Page 3 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)
Chapter Three
L ondon- early March 1817
Grace watched as the countryside faded and the closely arranged buildings of London emerged. The carriage bumped, and her nose bounced into the window, making a streak in the fog from her breath.
“Grace, I have no notion how you can see anything out that window. Why do you not sit back and enjoy the whole of the view?” Philip asked from across the carriage.
Elle smiled and reached over, patting Grace’s knee. “I understand how you feel. I still remember my first Season.” She sighed, but then her brow furrowed. It was a look that often accompanied Elle’s mention of her Season.
“It will be dark soon. I only wished to see as much as I can while it’s still light.” Grace peered out the window, but she could not help but glance back at her sister-in-law.
Elle talked little of her time before she married Philip. But from what Grace knew, Elle had only had one Season, and it had not gone as she had planned. But Elle did not seem to regret the way her life had turned out. How could she when she and Philip were so happily situated?
But their happy situation did not keep Grace from wondering at times—such as when they had gone without sugar for nearly a month—if Elle regretted throwing over the Duke of Larmont in favor of Philip. Indeed, if she had married the duke, Elle would surely stay in a grand house in Grosvenor or Berkeley Square rather than the older townhouse in Bloomsbury.
Grace had little knowledge of London. But her understanding from reading Ackermann’s Repository of Art and The Lady’s Magazine led her to believe the townhouse they were renting was in a less fashionable neighborhood. However, she questioned if those writing the articles believed the reader already had a vast knowledge of London, which would clear up any misconceptions. A vast knowledge that she did not have. At least not of London or anything else that would help her this Season. Her neck ached, and she relaxed slightly. How had she thought she was ready for this?
Elle had said the Bloomsbury townhouse—rented to them by a friend of Elle’s father—was fashionable enough for them. They would not be judged as upstarts but would not be seen as paupers either. It seemed to Grace a difficult line to walk.
The carriage finally came to a stop. Grace scooted to the edge of the bench and looked up at the building in deep shadows that they would call home until July. Or perhaps even August. She was uncertain when they were scheduled to return to Graystone.
She sucked in a long breath. The time had come. She was in London and was about to have a Season. It was something that she’d never really thought possible. Even after her time at Mrs. Bootle’s School for Young Girls, she had scarcely thought her wish to have a Season—let alone marry someone of title—was within her reach.
She pinched the soft under skin of her arm and winced. No, it was not a dream.
A footman opened the door, and Philip bounded out of the carriage. He stretched several times before offering a hand to assist Elle out.
Grace slowly moved off the bench and hunched over as she shuffled to the door, the footman waiting on the pavement for her. She gave him her hand, but she only had eyes for the building in front of her. The smooth white facade looked imposing. All four floors of it. Would it ever feel like home? Likely not, because it wasn’t, after all, their home. Merely a temporary residence.
Elle stepped beside her and looped her arm through Grace’s. “Come, now, Grace. Let us settle ourselves and then in the morning, when we have fresh eyes, we shall discuss our plans. There is much to be done in the next fortnight to have you ready for the Season.”
A skitter of excitement mixed with trepidation raced through Grace’s stomach. What was she to look forward to in the next few months? Was it feasible to even hope she would leave London with an arrangement? There were ladies with much greater dowries and more prominent families than hers who went several Seasons without a match. Had Elle not been such a lady? How could Grace be so presumptuous to believe she would do what so many others did not?
She bit her lip and allowed Elle to lead her up the steps.
But unlike the other girls of society, she didn’t have a choice. Her Season had to be a success because it was up to her to bring respectability and stability to her family.
* * *
Grace lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. It had been a restless night, with all the strange sounds of the house and streets outside. She’d hardly slept a wink.
There were too many thoughts racing through her mind. When would the first invitation arrive? Who would send it? Would she make a good showing? What if she tripped and fell at her very first outing? Her face heated at the thought. How did one recover from such a disaster?
She threw her hands down onto the mattress. She may be able to force her eyes closed, but she could not seem to force her brain to quiet. And that seemed to be the most important part of sleeping.
She finally sat up and pushed the counterpane to the side. The sun had yet to rise above the horizon. Or perhaps it had simply not lifted above all the buildings of London.
