aristocrats do not go around in hacks! We simply must have a carriage. Surely even you can see that. Everyone will be laughing at the stupid Americans in their hack! Is that what you want?”
“No,” Patience said quickly. “You’re right. We must have a carriage. I’ll write to Mr. Gordon. He has the authority to release funds from the accrued interest of the trust.”
“Yes, but he never does,” Pru said darkly.
“He does when I ask him,” Patience said simply.
Pru shook her head. “It will take too long—months!—to get anything out of Mr. Gordon. We must have a carriage as soon as possible. Certainly, we must have it when the Season begins.”
“I’ll ask Mr. Bracegirdle to inquire about hiring a carriage,” Patience promised.
“A hired carriage!” cried Pru. “Why, that’s hardly better than a hack! No, we must have our carriage built to order. I know just how I want it. I’ve already selected the upholstery for the cushions.”
“Nonsense,” Patience said flatly. “Buy a carriage? Prudence, may I remind you that England is not our permanent home? Our first business here—our only real business here—is to settle our uncle’s estate.”
“But it wouldn’t be all that expensive, really. The carriage maker’s already given me a very good estimate. How much, do you suppose? You will never guess, so I’ll tell you. Only two hundred dollars! Only two hundred for the sweetest town carriage you ever saw with all the amenities! London, you see, is not as expensive as Philadelphia,” she went on quite smugly. “Though I very much doubt we could find anyone to make us such a carriage in Philadelphia. Wait until you see it!”
Patience set down her fork. “Two hundred dollars?”
Pru nodded eagerly. “You stare! But everything in London is too absurdly cheap! And of such quality! We’d be fools not to buy everything in sight!”
Patience’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is that what you have been doing?” she said slowly. “Buying everything in sight?”
Pru laughed. “What do you suppose my ensemble cost?” she asked, pronouncing the French word just as it was spelled. Full of her own cleverness, she stood up and turned slowly in a circle so that Patience could take in the full glory of one of her newest gowns.
“Your ensign bull?” Patience repeated, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“My ensemble!” Pru explained, twirling. “It is French for—for—well, for clothes, I suppose, for lack of a better word. I told you I had been taking French lessons. You should have lessons as well,” she went on, ceasing to twirl. “In English society it is de rigueur to speak French.”
“De rigueur” was pronounced emphatically as “day rigger.”
“In just a few weeks, I have learned ever so many useful phrases from Mamselle. Nest paw. Silver plate. Mares-ey. Mares-ey bow coop. And ... ensign bull. So? What do you think I paid for my ensemble?”
Patience did not think the morning gown of grass green and canary yellow stripes became Pru at all, but she reserved the full force of her loathing for the short, sky blue spencer worn over the striped gown. Cut much too small to meet over Pru’s chest, it was by no means lacking in very large buttons, two on each side—but, of course, no buttonholes. It offended practical Patience in every possible way.
“Whatever you paid, it was too much!”
“That is what you think!” Pru exclaimed in triumph. “Only thirteen dollars for all of this! In Philadelphia, it would have cost me at least fifteen!”
Patience groaned. “Pounds, Prudence! Pounds, not dollars. Thirteen pounds for a perfectly stupid, tiny, little jacket.”
“It is called a spencer,” Pru informed her coldly.
“Why have buttons on a jacket that obviously can never be fastened? Why have buttons and no buttonholes? Why have a jacket at all, if the point is to leave your bosom exposed?”
“It is the fashion,” Pru explained.
Patience frowned. “How many of
“No,” Patience said quickly. “You’re right. We must have a carriage. I’ll write to Mr. Gordon. He has the authority to release funds from the accrued interest of the trust.”
“Yes, but he never does,” Pru said darkly.
“He does when I ask him,” Patience said simply.
Pru shook her head. “It will take too long—months!—to get anything out of Mr. Gordon. We must have a carriage as soon as possible. Certainly, we must have it when the Season begins.”
“I’ll ask Mr. Bracegirdle to inquire about hiring a carriage,” Patience promised.
“A hired carriage!” cried Pru. “Why, that’s hardly better than a hack! No, we must have our carriage built to order. I know just how I want it. I’ve already selected the upholstery for the cushions.”
“Nonsense,” Patience said flatly. “Buy a carriage? Prudence, may I remind you that England is not our permanent home? Our first business here—our only real business here—is to settle our uncle’s estate.”
“But it wouldn’t be all that expensive, really. The carriage maker’s already given me a very good estimate. How much, do you suppose? You will never guess, so I’ll tell you. Only two hundred dollars! Only two hundred for the sweetest town carriage you ever saw with all the amenities! London, you see, is not as expensive as Philadelphia,” she went on quite smugly. “Though I very much doubt we could find anyone to make us such a carriage in Philadelphia. Wait until you see it!”
Patience set down her fork. “Two hundred dollars?”
Pru nodded eagerly. “You stare! But everything in London is too absurdly cheap! And of such quality! We’d be fools not to buy everything in sight!”
Patience’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is that what you have been doing?” she said slowly. “Buying everything in sight?”
Pru laughed. “What do you suppose my ensemble cost?” she asked, pronouncing the French word just as it was spelled. Full of her own cleverness, she stood up and turned slowly in a circle so that Patience could take in the full glory of one of her newest gowns.
“Your ensign bull?” Patience repeated, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“My ensemble!” Pru explained, twirling. “It is French for—for—well, for clothes, I suppose, for lack of a better word. I told you I had been taking French lessons. You should have lessons as well,” she went on, ceasing to twirl. “In English society it is de rigueur to speak French.”
“De rigueur” was pronounced emphatically as “day rigger.”
“In just a few weeks, I have learned ever so many useful phrases from Mamselle. Nest paw. Silver plate. Mares-ey. Mares-ey bow coop. And ... ensign bull. So? What do you think I paid for my ensemble?”
Patience did not think the morning gown of grass green and canary yellow stripes became Pru at all, but she reserved the full force of her loathing for the short, sky blue spencer worn over the striped gown. Cut much too small to meet over Pru’s chest, it was by no means lacking in very large buttons, two on each side—but, of course, no buttonholes. It offended practical Patience in every possible way.
“Whatever you paid, it was too much!”
“That is what you think!” Pru exclaimed in triumph. “Only thirteen dollars for all of this! In Philadelphia, it would have cost me at least fifteen!”
Patience groaned. “Pounds, Prudence! Pounds, not dollars. Thirteen pounds for a perfectly stupid, tiny, little jacket.”
“It is called a spencer,” Pru informed her coldly.
“Why have buttons on a jacket that obviously can never be fastened? Why have buttons and no buttonholes? Why have a jacket at all, if the point is to leave your bosom exposed?”
“It is the fashion,” Pru explained.
Patience frowned. “How many of
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