Page 5 of Lord Lonbourn’s Daughter
Lady Matlock had taken charge and made an appointment with her own renowned seamstress in Bond Street. She was very much obliged to outfit the daughters of an earl with an entire wardrobe.
The earl himself had given in and accompanied, albeit reluctantly, her ladyship and his daughters for an extended visit to his tailor.
What could not be avoided should be accomplished in haste, was the earl’s maxim.
The sooner he could return to his books while the countess flitted all over town with his progeny, the better.
It was an agreement most pleasing to his lordship.
“Of course, you must have a ball!” Lady Matlock entreated.
“Must I?” Lord Longbourn drawled.
“A ball!” Exclamations wafted through his daughters like the plague through St Giles. Their enthusiasm was discouraging, to say the least. These youngsters seemed so fond of what he could hardly abide.
“Most definitely. It will be the event of the Season and the talk of the town. You should keep it simple—not too many guests. It should be small and exclusive,” Lady Matlock suggested.
“Simple is my forte,” the earl smiled, relieved. A dinner party with a few select friends came to mind.
“Yes, about two hundred should suffice—”
“Two hundred!” The Earl of Longbourn voiced with more gusto than was his wont.
“Do not bellow at me, your lordship. Your daughters need the practice, and I shall be most obliged to aid them in the endeavour,” Lady Matlock offered.
“I do not bellow,” Lord Longbourn complained but mellowed his voice to its usual pleasant tone.
As much as he wanted to refute the Countess of Matlock’s assertions, he knew she was right.
Entertaining in some fashion could not be avoided for an entire Season.
It was better to be done with it and to be at leisure for the rest of the spring and summer.
“How soon could your ladyship have the matter arranged to your satisfaction?”
“We need at least a fortnight, perhaps even three weeks.”
“A fortnight should suffice, and I thank you again for your support, Lady Matlock. I accept your offer to aid my daughters. It should be executed with as little inconvenience to myself as possible.”
The countess laughed.
“Yes, I do know how little a gentleman appreciates these things, but I assure you, your daughters and I shall enjoy it very much, and it will keep us occupied until the event is concluded.”
“Excellent! Very well. I shall leave my daughters in your capable hands and hasten to the appointment with my tailor. I shall return to collect you when I have finished.”
“There is no need. I have taken the liberty of requesting that my son escort us home. If you do not mind being at your leisure after your appointment.”
“Even better, milady.” The earl bowed low to his saviour and was gone.
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At Celeste’s, even Lady Matlock began to doubt the wisdom of having three ladies fitted at once.
The appointment was dragging on, but the seamstress looked more than pleased to continue.
It was not done, though, to be seen on Bond Street too late in the afternoon.
Lady Matlock was much aware of these things that separated the upper classes from the supplicants.
To linger after four o’clock was regarded as unfashionable.
After five was unheard of because it would seem like you did not need to dress for dinner, and that was a faux pas of magnitude amongst the beau monde .
Her son arrived, but they had still not finished. The rest of their attire had to wait for another day.
“I must beg your pardon, Montgomery, but we are not finished yet. Make yourself comfortable, and we shall be with you soon. Lady Mary has had trouble finding the right fabric for her skin tone. I wish she would wear richer colours, but alas…”
“Do not worry about me, Mother, I have a newspaper to read and a cup of tea.”
“Thank you, Montgomery.”
The countess flitted away to look after her apprentices while the viscount made himself comfortable. It was not the first time he had waited at the dressmaker’s; he was, after all, married.
Viscount Crawford was a quiet man, not apt to draw any notice to himself despite being the heir apparent to the earldom of Matlock.
He was interested in the business of Parliament and relished the day he would sit in the House of Lords.
Not that he wanted to get rid of his father prematurely, but he harboured a genuine interest in politics, bless his soul.
He had married Lady Annabella Cavendish when his father recommended her as an excellent match.
Her dowry and connections were, of course, outstanding, her accomplishments adequate, and her beauty sufficient.
She was what you would call a sweet girl, well-mannered but not much to look at.
She had delivered him the required heir and a daughter to dote upon. All in all, he had no cause to repine.
“We are finally finished, Montgomery. I am so sorry we kept you waiting so long.”
“Think nothing of it, Mother, I was well entertained. You have no idea what the Secretary of War, Viscount Palmerston, is up to now. His enthusiasm and vigour will be his downfall.”
“You are right, I do not know, and I am certain I do not need to, dear Montgomery.”
“Of course not, Mother.”
The Bennet ladies curtsied prettily to the viscount, who was to escort them home.
He guided them effortlessly to the waiting carriage and handed them in in chronological order, the eldest before the youngest. He sat on the opposite bench with his mother until the beauties were safely ensconced at the Earl of Longbourn’s townhouse.