She moved over to the window seat. Settling on the properly situated bench, she looked out over the street at the square directly across from her. It was a lovely square—full of what would surely be green grass come spring. But for now, it was simply brown and likely half frozen. But it was no matter. She doubted she had much time for the amusements of the square just yet. Perhaps once the weather grew warmer, there would be fewer pressing matters. And would it not be an ideal place to take a turn with a handsome gentleman? She smiled at the thought.
The street, even though it was still cold out, bustled with people—mostly men—in neat but not what appeared to be overly costly clothing. Not that Grace was an expert in such things. She knew what the current fashions looked like due to the magazines she read. But the fashion plates could not adequately show the fineness of the material or the well-appointed stitching of a coat or breeches.
A knock sounded at the door, and a maid stuck her head in. “Oh, good, Miss. You’re awake.”
Grace’s brows slowly arched. There was a maid? They only had two maids at Graystone. And the second had only been added within the last year. Philip’s business was doing well, and the estate was supporting itself—but only just. The family was not flush in the pockets. At least not to Grace’s knowledge.
She bit her cheek. That was why she had to make the most of her time in London. A second Season was highly unlikely—a tightness formed in her chest—which made this Season vitally important.
The maid looked about the room. “Shall I unpack your trunks, Miss? I would have done it earlier, but I did not wish to disturb you.”
Grace motioned to the trunk sitting next to the dressing room door. “I was planning to do it after tea.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, Miss. You must allow me to do it.” She hurried over and opened the trunk, extracting several dresses. The girl frowned. “Is there another trunk still to be delivered? There are only a handful of gowns in this one.” She lifted a large tome. “The entire bottom is filled with books.”
Grace smiled. “There are no other trunks. Mrs. Jenkins and I plan to have some more dresses made while here in Town.”
The maid nodded as if she should have realized that would be the case.
“The books are mine. Would you please place them on the shelf over there?” Grace pointed to a small bookcase resting on top of a substantial-looking writing desk. It was not very feminine, but Grace did not care. It was better suited to all her books anyhow.
The maid disappeared into the dressing room with all of Grace’s gowns draped over one arm. Lawks, nothing made you realize your low status like a limited wardrobe. Grace frowned. But that would not always be the case, surely. But just how many new gowns she was to get was an unknown.
Another knock sounded, and Grace looked over just as Elle pushed the door open wide. She smiled. “Good morning, Dearest. Did you manage any sleep? Or were you too excited?”
Grace grinned. “I hardly slept a wink.” She shook her head. “It is all so foreign, I hardly know what to think.”
“I admit, I’m surprised you did not take one of the rooms on the second floor. You need not stay up here by yourself.”
Grace shook her head. “I am very content in this room.”
Elle nodded as she came to sit in the window next to her. She swiveled and brought her knees up underneath her. “Ah, yes. I can see why you chose this room. You have a lovely view.”
Grace nodded. “Yes. I am uncertain if I shall ever leave the house. It seems preferable just to watch the comings and goings of everyone.”
Elle chuckled. “Then there was no reason for you to have come to London. I’m certain you could watch people just as easily in Somerset.”
Grace looked down at the carriages and shook her head. “Not like this. There is a different feeling about the people in London than in Somerset. I can't say precisely what the difference is, but it is there nonetheless.”
Elle followed her gaze, her head slightly nodding. “Perhaps you are correct.” She glanced over at her. “But I do not think you should sequester yourself just yet. Did you not see the British Museum as we passed by yesterday? It’s a very easy walk. I should think you would be eager to visit.”
Grace cocked her head to the side, a slow smile turning her lips. “Perhaps I could venture out to see the museum.”
“I knew you could not resist it.” Elle grinned and stood up. “Now, I have requested tea be sent to the parlor. Why do you not freshen up and meet me there in twenty minutes?” She smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. “I would like to settle on a plan for the next fortnight, at least. Beyond that, we will have to wait and see what—” Elle paused, and Grace knew it was because Elle fought to add or if , to the sentence—“invitations are extended before we make other plans.”
