Page 8 of A Marriage is Arranged
Louise entered the drawing room to see a well-preserved, slim older lady sitting bolt upright next to the fire. Her ladyship had been taught in her youth not to slouch, and never did so, even when alone.
Lady Esmé Wandsworth, Dowager Countess of Shrewsbury, was beautifully dressed in a fine wool lavender pelisse over what was evidently a matching gown. Her frivolous lacy cap was partially covered by a tan poke bonnet with lavender ribbons that only the strictest of critics would have described as too young for a woman of her age. Next to her neat tan leather boots she held a glass cane with a silver top, and as she began to stand, it was obvious she needed it. Nevertheless, no one would have guessed her age, which Debrett’s unflinchingly revealed as 70.
If she’d ever thought about the Earl’s grandmother, Louise would have assumed her to be a hook-nosed dowager with a haughty manner like her grandson’s. But this lady was nothing of the sort. She made such a pretty picture Louise was entranced. She smiled and came forward with her hand held out. “My lady!” she said, as the older woman began to rise, “Please remain seated! How kind of you to come!”
The Earl’s grandmother thus first beheld her future grand-daughter-in-law coming towards her, her eyes alight and a smile of welcome on her face. She was certainly plain, and Gareth had been right about her thinness and lack of inches, her dowdy gown and unfashionable coiffure, but there was something in her expression the Dowager liked. She clasped her hand warmly.
“I wanted to be the first to welcome you into the family, my dear,” said her ladyship. “Gareth has told me all about you.”
Hearing her intended’s name used so casually took Louise off guard. She had never yet thought of him as anything but his lordship . But her ready humor came to the surface. “It can’t have been very much, Ma’am,” she said, “we haven’t spoken a great deal.”
“From what I understand he didn’t stay long enough for that! So like a man!” Lady Esmé smiled.
“No. He didn’t want to keep his horses waiting in the cold. I quite understood.”
“Then you are more generous than I, my dear, I couldn’t understand it at all. But no matter. Men are strange creatures, as we know.”
At that moment Mrs. Grey came into the room. She had not changed her gown, but she had carefully placed a fine Norwich shawl around her shoulders. The pink silk enhanced the dark hair and vivid complexion which had been her chief claims to beauty in her youth. Now, it must be said, they owed not a little to Wilkins’ expert hand. Nonetheless, she presented a much prettier picture than her daughter.
The Earl’s grandmother instantly understood. If Mrs. Grey’s daughter had been good-looking, she would have been brought up to know it. This had not been the case, and Louise had no doubt grown up in the knowledge she had no claim to beauty. As a result, she made no effort. But from what the Countess could see of it, beneath that ill-fitting gown she was not altogether shapeless, and she definitely had something .
She came to a decision. “I was just about to tell Louise, if I may call you that,” she said, smiling in her direction, “it is the tradition in the family that the grandmother pay for the wedding dress of her grandson’s future wife. Oh dear, that is rather convoluted, but I hope I make myself clear!”
Having invented an altogether fictitious tradition, she lost no time in embellishing it. “My husband’s grandmother paid for mine. Oh, I thought myself completely up to snuff! But when I look back on it now, with those wide skirts and reams of lace, I think I must have looked like nothing so much as a galleon in full sail! I’m sure you understand, my dear Mrs. Grey! You are younger than I, to be sure, but the fashions were not so very different when you were wed. That Bonaparte is a scoundrel, but one thing that must be said in his favor is that he rid us of those ells of taffeta and the awful cages under our skirts! I’m sure you agree!”
Immediately dismissing the idea of a wedding gown furbished up from her old one, Mrs. Grey nodded her head enthusiastically.
“I propose that Louise come to London next week and stay for a few days. I shall take her to my modiste. Véronique is a positive genius. One may safely leave it to her to fashion a suitable wedding gown. You need not bestir yourself, Mrs. Grey,” she added quickly, as she saw her hostess beginning to intervene, “I shall send my own carriage for Louise. She will be quite safe with my groom and her maid.”
Louise watched in awe as the Countess dismissed her mother with a charm and ease it was wonderful to behold, then turned the conversation to generalities, the matter settled. She drank a cup of tea, complimented Mrs. Grey on the lightness of the sugar wafer she was offered, ate barely a quarter of it, and took her leave.