บท 8: Chapter 8
The mail slot rattled, and the dull thud announced the post hitting the floor.
"I'll get it!" I yelled from the front parlour, where I was straightening everything before she descended, giving all the surfaces a final flick over with the feather duster. I plumped up a cushion and glared at a pink chintz pillow, daring it to list to one side. With the morning sun flooding the room it really was a lovely place to sit, except for all the staring, judgemental eyes of the ornamental cats. I hid one mean looking Siamese behind a large vase and stepped out to the hall.
I scooped up the mail and flicked through the letters, bills mostly by the looks, and a letter for Charlotte from Hubert. He seemed to correspond with her on a regular basis, and I wondered how she managed to meet a man when she rarely left the house. Then I came across the heavy card addressed to Lady Elizabeth Jeffrey in a bold hand. The back bore the ducal seal of the Duke of Leithfield.
"Oh, crumbs," I whispered, and hurried up the main stairs to her bedroom.
Elizabeth sat at her mirror while Alice twisted her hair up on her head. The soft morning sun lit on her face, and for a moment I realised she really was quite stunning in a bold fashion. I could see why she captivated father. Because of her blue-black hair, pale skin, and red lips, he called her his Snow White. Shame that once he left she transformed into the evil queen. Remembering myself, I dropped a curtsey and met her gaze in the mirror, waiting to be acknowledged and given permission to speak.
"What is it, Eleanor?"
"A letter came, ma'am, from the duke." I stepped forward and held out the missive.
She snatched it from my hand and picked up an ivory paper knife lying on her dresser. With a flick of her wrist, she slit it open and pulled out a sheet of thick cream card.
Alice and I exchanged looks over Elizabeth's bent head. Alice feigned buttoning her lip, and a smidge of relief washed through me. Step-mother would skin me alive if she knew I spent my afternoon off last week lounging in the sun with the duke.
"Well, well, well." She placed the card back in the envelope, turning it over and over in her hands. "The duke is having an intimate soiree for a few handpicked local aristocrats. Naturally, we top his list. Go wake the girls; we have preparations to make before tomorrow. And naturally, I must accept his invitation, although not right now. It wouldn't do to appear too keen. Let him stew, waiting for our response."
That made Alice roll her eyes. I wasn't sure if it was the impossible task of waking Louise before noon, or the idea that Seth would pace his study with bated breath, waiting to hear if they would attend his dinner or not.
"Yes ma'am." I dropped another curtsey, and we crossed the hall to the bedrooms that occupied the back half of the second floor. Alice had the easier task of it as Charlotte was sitting up, reading in bed.
"A dinner party!" Charlotte squealed on hearing the news. "Do you know how long it has been since anyone threw a party?"
In the adjoining room, I flung open the curtains and started the arduous task of waking the slumbering princess, though it could be a troll given the volume of the snoring. The streaming sunlight did nothing except make her flinch and roll over. Bother. I shook her shoulder and called her name.
Louise grumbled and promised dire punishments for being woken so unspeakably early. Definitely a troll and no princess. Then Elizabeth breezed in and whispered soiree with the duke in her ear. I had never seen anyone move so expeditiously. You would have thought he was waiting in the front parlour on bended knee clutching a ring box, the way she leapt from bed.
"What on earth are we going to wear?" she cried, staring at the open wardrobe. "Everything is so last season, and we have no time for a shopping trip to London."
Nor any money. But I kept that to myself. With father incapacitated, I did what I could to keep the estate running. If it had just been the two of us and the staff, we would have managed fine, but throw in three fashion plates and expenses blew out. What they spent on parasols and gloves alone was equal to the feed bill for the horses for a year. At least fashions were becoming shorter; less fabric might make their dresses cheaper.
"We could alter something?" I suggested. "We have quite a few issues of the Delineator."
"I quite like the Delineator," Charlotte said, holding up a pale green dress that complimented her rich chocolate hair.
