Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice (11 page)

“But your eyes are blue,” Lady Augusta announced. “I am persuaded you shall look a veritable seraph in the blue satin.”

“No. I thank you, Lady Augusta, but my mind is set on the green.”

Elizabeth felt her heart sink as she could hardly choose green now. It was her best color and one she wore as often as possible. She owned an emerald green sari that she donned for masquerade balls and very formal Indian occasions, however, it was broken up with bands of other colors. In India, such a length of uninterrupted green was only available in ribbons and as tiny sprigs on the muslins she wore all year round.

“Then, Elizabeth, you shall have the blue, won’t you?” her mother suggested. It is such a lovely
color and I am persuaded it shall make
such
a gown!”

Elizabeth was about to concede when her eye was caught by a red silk that seemed to glow with an ambient light of its own. “What about this one?” She crossed the room to pull a length of the red silk from the bolt and held it up to the light from the window. “It is so lovely and deep.”

Lady Augusta, who looked a bit discomfited, turned a baleful eye on her sister-in-law who, in turn, looked her disapproval. “I don’t know . . It’s a bit daring, don’t you think?”

“How can you say so, Mama? I am a nearly married lady, not a debutante. I am persuaded this shall be just the thing for formal dinners in Scotland and red is the primary color in Duncan’s family tartan. If I were to wear a gown in this red with a tartan scarf, it ought to be all that is proper.”

“I do agree,” Lady Augusta conceded. “Though, we shall have to look elsewhere for the tartan. Prinny brought it into fashion in eighty-nine, but that was long ago when your mother and I were young brides.”

“I shouldn’t wish to be a burden,” Elizabeth began, reluctantly.

“It is no trouble, we shall have to be clever, that is all! Now that you have made an account of it, I am persuaded it shall be all that is proper and will look excessively well on you, my dear,” her aunt continued.

Elizabeth admitted to feeling very well pleased. The tartan in question bore bands of green, as well as blue, and it would be not at all amiss to complement the gown with the parure of emeralds given her by her father as a wedding present. “Then it is settled. All that is left is to consider the style of gown. What shall you have, Katherine?”

But Katherine seemed sulky and out of sorts and did not answer.

“That is all right, Elizabeth, we shall leave your mother to assist Katherine with her gown. I am persuaded she will be absolutely lovely in whatever she chooses. Why don’t you come with me and we will speak with the dressmaker as to the sort of gown you wish.”

“Of course, Aunt,” Elizabeth replied dutifully even as she fretted over Katherine’s demeanor. It
almost seemed as if she was envious, but Elizabeth felt they had been the best of friends far too long for such unpleasantness. She made a mental note to have a good, long cose with her bosom friend the moment they had some time to themselves.

“Now, Elizabeth,” Aunt Augusta said as she put her arm around her niece and drew her towards the back of the shop. “Bear in mind that I had not the pleasure of watching you grow up, however, I must say, you have made excellent strides since you were in London last. I am most pleased with your deportment, manners and willingness to let your natural beauty shine. I propose that we make this new gown as fetching as may be and that we order up a few other pieces, as well. I understand that gauzy muslins that leave little to the imagination are
di rigueur
but they won’t be best appreciated in the wilds of Scotland. You must have sturdy morning gowns, stout walking gowns and shoes and riding habits. You will find that you cannot have enough wraps of every kind; shawls, capes, cloaks, mantles, and of course, at least one spencer, pelisse and redingote each.”

“Goodness, Aunt, you make my head spin! Shall it truly be as cold as all that in Scotland?”

“Oh, no my dear, colder! My list is what one would need to survive the English countryside of a winter.”

“Then, I suppose we had best get started. I should not like to shiver my way through winter.”

“Exactly. And since this is not the same establishment at which we have ordered up your wedding gown, the seamstress shall require you to be properly measured out. When she is done with your measurements, I shall expect you to have considered and we will make a list of all that you will need, not just to survive the winter, but as a young bride. You will need warm underclothes, as well,” Aunt Augusta said with a sad little shake of the head.

