daresay he might have said a word or two about the prince regent, and his highness does not easily forget criticism. But enough of that. How fortunate that the ball will come before my own small entertainment! I shall feel quite correct in sending a card to his highness.”
It was the measure of the prestige of the regent’s invitation to Carlton House that Lady Thane set out that very day to augment her wardrobe. Being of a kind nature, she spent rather more thought on the gift of a ball gown she was making to Clare than to her own heavy blue satin embroidered with pearls, to be worn with a delicate silk shawl of cerulean blue.
She declared herself satisfied with the result of Clare’s straw-colored Indian muslin, embroidered in gold thread. “It sets off your coloring, and is not quite so young-looking as the white we looked at,” she pronounced.
‘Thank you,” breathed Clare, entranced at her elegance.
“My birthday gift to you,” Lady Thane said. “After all, you will be sixteen tomorrow. I wish we could mark the day with a special celebration, but questions might be awkward, you know.”
‘‘We’ll pretend the regent’s ball is my party,” said Clare, with a dazzling smile.
But the new gown was, after all, not the main thing. Lady Thane, the morning of the ball, rustled in to the morning room, which faced out upon the back garden. Clare favored this room above all the others in Lady Thane’s house. The walls were covered with a figured yellow paper in an old-fashioned bergere style, but gay indeed.
Clare, though, sitting with empty hands gazing out across the clipped privet that bordered the garden paths, did not reflect the cheerfulness of the room.
“My dear Clare, I am sorry to see you in the mopes!” cried Lady Thane. “Pray do not frown so, it makes the most horrid wrinkles and that ages one’s face so quickly!”
“Perhaps it would be a good thing. I mean, to look a little older,” said Clare, disconsolate.
Lady Thane was taken aback, but only for a moment. She had noticed a certain lack of response in Clare for some time, and she had laid it to worry about her grandmama. However justified such worry might be, yet it was Lady Thane’s duty to bring her out of herself, and guide her in the ways that Lady Penryck wished the child to go.
Never one to shrink a duty, she ignored Clare’s comment. “I wonder,” she said guilelessly, “if you object to going to the ball with Amelia Totten. She has asked us, you know, and there will be such a sad crush of carriages that I own it would be a relief to me.”
“Whatever you think best, Lady Thane.”
“That means, of course, that her brother will accompany us, as well as Mr. Totten. But perhaps this is too much? Shall you like that?”
Clare, not being stupid, began to see that Lady Thane’s questions were leading to an as yet unknown purpose. She fixed her eyes upon her godmother and said cautiously, “Sir Alexander is certainly unexceptionable company.”
Lady Thane hesitated. She had not expected enthusiasm, but this neutrality was a bit daunting. “I have noticed,” she began again, “that he has distinguished you particularly for some time. And, if I am not mistaken, he means to offer for you.”
“Oh, no!” cried Clare faintly.
“The time has come for plain speaking, Clare. Naturally, your grandmother and I would do nothing to force you into a marriage you could not like. But it seems to me that there is nothing about Sir Alexander that would repel the most fastidious of ladies. He is quite wealthy, you know—not a nabob like Choate, but certainly with a respectable income. And well-informed—”
“And kind!” exclaimed Clare, and jumped to her feet. She took an agitated turn around the small room and turned back to face Lady Thane. “Oh, pray, do not let him offer!”
“And how do you suppose,” said Lady Thane, startled, “that I can prevent him?”
“Oh, you must know ways to stop him!”
Lady Thane
It was the measure of the prestige of the regent’s invitation to Carlton House that Lady Thane set out that very day to augment her wardrobe. Being of a kind nature, she spent rather more thought on the gift of a ball gown she was making to Clare than to her own heavy blue satin embroidered with pearls, to be worn with a delicate silk shawl of cerulean blue.
She declared herself satisfied with the result of Clare’s straw-colored Indian muslin, embroidered in gold thread. “It sets off your coloring, and is not quite so young-looking as the white we looked at,” she pronounced.
‘Thank you,” breathed Clare, entranced at her elegance.
“My birthday gift to you,” Lady Thane said. “After all, you will be sixteen tomorrow. I wish we could mark the day with a special celebration, but questions might be awkward, you know.”
‘‘We’ll pretend the regent’s ball is my party,” said Clare, with a dazzling smile.
But the new gown was, after all, not the main thing. Lady Thane, the morning of the ball, rustled in to the morning room, which faced out upon the back garden. Clare favored this room above all the others in Lady Thane’s house. The walls were covered with a figured yellow paper in an old-fashioned bergere style, but gay indeed.
Clare, though, sitting with empty hands gazing out across the clipped privet that bordered the garden paths, did not reflect the cheerfulness of the room.
“My dear Clare, I am sorry to see you in the mopes!” cried Lady Thane. “Pray do not frown so, it makes the most horrid wrinkles and that ages one’s face so quickly!”
“Perhaps it would be a good thing. I mean, to look a little older,” said Clare, disconsolate.
Lady Thane was taken aback, but only for a moment. She had noticed a certain lack of response in Clare for some time, and she had laid it to worry about her grandmama. However justified such worry might be, yet it was Lady Thane’s duty to bring her out of herself, and guide her in the ways that Lady Penryck wished the child to go.
Never one to shrink a duty, she ignored Clare’s comment. “I wonder,” she said guilelessly, “if you object to going to the ball with Amelia Totten. She has asked us, you know, and there will be such a sad crush of carriages that I own it would be a relief to me.”
“Whatever you think best, Lady Thane.”
“That means, of course, that her brother will accompany us, as well as Mr. Totten. But perhaps this is too much? Shall you like that?”
Clare, not being stupid, began to see that Lady Thane’s questions were leading to an as yet unknown purpose. She fixed her eyes upon her godmother and said cautiously, “Sir Alexander is certainly unexceptionable company.”
Lady Thane hesitated. She had not expected enthusiasm, but this neutrality was a bit daunting. “I have noticed,” she began again, “that he has distinguished you particularly for some time. And, if I am not mistaken, he means to offer for you.”
“Oh, no!” cried Clare faintly.
“The time has come for plain speaking, Clare. Naturally, your grandmother and I would do nothing to force you into a marriage you could not like. But it seems to me that there is nothing about Sir Alexander that would repel the most fastidious of ladies. He is quite wealthy, you know—not a nabob like Choate, but certainly with a respectable income. And well-informed—”
“And kind!” exclaimed Clare, and jumped to her feet. She took an agitated turn around the small room and turned back to face Lady Thane. “Oh, pray, do not let him offer!”
“And how do you suppose,” said Lady Thane, startled, “that I can prevent him?”
“Oh, you must know ways to stop him!”
Lady Thane
Similar Books
