LITMIR.BIZ

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was a bevy of servants busy about the transfer of the many trunks and boxes from Maidie’s carriage into the house, but they stood aside for her ladyship and her guests to pass. Pausing only to give some final instruction to her coachman, who was waiting in the hall, Maidie followed her hostess, throwing a word of thanks to the various attendants who were bearing her belongings upstairs.

      Rooms were in the process of being prepared, and Maidie, having traversed two flights of the grand staircase and a couple of narrow corridors to arrive there, was delighted to discover that her allotted chamber had a southern aspect.

      ‘Oh, is that a little balcony?’ she exclaimed, moving to a pair of French windows.

      ‘The veriest foothold only,’ said Lady Hester. ‘It opens on to the gardens, however, so you may use it to take a breath of fresh air now and then.’

      Maidie was not attending. She was tugging at the bolts, and had pulled them back and dragged open the windows before Lady Hester could do more than protest that she would let in the cold. Miss Wormley, who might have concurred, was distracted by the arrival of the luggage, and at once made it her business to inform the servants which pieces should remain in this room.

      ‘This will do excellently,’ Maidie said with approval, for the balcony extended out for quite two feet, and must be double that in width. Yes, she could set up here easily, and have an excellent view. Stepping on to the balcony, she looked up at the sky and ran her eyes around the horizon. On the second floor of Delagarde’s house, there was some little disturbance to the eyeline from the tops of the surrounding buildings. The attics would have been better, but it was a temporary inconvenience. At least she might continue her work. She had been afraid that it would have been interrupted altogether.

      Turning back into the room, she directed Trixie to close the windows again, and looked around for a suitable table. Ah, yes. That little whatnot over on the other side of the four-poster bed. It looked to be free of odds and ends. She might lay her charts on top, and keep it at her elbow.

      ‘The room is to your liking, then?’ asked Lady Hester.

      Maidie turned to her. ‘It will serve very well, thank you.’ She thought she read amusement in the elder lady’s eyes, and wondered if she had not been quite polite. ‘I mean, it is very nice indeed.’

      ‘Miss Wormley should be accommodated next to you, I thought,’ Lady Hester said, leading the way to the adjoining room as soon as Maidie had put off her pelisse and bonnet.

      Maidie noted that her ladyship’s glance ran swiftly over her plain stuff gown, and settled for a moment on her tightly banded hair. She put up a self-conscious hand to smooth it, and could not but be relieved that Lady Hester made no comment.

      The room next door was almost as well appointed as Maidie’s own, and Miss Wormley lost herself in a stuttering speech of thanks, which Lady Hester kindly dismissed. Her own room, as she showed them in case Maidie should be in need of her, was in an opposing corridor on the other side of the house, but his lordship, it appeared, occupied one of the two principal bedchambers, the only ones located on the first floor along with several saloons.

      ‘The other will be for his wife, when Laurie finally decides to gratify us all and make his choice.’ As she led the way downstairs again, and into the drawing-room that abutted the dining-room, Lady Hester added, ‘I dare say that if Dorinda had not died, she would have hustled him into matrimony years ago, though not without a battle of wills. She was as strong-minded as Laurie himself, was Dorinda. I suppose I should have made more of an effort with him in her stead, but you may have noticed that Delagarde is a difficult man to push.’

      Yes, she had noticed, Maidie thought. He was a difficult man, she suspected, in every circumstance. But her interest in his possible marriage was, to say the least of it, tepid. Now, in any event. Had he had the good sense to marry earlier, no doubt her campaign would have met with less resistance. She felt it to be typical of him that he had remained a bachelor, as if he had known that it must aid him to thwart her.

      They were soon installed in the drawing-room, a pleasant apartment done out in cream and straw to the walls and mantel, and to the cushioning of the light finely turned sofas and chairs that characterised Chippendale’s designs.

      ‘And now, my dear Maidie,’ pursued Lady Hester, when they were all partaking of a dish of tea, ‘we must make some plans. I thought, as a first step, that when you have had an opportunity to relax a little, we might make a visit to one of the discreet dressmaking establishments.’

      ‘Discreet?’ repeated Maidie.

      Miss Wormley murmured something indistinguishable but, beyond directing a brief questioning look at her, Lady Hester took no notice.

      ‘I do not suggest a trip to Bond Street just yet, for I know you will not wish to appear where we may give rise to comment—at least, not until you have been officially presented to some of our more prominent hostesses.’

      Maidie’s brows went up. ‘What you mean, Lady Hester, is that I am at present dressed too unfashionably to be seen.’

      Lady Hester burst out laughing. ‘You are very frank! I was trying to be diplomatic.’

      Maidie shrugged. ‘I prefer plain speaking. Besides, even had I not been made aware of my shortcomings in dress by Adela, I have sense enough to know that I cannot be so careless if I am to appear in society.’

      ‘Lady Mary has never been one to concern herself over her appearance,’ said Miss Wormley, hurrying into speech. ‘And—and she has decided views of her own.’

      This became apparent, when the three ladies presently arrived at the quiet premises in Bloomsbury which housed the creations of Cerisette, a French modiste who had set up in business but three years since, on her escape from the troubles in Paris. Informed that the young lady was about to make her debut, Cerisette first directed their attention to a series of made-up gowns, all created in the now popular muslins with high waists, and all of them without exception, Maidie noted, in the palest of hues, whether sprigged or plain. She gazed upon the display, which was predominantly white, with a scattering of pastels, and resolutely shook her head.

      ‘No, no. These will not do at all!’

      ‘My dear Maidie,’ protested Lady Hester, coming up to her and eyeing the offending garments with a frowning countenance, ‘these are very suitable. All young females are accustomed to wear only the most modest of gowns when they are just out. What in the world is wrong with them?’

      Maidie drew a breath. ‘It is not the styles, ma’am. I will be as modest as you please, only I cannot and will not wear anything made up in pastels.’

      She saw the doubt in Lady Hester’s face, and knew that the moment had come. She drew a breath, and told herself she was being ridiculous. What did it matter what Lady Hester thought? Or anyone else, come to that? But it would not serve. In everything else, she might shrug off criticism or rebuke, but this was her one point of vulnerability.

      ‘What is it, child? What troubles you?’

      For answer, Maidie went to one of the long mirrors with which the salon was furnished, and, with a tremble in her fingers which she could not control, once again removed her mustard-coloured bonnet. She looked at her own face, sighed deeply, and reached up to remove the pins that held the offending tresses in place.

      ‘What in the world…?’ began Lady Hester. But she was not attended to.

      ‘Worm, take these, if you p-please,’ Maidie uttered nervously, handing the pins to her duenna, who was hovering at her elbow. She took the rest of them out, and dragged her fingers through the mass of curling locks that, loosed from their moorings, sprang up about her face, forming a virulent ginger halo. She stared at her reflection in the acute misery that always attacked her when she obliged herself to look at it, and then turned, in a good deal of trepidation, but unsurprised to encounter the startled look in Lady Hester’s countenance. But it was not she who spoke first.

      ‘Bon dieu!’ came from Cerisette, who was standing stock-still, staring

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