Vanessa, however, was quite visibly crushed. Her eyes filled up with tears. “You can’t mean that, Mother,” she said. “Oh, please take it back! I shan’t be able to forgive you if you won’t!”
Auntie Frances stiffened her posture at her daughter’s obvious misery. A weary resignation flickered across her features. “Yes, fine,” she sighed, though she didn’t look at Dora as she said it. “That comment was somewhat over the line.” She pulled out her lace handkerchief and handed it over to her daughter. “Do you really wish to go to London, Dora?” she asked. It was clear from her tone that she expected to hear some vague, noncommittal answer.
“I do,” Dora told her serenely. Auntie Frances frowned sharply at that and glanced towards her.
Because Vanessa wants me there, Dora thought. And I don’t want to leave her. But she thought that this elaboration might complicate the point, and so she kept it to herself.
Auntie Frances said that she would think on the matter. Dora suspected that this was her way of delaying the conversation and hoping that Vanessa would change her mind.
But Vanessa Ettings always did get her way eventually.
Thus it was that they soon took off for London, all three of them. Lord Lockheed, always distant and more consumed with his affairs than with his daughter, did not deign to accompany them—but Auntie Frances had pulled strings through her sister’s husband to secure them a place to stay with the Countess of Hayworth, who was possessed of a residence within London and only too pleased to have guests. Since Vanessa had declared her interest so belatedly, they had to wait for the roads to clear of mud—by the time they left Lockheed for London, it was already late March, with only a month or two left in the Season.
After so much fuss, the carriage into London was not at all how Dora might have imagined it. Even in her usual, detached state, she couldn’t help but notice the stench as they entered the city proper. It was a rude mixture of sweat, urine, and other things, all packed together in too-close a space. Auntie Frances and Vanessa reacted much more visibly; Auntie Frances pulled out her handkerchief and pressed it over her mouth, while Vanessa knitted her brow and craned her head to look outside the carriage. Dora followed Vanessa’s lead, glancing over her cousin’s shoulder to see out the window.
There were so very many people. It was one thing to be told that London was well-populated, and another thing entirely to see it with one’s own eyes. All those people running back and forth in the street got into each other’s way, and they all seemed somewhat cross with one another. Often, their driver had to yell at someone crossing in front of their carriage, shaking his fist and threatening to run them down.
The noise would have been startling, if Dora were capable of being startled. It settled into her bones more readily than anything else had ever done, however—the biggest fly yet in the corner of the room. Dora found herself frowning at the chaos.
Thankfully, both the hubbub and the awful scents died down as their carriage crossed further into the city, onto wider, calmer avenues. The jumble of buildings that passed them slowly became more elegant and refined, and the suffocating press of people thinned out. Eventually, their carriage driver stopped them in front of a tall, terraced townhouse and stepped down to open the doors for them.
The front door of the townhouse opened just as Dora was stepping down after her cousin and her aunt. A maid and a footman both exited, followed by a thin, steel-haired woman in a dignified rose and beige gown. The two servants swept past, already helping to unload their things, while the older woman stepped out with a smile and took Auntie Frances’ hands in hers.
“My dear Lady Lockheed!” the older woman declared. “What a pleasure it is to host you and your daughter. It has been an age since my last daughter was married off, you know, and I’ve had little excuse to make the rounds since then. I cannot wait to show you all around London!”
Auntie Frances smiled back with unexpected warmth, though there was a hint of nervousness behind the expression. “The pleasure is all ours, of course, Lady Hayworth,” she said. “It’s ever-so-gracious of you to allow us your time and attention.” Auntie Frances turned back towards Vanessa, who had already dropped into a polite curtsy—this, despite the fact that they were all certainly stiff and miserable from the journey. “This is my daughter, Vanessa.”
“It’s so delightful to meet you, Lady Hayworth,” Vanessa said, with the utmost sincerity in her tone. It was one of Vanessa’s charms, Dora thought, that she was always able to find something to be truly delighted about.
“Oh, how lovely you are, my dear!” the countess cried. “You remind me already of my youngest. You can be sure, we shall be fighting off more suitors than we can handle in no time!” Lady Hayworth’s eyes swept briefly over Dora, but then continued past her. Dora was wearing a dark, sturdy dress which must have made her appear as a very fine lady’s maid, rather than as a member of the family. Lady Hayworth turned back towards the townhouse, beckoning them forward. “You must be awfully tired from the road,” she said. “Please come inside, and we shall set a table—”
“This is my cousin, Theodora!” Vanessa blurted out. She reached out to grab Dora’s arm, as though to make sure no one could mistake the subject of her introduction. The countess turned with a slight frown.
