‘But we do appreciate your help and advice,’ the old lady went on quickly. ‘However, I warn you that you must not call tomorrow, Jonathan. Both Beth and I shall be fully engaged with gowns and curling tongs. Male company will definitely
He nodded an acknowledgement, trying to keep his face straight. ‘I shall wait with…er…interest to see the results of so much female industry. I dare say I shall not recognise my hostess and my guest of honour when they cross my threshold.’
Mrs Aubrey’s eyes were sparkling wickedly now. That was too much for Jon, who laughed aloud. In a moment, Mrs Aubrey was laughing, too.
For some reason, Beth did not respond at all. Clearly she was too absorbed in her work to have heard another word he said.
Beth touched slightly shaky fingers to her lips and then, even more tentatively, to her hair. It was a splendid confection, but much too elaborate for a woman with no name. Could she go through with this? She closed her eyes. She really did not want to look at the woman in the mirror. That was not Beth. That was some other person, a fine lady, the kind of lady who could go into society and hold her head high.
She swallowed hard. She had promised Jonathan that she would do this. She had repeated the promise during one of his recent visits. But he did not know who Beth was or where she came from, any more than she herself did. When she was with him, talking and laughing as they had been doing over these last three days, she had begun to feel calm, almost serene. He treated Beth exactly as he treated Mrs Aubrey. Like a lady. But was she a lady?
It was true that she had not been a menial. Her soft hands proved that. But she could just as well have been a lowly companion, or in some other inferior position in a household. The fact that she enjoyed her duties as the village schoolmistress, and that she was apparently so good at it, suggested she might have been some kind of teacher, or governess. That would make her a lady-of sorts-but not one whose position in society allowed her to sit at the right hand of an earl.
Her eyes flew open in horror. She stared at her reflection. She had turned stark white at the thought of sitting in the place of honour at Jonathan’s table. He was going to insist upon it. He had said so, and Mrs Aubrey had readily agreed. According to the printed invitations, the select dinner, followed by a larger evening party, was ‘to introduce Miss Aubrey’. Therefore, she would have to take the place of honour on the host’s right, no matter how high the station of any other of the lady guests.
Beth cringed inwardly. How could she possibly do this? She had promised not to develop a convenient headache. Unfortunately, she was beginning to develop a real one.
She rose and began to pace up and down her bedchamber. The skirts of the beautiful new evening gown floated about her caressingly. Oh dear. Mrs Aubrey had gone to so much trouble, and so much expense, for this. The gown was a very elegant affair of delicate white gauze over pomona-green silk. It had a low square neckline and vandyking on the sleeves and hemline, to show off the gleaming colour beneath. Much too fine for a foundling.
The bedroom door opened. Hetty was back. Her excited chatter would begin all over again. Beth was not sure she could bear it.
‘Mrs Aubrey sent these.’ The maid opened a flat leather case with exaggerated care.
Beth stopped and gazed. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. The jewel case contained a single strand of exceedingly good pearls, with matching ear drops. Perfect.
‘Sit down, Miss Beth, and I will put the necklace on for you.’
What choice did she have? The whole household was determined that, like Cinderella, she should go to the ball. But, unlike Cinderella, Beth could never be worthy of this prince.
Hetty quickly clasped the pearls around Beth’s neck and helped her to hook the earrings in place. Beth straightened her shoulders. There was no going back now. She had promised them all, and so she must do everything in her power to play her part in this…this charade. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips a little. That was better. There was colour now, in both. She rose again and shook out her skirts. She could do this. She would.
She forced herself to smile as she drew on her long gloves and took up her matching fan and reticule. ‘Thank you, Hetty, for the hairstyle.’ On an impulse, she put her gloved hands on the girl’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘You are a wonder.’
Hetty blushed to the roots of her hair. And then she dropped a curtsy. ‘Miss Beth, I- Oh, ma’am, thank you.’
Beth could not tell which of them was more overcome. Not wishing to embarrass Hetty further, she patted the girl’s shoulder and left the room.
At the foot of the stairs, the rector and Mrs Aubrey were waiting. Mrs Aubrey had fashioned that wonderfully unusual red-purple silk into a most flattering evening gown. She had garnet drops in her ears, and a matching aigrette in her hair.
‘Oh, ma’am!’ Beth stopped halfway down the stairs. ‘How fine you look. His lordship could not have a more splendid hostess at his side.’
Mrs Aubrey preened a little and touched her grey curls. She too had had the benefit of Hetty’s clever fingers. ‘Thank you, child.’
‘May I say,’ the rector intervened, ‘that both my ladies look extremely fine.’ When Beth reached the hallway, he shook out her evening cloak and placed it gently on her shoulders.
Mrs Aubrey leant forward to tie it for her, straightening the folds so that the deep green velvet would hang beautifully. ‘You look radiant, Beth. Exactly how a guest of honour should be. Come now. Since his lordship has kindly sent his carriage to fetch us, we must not keep his horses standing any longer. What time do you have, James, my dear?’
The rector checked his silver pocket watch. ‘If we leave now, we will have at least a quarter of an hour before any of the other guests arrive.’
Beth could not silence that unruly voice in her head. There were certainly some of the guests who were capable of such rudeness. Beth could imagine Sir Bertram and Lady Fitzherbert doing so. Lady Fitzherbert would give that tinkling, tittering laugh of hers, place her beautifully manicured fingers on Jonathan’s sleeve, and gush that she ‘must have mistaken the time’.
Chapter Five
Jon paced up and down in his library, waiting for the butler to appear, to warn him that the carriage was coming up the drive. For some reason, he was a little nervous. He could not understand why. He was only preparing for an evening party, not an assault with bayonets fixed and guns blazing.
The butler entered silently and bowed. ‘Your lordship’s carriage will be at the door in a few moments. Shall I show the guests into the crimson saloon?’
‘No, Sutton. Mrs Aubrey is my hostess, and Miss Aubrey is the guest of honour. I shall meet them at the door myself.’ He strode out into the hallway, past the thin-lipped butler. The man clearly did not approve of such condescension to a mere rector and his family.
The footman had already thrown the great door wide. Mrs Aubrey led the way into the house, followed by the rector, with Miss Beth on his arm. Mrs Aubrey let her cloak slip from her shoulders into the footman’s waiting hands. Then she curtsied in response to Jon’s deep bow. ‘Good evening, Jonathan.’
Jon smiled broadly and returned her greeting. It still gave him a warm feeling to hear her use his given name.
He turned to greet the rector. ‘Good evening, sir, and welcome.’
The rector was too busy removing Miss Beth’s cloak to reply. He took her hand and led her forward. ‘Good
