with
comfortable fortunes. He must be well enough set up so that Emily's
lack of fortune will be of no consideration. And, since she is not
precisely in her first blush of youth, he should be appropriately
mature. But he must have his wits about him! Emily has a sharp mind
and mustn't be saddled with a fool. Perhaps you can be of
assistance, Robert. Surely you have friends who might fit the
bill?"
"I will put my mind to it," he said, grinning at the
enthusiasm with which the dowager faced her new project. He might
be able to enjoy a little diversion himself by falling in with her
plans. He began ticking off a mental list of suitable friends in
Town.
"And she is, of course, quite lovely," the dowager
was saying when Robert's attention was drawn back to their
conversation, "despite her efforts to hide that fact. If only I
could convince her to update her wardrobe before we go to Town. The
poor girl looks such a dowd in those tired old gowns. Unfortunately
I can't simply present her with a pile of new dresses. She is so
stiff-necked, you see, about not accepting any gifts from me
outside of her regular salary. She will, though, stitch up an
occasional new gown if presented with the odd bolt of fabric. But
always something plain and serviceable, never the least
fashionable."
"So I noticed," Robert said as he absently stroked
Charlemagne's back. "Well, perhaps you can convince her that when
in London she would do you a disservice to appear so plainly
dressed. After all, the entertainments as well as the company will
be much more à la mode than she is accustomed to in Bath.
Make her believe that she owes it to you to look more fashionable.
Perhaps she can be made to feel guilty enough so that she will
allow you to have a gown or two made up for her by one of your
London modistes."
"My boy, you amaze me. You are more like me than I
ever imagined. I shall do it!"
"And maybe the hair, a little softer on the face
..."
The dowager smiled.
* * *
That evening the dowager asked Emily to come to her
room before she retired. Iris, the dowager's abigail, answered
Emily's knock and led her to the dowager's bed, where the old woman
was propped up on at least a dozen pillows, wearing a frothy lace
bed jacket. Steel-gray curls peeked out from beneath a fetching
lace cap. Charlemagne, curled cozily at her feet, was snoring
quietly. Iris left, and the dowager asked Emily to pull up a chair
next to the bed as she wished to have a particular conversation
with her. Emily did so and, after being seated, said, "Do you wish
to review the London preparations, my lady?"
"Yes, my dear, I do," the dowager said in her usual
drawl. "There is one item of preparation we have not discussed, as
I had not wished to upset you. But I do not have time for
roundaboutation, so I will speak plainly if you do not mind."
Emily's back straightened, the only sign of
increased tension. "I hope you feel you may always be frank with
me. Lady Bradleigh."
"Well, then. It is about your clothes."
"My clothes?"
"Yes. My dear, I am afraid they simply will not do.
In London I will expect you to accompany me to many social
engagements and to join me in my own entertainments at Bradleigh
House, not to mention the engagement ball. I must insist that you
be properly turned out."
Emily squirmed slightly in her straight-backed chair
as she mentally reviewed her wardrobe. "I do have my gray silk gown
which I could update with new ribbons," she said hesitantly. "And I
suppose I could modify the blue sarsnet with a new flounce or lace
at the hem. And—"
"No, no, my dear," the dowager interrupted with a
wave of her hand. "I did not mean that you must go to any extra
work yourself. You have too much to do as it is. I want you to be
fitted by Madame Dubois tomorrow so that she can have a few dresses
made up for you before we leave Bath. Once in London I will take
you to Madame Cécile for a complete wardrobe."
Emily jumped to her feet. "Oh, no, my lady. I
comfortable fortunes. He must be well enough set up so that Emily's
lack of fortune will be of no consideration. And, since she is not
precisely in her first blush of youth, he should be appropriately
mature. But he must have his wits about him! Emily has a sharp mind
and mustn't be saddled with a fool. Perhaps you can be of
assistance, Robert. Surely you have friends who might fit the
bill?"
"I will put my mind to it," he said, grinning at the
enthusiasm with which the dowager faced her new project. He might
be able to enjoy a little diversion himself by falling in with her
plans. He began ticking off a mental list of suitable friends in
Town.
"And she is, of course, quite lovely," the dowager
was saying when Robert's attention was drawn back to their
conversation, "despite her efforts to hide that fact. If only I
could convince her to update her wardrobe before we go to Town. The
poor girl looks such a dowd in those tired old gowns. Unfortunately
I can't simply present her with a pile of new dresses. She is so
stiff-necked, you see, about not accepting any gifts from me
outside of her regular salary. She will, though, stitch up an
occasional new gown if presented with the odd bolt of fabric. But
always something plain and serviceable, never the least
fashionable."
"So I noticed," Robert said as he absently stroked
Charlemagne's back. "Well, perhaps you can convince her that when
in London she would do you a disservice to appear so plainly
dressed. After all, the entertainments as well as the company will
be much more à la mode than she is accustomed to in Bath.
Make her believe that she owes it to you to look more fashionable.
Perhaps she can be made to feel guilty enough so that she will
allow you to have a gown or two made up for her by one of your
London modistes."
"My boy, you amaze me. You are more like me than I
ever imagined. I shall do it!"
"And maybe the hair, a little softer on the face
..."
The dowager smiled.
* * *
That evening the dowager asked Emily to come to her
room before she retired. Iris, the dowager's abigail, answered
Emily's knock and led her to the dowager's bed, where the old woman
was propped up on at least a dozen pillows, wearing a frothy lace
bed jacket. Steel-gray curls peeked out from beneath a fetching
lace cap. Charlemagne, curled cozily at her feet, was snoring
quietly. Iris left, and the dowager asked Emily to pull up a chair
next to the bed as she wished to have a particular conversation
with her. Emily did so and, after being seated, said, "Do you wish
to review the London preparations, my lady?"
"Yes, my dear, I do," the dowager said in her usual
drawl. "There is one item of preparation we have not discussed, as
I had not wished to upset you. But I do not have time for
roundaboutation, so I will speak plainly if you do not mind."
Emily's back straightened, the only sign of
increased tension. "I hope you feel you may always be frank with
me. Lady Bradleigh."
"Well, then. It is about your clothes."
"My clothes?"
"Yes. My dear, I am afraid they simply will not do.
In London I will expect you to accompany me to many social
engagements and to join me in my own entertainments at Bradleigh
House, not to mention the engagement ball. I must insist that you
be properly turned out."
Emily squirmed slightly in her straight-backed chair
as she mentally reviewed her wardrobe. "I do have my gray silk gown
which I could update with new ribbons," she said hesitantly. "And I
suppose I could modify the blue sarsnet with a new flounce or lace
at the hem. And—"
"No, no, my dear," the dowager interrupted with a
wave of her hand. "I did not mean that you must go to any extra
work yourself. You have too much to do as it is. I want you to be
fitted by Madame Dubois tomorrow so that she can have a few dresses
made up for you before we leave Bath. Once in London I will take
you to Madame Cécile for a complete wardrobe."
Emily jumped to her feet. "Oh, no, my lady. I
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