Fenella Miller - A Country Mouse

Jenny coloured. “I've no idea, my lady. I was elsewhere when it happened. I helped Miss Emily into her bed, that's all.”

“It is all very odd.” Lady Althea smiled. “But no doubt when Miss Gibson has recovered she will be able to tell us exactly what transpired.”

Jenny curtsied and retired to the safety of the dressing room. She rather doubted that the full truth of the matter would ever be revealed, and especially not to Lady Althea. 

The doctor pronounced Emily to be suffering from a mild concussion and confined her to her bed until he visited again. She felt so wretched that she did not argue. She slept most of the day. She was unaware that twice Smith had arrived with messages from his master. At teatime Emily had recovered sufficiently to drink a little barley water, but still felt too nauseous to eat.

“Your sisters have called, twice, but the doctor said that you were to have no visitors today, apart from Lady Althea,” Jenny told her mistress. She did not mention the missives from Viscount Yardley that remained unopened on the side table. In her opinion that gentleman was more culpable then he owned.

At dusk Emily finally felt well enough to sit up. She had an urgent need to find the commode. She rang the small brass bell her maid had placed by her bed and waited, uncomfortably, for assistance.

Her head spun unpleasantly and she was glad to regain her bed. She noticed the unopened letters on the table and asked Jenny to hand them to her. She unfolded one and the strong black writing leapt from the paper.

My dear Emily,

I am devastated to find you so unwell. Last night I had no idea you had sustained a concussion. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. Can you ever forgive me?

Yours affectionately,

Yardley.

Frowning Emily opened the second letter. This should have been read before the other.

Dear Emily,

Please could you come to the rose garden at eleven o'clock, I wish to speak with you in private.

Yours respectfully,

Yardley

Incensed she felt her head throb as the blood pulsed in waves around her body. It mattered not that the horrid brute had mistaken her for a burglar; that was no excuse, for no robber would be wearing a dress or have hair down to their waist.

She twisted the emerald ring around her finger, tempted to tear it off and return it. Then sanity prevailed. No, she would allow the engagement to continue for the present, but the minute she was established in society the engagement ended. For however much her grandfather wished it, she was never going to tie herself of a man so steeped in drink and violence that he could mistake a woman for a burglar.

“Where is it we are going this evening, Mama?”

“The Galveston's are throwing a ball to celebrate their eldest daughter's engagement to Lord Brackley. Although it is not a fashionable time to hold such an event I am sure it will be a sad crush. The Galveston's are famous for their parties. Are you certain you are up to it, my dear?”

Emily nodded and felt no ill effects. “I'm fully recovered, thank you. It's high time I wore one of my grand evening gowns.”

“Viscount Yardley is in residence, Emily, my love. I know you have not been well enough to see him but it would have been advantageous for him to escort us on your first appearance. After all, he is supposed to be your betrothed. Unfortunately he told me he does not have an invitation.”

“I am relieved to hear it, Mama, as I have no desire to spend an evening in his company.”

“The card states nine o'clock, but as it could take an hour for the carriage to deliver us we will leave at eight o'clock.” She glanced at the mantle clock. “I have ordered a light repast to be served to us in our rooms at six. This will leave us ample time to complete our preparations.”

Emily could not imagine how changing one's dress could possibly take so long. “I have not seen the girls today; I believe I heard them returning from their excursion a moment ago. I am going to find out how they enjoyed their visit to the Tower. The lions are always a splendid sight.”

Her supper was waiting for her when she returned to her own room. Although she was no longer suffering from a headache her appetite had not returned. She viewed the cold cuts, bread-and-butter and pickles with disfavour.

Jenny appeared from the bedchamber. “Oh miss, I was becoming anxious. Your bath has been waiting this past half-hour.”

“I am coming immediately. I still have an hour before I need to be downstairs.”

She soon discovered why her mother had suggested allowing two hours for her toilette. Her elaborate hair style took so long she had barely ten minutes to put on her first real evening gown.

