Read Online The Original Miss Honeyford by M.C. Beaton - Free Book Online
Authors: M.C. Beaton
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dress were concerned.
“Very well,” she said, “provided you promise faithfully to carry out your father’s wishes,
and
my wishes, and behave as prettily as we
both
would desire.”
Honey gulped, too tired and too beaten down with all the conflicting emotions inside her to argue. She nodded.
“Good!” said Lady Canon with satisfaction. “You could easily take the crown from Miss Wetherall. Think on that, Honoria Honeyford. Think on that!”
Four
Lord Alistair, in answer to Lady Canon’s summons, called on her at the end of the following week. Honey was confined to her bedchamber and surrounded by dressmaker’s assistants, the terrifying dressmaker, Madame Vernée herself, and Lady Canon’s dragon of a lady’s maid, Clarisse Duval.
Lady Canon looked speculatively at Lord Alistair and thought it was a pity he was such a confirmed bachelor. He was wearing a corbeau-colored coat and the latest thing in scarlet waistcoats with kerseymere breeches and brown top boots.
He inclined his head gravely as she recounted Honey’s view of the adventures on the road, but a look of faint hauteur crossed his face when she went on to say she hoped he would not talk about Honey’s behavior to any member of the ton.
“I have been called many things, my lady,” said Lord Alistair coldly, “but never, I think, a bore. I am not likely to prattle around the saloons about some fatiguing child.”
“It is as I thought,” said Lady Canon. “But you must see, I had to make sure.”
Lord Alistair smiled at her sweetly and then looked vaguely about. “Miss Honeyford is gone from home, I see.”
“No, she is abovestairs being fitted with new clothes. When I take the wrapping paper off her, she will take the town by storm. She is very beautiful.”
“I fear Miss Honeyford’s idea of taking the town by storm might not be the one you want, Lady Canon.”
“Meaning she will behave shockingly? No, my lord, I find that a great deal can be done with the young and headstrong with firmness and kindness. So useless to humiliate them, don’t you think? No one likes to be sneered at—even you, Lord Alistair.”
“Oh, I have a hide like a rhinocerous,” he said lazily. “Give Miss Honeyford my regards.” He rose and made her a sweeping bow, and took his leave.
“Wonderful man,” sighed Lady Canon, walking to the window and watching him walk off down Charles Street in the direction of Berkeley Square.
“Old
bitch!
thought Lord Charles venomously. “As if I would dream of gossiping. That wretched girl would only cause me embarrassment. I must make a point of cutting her dead at the first opportunity, or goodness knows what fix she will land me in.”
Honey did behave well. She felt she was in a foreign land, learning strange native customs in order to survive. Not only were there hours of fittings and pinnings, but hours of mock conversation with Lady Canon, who would take the part of the flirtatious man while Honey had to learn to parry compliments that were “overwarm” and gracefully accept the flowery ones.
And then, the day before her planned debut at the opera, Lady Canon announced that she was going out for most of that day to make calls.
She left Honey a pile of fashion plates to study and then took herself off in a cloud of lace and perfume.
Honey threw down the fashion plates as soon as Lady Canon was out of the door, and paced restlessly up and down. She decided to walk around to the mews to see how her servants had fared and to wish them Godspeed on their journey home on the following morning. Lady Canon would have expected Honey to summon the servants to the hall to make her farewells there, but Honey was itching to get out of the house.
Wearing her old brown silk and covering it with her sage-green cloak, she skipped down the stairs. She met her first setback in the hall. Beecham, the butler, loomed up out of the shadows.
“Are we going out, Miss Honeyford?” he said reprovingly, eyeing her hatless
“Very well,” she said, “provided you promise faithfully to carry out your father’s wishes,
and
my wishes, and behave as prettily as we
both
would desire.”
Honey gulped, too tired and too beaten down with all the conflicting emotions inside her to argue. She nodded.
“Good!” said Lady Canon with satisfaction. “You could easily take the crown from Miss Wetherall. Think on that, Honoria Honeyford. Think on that!”
Four
Lord Alistair, in answer to Lady Canon’s summons, called on her at the end of the following week. Honey was confined to her bedchamber and surrounded by dressmaker’s assistants, the terrifying dressmaker, Madame Vernée herself, and Lady Canon’s dragon of a lady’s maid, Clarisse Duval.
Lady Canon looked speculatively at Lord Alistair and thought it was a pity he was such a confirmed bachelor. He was wearing a corbeau-colored coat and the latest thing in scarlet waistcoats with kerseymere breeches and brown top boots.
He inclined his head gravely as she recounted Honey’s view of the adventures on the road, but a look of faint hauteur crossed his face when she went on to say she hoped he would not talk about Honey’s behavior to any member of the ton.
“I have been called many things, my lady,” said Lord Alistair coldly, “but never, I think, a bore. I am not likely to prattle around the saloons about some fatiguing child.”
“It is as I thought,” said Lady Canon. “But you must see, I had to make sure.”
Lord Alistair smiled at her sweetly and then looked vaguely about. “Miss Honeyford is gone from home, I see.”
“No, she is abovestairs being fitted with new clothes. When I take the wrapping paper off her, she will take the town by storm. She is very beautiful.”
“I fear Miss Honeyford’s idea of taking the town by storm might not be the one you want, Lady Canon.”
“Meaning she will behave shockingly? No, my lord, I find that a great deal can be done with the young and headstrong with firmness and kindness. So useless to humiliate them, don’t you think? No one likes to be sneered at—even you, Lord Alistair.”
“Oh, I have a hide like a rhinocerous,” he said lazily. “Give Miss Honeyford my regards.” He rose and made her a sweeping bow, and took his leave.
“Wonderful man,” sighed Lady Canon, walking to the window and watching him walk off down Charles Street in the direction of Berkeley Square.
“Old
bitch!
thought Lord Charles venomously. “As if I would dream of gossiping. That wretched girl would only cause me embarrassment. I must make a point of cutting her dead at the first opportunity, or goodness knows what fix she will land me in.”
Honey did behave well. She felt she was in a foreign land, learning strange native customs in order to survive. Not only were there hours of fittings and pinnings, but hours of mock conversation with Lady Canon, who would take the part of the flirtatious man while Honey had to learn to parry compliments that were “overwarm” and gracefully accept the flowery ones.
And then, the day before her planned debut at the opera, Lady Canon announced that she was going out for most of that day to make calls.
She left Honey a pile of fashion plates to study and then took herself off in a cloud of lace and perfume.
Honey threw down the fashion plates as soon as Lady Canon was out of the door, and paced restlessly up and down. She decided to walk around to the mews to see how her servants had fared and to wish them Godspeed on their journey home on the following morning. Lady Canon would have expected Honey to summon the servants to the hall to make her farewells there, but Honey was itching to get out of the house.
Wearing her old brown silk and covering it with her sage-green cloak, she skipped down the stairs. She met her first setback in the hall. Beecham, the butler, loomed up out of the shadows.
“Are we going out, Miss Honeyford?” he said reprovingly, eyeing her hatless
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