Mama prefers having her back to the driver, Lilian thought, then shook her head, dismissing the notion.
“Mama, do you think the Confectionery Shop still serves ices?” Lilian asked. “I should love one if we have the time. She remembered John’s comment in the park about raspberry ices and wondered if that was his favourite flavour.
“That would be nice; it might also be a pleasing way to complete our excursion. I hope you girls do not mind being hurried along. Your father suggested this trip to town, thinking it would do us all good, and I should like to take the opportunity to order us all a new gown each. I was thinking a deep lavender for you, Lydia, and for you, Lilian, perhaps a cyan blue or even magenta silk,” she proclaimed. “However, the colours will be your choices.”
“That sounds lovely, Mama,” Lydia piped up. “Lord Yarstone said he would pay a visit shortly. I have not been so forward as to offer, of course, but do you think he might be able to stay here instead of taking rooms at an inn?”
“I daresay that could be arranged, my dear. We all enjoy Lord Yarstone’s company,” her mother responded.
Any minute now, she will turn to me. Lilian glanced at her sister and noticed her hoydenish smirk. Kicking up larks, are you? I will delight in repaying you, little sister, Lilian promised, giving Lydia a sardonic smile when their mother was looking the other way.
“Lilian, your father made mention of the fact that Lord Harlow plans to visit Tintagel. We must not be behindhand with our hospitality. I should be happy to offer him accommodations also,” her mother added.
Lilian pretended astonishment. “Thank you, Mama. That is most kind, I am sure. However, although Lord Harlow informed me that he and Lord Worsley had business in Cornwall. he made no declaration of a specific visit, as Lord Yarstone has done.” Gently, she skirted around the topic.
“How odd. Perhaps he meant it as a surprise,” her mother added gaily. “For indeed, your father received a missive today, from Lord Harlow, asking if he could receive both he and Lord Worsley later this afternoon.” Lady Avalon fiddled with her gold-coloured pelisse and gave a slight tilt to her bonnet.
Without conscious thought, Lilian’s mouth formed an O. What could he be about, meeting with Father? She knew he was not ready to offer for her. A light quiver shook her as she felt a sense of apprehension.
The smell of sea salt and the sound of sheep baaing softly in the background meant they were approaching the village. As the carriage advanced into the town of Tintagel, the earth road soon changed to cobblestone, making the ride somewhat bumpier. Thatched roofs and slate ones adorned the tops of small white limestone and dark timber buildings, lined up in rows branching from the main road. The sight cheered her, and she refused to think anything dreadful could be about to happen. Mama’s voice cut into her musings.
“My darlings, I think two hours in town should be sufficient, do you not agree?”
I should have known something was amiss when Mama insisted on leaving so early. She was obviously up to her old tricks, hoping we are home in time to entertain Lord Harlow. Lilian was aware of a certain irritation but found it difficult to maintain. Her mother’s dream for her had become her own dream, but she would never admit to it. She could not take disappointment.
Her mother tapped the top of the carriage and it stopped in front of Madame Chandos’ shop. Their friendship had spanned the two ladies’ lifetime, and Mama always commissioned several dresses when they returned from London. Madame Chandos’ seamstresses turned out very elegant work, at a fraction of the price to be found in London. Mama could spend hours poring over patterns and fabrics, especially if a new shipment of lace had arrived.
Winston assisted Lilian into her wheel-chair, and then pushed her into the shop. Most of the shop’s light came from the large glass window at the front and two oil lamps at the rear, behind a long counter. Fabrics and laces covered large, flat, waist-high tables. Shelves lined the walls with hundreds of bolts of fabric standing side by side, arranged according to colour and texture. High tables flanked the counter on each side with tall stools, giving space for the patrons to examine large pattern books. The back wall opened to two small dressing rooms for the clients and a tiny office. Lilian looked around her, secretly hoping that Mama’s sense of urgency would aid them in leaving here quickly. The shop door tinkled when they entered, alerting the modiste to their presence, and she hurried to welcome them.
“Bienvenu, chères amies,” the shop owner gushed. “It is my pleasure to see you, my friend. How may I assist you?”
“Madame, it has been an age. We arrived home only yesterday, and I wanted to make this my first call.”
“I am so glad to see all of you, my lady. Did you have a good stay in London? I had planned to visit, but I have been very busy of late,” the modiste replied.
“My daughters and I need new morning and evening dresses. Perhaps two each. I have some colours in mind, but of course, the final selection will be theirs—unless their usual good taste deserts them.” A fabric near the corner of the table caught their mother’s eye, and she walked over to it.
“Your girls are so beautiful,” the proprietress flattered. “Lady Lydia adores the pinks, but perhaps a gown of cream and lavender would be pretty.”
“That is just what I had imagined,” oozed Mama. She turned to Lydia, who was fingering some lace.
“Ah, you have good taste, Lady Lydia. That has only just arrived. It is my latest shipment of Belgium lace; the finest from Brussels,” Madame Chandos added proudly. “It would make a beautiful overdress with this lovely lavender satin.” She held the fabrics together,
