Danse de la Folie by Sherwood Smith Page A

entertaining
company that my poor self. For you must know, Miss Harlowe,” she added, turning
to Clarissa, “we are neighbors. Riverside Abbey, my home, is just across the
river. We have known the Decourceys forever.”
    Lucretia rose, as did Kitty, who said with better manners
than conviction, “Oh do not rush away, Lucretia. Pray stay, and drink some tea
with us.”
    Lucretia bridled, casting her eyes down in a rather affected
semblance of modesty. “I do not wish you and your guest to find me de trop , as we say in Town.”
    Clarissa was surprised that Miss Bouldeston would find it
necessary to add that little rider after a French expression that had been
trite in her grandmother’s day. “Not at all,” she said politely.
    “Then perhaps just half an hour, mind. Mama will expect me
before too long. There is much to be done if we are to be ready to go Tuesday
week. My sister Lucasta is to make her come out this year, you know, Miss
Harlowe. You may imagine the to-do.”
    Alice brought in the tea things, her manner stiff and
correct. Kitty served the tea and handed around the fresh-baked macaroons as
Lucretia proceeded to talk exclusively to Clarissa about London. Except for the
appendage “my sweetest” in front of the word Catherine, she seemed to have
nothing to say to her hostess.
    Clarissa found herself closely questioned about whom she
might be seeing on her arrival in London. Also, what entertainments Clarissa’s
family considered giving, as Lucretia seem to know, without Clarissa telling
her, that another of her sisters also was to come out.
    At the end of her half hour, Lucretia made a little business
of examining the clock on the mantel, but when she did not receive an
invitation to stay, she said airily, “Mama will be looking for me. I must hurry
myself away.”
    She was thinking, silly Catherine, trying to keep Miss
Harlowe! Lucretia advanced two steps toward the door, and then turned as if
struck by a new thought.
    The other two saw her pose, her fingers touching her chin in
a gesture of sudden inspiration. “Where are my wits? I was just put in mind of
a question. My father would think me shamefully remiss if I did not ask how
does your cousin Mr. Devereaux? We were introduced at the Castlereaghs’ ball,
and I have heard Papa say time out of mind that they belong to the same club.”
    Clarissa said, “I believe he is quite well, thank you.”
    Lucretia gave Clarissa a dimpled smile. “Pray convey my
mother’s compliments, of course. That would be only proper. It has been most
diverting to meet you here , Miss
Harlowe.” Lucretia turned to Kitty. “My dear, I know I may rely on you to
convey my best to your brothers.” Miss Bouldeston curtseyed and departed,
leaving a trace of pleasant French scent, and a sense of general constraint.

FIVE
    “How many duels are fought in a year?”
    During luncheon, the weather cleared, giving the young
ladies a desire to take an airing in the garden. Both were well wrapped up,
Clarissa wearing a bonnet that had probably belonged to Kitty’s mother,.
    The question came as such a surprise that Clarissa almost
laughed. She recollected the novel that Kitty was writing, and turned her head
to hide any trace of smile before saying, “None, I am afraid. That is, if there
are, news of such things would not reach my ears.”
    “But if there had been, I suppose your brother must have told you?” Kitty sighed. “I am afraid
that modern times are dull. How exciting it must have been in our grandmothers’
day!”
    “Exciting, perhaps. Uncomfortable, if half the stories are
true,” Clarissa said. “I for one should have hated wearing a wig quite as large
as a chair upon my head, and a skirt wider than a doorway. And as for duels,
how very distressing to see one’s brother carried home with a sword-wound,
following a foolish quarrel over cards or some such trifle.”
    Kitty’s enthusiastic expression showed how thoroughly she
disagreed. “How affecting it