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Authors: Mary Chase Comstock
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Charles Hazelforth. She had imagined that as time went on her encounters with him would fade from her memory. On the contrary, each seemed to be etched indelibly: every word of every conversation, every intonation. Indeed, Cat had been caught off-guard on a number of occasions when Eveline or Fe licia remarked on the deep blushes that rose to her cheeks when she suddenly found herself reliving the more embarrassing moments.
Cat was content to let observers imagine that it was mere consternation at her enforced participa tion in the London Season which occasioned her agitation; however, it was with a great deal of perplexity that she more and more often caught herself envisioning meetings with Hazelforth in and about London.
All too often, the image of him walking toward her, his face suffusing with a smile as it so often had during the days after Cecily's wedding rose up before her. She had found herself looking forward to those accidental meetings during her morning walk. She wondered, too, if he had found them as gratifying as she, and if indeed their encounters had been as coin cidental as they seemed. But this was foolishness, she told herself sternly. What on earth, she wondered, was responsible for such idle fantasies? It was altogether likely that she would never even see that gentleman in town.
Mr. Bagsmith's search for a suitable house was short-lived, for when Lady Montrose's reply arrived, it was soon clear that she would hear of no such thing. Cat and Eveline were to stay at Montrose House, and there would be no further discussion. Lady Montrose had kept a reduced household in re cent years, but since she expected to do some entertaining during Cat's stay, she would welcome any of Cat's staff she wished to bring. This solved one of Cat's problems more easily than she had imagined, and she hoped sincerely that she and her godmother would suit. She was much comforted by the fact that Lady Montrose had been her grandmother's bosom friend in their girlhood, and she found herself looking forward to this aspect of her adventure with a good deal of anticipation.
Cat packed very little beyond what she would need for her journey, for, upon their arrival, an errand of primary importance would be a visit to the modiste. What passed for fashion in the provincial environs of Sparrowell Hall would never do for London society, which seemed to change its criteria for hats, sleeves, and waistlines with the phases of the moon. Something would have to be done with her compan ion's wardrobe as well, for surely Lady Montrose's advanced age would necessitate the role of chaperon falling to Eveline more often than not. That sensible creature, too, it seemed would be forced to be a slave to the whims of style.
As the weeks went by, Brutus and Caesar fell vic tim to an energetic nervous excitement as they watched their mistress's preparations go forth. They ran up and down stairs, were accidentally shut up in cupboards, barked for sheer pleasure, and generally made themselves even more annoying than ever. Cook, though, was in a good mood for once, for she was off to visit her sisters in Cornwall for the duration of Cat's absence. Since Lady Montrose employed the services of a French chef, it was generally concluded that the volatile territory of the kitchen could suffer but one ruler.
Cat's butler, Chumley, would stay on at the Hall. Although he was somewhat young for that position, his family had been part of Sparrowell's staff for more than a hundred years, and his own father had been butler before him. His presence would allay Cat's fears about Snagworth to some degree, and she was grateful that she could call upon him to do her this service, particularly since the prospect of spend ing time in London was in all probability quite as attractive to him as any other member of the staff. She promised herself that she would make it up to him in some way.
* * * *
The day of their departure for the city dawned as fair and clear as any
Cat was content to let observers imagine that it was mere consternation at her enforced participa tion in the London Season which occasioned her agitation; however, it was with a great deal of perplexity that she more and more often caught herself envisioning meetings with Hazelforth in and about London.
All too often, the image of him walking toward her, his face suffusing with a smile as it so often had during the days after Cecily's wedding rose up before her. She had found herself looking forward to those accidental meetings during her morning walk. She wondered, too, if he had found them as gratifying as she, and if indeed their encounters had been as coin cidental as they seemed. But this was foolishness, she told herself sternly. What on earth, she wondered, was responsible for such idle fantasies? It was altogether likely that she would never even see that gentleman in town.
Mr. Bagsmith's search for a suitable house was short-lived, for when Lady Montrose's reply arrived, it was soon clear that she would hear of no such thing. Cat and Eveline were to stay at Montrose House, and there would be no further discussion. Lady Montrose had kept a reduced household in re cent years, but since she expected to do some entertaining during Cat's stay, she would welcome any of Cat's staff she wished to bring. This solved one of Cat's problems more easily than she had imagined, and she hoped sincerely that she and her godmother would suit. She was much comforted by the fact that Lady Montrose had been her grandmother's bosom friend in their girlhood, and she found herself looking forward to this aspect of her adventure with a good deal of anticipation.
Cat packed very little beyond what she would need for her journey, for, upon their arrival, an errand of primary importance would be a visit to the modiste. What passed for fashion in the provincial environs of Sparrowell Hall would never do for London society, which seemed to change its criteria for hats, sleeves, and waistlines with the phases of the moon. Something would have to be done with her compan ion's wardrobe as well, for surely Lady Montrose's advanced age would necessitate the role of chaperon falling to Eveline more often than not. That sensible creature, too, it seemed would be forced to be a slave to the whims of style.
As the weeks went by, Brutus and Caesar fell vic tim to an energetic nervous excitement as they watched their mistress's preparations go forth. They ran up and down stairs, were accidentally shut up in cupboards, barked for sheer pleasure, and generally made themselves even more annoying than ever. Cook, though, was in a good mood for once, for she was off to visit her sisters in Cornwall for the duration of Cat's absence. Since Lady Montrose employed the services of a French chef, it was generally concluded that the volatile territory of the kitchen could suffer but one ruler.
Cat's butler, Chumley, would stay on at the Hall. Although he was somewhat young for that position, his family had been part of Sparrowell's staff for more than a hundred years, and his own father had been butler before him. His presence would allay Cat's fears about Snagworth to some degree, and she was grateful that she could call upon him to do her this service, particularly since the prospect of spend ing time in London was in all probability quite as attractive to him as any other member of the staff. She promised herself that she would make it up to him in some way.
* * * *
The day of their departure for the city dawned as fair and clear as any
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