Danse de la Folie by Sherwood Smith

cannot be
entirely made up, or why should there be so many of them in books?”
    Clarissa gave a thoughtful nod, vouchsafing only one
comment, “I should think such a life would be disagreeable, not romantic, but
perhaps I may be mistaken.”
    Kitty put down her knife. “Why is it, given the peace not
yet signed, this aunt could not wait for spring to invite you?”
    Clarissa hesitated. She was in the habit of keeping her own
counsel. But her hostess had been so kind, and had shared her own thoughts, and
so Clarissa admitted, “It was to get away for a time, for I refused a perfectly
good marriage.”
    Kitty’s lips parted, and her eyes took on an intent look
that Clarissa, by now, had little difficulty in interpreting.
    “This eligible connection is not a villain! He is regarded
highly in our parish for his sobriety, learning, and filial respect. It is
merely, I have no wish to be wed. I am comfortable enough at home.”
    At that moment, the door opened and the butler entered. “Miss
Bouldeston, my lady.”
    Clarissa gazed as a vaguely familiar young lady paused on
the threshold, one mittened hand going to the bonnet that charmingly framed her
round face. Honey colored curls escaped from its lacy frame, half hidden by the
pink silk bow with which it was tied. Her rosy cheeks dimpled as she smiled,
and light blue eyes crinkled as she smoothed her hands down her frilly pink
dress.
    That was chiefly how Clarissa remembered Miss Bouldeston, by
her preference for all the variations of the color rose. Her gown was like a
doll’s dress, right down to the layered lace flounces of the hem.
    Lucretia crossed the room in little steps toward Kitty, her
movements arch and fluttering.
    “Dearest Catherine,” she exclaimed in a high, fluting voice.
“This weather, it has cast us all down. I promised myself, as soon as we gain
the merest peep of a blue sky, I would call upon my dearest —”
    At that moment, Lucretia seemed to catch sight of Clarissa
in her chair. She gave a little start, her fingertips rising to her rounded
mouth, and her eyes widening in affected surprise. “Can it be? Why, I did not
expect... Miss Harlowe ? We were
introduced at Almack’s, I believe.”
    Clarissa had risen. She bowed as she returned the young lady’s
greeting.
    “You must have heard about the accident to her yacht,
Lucretia,” Kitty said. “Ned says the news is all over the countryside.”
    Lucretia abandoned the affect of surprise, and turned to
Kitty. “I must say, what a great piece of luck for you , Catherine.”
    “Me?” Kitty asked, bewildered.
    “That your dear brother chanced to rescue instead of some
horrid fisherman a person who travels in the highest circles.”
    “I would not call it luck,” Kitty said.
    “You would not?” Lucretia posed her fingers on either side
of her chin. “Surely you would not wish for Miss Harlowe to find herself
wrecked on the shore, to put it no worse?”
    Kitty waved her hands in agitation. “Oh, no, no, no, no. I
did not mean that. I quite meant that—”
    “May I sit down?”
    Kitty blushed scarlet, hands out. “Oh! Please. Everyone, do
sit down.”
    Lucretia sat on the edge of the hassock, toes together, just
peeping under the edge of her hem, her hands hidden in her muff on her knees.
She turned to Clarissa. “I suppose you have been entertaining our dear
Catherine with tales of the doings of our mutual acquaintance in town?”
    “Lady Catherine has shown more interest in literature than
in the particulars of current events,” Clarissa said, then caught sight of
Kitty’s stricken look.
    A new thought darted into Clarissa’s mind. Though the two
young ladies appeared to know one another well enough to use Christian names,
it seemed that Lucretia might not be aware of Kitty’s novel.
    Lucretia certainly did not refer to it, as she said, “Well,
my dear Catherine, I had intended to entertain you with news of our
preparations for moving to Town, but I can see you have far more