“I . .I suppose I had not considered the need for so many new clothes. It is fortunate that Papa was very open-handed with funds and I shall be able to bear the expense.”

“Precisely, so you must not stint on a single thing. Remember, you must have gloves for every occasion and bonnets, too,” Aunt Augusta pointed out as she disappeared from the little room they had
entered so as to leave Elizabeth alone with the seamstress.

Elizabeth gave the seamstress only enough of her attention to do as she was bid. She turned the rest of her mind over to the tallying up of a new wardrobe and concluded that the purchase of several new trunks would be required to cart her clothing out to Scotland. She supposed ball gowns would be of little use in Sutherland, but she intended to have a new one made up as well; it would be well worn by the time she quit London.

After what seemed like hours, an order for a grand, new, wardrobe for Elizabeth and several new gowns for Katherine had been successfully concluded, leaving the ladies free to dwell on the state of their stomachs.

“I believe I have never been more famished,” Elizabeth’s Mama declared with an enormous sigh. “And, to think, I had little more to do than sit in a chair and admire everything upon which my eyes fell!”

Secretly, Elizabeth thought that her Mama’s task of contenting Katherine in her present mood whilst placating the shop girl, whose patience had worn thinner than muslin in more than one instance, took the prize for most arduous of the day. “Well, then, Mama, you shall choose where we should go to take refreshment.”

“Gunter’s! I should love it above all things! I have patronized his shop, of course, but it was so long ago. Elizabeth, do you know, they offer ices in the most exotic flavors; burnt filbert, bergamot, and parmesan of all things!”

“Yes, Mama, I too, have been to Gunter’s once or twice with Aunt Augusta when I was last in London. I think it sounds a splendid idea. What say you, Katherine?”

“Whatever you say should suffice for us all, I daresay,” Katherine replied with a saucy air. “However, if I had just now ordered up such a quantity of gowns, I should take care not to add to my figure or you shall not be able to get into them once they arrive.”

Elizabeth subdued a gasp of dismay. “I am persuaded you are too kind, Katherine,” she said
meekly. “I am not entirely certain what I have done to deserve such a good friend as you have been to me for so long and daresay you are perfectly correct. I shall only have a taste of Mama’s ice, depending on whether or not she chooses to eschew the parmesan.”

Katherine’s only response was to take Mrs. Armistead by the arm and walk forward so briskly that Elizabeth and Aunt Augusta were quite left behind.

“I should mind that girl if I were you,” she advised. “It is clear that she does not have your best interests at heart.”

“I should be surprised if that were true, Aunt. She is not herself today for some reason. I expect I shall have it out of her when next we speak.”

“Mark my words, Elizabeth, that girl is inclined to stir the pot.”

Elizabeth knew not what to say that would not put her aunt in the wrong. As such, she found it best to remain silent for the remainder of their journey to Gunter’s. Once they had arrived, however, Elizabeth did her utmost to include Katherine in every remark.

“I am so well looking forward to our dinner with the Lloyd-Joneses, are you not, Katherine?”

“But of course,” she said, lifting her spoon in so pretentious a fashion that Elizabeth knew not where to look. She had never known her friend to put on airs and could not fathom why she should now so do.

“And you, Aunt? Do you not anticipate that Katherine shall experience an evening of surpassing divertissement?” Elizabeth knew she overstated the case, but she was bent on teasing a more congenial mood from Katherine.

“I am of the mind that we shall all enjoy ourselves immensely,” Aunt Augusta replied. “Mr. Lloyd-Jones was good enough to send his man to inquire of me what his menu for the evening should entail, based on the delicacies that are not easily obtained so far across the sea. I am persuaded you all, Katherine included, shall be delighted with the treats he has in store for you.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth’s mama declared, “I can hardly stand the wait! I have so longed for a taste of
good English cooking.”

“You have experienced the best of English cooking whilst staying in my home this past se’nnight.” Augusta turned her nose up in the air.

“Yes, of course. I hadn’t thought . .” Mrs. Armistead said into her plate.

“What Mama means to say, Aunt, is that she looks forward to an entire evening dedicated to the sort of food we don’t often eat or simply cannot find in India. Do you not think that is just what she meant, Katherine?”

