Read Online Belinda Goes to Bath by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. C. Beaton
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stare,
High breeding is something, but well-bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
Arthur Hugh Clough
Belinda awoke and for a short moment did not know where she was. Then recollection came flooding back. She was in Baddell Castle, a guest of the Marquess of Frenton. She thought with amusement about Miss Pym’s ambitions for her. Almost as bad as Aunt and Uncle, reflected Belinda. How they would disgrace themselves were they both here, primping me and pushing me forward.
Her stomach gave an unladylike rumble. She wondered whether she could expect breakfast or if the marquess kept London hours and rose about two in the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled again and shethrew back the covers, climbed down from the high bed, pulled on a wrapper, and went in search of Miss Pym. That lady’s bed was empty, so Belinda decided to dress and go downstairs.
She rang the bell to summon the lady’s maid and spent an enjoyable half-hour choosing an ensemble. Belinda had had little interest in clothes in London and would not admit to herself that this sudden desire to be fashionably gowned was to compete with Penelope Jordan.
She chose a cambric muslin gown, white with a small blue velvet spot and with a pelisse of blue silk trimmed with fur to wear over it. For her head, she selected the newest style in caps, a confection of muslin with the same blue velvet spot as her gown. Olive-green stockings, the very latest colour, were chosen as they, or rather one of them, would be seen, fashion demanding that any elegante should loop her gown over one arm to show one leg almost to the knee.
Betty, the maid, heated the curling tongs and arranged Belinda’s hair in a simple but flattering style before putting the froth of a cap on top of it.
On leaving the warmth of the bedroom where the fire had been burning brightly, Belinda was struck by the chill of the corridor. Through a mullioned window she could see snow falling steadily on the battlements. Both portcullises were lowered. It was amazing that they were still in use. Obviously the marquess did not expect or did not desire any further visitors.
She hesitated at the top of the main staircase and looked about for a servant to guide her to thebreakfast room. She began to wonder if breakfast was being served at all. It was only eight in the morning, and a disgracefully unfashionable hour for any lady to be up and about. But Betty had made no comment, and surely the maid would have said something.
Then she saw a footman ascending the staircase and went down to meet him. To her query, he inclined his powdered head and said, ‘Follow me, miss.’ He led the way down to the first landing and then along a passage and threw open the door of a room.
To Belinda’s relief, the sideboard was laden with dishes. She sat down at a small mahogany table. The butler came in carrying a tray with pots of coffee, tea and hot chocolate, but asked her if she would prefer beer. Belinda asked for tea and then chose kidneys, bacon, egg and toast. She marvelled at the efficiency of the marquess’s staff, who could produce all this food so quickly, but no sooner had she begun to eat than the door opened and the marquess came in. Breakfast had been prepared for him, and he had not expected any of his guests to be up so early, for he looked at her in surprise.
He had obviously come in from riding, for he was wearing top-boots, leather breeches, a black coat, and a ruffled shirt. His hair was unpowdered and was indeed very red, a rich dark red, worn long, and confined at the nape of his neck with a black silk ribbon. He looked somehow more formidable than he had in evening dress.
He sat down at the table and ordered cold pheasant and small beer.
He said a polite good-morning. Belinda replied shyly and then he began to eat. Belinda had often heard it said that gentlemen were averse to conversation at the breakfast
High breeding is something, but well-bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
Arthur Hugh Clough
Belinda awoke and for a short moment did not know where she was. Then recollection came flooding back. She was in Baddell Castle, a guest of the Marquess of Frenton. She thought with amusement about Miss Pym’s ambitions for her. Almost as bad as Aunt and Uncle, reflected Belinda. How they would disgrace themselves were they both here, primping me and pushing me forward.
Her stomach gave an unladylike rumble. She wondered whether she could expect breakfast or if the marquess kept London hours and rose about two in the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled again and shethrew back the covers, climbed down from the high bed, pulled on a wrapper, and went in search of Miss Pym. That lady’s bed was empty, so Belinda decided to dress and go downstairs.
She rang the bell to summon the lady’s maid and spent an enjoyable half-hour choosing an ensemble. Belinda had had little interest in clothes in London and would not admit to herself that this sudden desire to be fashionably gowned was to compete with Penelope Jordan.
She chose a cambric muslin gown, white with a small blue velvet spot and with a pelisse of blue silk trimmed with fur to wear over it. For her head, she selected the newest style in caps, a confection of muslin with the same blue velvet spot as her gown. Olive-green stockings, the very latest colour, were chosen as they, or rather one of them, would be seen, fashion demanding that any elegante should loop her gown over one arm to show one leg almost to the knee.
Betty, the maid, heated the curling tongs and arranged Belinda’s hair in a simple but flattering style before putting the froth of a cap on top of it.
On leaving the warmth of the bedroom where the fire had been burning brightly, Belinda was struck by the chill of the corridor. Through a mullioned window she could see snow falling steadily on the battlements. Both portcullises were lowered. It was amazing that they were still in use. Obviously the marquess did not expect or did not desire any further visitors.
She hesitated at the top of the main staircase and looked about for a servant to guide her to thebreakfast room. She began to wonder if breakfast was being served at all. It was only eight in the morning, and a disgracefully unfashionable hour for any lady to be up and about. But Betty had made no comment, and surely the maid would have said something.
Then she saw a footman ascending the staircase and went down to meet him. To her query, he inclined his powdered head and said, ‘Follow me, miss.’ He led the way down to the first landing and then along a passage and threw open the door of a room.
To Belinda’s relief, the sideboard was laden with dishes. She sat down at a small mahogany table. The butler came in carrying a tray with pots of coffee, tea and hot chocolate, but asked her if she would prefer beer. Belinda asked for tea and then chose kidneys, bacon, egg and toast. She marvelled at the efficiency of the marquess’s staff, who could produce all this food so quickly, but no sooner had she begun to eat than the door opened and the marquess came in. Breakfast had been prepared for him, and he had not expected any of his guests to be up so early, for he looked at her in surprise.
He had obviously come in from riding, for he was wearing top-boots, leather breeches, a black coat, and a ruffled shirt. His hair was unpowdered and was indeed very red, a rich dark red, worn long, and confined at the nape of his neck with a black silk ribbon. He looked somehow more formidable than he had in evening dress.
He sat down at the table and ordered cold pheasant and small beer.
He said a polite good-morning. Belinda replied shyly and then he began to eat. Belinda had often heard it said that gentlemen were averse to conversation at the breakfast
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