chose. And any children they might have would be considered his property. Amanda knew that she could never willingly give another person such power over herself. It wasn’t that she disliked the male sex. On the contrary, she thought them rather clever for having arranged things so clearly to their advantage.

And yet…how nice it would be to attend parties and lectures with a beloved companion. Someone to talk and argue and share with. Someone to share her meals, and cuddle in bed to keep the winter chill away. Yes, independence was the best path, but it wasn’t always the most comfortable one. Everything came with a price, and she had bought her autonomy with a good amount of loneliness.

The memory of what had occurred only a week ago was still at the forefront of her mind, despite her best efforts to set it aside. “Jack,” she whispered, one hand creeping to the center of her chest, where a wistful ache had settled. Impressions of him still lingered in her memory: the unearthly blue of his eyes, the richly frayed timbre of his voice. For some women, a romantic evening was an ordinary occurrence, but for her, it had been the most extraordinary experience of her life.

The moment of wistful reflection dissolved as her carriage rolled to a halt in front of Mr. Talbot’s house, an attractive red brick structure with white columns. Its three stories were set on a perfect little garden square, and resonated with light, laughter, and social chatter. As might be expected of a successful lawyer, Talbot’s home was elegant. The entrance hall was a charming oval with plastered copses on either end, and the large receiving room beyond was painted a soothing shade of light green, its elaborate plasterwork ceiling reflected on the gleaming, dark oak floors below. Pleasing smells filled the air, promising a fine repast, while the clinks of glassware provided a sparkling musical undertone to the strains of a string quartet.