sarcastically that he must, by all means, patiently await his son's convenience.
----
Chapter 5
Her restless hands folded tightly before her, Miss Desmond stood listening with increasing dismay to her great-aunt. It was late afternoon and the still air which hung like a thick blanket over the countryside hung heavier still in her luxuriously appointed guest chamber. Lady Potterby flitted about the room like a fussy little white-capped bird, taking up one after another the garments draped upon the bed, shaking her head and twitting unhappily. At the moment, she was frowning at the beloved amber silk.
"Good heavens, child, were you so distant from civilisation that you could not obtain a copy of La Belle Assemblée ? When girls straight from the schoolroom bare their bosoms in public it is absurd for a woman of twenty to be swathed up to the neck. I realise your endowments are excessive," she added, flicking a reproving glance at her grand-niece's bosom, "but if you hide them, the world will think you hide some deformity. That is, if they do not conclude you are a strumpet trying to pass as a chaste maiden."
"Then the world," said Miss Desmond irritably, "is an ass."
"Even if that is so, it is most impolite to mention it, particularly in those terms. Where did you learn such language? But why do I ask? Your papa never troubles to curb his tongue, regardless who is present. Don't slouch, Delilah. Poor posture is both unbecoming and vulgar, and it will only draw added attention to your figure."
Certainly there was no hint of vulgarity about Lady Potterby. Her lace cap was immaculately white. Her grey afternoon gown was the epitome of tidy elegance. She might flutter, but she did so with all the dignity appropriate to her station. Everything about her was exactly comme il faut . As a consequence, she made Delilah feel too large, too clumsy, too noisy, and altogether too much of everything.
"I'm sorry, Aunt, that my figure is so unfashionable, but I'm afraid there is no way to amend it."
"Sadly true," said her ladyship with a sigh. "Yet we must not be cast down. In that matter at least, the gentlemen are not such slaves to fashion as ourselves." She brightened and patted the amber silk with something like satisfaction. "Mrs. Archer can drop the neckline an inch or so, and when we get to London, we will leave everything to Madame Germaine. She is frightfully dear, but her taste is impeccable. As to workmanship, there is scarce another dressmaker in Town who can touch her."
"Aunt, I do hope you are not saying I need a new wardrobe," said Delilah with alarm. "Papa really cannot afford — "
"Well, who asked him?" Lady Potterby now took up a light green muslin frock. "This will do for church, I think — at least in Rossingley," she muttered to herself. Then more distinctly she said, "Your papa has nothing to do with it. I told your mama I would move heaven and earth to see you wed. I should hardly stop at a trifle such as a wardrobe. Besides, there is my late elder sister's be-quest. She urged me to use it on your behalf. The poor dear had so many regrets towards the end. We always doted upon your mama, you know, but neither of us wished to stir up more ill-will in the family. Really, sometimes it is very difficult to know what is right."
This Delilah understood too well, in spite of her irritation. Her great-aunt's fault-finding, which had commenced the instant Delilah had alit from the carriage, had continued almost unceasingly since. Still, one was forced to admit the elder lady had the right of it most of the time, and certainly she meant well. One ought to strive for patience, considering the risks her ladyship was prepared to run. The entire Beau Monde was certain to believe Lady Potterby had lost her mind, and the Ornesbys had already ceased communicating with her.
The best return Delilah could make was in striving to be a credit to her great-aunt. Only thus could she hope to overcome the world's prejudices.
"I
----
Chapter 5
Her restless hands folded tightly before her, Miss Desmond stood listening with increasing dismay to her great-aunt. It was late afternoon and the still air which hung like a thick blanket over the countryside hung heavier still in her luxuriously appointed guest chamber. Lady Potterby flitted about the room like a fussy little white-capped bird, taking up one after another the garments draped upon the bed, shaking her head and twitting unhappily. At the moment, she was frowning at the beloved amber silk.
"Good heavens, child, were you so distant from civilisation that you could not obtain a copy of La Belle Assemblée ? When girls straight from the schoolroom bare their bosoms in public it is absurd for a woman of twenty to be swathed up to the neck. I realise your endowments are excessive," she added, flicking a reproving glance at her grand-niece's bosom, "but if you hide them, the world will think you hide some deformity. That is, if they do not conclude you are a strumpet trying to pass as a chaste maiden."
"Then the world," said Miss Desmond irritably, "is an ass."
"Even if that is so, it is most impolite to mention it, particularly in those terms. Where did you learn such language? But why do I ask? Your papa never troubles to curb his tongue, regardless who is present. Don't slouch, Delilah. Poor posture is both unbecoming and vulgar, and it will only draw added attention to your figure."
Certainly there was no hint of vulgarity about Lady Potterby. Her lace cap was immaculately white. Her grey afternoon gown was the epitome of tidy elegance. She might flutter, but she did so with all the dignity appropriate to her station. Everything about her was exactly comme il faut . As a consequence, she made Delilah feel too large, too clumsy, too noisy, and altogether too much of everything.
"I'm sorry, Aunt, that my figure is so unfashionable, but I'm afraid there is no way to amend it."
"Sadly true," said her ladyship with a sigh. "Yet we must not be cast down. In that matter at least, the gentlemen are not such slaves to fashion as ourselves." She brightened and patted the amber silk with something like satisfaction. "Mrs. Archer can drop the neckline an inch or so, and when we get to London, we will leave everything to Madame Germaine. She is frightfully dear, but her taste is impeccable. As to workmanship, there is scarce another dressmaker in Town who can touch her."
"Aunt, I do hope you are not saying I need a new wardrobe," said Delilah with alarm. "Papa really cannot afford — "
"Well, who asked him?" Lady Potterby now took up a light green muslin frock. "This will do for church, I think — at least in Rossingley," she muttered to herself. Then more distinctly she said, "Your papa has nothing to do with it. I told your mama I would move heaven and earth to see you wed. I should hardly stop at a trifle such as a wardrobe. Besides, there is my late elder sister's be-quest. She urged me to use it on your behalf. The poor dear had so many regrets towards the end. We always doted upon your mama, you know, but neither of us wished to stir up more ill-will in the family. Really, sometimes it is very difficult to know what is right."
This Delilah understood too well, in spite of her irritation. Her great-aunt's fault-finding, which had commenced the instant Delilah had alit from the carriage, had continued almost unceasingly since. Still, one was forced to admit the elder lady had the right of it most of the time, and certainly she meant well. One ought to strive for patience, considering the risks her ladyship was prepared to run. The entire Beau Monde was certain to believe Lady Potterby had lost her mind, and the Ornesbys had already ceased communicating with her.
The best return Delilah could make was in striving to be a credit to her great-aunt. Only thus could she hope to overcome the world's prejudices.
"I
Similar Books
