Page 33 of A Marriage is Arranged

Louise’s mother arrived shortly after lunch and Louise spent the rest of the afternoon showing her around before finally persuading her to take a rest in the room prepared for her.

“My goodness, Louise,” she said. “I never knew you to be such an attentive hostess.”

Her mother looked in appreciation at her bedchamber. The furniture was glowing, the bedlinen crisp with recent ironing, the filmy curtains that draped the open window moving gently in the afternoon breeze.

“I cannot pretend to have done a tenth of it,” responded her daughter. “Mrs. Smith is a marvel. She pretends to be asking me what to do but is actually telling me what needs to be done. I’m so lucky to have her. And, of course, the Dowager is the actual hostess. It is she who sent out all the invitations, ordered the flowers, interviewed the musicians — everything. She must have been a wonderful hostess in her day.”

But Mrs. Grey’s eye had fallen on something else.

“New candles here as well!” she said admiringly. “I noticed them throughout the house. I’d hate to have to pay the bill!”

“It was the Dowager who ordained we should have all fresh candles too,” said Louise. “I must say, I wouldn’t have thought of it, but I can see an important occasion like this is not a moment to be a nipcheese.”

If that was a hint, it fell on deaf ears .

“I wish you would tell Mrs. Smith to give me some of the partially burned ones when I go,” said her mother. “New candles are always such an expense!”

“Oh, mother! Surely that isn’t necessary.”

But Mrs. Grey, thinking of the cost of her new ballgown, thought it was, and determined to speak to the housekeeper herself if her daughter would not.

Leaving her, Louise went to lie down herself. She was feeling quite worn out and wanted to recruit her strength. It would be a long evening, and perhaps even another long night. She was hopeful she could persuade her husband to forget the contract for once. He had said they would talk later. She lay in dreamy contemplation of that pleasurable possibility until she fell asleep.

The Ball was to begin at nine. The Earl dined at his club, Louise having said Mrs. Bootle was too busy to make dinner for them on top of everything else. When he returned the excitement in the house was palpable, though the scurrying housemaids and footmen were no longer visible. In fact, they were having their supper in the kitchen, talking as excitedly about the Ball as if they were going themselves.

The footmen would be on the upper floors, of course, serving the wine, clearing and replacing empty glasses, and then bringing up the supper dishes. They would also make sure the candles were not guttering or dropping wax, though this was a very unlikely eventuality, since the Dowager had ordered nothing but the very best beeswax. They would all be wearing their finest livery: buttons shining, shoes polished, not a hair out of place. But the only way the maids would see anything was to creep upstairs to see the ladies in their gowns and glittering jewels, and watch the glorious sight of all the dancers. Rose was in a fever of excitement. She had never been anywhere near a fashionable Ball before. Helping to dress her mistress for such a splendid event was the high point of her existence.

After a cold collation to satisfy them until supper at about eleven that night, Louise and her mother both retired to prepare themselves. With the help of several housemaids, Rose and Wilkins — Mrs. Grey’s dresser who had of course come with her — carried up ewers of hot water to their mistresses and the lengthy process began.

At least, for Mrs. Grey it was lengthy. She had been lovely in her youth and was still a very pretty lady, but it must be said that her looks were now enhanced by Wilkins’ subtle application of powders and colors. Her dark hair, too, was now naturally not quite the color it appeared, and its fullness had to be carefully maintained by the expedient of inserting beneath the elaborate top curls a cushion of hair carefully gathered every day from her hairbrush. Her figure had grown more opulent over the years and was now restrained by a corset laced over her chemise.

It was therefore some time before she could step into her gown and the full effect of the efforts appreciated. But the gown, in the yellow silk that so became her but which she failed to see was quite the wrong color for her daughter, fell elegantly to her slippers from beneath her generous bosom. Only the strictest critic might have said the puff sleeves were perhaps too young for her, but no fault could be found with the matching long gloves and filmy shawl placed delicately over her shoulders by the attentive Wilkins. She wore a fine diamond parure consisting of a necklace, earrings and a very pretty clasp that held a yellow plume to the side of her curls. Her reflection told her that handsome though the tonnish London ladies might be, she would hold her own with the best of them.

Louise’s preparations were of a different nature altogether. Never wearing either powder or paint and needing no corset, she was quickly ready and sitting in her petticoat at her dressing table. After a knock, the Dowager and Booth came into her room. Rose was brushing out her disheveled braid.

“The house looks splendid, my dear,” said Lady Esmé after a greeting. “Mrs. Smith told me about the trouble you had with the lilies. How stupid of Wolframs to send ones with stamens like that! I shall certainly complain. But your solution was ingenious! And the garden! It will be a fairy land when the lanterns are lit. I just hope they won’t all go up in flames and set fire to us all!”

Louise laughed. “The same thought occurred to me. I’ve set one of the footmen on to supervising them constantly, so I hope not!”

“Perhaps the flames of passion aroused by a summer night under fairy-lit trees we talked about before will be equally restrained by the presence of a hovering footman, though the way young girls carry on these days, I doubt it!”

Like women throughout the ages, the Dowager felt that compared to when she was a girl, the license afforded to young people was scandalous in the extreme. But the remark didn’t seem unreasonable to Louise. Goodness knows how she would have reacted if she had felt the flames of passion she experienced with her husband in a candle-lit summer garden or anywhere else. She doubted whether she would have been restrained by a hovering footman. She smiled to herself.

“Booth is here to do your hair, if you are ready,” said the Dowager. She looked critically at Rose who, feeling herself inadequate in the presence of her ladyship and her haughty dresser was being more than usually clumsy with Louise’s hair. She quickly stepped aside and Booth took over. In no time the coiffure was complete and the tiara in place. Louise stepped into her gown and was soon ready. The longest part of the process was doing up all the pearl buttons down the back.

The Dowager handed Louise her fan, which she slipped over her wrist, and a tiny reticule that contained nothing more than a slip of a handkerchief, a paper of pins, and a small pencil. “Gentlemen often find they have nothing with which to write on one’s dance card, my dear,” she explained. “So irritating if it is someone with whom you wish to dance, though of course very convenient if it’s someone you wish to avoid. It’s best to be prepared. The same goes for the pins. You’ve no idea how easy it is for one’s train to be ripped. A clumsy oaf stumbles on it, or it gets caught in a chair leg. Why, I’ve even known a jealous rival to deliberately step on the train of a competitor! The pins are for emergencies, but it’s best to keep the train looped on your wrist as much as possible after you’ve made your entrance. It’s bound to be a dreadful squeeze. Not a single invitation was refused.”

Before Louise could comment, there was another knock at the door and the Earl came in.