Katherine favored Elizabeth with a mulish look and said nothing.

“Very well, then, Katherine, if the very idea of dinner with the Lloyd-Joneses is to cause you such misery, I very much look forward to it having been eaten and done with.”

All the ladies ignored this piece of impertinence and it was Elizabeth who was miserable as she watched her companions eat their delicious ices. Indeed, she felt so out of sorts that she thought perhaps she was sickening with something. By the time tea had been taken and the journey home commenced, she was persuaded that she was entirely unwell. It was with a great deal of relief that she took to her bed where she stayed for the remainder of the days left until dinner at Lloyd-Jones House.

Chapter Seven

By the morning of the dinner party, Colin felt that he must escape the house or run mad. Carpenters, plasterers, painters and seamstresses scurried hither and yon as they rushed to do the master’s bidding in time for the much anticipated dinner. In all the chaos, he had all but forgotten his promise to escort Analisa to her round of soirees and balls. He presumed that she was still inclined to speak to him when she arrived for the dinner she had so insisted upon, the dawning of which marked four days since he had last seen a living soul, save those in his employ. He hoped he still recalled how to make polite conversation for his guests, though he knew he had weightier concerns with which to flay himself.

The newly decorated dining room was one such concern; green and blue draperies against walls papered in gold and mustard was a hazardous combination, but one he felt he must risk in light of the new painting. His purchase of it was the only choice of which he was absolutely certain and he had enjoyed repeating the blues, greens and reds, as well as the yellows and gold from the picture in the fresh decor of the room where it hung. Though Miss Armistead had admired it every bit as much as he, he felt no qualms in purchasing it; she had been given the opportunity.

He thought it looked very well between the pair of long, paned windows that looked out onto green grass and blue skies that mirrored those on the canvas while the mahogany wainscoting complemented the skin tones of the natives pictured. The rest of the decor would have to take care of itself for he found he minded very little if it were far from perfect; it was now the room he loved best.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I must get by.”

Colin turned to find a worker as he strong-armed a floor candelabrum through the doorway and quickly stepped out of the way. As the man placed the enormous piece, one of a pair of Nubian slaves holding aloft a brace of candles, on its feet, Colin admired the rich Venetian paint colors that adorned the wood and gesso piece. He found that he greatly anticipated the moment when its twin was in place
and the candles lit so as to fully illuminate the painting he had grown to love so much already.

When all was in readiness, the candles were lit, as well as the fire in the grate. Colin drew back the draperies to allow in as much sunlight as possible, looked round the room and was greatly pleased. For the remainder of the day, he shadowed his cook to ensure she followed his instructions to the letter, hounded the butler as to the seating arrangements and forced himself to refrain from haunting the dining room. When evening finally arrived, he lingered over his toilette and, for the first time in recent memory, discarded one imperfectly tied neck cloth after another.

By the time he was ensconced in the salon adjacent to the dining room to await his guests, he felt his nerves were standing on end. However, once he caught sight of green silk skirts emerging through the doorway, he sensed that all was right with the world. Those skirts were the precise shade as the upholstery on his new dining room chairs, the very same color of Miss Armistead’s eyes, and he knew, deep in his bones, it was the hue she would wear to his dinner party. When he looked up to behold the somewhat wan face of the girl in the green gown, he knew a bit of a jolt. It wasn’t only that the face belonged to Miss Hale; it was clear to see that green was not her color. It seemed almost as if the gown were wearing her rather than the other way around.

And then Miss Armistead came through the doorway, utterly resplendent in her deep, red round gown, her eyes like pools of emerald fire, her black hair done up in dozens of glossy ringlets that framed her creamy face, and his world was turned entirely upside down. He knew in that moment that he was doomed to pine after another man’s wife for the remainder of his life. “I . . Miss Armistead, you look enchanting!” he exclaimed as if she were the sole occupant of the room besides himself. He remembered himself quickly, however. “As do you Miss Hale, Lady Augusta, Mrs. Armistead. We are to abide here for a time before dinner is served, but I own that I am most eager to proceed to the dining room.”