Lady Althea had wanted her to have all three made up in pastel shades and white for these were the expected colours for a debutante. Emily had refused. This, as far as she could see, was the only advantage that being betrothed to Viscount Yardley presented. An engaged young lady was allowed more flexibility in her choice of colour.

She had selected emerald green silk for the under skirt and a filmy silver gauze for the over dress. The bodice, cut low as fashion demanded, curved prettily over her bosom. Her mother had lent her necklace of square cut emeralds, set in silver, which complemented her outfit perfectly.

“There, miss, you're ready. I haven't pulled you in too tight, there's no need, you're still so slender.” Jenny stepped back to admire her mistress. “You look a picture, Miss Emily. And no one could possibly mistake you for a boy tonight.”

Emily glanced down and grinned. “I do appear to have blossomed in that area, do I not?” She ran the silk through her fingers. “I feel like a fairytale princess. It's a pity I don't have a Prince Charming to accompany me.”

Jenny handed Emily the ribbon attached to her demi-train, her matching reticule, and fan. “I hope I don't trip myself up, Jenny. I can't imagine how I shall manage to dance with so many bits and pieces to hold.”

“You give your reticule and fan to Lady Althea whilst you dance, miss.”

“I'm delighted to hear it. I wish you were coming too; it seems unfair only one abigail is allowed to accompany us.”

A tap on the door reminded Emily she was late. Jenny opened the door and a footman announced that the carriage was waiting outside. In a swirl of green silk Emily followed him along passageways and downstairs. Halfway down she risked a glance over the banisters. She stopped dead.

“Mama, you look ravisante! I hardly recognized you in that fabulous gown.”

Lady Althea smiled up at her daughter, poised like a green angel, on the stairs. “And so do you, my love. What a spectacular pair we shall be. You will be surrounded by eligible young men, just you wait and see.”

Emily continued her descent and her gurgling laughter echoed round the entrance hall. “I hope not, Mama. I do not wish Sebastian to feel obliged to call anyone out.” Her humorous reply was sufficient reminder of her status.

“I really meant you will not lack for partners, my love. Even an engaged lady is permitted to dance with suitable young gentlemen. But no more than once, but I am sure you already understand that rule.”

“I do indeed. I'm only permitted to stand up more than once with my fiancé.”

A footman handed them into the carriage. Its candle lamps bobbed and dipped in the darkness, the two horses stamped, their breath swirling in clouds around their handsome heads. Edwards checked that Emily's silver-lined evening cloak was safely inside the coach and that Lady Althea's ruby-red creation was resting smoothly on the seat, then they were ready to leave.

“This is the first time I have been out in a city in the dark, Mama. It's a thrilling experience.” Emily peered out of the window, catching glimpses of street vendor's and late shoppers on the overcrowded pavements. As expected it was an hour before the carriage finally pulled up at the steps of Galveston House. Blazing flambeaux illuminated the illustrious company attempting to gain access. The steps were already full of ladies of various ages dressed in their finest, and gentleman in black tailcoats and knee-breeches or pantaloons.

Emily stared at the jostling people on the steps with horror. She hated crowds. “I think I shall go home again, Mama. I have a headache.”

Lady Althea stared hard at her daughter. “You shall do no such thing, Emily. We are here now, and whether you like it or not, in we will go.”

Emily's shoulders drooped and her mother's expression softened. “You do not have to remain long if you are truly unwell, my love. Edwards will be waiting in a withdrawing-room and she can summon the carriage to return whenever you wish.”

A liveried footman, his gold frogging glittering in the torchlight, assisted them from the carriage. Edwards shook out their skirts and they shuffled forward with the rest. Once inside Emily began to enjoy herself. There was so much to see. There were older guests still wearing elaborate wigs and white face paint with black beauty spots. Some gentlemen were still dressed in the earlier fashion of brightly coloured evening coats, bedecked with silver and huge gold buttons.

Girls of similar age to her were, she noticed, uniformly dressed in white or pastel shades. For an instant she wished had paid heed to her mother, but then she held up her head and her beautiful hazel eyes flashed defiantly. She was not an insipid debutante on the lookout for a rich husband; she had a ring already on her finger.