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Authors: The Education of Lady Frances
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to haunt the district. She had us all quaking in our boots, what with her bloodcurdling yell.” He chuckled heartily at the memory. “No, Frances never cared two pins about what anyone else would mink.”
Julian, who had found it difficult to picture Lady Frances Cresswell as anything but self-possessed, certainly had no difficulty agreeing with his friend on this last point, but confined himself to remarking, “Well, you'll have a chance to judge for yourself. She's to be one of my cousin's party at the Richardsons' ball. It is one thing to partner Kitty, simpering miss that she may be. After all, she is my niece, but I draw the line at Frances Cresswell. She and I have nothing to say to each other, and if I know Elizabeth, she'll consider me at least as responsible for amusing Kitty's friend as I am for squiring Kitty herself. Be a good fellow, Bertie, and do the pretty for me with Lady Frances.” Lord Julian Mainwaring rarely felt the need to ask a favor of his fellowmen, but there was a distinctly cajoling note in his voice.
“Always happy to oblige a friend, Julian, always happy to oblige,” Bertie agreed good-naturedly, relieving his friend of the unpleasant task, which had intruded on his thoughts at the most inauspicious moments. That settled, they could turn their minds to the contemplation of an excellent bottle of port and several games of whist before going in search of more enlivening entertainment onstage and off at the opera.
Chapter Eight
Lord Mainwaring was not the only person looking forward with some misgiving to the Richardsons' gala. Kitty, though highly excited at the thought of her first ball, was beset by all the ordinary fears of a young lady making her first entrance into the adult world of fashion. Would she know how to go on? She had been able to dance delightfully with Ned and her dancing master, but performing complicated steps with one's brother in one's own empty drawing room was a good deal different from executing them with a total stranger in a crowded ballroom under hundreds of critical eyes. Would she be pretty enough to attract the attention of anyone at all? Fortunately her brown eyes and shining brown curls were in vogue, brunettes being all the rage at the moment. What would she ever say to everyone? She was confiding this rapidly increasing list of worries to Lady Frances as the two awaited the arrival of the dressmaker at the Cresswells'. This was the final fitting for both of them before the ball, and Kitty had begged to be allowed to try on her gown at Lady Frances' in order to have the benefit other opinion as well as general moral support. Naturally she wore the requisite white of one making her come-out, but with rose trimmings designed to bring out the enchanting color in her cheeks, and emphasize the rich color of her eyes. Lady Frances, by her choice of dove-gray silk, claimed her position as a woman midway between maiden and dowager. She had been kept from further declaring her ineligible status—with a delicate lace cap—by the vehement protestations of both Kitty and the dressmaker.
“Madam is far too young for such a thing. A cap is only for someone who no longer has any possible claim to youth—not one as young and elegant as Madam. It would be a crime to cover up Madam's lovely golden hair with such a thing!” The seamstress was scandalized that anyone would welcome the advent of maturity.
Kitty, far less tactful, added, “Frances, if you wear that dreadful thing, no one will ask you to dance.” When Frances finally made it clear that such had been exactly her intention, she was reminded in no uncertain terms of her promise to Lady Streatham to take care of Lord Streatham and Lord Mainwaring. This recollection, coupled with memories of other balls and other partners, caused her serious doubts about the wisdom of coming to London at all. Then she remembered Lady Streatham's merry face, her strictures concerning Lady Bingley and her cronies, and
Julian, who had found it difficult to picture Lady Frances Cresswell as anything but self-possessed, certainly had no difficulty agreeing with his friend on this last point, but confined himself to remarking, “Well, you'll have a chance to judge for yourself. She's to be one of my cousin's party at the Richardsons' ball. It is one thing to partner Kitty, simpering miss that she may be. After all, she is my niece, but I draw the line at Frances Cresswell. She and I have nothing to say to each other, and if I know Elizabeth, she'll consider me at least as responsible for amusing Kitty's friend as I am for squiring Kitty herself. Be a good fellow, Bertie, and do the pretty for me with Lady Frances.” Lord Julian Mainwaring rarely felt the need to ask a favor of his fellowmen, but there was a distinctly cajoling note in his voice.
“Always happy to oblige a friend, Julian, always happy to oblige,” Bertie agreed good-naturedly, relieving his friend of the unpleasant task, which had intruded on his thoughts at the most inauspicious moments. That settled, they could turn their minds to the contemplation of an excellent bottle of port and several games of whist before going in search of more enlivening entertainment onstage and off at the opera.
Chapter Eight
Lord Mainwaring was not the only person looking forward with some misgiving to the Richardsons' gala. Kitty, though highly excited at the thought of her first ball, was beset by all the ordinary fears of a young lady making her first entrance into the adult world of fashion. Would she know how to go on? She had been able to dance delightfully with Ned and her dancing master, but performing complicated steps with one's brother in one's own empty drawing room was a good deal different from executing them with a total stranger in a crowded ballroom under hundreds of critical eyes. Would she be pretty enough to attract the attention of anyone at all? Fortunately her brown eyes and shining brown curls were in vogue, brunettes being all the rage at the moment. What would she ever say to everyone? She was confiding this rapidly increasing list of worries to Lady Frances as the two awaited the arrival of the dressmaker at the Cresswells'. This was the final fitting for both of them before the ball, and Kitty had begged to be allowed to try on her gown at Lady Frances' in order to have the benefit other opinion as well as general moral support. Naturally she wore the requisite white of one making her come-out, but with rose trimmings designed to bring out the enchanting color in her cheeks, and emphasize the rich color of her eyes. Lady Frances, by her choice of dove-gray silk, claimed her position as a woman midway between maiden and dowager. She had been kept from further declaring her ineligible status—with a delicate lace cap—by the vehement protestations of both Kitty and the dressmaker.
“Madam is far too young for such a thing. A cap is only for someone who no longer has any possible claim to youth—not one as young and elegant as Madam. It would be a crime to cover up Madam's lovely golden hair with such a thing!” The seamstress was scandalized that anyone would welcome the advent of maturity.
Kitty, far less tactful, added, “Frances, if you wear that dreadful thing, no one will ask you to dance.” When Frances finally made it clear that such had been exactly her intention, she was reminded in no uncertain terms of her promise to Lady Streatham to take care of Lord Streatham and Lord Mainwaring. This recollection, coupled with memories of other balls and other partners, caused her serious doubts about the wisdom of coming to London at all. Then she remembered Lady Streatham's merry face, her strictures concerning Lady Bingley and her cronies, and
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