Louise scoffed. "That old magazine, full of patterns but no class. Where is the latest issue of Vogue?" She cast around for her fashion magazine.
Alice shuffled books and magazines stacked on the bedside table and found the glossy, expensive one. The one whose annual subscription would make quite a dent in the grocer's bill.
Louise began flicking through the pages.
Charlotte held up her Delineator. "Some daring ladies are donning harem pants. Do you think we could make some? I would love to be that brave."
Alice looked over her shoulder. "If we could find some chiffon in the village, we could make a pair to match an existing top?"
Elizabeth scoffed. "No one will care what you are wearing, Charlotte. The duke will only have eyes for Louise, and her outfit must outshine everyone."
The smile disappeared from her cherubic face in an instant, and the magazine dropped from her hands. I could understand Step-mother being cruel to me, but how could she turn on her own child? I stared into Charlotte's wardrobe and pulled out a dark green tunic.
"This would be fabulous with harem pants. It would have an Egyptian air, like Cleopatra," I said.
The smile returned, somewhat dimmer, but a thank you lurked deep in her eyes.
"We have only today and tomorrow to pull something together, Louise," Elizabeth said, ignoring our attempts to outfit Charlotte. "We shall have to plead the deprivations of war and shorten an existing gown to the new length, and perhaps change the neckline?"
The royal we in use, since Alice and I would be the ones wielding the needles and scissors, trying to refresh an older gown. Elizabeth regarded the overflowing contents of Louise's wardrobe and handed a few dresses to Alice for further consideration.
Louise tossed the magazine to the floor. "If I lose his interest because you won't buy a new frock, it will all be your fault."
"Oh really, Louise," her mother snapped. "How many other eligible young woman do you think there are stuck out here in the country? It's the reason I brought us here. His choice will be you, Charlotte, or a fine looking sheep."
There was one other advantage to the dinner invitation. Alice and I could partake in a rare trip to the village to hunt for suitable fabric for the proposed alterations. Since Elizabeth had deflated poor Charlotte, we were determined to whip up harem pants in time and blow Louise's frock.
Stewart dropped us off in the village on his way to pick up Giselle, a French refugee from the war who, it turned out, was a genius with a pair of scissors. Since settling in the village four years ago, Giselle was in demand by everyone who could afford a fancy French hairstyle. Alice and I stifled our giggles. The event at Serenity House and Giselle's haunted look implied every woman, young and old, would have the identical haircut from the front cover of the latest edition of Vogue.
We strolled to the haberdashery store, which also stocked a selection of fabrics. The bell jingled over the door as we entered an Aladdin's Cave of treasures. Not what you would expect in a small rural village, but Mrs. Grigg, the owner, had a magpie eye for anything sparkly and the shop delighted your senses. Ornate hat pins, gorgeous painted buttons, bead-encrusted shoe buckles, and even feather boas were crammed into every available space. Objects glinted from the shadows, and those in the window reflected the sunlight and nearly blinded us.
First things first. The back wall held bolts of fabrics, and we started by looking for something light to turn into scandalous oriental pants. Hidden amongst the rough cottons and fury velvets, I spied a roll of deep green organza.
"Look," I said to Alice, as I pulled the bolt free.
She ran her hand underneath the sheer fabric. "Oh, perfect."
We placed it on the counter for Mrs. Grigg to cut off the required length, while we moved to the wall of lace. It looked like an enormous and insane spider had spun a complicated web of breath-taking beauty. Lace collars, shawls, cuffs and patches were pinned up, overlapping and outcompeting each other for space. Most were white, cream, or black, but here or there was the occasional item made in spun metallic thread.
Louise wanted a shimmering element to the neckline of her gown. Alice and I had no idea what would give the desired effect, and we explored the delicate items looking for something that would serve the purpose.
"I can't see anything that will pass her ladyship's standards," I muttered to Alice. "Couldn't we just use a flour sack and stick it over her head instead?"
She snorted and elbowed me, but I didn't hear her say no.
