A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(67)

Funds are a little low, though I’m sure we shall manage until you are back. I have also enclosed a letter we received from Mr Anstey and Mr Ainsley. I trust you shall forgive my reading it. They write to confirm their intention to visit upon us no later than the first of June. They repeat that if we do not have the assurance of funds by then … Well, it is as their last correspondence.

Your loving sister,

Beatrice





28


It was the eleventh of May. Kitty had three weeks, and two pounds remaining. Her courtship of Mr Pemberton was becoming ever more determined, but she still had not extracted a proposal from the man, the burden of which she felt as a physical presence, pressing persistently upon the tender spot between neck and shoulder. What she wouldn’t give to shuck it off for one blessed moment … but she could not, until it was done.

Mr Pemberton’s mother – a strict matriarch who seemed to be the only person Mr Pemberton listened to – was not yet convinced by the Talbots’ quality. Having been upfront, as Kitty always was, about the state of the Talbot finances to her suitor, his austere mother was nurturing some doubts about the woman her son was courting, and the anticipated meeting had not yet occurred. Kitty was not quite sure – yet – what her next step was. She had been accepted, unfeasible though it had first seemed, into high society, and was spoken to by lords and ladies very much as if she was one of them – what else was to be done?

Over breakfast that morning, she was listening with half an ear to Dorothy’s chatter, while simultaneously also skimming through the morning post and ruminating on the Mrs Pemberton issue, when a word on the card before her shocked her into a loud gasp: Almack’s.

‘What is it, Kitty?’ Aunt Dorothy asked, curious.

‘We have been sent Almack’s vouchers for tomorrow night,’ Kitty said, holding the card up with shaking hands. ‘Almack’s! From Mrs Burrell. I can’t believe it.’

‘Oh,’ Cecily said vaguely, not looking up from her book. ‘Yes, she said she would send them.’

‘What?!’ Kitty squawked. ‘Who said – what are you talking about?’

Cecily looked up reluctantly. ‘Mrs Bussell, or Biddell – her name escapes me. I was speaking to her about Sappho at the ball last night – it transpired that we share a common interest in literature. She said she would send us vouchers, for she should like to speak to me again.’ She went back to reading, explanation complete.

‘Cecily,’ Kitty breathed. ‘You magnificent creature!’ She got up and smacked a kiss upon Cecy’s forehead.

‘Kitty!’ Cecily squirmed away.

‘Well, look at that,’ Aunt Dorothy said, coming around the table to look at the vouchers herself. ‘What a turn-up, indeed.’

‘Is it really so important?’ Cecily asked, dubiously.

‘Cecy, it would be easier for us to be presented at Court,’ Kitty said exultantly. ‘This should squash all of Mrs Pemberton’s doubts about our birth – if we have the Almack’s seal of approval, she can have no further qualms. You have done very well, Cecy, very well indeed.’

The next night, they dressed themselves with more than their usual care, Kitty’s fingers trembling over buttons. For the occasion they were to wear their very best dresses, long-sleeved evening gowns of white gauze – Cecily’s dress decorated with embroidered pink satin roses, Kitty’s worn over a striped satin petticoat that she felt was the perfect mingling of demure but dashing. Her face already being quite flushed, there was no need for Kitty to pinch her cheeks, and she instead held her cold hands against her skin to try to cool down.

They left for King Street with more than enough time to spare, but Kitty did not want to leave anything to chance this evening. Almack’s was renowned for their strict rules upon dress, behaviour – and timings. The doors closed to new arrivals at eleven p.m. on the dot, and it was even said that Wellington himself had once been turned away for tardiness. Though by hackney cab the journey would not take more than thirty minutes even on the busiest of evenings, Kitty could not bear the thought of the doors shutting on them before they had even entered. But that fate did not occur, and the three women glided into the assembly rooms without issue, their names on the list, their vouchers accepted. They were greeted by the Countess Lieven, who was most gracious, and joined the throngs inside as smoothly as if they did so each week.

Many of the faces within were already familiar to the Talbots, but it felt wonderful nonetheless to be amongst them here – the place Kitty had oft heard spoken of as the beating heart of Society. There were three spacious rooms within, the first elegantly arranged with chandeliers hanging above and chairs lining the walls for those who did not dance – although after the splendour of the private balls she had attended so far in the Season, the rooms did not appear so wondrous. But it was not Almack’s appearance that characterised its power, and she was pleased to see its effects at work immediately. When Mr Pemberton spotted her from across the room, his mouth opened in surprise. He bustled towards them.

‘Miss Talbot,’ he said in delighted greeting. ‘I had not thought to see you here, tonight.’

She smiled mysteriously. ‘Mrs Burrell was kind enough to send us vouchers,’ she said carelessly, and watched as his eyes widened – as Kitty now knew, this woman, of all the formidable patronesses, was most known for her snobbery and hauteur.