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“You’ve started without me?” Mrs. Tucket ambled into the room, and Fiona wondered if she really wouldn’t benefit from a walking stick. She’d broach the subject later and hope the suggestion would not be greeted with disdain.
“Not at all,” Overton said brightly. “We were just making our introductions. And here is Miss Lancaster too.” He looked to Lady Pickering. “This is Mrs. Tucket, Miss Wingate’s, er, chaperone from Bitterley, and this is Miss Prudence Lancaster, her new chaperone for London.”
“How lovely to meet you both,” Lady Pickering said. “Shall we become acquainted?” She lowered herself to the settee, and the skirt of her blue and gray gown draped perfectly about her lower legs and feet without any effort whatsoever. Patting the place beside her, she looked up at Fiona. “Come and sit with me, Miss Wingate.”
Fiona attempted to sit as elegantly as Lady Pickering had but still had to adjust her skirts.
“Keep your legs pressed tight, dear, from waist to foot. Angle your knees a bit.” She surveyed Fiona’s movements and smiled softly. “There you are.”
“She knows how to sit,” Mrs. Tucket said with a touch of defensiveness.
Lady Pickering’s expression remained benign. “Yes, of course. Do you like to play cards, Mrs. Tucket? There is a wonderful game every Sunday afternoon. I’ll ensure you’re invited.”
Mrs. Tucket’s lids fluttered in surprise as she sat in a chair near Fiona’s end of the settee. “Thank you. I do like cards. I played every Saturday at the vicarage.” While Fiona scoured the vicar’s library. By the time she’d left Shropshire, she’d read everything in it—well, everything that interested her—at least twice. Sadly, the library had possessed only one map encompassing western England and Wales.
“Wonderful.” Lady Pickering turned her attention to Fiona. “Lord Overton told you about your presentation to Her Majesty, the Queen? The drawing room is next Thursday.”
That was in just a week. Fiona’s stomach took flight. “Yes. He said I am to have a court dress made.” She glanced toward him, seated near Lady Pickering’s end of the settee.
“Indeed. We will visit the modiste shortly.”
“Today?” As keen as she was to visit Bond Street or any shopping area, she was surprised at the speed with which everything was happening.
“A court dress is quite extravagant, Miss Wingate. Yards and yards of fabric, and there will be much embroidery. We will also need to select jewelry, but most of it I will loan to you for the occasion since you won’t need to wear anywhere near that much again.” She paused to smile. “And there will be feathers, of course.”
“Feathers? Where do those go on the gown?” Fiona tried to imagine and came up with a rather ghastly costume.
“In your hair,” Lady Pickering clarified with a smile. “The taller, the better. I know the perfect place to commission your headpiece.”
Goodness, this sounded terribly expensive. Again, Fiona looked toward the earl. Prudence sat in another chair between him and Mrs. Tucket. Like Lady Pickering, she sat very prettily, her hands clasped demurely in her lap. Fiona copied her.
As she checked her hand position, Fiona noticed a loose thread at the hem of her sleeve. She tugged it gently in the hope that it was simply loose. More thread came out of the sleeve, but it seemed to still be attached to the dress. Glancing up, she saw that Prudence was watching her. Blushing, Fiona squashed the thread between her fingers and stuffed it inside her sleeve.
“What of the rest of her wardrobe?” Mrs. Tucket asked, pursing her lips. “Or is she to wear this court gown to balls too?”
Lady Pickering smiled patiently. “Goodness, no. Wearing a court gown anywhere other than the queen’s drawing room would be highly inappropriate. Miss Wingate will need many gowns. For calling, for promenading, and, of course, for evening events such as balls and the theatre.” She blinked at Fiona. “Do you ride?”
Fiona’s mind was still riveted on Lady Pickering’s response, as well as the fact that Mrs. Tucket could not have acted as a chaperone, or anything else, for the Season. Reining in her thoughts, she responded to Lady Pickering’s question. “Well enough, yes.”
“Then you shall need riding habits.”
Habits plural? Again, Fiona looked toward her guardian. He must be very wealthy indeed. She didn’t even ownoneriding habit. She only rode occasionally when her uncle had permitted her to use a horse from his stable.
“As well as accessories, shoes, and undergarments,” Lady Pickering went on.
Fiona suddenly realized her guardian would be funding her undergarments, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Perhaps she could persuade Lady Pickering that she didn’t require new chemises or corsets. Except new outerwear would demand undergarments that complemented the fit of the clothing. Fiona knew at least that much. Her mind swam.
“What will our first event be?” Overton asked pleasantly.
Lady Pickering’s brow gently creased in a pensive expression. “It is still early in the Season, so it is likely too cold to promenade in the park for another fortnight. And of course, no Vauxhall or other outdoor entertainments. The larger balls will not be scheduled for several weeks.”
Overton looked disappointed. “That long?”
Cocking her head, Lady Pickering regarded him with curiosity. “Has so much time elapsed since you participated in the Season? I had thought it was just last year that you were…occupied.”
Having sufficiently cleared her thoughts, at least for the moment, Fiona looked toward the earl. Occupied how?
“I’m afraid I’m the worst sort of gentleman who doesn’t pay close enough attention to such things.”