Her hand shot out. "Found something." Her fingers followed a glimmering gold thread, and by moving a wide collar, underneath we revealed a slim, one-inch wide gold-worked strip. "She wants a deep vee to the neck, and this would be perfect." She unpinned the ribbon and took it to the counter, where it lay like spun gold in her hand.
Mrs. Grigg smiled and rang up the purchases. "Off to his lordship's dinner are they?"
"Yes, and making extra work for us over it," Alice said, taking the brown paper-wrapped parcel.
"Looking forward to the f腎e this Sunday, girls? I'll be entering my strawberry jam, and of course we all get to see the new duke. I do hope he's dashing." The older woman sighed and held a hand to her chest.
What was it about a title and obscene wealth that drove everyone potty?
"I heard he resembles Richard the Third."
"Oh?" Mrs. Grigg frowned, not following my meaning.
I leaned forward and pitched my voice conspiratorial low. "Malformed, with a hump."
"Oh." Her face fell and the hand dropped away.
"Thanks for your help, Mrs. Grigg." I took the bill off the counter. The amount would be added to our monthly account, but I was the one who would lose sleep over whether the sheep fleece would make enough to pay off the invoice when it fell due.
Alice elbowed me as soon as we left the shop. "What did you tell her that for? You know as well as I do that he's quite dreamy. Not as handsome as my Frank, but he measures up all right."
"I'm trying to lay a false trail. Poor chap, they'll be thrashing around in the undergrowth soon trying to scare him out into the open." The words blew through my hollow chest like a premonition of winter on the wind. I couldn't forget the way he looked at me at the manse, as though I were some cold demon gleefully dispatching locals. I had lost his regard before I ever really had it.
We walked home. At least one benefit came from the Great War; skirt hems were raised to just above ankle length and it made the journey much easier. There was far less fabric to pull on my every step.
"So," I said once we cleared the last of the thatched-roofed houses. "How exactly did you meet dreamy Frank?"
A wonderful smile lit Alice's face at the mention of his name. Poor thing was bitten bad by the love bug. I could see why, as he was handsome enough. Lord knows what effect Frank and Seth would have on every available woman in Somerset. The two of them together were quite overpowering. And now that I thought about it, there was something similar about the build and bearing.
"It was just over two months ago," Alice interrupted my thoughts of Seth and consideration of his physical attributes. "I met him in the village. He had driven over from London to tell them at the big house that his lordship would be returning soon."
"And you just fell into conversation with the handsome young stranger?" Alice had a ready smile and a few kind words for most people. Stranger or local, she would stop to chat.
She paused as though searching for the right words, stealing a glance sideways at me. "Actually, I tripped over him. He was lounging against the motor with those long legs of his in the way. Once he helped me up, he felt obliged to offer me a ride home."
I nearly believed her, except for the cunning smile and mischief shining in her eyes.
"Tripped, huh?" I hope I conveyed enough scepticism.
She swallowed a laugh. "Well, possibly I was distracted staring at him, and didn't see his feet until too late."
I burst out laughing. That sounded more likely. "I can understand the distraction. First time I laid eyes on Seth my brain stopped working."
"You like him, then?" There was that mischievous streak, plain and clear, and intent on getting me in more trouble.
What to say? Seth made the butterflies in my stomach riot and my skin flare at his touch. He was also a duke, and I had spent the morning cleaning the latrine. Not to mention the scars my soul carried for my part in this unholy war. Would I burst into flame when the day of reckoning came? "I like his company, but don't go getting ideas, Alice. Louise has already called dibs on him."
A small part of me thought my friend was shepherding me along the path to heartbreak. One of us needed to keep a firm grasp on reality and see events for what they were?a brief summer interlude.
Alice made a noise in her throat that I couldn't quite interpret. "We better get a move on. We have lots to do this afternoon and tomorrow."
ของขวัญ
-- ได้รับของขวัญแล้ว สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง