still very busy?”
“Mama says I am just in the way,” was the disconsolate answer. “Only because I cannot decide whether to take my blue riding dress or the brown one with yellow trim. I shall have new ones when we reach London anyway, so I cannot see that it matters. Oh, Clara, have you ever been to Town? I suppose you do not know. I cannot wait to see the shops and theatres and the wild beasts at the Exchange. To go to proper balls instead of parties with just three or four couples in someone’s drawing room, or those stuffy assemblies at York. Oh, do not tell Richard I said that. He does not know that when mama and I went to stay with my Aunt Blanche last winter, we went to the balls at York. Mama said he would disapprove of mixing with hoi polloi, but what the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over. You will not mention it?”
“I am very good at keeping secrets, chatterbox,” assured Miss Fell. “Tell me about the ball gowns you will have made up.”
A discussion of silks and satins and sarcenets ensued, of the relative merits of matching and contrasting ribbons, of embroidery and lace. Lucy fetched copies of La Belle Assembleé and brown head and copper bent together over the fashion plates in earnest consultation.
Before they had grown tired of this occupation, Mary arrived with a tray for Miss Fell.
“There be luncheon in the breakfast room, Miss Lucy,” she announced. “My lady says tha mun come soon, if tha wants to eat.”
“Thank thee, Mary,” said Lucy. “I’ll see thee later, Clara.”
“Oh, Miss Lucy do be a caution,” giggled the maid. “Does tha want owt else, miss?”
Miss Fell dismissed her and turned to her tray. Her appetite was returning rapidly, and indeed Chef Pierre’s creations would have tempted the most jaded of palates. Every tray she received bore new delicacies, yet contrived to offer nothing that might offend an invalid’s touchy appetite. She thought it fortunate that the master of the kitchen would be traveling to London on the morrow, or she would soon grow quite plump.
After luncheon Lady Annabel came to see her and was delighted to see the empty tray.
“My dear,” she said, “I am so pleased to see you eating well. You were nothing but skin and bones when Richard found you, you know. When Dr. Grimsdale examined you, I could count every rib.”
“I am so well fed, Lady Annabel, I shall grow fat if I am not soon able to exercise”
“You must rest and grow strong. I hear you had visitors all morning. You had better sleep for a while now. If you should not dislike it, Miss Carstairs will come and sit with you after her nap. You need not fear that she will ask you questions you cannot answer, she has the greatest horror of gossip and of prying into other people’s concerns. I daresay she will read you a sermon or two, but you will bear that.”
“May I get up later, ma’am?”
“The house is all at sixes and sevens at present. You shall come down after dinner, on condition that you allow Richard to carry you. He told me that you fainted yesterday.”
“If Mr. Carstairs does not object…”
“Of course he does not, child. After today, however, you must rely on Thomas to help you about. Let that be an inducement to you to recover quickly. Now rest.”
By dinnertime the entrance hall was piled high with trunks and boxes and bundles. Richard had always kept only a skeleton staff at the house in Cavendish Square, as his mother had not ventured to London since his father’s death. Besides Monsieur Pierre, two abigails, a valet, a maid, a footman and two grooms would precede or accompany the party, not to mention Old Ned, the coachman. The huge old traveling carriage, once the height of elegance, had been reupholstered and polished till it shone.
“It is. quite out of date,” stated Lucy disparagingly. “I shall be ashamed to ride in such an old-fashioned contraption. I should think it would need six horses to pull it.”
“It was
“Mama says I am just in the way,” was the disconsolate answer. “Only because I cannot decide whether to take my blue riding dress or the brown one with yellow trim. I shall have new ones when we reach London anyway, so I cannot see that it matters. Oh, Clara, have you ever been to Town? I suppose you do not know. I cannot wait to see the shops and theatres and the wild beasts at the Exchange. To go to proper balls instead of parties with just three or four couples in someone’s drawing room, or those stuffy assemblies at York. Oh, do not tell Richard I said that. He does not know that when mama and I went to stay with my Aunt Blanche last winter, we went to the balls at York. Mama said he would disapprove of mixing with hoi polloi, but what the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over. You will not mention it?”
“I am very good at keeping secrets, chatterbox,” assured Miss Fell. “Tell me about the ball gowns you will have made up.”
A discussion of silks and satins and sarcenets ensued, of the relative merits of matching and contrasting ribbons, of embroidery and lace. Lucy fetched copies of La Belle Assembleé and brown head and copper bent together over the fashion plates in earnest consultation.
Before they had grown tired of this occupation, Mary arrived with a tray for Miss Fell.
“There be luncheon in the breakfast room, Miss Lucy,” she announced. “My lady says tha mun come soon, if tha wants to eat.”
“Thank thee, Mary,” said Lucy. “I’ll see thee later, Clara.”
“Oh, Miss Lucy do be a caution,” giggled the maid. “Does tha want owt else, miss?”
Miss Fell dismissed her and turned to her tray. Her appetite was returning rapidly, and indeed Chef Pierre’s creations would have tempted the most jaded of palates. Every tray she received bore new delicacies, yet contrived to offer nothing that might offend an invalid’s touchy appetite. She thought it fortunate that the master of the kitchen would be traveling to London on the morrow, or she would soon grow quite plump.
After luncheon Lady Annabel came to see her and was delighted to see the empty tray.
“My dear,” she said, “I am so pleased to see you eating well. You were nothing but skin and bones when Richard found you, you know. When Dr. Grimsdale examined you, I could count every rib.”
“I am so well fed, Lady Annabel, I shall grow fat if I am not soon able to exercise”
“You must rest and grow strong. I hear you had visitors all morning. You had better sleep for a while now. If you should not dislike it, Miss Carstairs will come and sit with you after her nap. You need not fear that she will ask you questions you cannot answer, she has the greatest horror of gossip and of prying into other people’s concerns. I daresay she will read you a sermon or two, but you will bear that.”
“May I get up later, ma’am?”
“The house is all at sixes and sevens at present. You shall come down after dinner, on condition that you allow Richard to carry you. He told me that you fainted yesterday.”
“If Mr. Carstairs does not object…”
“Of course he does not, child. After today, however, you must rely on Thomas to help you about. Let that be an inducement to you to recover quickly. Now rest.”
By dinnertime the entrance hall was piled high with trunks and boxes and bundles. Richard had always kept only a skeleton staff at the house in Cavendish Square, as his mother had not ventured to London since his father’s death. Besides Monsieur Pierre, two abigails, a valet, a maid, a footman and two grooms would precede or accompany the party, not to mention Old Ned, the coachman. The huge old traveling carriage, once the height of elegance, had been reupholstered and polished till it shone.
“It is. quite out of date,” stated Lucy disparagingly. “I shall be ashamed to ride in such an old-fashioned contraption. I should think it would need six horses to pull it.”
“It was
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