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Authors: Jeannie Machin
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McNeil fell silent. With this new revelation of Lady Sabrinaâs involvement, she sensed that there were considerable storms ahead.
CHAPTER 8
The gown Deborah chose to wear to the theater that night was made of delicate silver-gray silk which brought out the color of her eyes. It was high-waisted, with little puffed sleeves and a low square neckline, and the material was so sheer and clinging that it showed off every curving line of her figure. With it she wore the amethyst necklace and earrings that Jonathan had given her on their wedding day, long white gloves, white silk stockings, and little silver satin slippers that matched the lozenge-shaped reticule looped over her wrist. Her appearance was completed by a knotted silver shawl and a folded ivory fan she wore over the same wrist as the reticule. Amy combed her coal black hair up into a knot from which tumbled several heavy ringlets, and the only adornment to her coiffure was a tiny posy of violets.
It was the first time in three years that she had dressed for such an occasion as this, and as she studied herself in the long cheval glass in the corner of her candlelit bedroom, she found herself remembering times gone by when Jonathan would have come into her room before they left. He would always stand behind her, meeting her eyes in themirror as he whispered how beautiful she was. Then he would always bend his head to kiss her naked shoulder.
She closed her eyes, conscious of a frisson of pleasure, for the memory was so real that the touch of his lips was almost tangible. But when she opened her eyes again, she wasnât in their room at St Mary Magna or their London town house in Berkeley Square; instead she was here in Royal Crescent, with all the problems of the present around her.
She turned from the cheval glass and glanced around the room. It was prettily decorated with yellow-and- white-striped Chinese silk on the walls, and a blue carpet on the floor. There was a blue-canopied four-poster bed, a fireside chair upholstered in golden brocade, several wardrobes, and a dressing table that was draped with frilled white muslin. The single tall window faced out over the front of the house, and the fringed yellow velvet curtains were firmly drawn against the chill of the night air outside. It was warm inside, however, with candles and firelight to lend a gently moving glow, and the fragrance of roses was heady from the vial of scent Amy had knocked over a little earlier. The maid was now tidying the dressing table, putting away unused pins, carefully arranging her mistressâs silver-handled brushes and combs, and then tidying the Chinese cosmetic box that had provided the rouge on Deborahâs lips and cheeks, and the touch of white powder to stop her nose from shining.
A carriage drew up outside, and the maid hurried to look out. âItâs time, madam,â she said, turning to fetch Deborahâs purple velvet evening cloak from the fireside chair, where it had been keeping warm.
With the knotted shawl carefully rolled up and tuckedbeneath the cloak, Deborah left the bedroom and went downstairs to the hall, where Mrs McNeil was waiting for her. The older woman wore a scarlet satin cloak that was warmly lined with swansdown, and beneath it she had on an emerald green tunic dress over a simple white silk slip with a black Roman key design around the hem. On her head was a white silk turban with aigrettes fixed to the side, and she wore an emerald necklace.
A few minutes later Sanders closed the carriage door and then nodded to the coachman, and the team strained forward to make the brief journey down through Bath to the Theatre Royal. The route took them through Queen Square, where Sir James Uppingham resided, and Mrs McNeil pointed out his house, which had green shutters and occupied a pleasant corner position. His carriage was waiting at the door, in readiness to convey him first to Royal Crescent for Lady Sabrina, and then to take them both
CHAPTER 8
The gown Deborah chose to wear to the theater that night was made of delicate silver-gray silk which brought out the color of her eyes. It was high-waisted, with little puffed sleeves and a low square neckline, and the material was so sheer and clinging that it showed off every curving line of her figure. With it she wore the amethyst necklace and earrings that Jonathan had given her on their wedding day, long white gloves, white silk stockings, and little silver satin slippers that matched the lozenge-shaped reticule looped over her wrist. Her appearance was completed by a knotted silver shawl and a folded ivory fan she wore over the same wrist as the reticule. Amy combed her coal black hair up into a knot from which tumbled several heavy ringlets, and the only adornment to her coiffure was a tiny posy of violets.
It was the first time in three years that she had dressed for such an occasion as this, and as she studied herself in the long cheval glass in the corner of her candlelit bedroom, she found herself remembering times gone by when Jonathan would have come into her room before they left. He would always stand behind her, meeting her eyes in themirror as he whispered how beautiful she was. Then he would always bend his head to kiss her naked shoulder.
She closed her eyes, conscious of a frisson of pleasure, for the memory was so real that the touch of his lips was almost tangible. But when she opened her eyes again, she wasnât in their room at St Mary Magna or their London town house in Berkeley Square; instead she was here in Royal Crescent, with all the problems of the present around her.
She turned from the cheval glass and glanced around the room. It was prettily decorated with yellow-and- white-striped Chinese silk on the walls, and a blue carpet on the floor. There was a blue-canopied four-poster bed, a fireside chair upholstered in golden brocade, several wardrobes, and a dressing table that was draped with frilled white muslin. The single tall window faced out over the front of the house, and the fringed yellow velvet curtains were firmly drawn against the chill of the night air outside. It was warm inside, however, with candles and firelight to lend a gently moving glow, and the fragrance of roses was heady from the vial of scent Amy had knocked over a little earlier. The maid was now tidying the dressing table, putting away unused pins, carefully arranging her mistressâs silver-handled brushes and combs, and then tidying the Chinese cosmetic box that had provided the rouge on Deborahâs lips and cheeks, and the touch of white powder to stop her nose from shining.
A carriage drew up outside, and the maid hurried to look out. âItâs time, madam,â she said, turning to fetch Deborahâs purple velvet evening cloak from the fireside chair, where it had been keeping warm.
With the knotted shawl carefully rolled up and tuckedbeneath the cloak, Deborah left the bedroom and went downstairs to the hall, where Mrs McNeil was waiting for her. The older woman wore a scarlet satin cloak that was warmly lined with swansdown, and beneath it she had on an emerald green tunic dress over a simple white silk slip with a black Roman key design around the hem. On her head was a white silk turban with aigrettes fixed to the side, and she wore an emerald necklace.
A few minutes later Sanders closed the carriage door and then nodded to the coachman, and the team strained forward to make the brief journey down through Bath to the Theatre Royal. The route took them through Queen Square, where Sir James Uppingham resided, and Mrs McNeil pointed out his house, which had green shutters and occupied a pleasant corner position. His carriage was waiting at the door, in readiness to convey him first to Royal Crescent for Lady Sabrina, and then to take them both
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