Grace knew they thought her na?ve. And perhaps she was, to an extent. She knew the invitations would be slow in coming. As a family, they were quite unknown among the ton . It was why she was relieved to have the help of Miss—Lady Haversham.
Grace nodded. “Of course. I should love to have tea with you. Only…” she paused. “Where is the parlor?”
“Actually, I don’t know. But I should think Mary can tell you.” Elle laughed. “Perhaps you should make it ten minutes, and we will take a quick tour of the house first.”
Elle disappeared into the corridor and Grace turned, taking one last longing look at the square and the people darting back and forth. Soon, she would be among those people. But would they even notice her?
She pushed herself up, just as the maid emerged from the dressing room. “May I help you dress, Miss?”
Grace shook her head. “I’m certain you have other chores to see to. I’m accustomed to dressing myself.”
The maid frowned. “But, Miss,” her eyes darted about the room. She looked as if she was uncertain if she should speak up. “That is why I’m here. There are other maids to see to the other chores. I’m here to assist you—and Mrs. Jenkins, of course.”
Grace’s lips pinched closed. She was to have a lady’s maid? She’d never had one before. It seemed an unnecessary expense when Grace could do everything herself. But she also knew that if this was part of the girl’s duties, she should not interfere. No matter how frivolous it seemed. Otherwise, it would only cause the girl trouble with her superiors.
Besides, would she not need to grow accustomed to the idea if she were to marry someone of title?
“Very well. What is your name?” Grace asked. “Mary, Miss.”
Grace nodded as she sat at the dressing table. “Very well, Mary. I will leave myself in your capable hands.”
Mary giggled. “I do not believe you know me well enough to assume such things, Miss. But I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
Indeed, Mary did not disappoint.
Grace turned her head from one side to the other. The hairstyle was something she would normally only use if they were to attend an assembly or something else equally grand. But certainly not for something so mundane as tea with Elle and possibly Philip. Not that she was calling her brother and sister-in-law mundane. But the style would be wasted on them.
“Thank you, Mary.” Grace would not tell the girl her opinions just yet. She did not want to start on the wrong footing with her.
“Which gown do you wish to wear?” Mary asked.
Grace stood. “Why do you not choose?”
Mary looked at Grace, as if she thought the answer might be some sort of test. “Of course.” She hurried into the dressing room and emerged moments later with a pale blue printed day dress. “This will look very well on you, Miss.”
Grace nodded. Indeed, it did. Perhaps Mary was not as young and inexperienced as she looked.
Grace allowed Mary to help her dress. As she looked in the mirror before quitting the room, she grudgingly admitted that she’d never looked so turned out. Could it be that Mary was better at readying Grace than Grace was?
“Thank you, Mary,” Grace smiled.
“My pleasure, Miss.” Mary bobbed a curtsy then bent to retrieve the night clothes off the floor.
Grace watched her for a moment before she turned toward the door and walked into the corridor. She glanced in both directions, trying to remember which way they had come when they arrived last evening.
She turned toward her left and walked, smiling when she saw the staircase. She leaned over the railing and looked down to the entryway below. Now, which floor was the parlor on?
She turned back and stuck her head into her chambers. “Mary?” She called.
Mary appeared from the dressing room, puzzlement on her face. “Yes, Miss? Are you unhappy with something?”
Grace tipped her head. “No, I look better than I have in months. I only wondered if you might direct me to the parlor?”
Mary relaxed and smiled. “Oh, yes.” She took a few steps forward. “Do you want the Yew parlor or the Linden parlor?”
Grace stared dumbly at her, although her curiosity was piqued. “I have no notion. Why don’t you direct me to both, and I will see which one my sister is in.”
Mary nodded and gave detailed directions to both parlors. Perhaps Grace could get used to having a lady’s maid. So far, she had been quite helpful.
Grace peeked inside the Lindon parlor on the second floor. It was quite lovely, albeit empty.
She moved down the staircase and found the Yew parlor next to what appeared to be Philip’s office. But it, too, was empty. Where was Elle? Surely, she had already come down from her chambers.
Grace sat on the couch and looked around the room. The walls were a pale green, with dark wood panels below. The curtains were a thick brocade of deep green, making the otherwise light room feel dark and heavy.
