A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(37)

‘How very disappointing,’ the man said, taking a step forward. Archie saw the flash of a drawn blade.

‘I say!’ a voice shouted from the street.

A shot rang in the air. The men scattered. Archie let out a gust of air, turning thankfully to their saviour. As he stepped towards them, Archie made out the deep red of his embroidered waistcoat and recognised Lord Selbourne.

‘Thank you, my lord!’ he gasped gratefully. ‘Thanks awfully.’

‘No trouble.’ Lord Selbourne pocketed his pistol nonchalantly. ‘This part of town can be devilishly dangerous. Radcliffe’s brother, aren’t you?’ he asked rhetorically, reaching out a hand to Archie, who grasped it like a lifeline. ‘Best we all be off, boys. You never know who you might run into on a night such as this.’

They followed Lord Selbourne obediently all the way to the well-tended streets of Grosvenor Square, where he left them with a smile and a bow. The young gentlemen parted ways dreamily, each one mentally rewriting the events to reconfigure themselves as taking a more heroic role. Even the hysterical confrontation with his mother that followed his entry into the house could not ruin Archie’s mood, and he settled into bed with a smile upon his face. Miss Talbot, he felt sure, would have to sit up and listen now.





Netley Cottage, Thursday April 9th

Dearest Kitty,

We were most pleased to receive your last letter, though it arrived only yesterday – the postal service seems in no hurry to deliver correspondence to our county. You must regale us with a detailed account of each ball – as full as you can fit in one sheet – for we would so enjoy picturing both you and Cecily in such grand places, amongst such lofty persons.

We have been enjoying weeks of temperate weather, though just yesterday a strong wind rose, knocking loose a considerable number of roof tiles in the night. Should the good weather endure, we ought to be fine, though if we suffer a rainy spell it is likely to leak again – what would you advise I do? The funds you left are enough for our weekly expenses, but they will not cover the cost of repair, and I do not think we can manage both.

Jane and I encountered Mr Linfield in Biddington yesterday. He is married now and was odiously patronising. Still, this in no way excuses Jane’s behaviour – it was obvious to everyone she fully intended for the turnips to fall upon him. Needless to say, I scolded her thoroughly for the incivility – but I cannot deny it was pleasing to see Linfield covered in vegetables.

We miss you greatly and look forward to your return with extreme impatience.

Your loving sister,

Beatrice





16


The night of their first ball had come, and all was in place. Kitty, Cecily and Aunt Dorothy had been quite rushed off their feet the past few days, busied with modistes, milliners, and dancing lessons, and they were as prepared as they could ever be. Wrapped up in cloaks and piled into a hackney cab, they trundled through London’s streets to Montagu House on Berkeley Square.

Having now spent almost six weeks in the capital, Kitty should have been used to the splendour of the houses in London’s richest streets, inured to the wealth splashed across the city’s most fashionable districts. But she could not have prepared herself for the sight of London in high Season, of how this great city looked, when the world’s richest people were all gathered together and trying their very best to show off. The Montagu town house was shining brighter than the moon, windows glowing like lanterns and streaming out golden light onto the square. Their cab paused at the end of the street, unable to proceed with all the vehicles crowding in, and Kitty leant as far out of the carriage as she could to see the spectacle with her own eyes. She watched a stream of glittering ladies descend carefully from carriages – all carrying intricate insignias of grand houses – and glide their way inside. They looked like peacocks, or rare birds from some exotic location arriving for a grand exhibition. What a world this is, Kitty thought, breathless, and what a chance for us. She looked over at her sister, who was peeking over her shoulder, for once totally united in their awe, their eyes as wide as saucers.

‘Are we ready, ladies?’ Aunt Dorothy asked, gathering her skirts in readiness as the cabs ahead of them began to move once more. When it was their turn to exit, Kitty made sure that her own descent, though unassisted by sprightly footmen, was no less graceful than the other ladies present. From this moment onward, the world would be watching. Kitty caught the skirts of her ballgown in her hand – a satin slip of ivory overlaid with delicate white sarsnet – and walked with her sister and aunt slowly up the drive and into the lion’s den.

There must have been a thousand candles lit for the occasion, Kitty marvelled, gazing around. As they made their way further in and she upturned her head to stare at the looming chandeliers above, she guessed it was a thousand candles at the very least. Their light cast a flattering glow across the room, making each person seem even more beautiful – glinting off the jewels at their ears, wrists and necks like an intimate caress. Kitty fought hard to keep her mouth shut, but could not stop her eyes from roving helplessly across the room, not knowing where to look. Everywhere in front of her was proof of more wealth than she had ever seen in her life: the jewels, the dresses, the candles, the food, the impeccably dressed footmen revolving like dancers, carrying trays of champagne with effortless grace.

They were greeted kindly by the Dowager Countess Montagu, who remembered their names and complimented them on their dresses – Kitty examined her face closely for insincerity but saw none – before they were finally able to enter the ballroom properly. Dancing had not yet begun, and groups of people were gathered around, all talking and laughing together. Kitty was satisfied that their dresses – while not so ornate as some of those around her – were very much in the right style. Yet this moment of relief was short-lived, as she soon realised that no one in the ballroom was willing to converse with them until they were formally acknowledged by someone else first. No one had warned her to prepare for this. Kitty searched the room frantically for any familiar face, but she could hardly see past the coldly judging expressions aimed at them, swimming before her dizzyingly.