She frowned. Why was it named the Yew parlor? The Linden parlor had illustrations of various species of Linden hanging on the walls. And the green color was very indicative of the Linden plant. But there were no illustrations to be found in this room. And it seemed yellow would have been a more suitable color.
She stood up and walked around the perimeter. A satisfied smile appeared when she reached the bookshelves and noted a handful of books, all dedicated to the subject of Yews. She had no notion there were so many books on the subject.
Grace recognized one or two of them, but most were new to her. She took one off the shelf and ran her fingers over the spine. Looking out at the room, she nodded slowly. Perhaps she could feel at home in this place after all.
“Oh, there you are.” Elle stepped inside the room. “Please put the tea on the low table, Mrs. Finch.” An older woman following behind set the tea tray down and dipped her head.
Elle smiled at her. “Thank you. I apologize for making you take it all over the house.”
The housekeeper kept a blank face, but Grace thought she noticed a hint of irritation in the woman’s eyes as she passed on her way to the couch. “Not to worry, Ma’am. I’m certain you will learn the house soon enough.”
Elle nodded and settled in next to Grace. Once the housekeeper left the room, she turned. “How was I to know there were two parlors? When you didn’t come to the upstairs parlor—I’ve been told it is the Yew parlor—poor Mrs. Finch had to come and fetch the tray before showing me to this room.”
Grace stared at her. “I looked in that parlor, but it was empty.”
Elle clucked her tongue. “You must have checked when I was speaking to the cook about dinner tonight.” She shook her head and lifted the teapot with a flustered hand. “But all is well. We found each other at last.”
Grace took the cup offered and lifted it to her lips. “Elle, I had no notion the house would be so grand. It is quite the largest house on the square.”
“I did not remember it being this large, either.” Elle smiled and flicked up her brows. “Lord Gainsborough was very kind to let us use it this Season.”
Grace leaned forward. “But it must be very expensive. How can Philip afford it?”
Elle patted her hand. “You need not worry about such things. Philip and I know what we are about.” She put her cup on the tray. “Now, let us discuss the modiste. I sent word several weeks ago to Madame Fortier, and as such, we already have an appointment. She will see us tomorrow at ten. It is early for Town hours, but as we will not be attending any events that will keep us out late, I thought it acceptable.”
Grace nodded. Who was she to oppose the plan when she was paying for none of it? “I realize a new wardrobe is unlikely. But a few new gowns would not go amiss, surely?” She lifted her thumbnail to her lips as she looked at her sister-in-law for approval.
Elle nodded slowly. “Philip has given me a healthy budget. I believe we shall both be turned out well enough.”
“Are you certain? I do not wish to strain Philip’s purse more than necessary.” Grace knew her brother was not frivolous with his money. But she worried in this instance, he might not readily decline her wants, even if it put the finances at risk. He had sent her to the girls’ school even though the funds had not been there. He’d sacrificed buying several horses to pay for Mrs. Bootle’s School instead. It had surely set back his business by several years. And while Grace was grateful for the education, she never stopped worrying over the expense he put out for her.
Elle smiled knowingly. “The stables are doing well, and the estate is turning a profit at last. We did much better last season than many estates did with the unnatural weather. Do not worry yourself, Grace.”
She looked at her sister-in-law. “Then do you think we may purchase a ball gown or two?”
Elle nodded. “I do. As I will be your chaperone, I think to have several of my old gowns put to pieces. They are still in fine condition. Perhaps just an update of the style. It won’t be obvious that they are not all new.” She gave Grace a side look. “But I think for you, we shall have all new gowns made.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “How can such a thing be afforded?”
Elle sat up straighter. “When I sent word to Madame Fortier, I told her a little of our situation. As my mother used Madame exclusively until her death, she has set aside some of last year’s fabrics. She will make them for a good price. No one will know the difference.”
Grace tried to quell her excitement. “Do you think the gowns—along with my dowry—will be enough to draw the attention of a viscount or at least a baron?”
Elle’s smile fell, but only for a second. “I hope they will put you in a position to find the gentleman that will make you happy—whether he holds a title or not.”
Grace’s eyes widened as she clasped her hands in her lap. For all their sakes. She hoped for more than just happiness. She wished for security.