Page 19 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 19

I n the morning, Mrs. Kellaway greeted me with a warm smile. “I trust you slept well?”

“I did, thank you.”

She leaned toward me from across the breakfast table. “I would like to speak with you a bit more about the garden party tomorrow. I noticed you seemed a little overwhelmed with the idea of meeting so many of my acquaintances. I want you to be comfortable.”

I looked down at my plate. My stomach pooled with dread, but I tried my best to hide it. “I confess I am worried that I don’t know how to behave at large social gatherings, and especially around eligible gentlemen. I—I also don’t have a gown that suits the current fashions. Perhaps I should stay in the house with my brothers.”

She threw out her hand. “Nonsense. We can take you to the modiste today. Madame Fareweather has several gowns already made that she can alter to fit you. For me, she will have your alterations finished, boxed, and delivered by tomorrow morning. I am sure of it.”

“I think that is a perfect idea, Catherine,” Mrs. Everard piped in from across the table.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. How could I tell her I didn’t have any money? Aunt Ruth had finally succumbed to purchasing a small number of inexpensive dresses for me when securing the buttons on my old ones had become impossible. I knew my parents had left me with some money of my own, as well as a small dowry if I were ever to marry, but since coming of age, I didn’t know how to access it. Peter had the bulk of the inheritance, being my father’s heir, but he could not touch it until he was older. Until then, we were still under Aunt Ruth’s control in every possible way.

I swallowed and looked down at my plate. “I can’t afford a gown.”

“Oh, heavens, no!” Mrs. Kellaway shook her head. “I am not asking you to pay for it. Consider it a gift from me.”

“I can’t possibly?—”

“Yes, you can,” Mrs. Everard said. “We shall leave in one hour. Did you have anything else planned this morning?”

These women were relentless. I sighed. “No.”

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Kellaway exclaimed. “One hour it is.”

I sat back, forcing myself to accept their kindness despite the struggle within me. A ride to the nearby village did sound enjoyable, and so did the thought of a new gown. The idea caused a ripple of excitement to fly through me.

Mr. Everard looked up from his plate. I had nearly forgotten he was there. “I’ll look after the boys while you are away,” he volunteered.

I cast Peter and Charles each a sideways glance. “Be on your best behavior.”

“We will!” Peter vowed. “I’ve been practicing Mr. Everard’s trick every day, so I can show him how I’ve improved!”

I laughed as I remembered Mr. Everard’s invisible needle and thread. “I’m certain Mr. Everard would love to see it.”

“Indeed,” he confirmed with a smile.

In the carriage, I sat next to the window with Mrs. Kellaway beside me and Mrs. Everard across from me. It was a long drive to the village, and nearly the entire way, Mrs. Everard had been in raptures over how quaint and darling it was. While she spoke, her eyes were as wide as saucers. I had never seen a woman her age so full of life. The years hadn’t drained anything from her; they had only added a few lines to her face. I hoped to be the same when I was older, but it was implausible to think that Mrs. Everard’s spirit would ever be matched by anyone.

“Are you excited, my dear?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said with a smile. I gazed out the window. A distant estate caught my eye and triggered something in my mind. I had seen it before. I stared at it until it was nearly out of view. Tall and wide, with a hexagonal pond—it had to be Willowbourne! Owen had said it was close by, but I hadn’t known which direction.

To be sure, I tapped Mrs. Kellaway on the arm. “What is the name of that house?”

She squinted out the window. “That’s Willowbourne. Lovely, is it not? It belongs to my brother-in-law.” She smiled. “My sister married well.”

I took another glance out the window. Lovely didn’t even begin to describe it. The sketch Mrs. Kellaway had done didn’t do justice to its perfectly symmetrical facade and vibrant gardens. I wanted to go inside.

“So your sister resides there?” I asked.

Mrs. Kellaway shook her head, a sad twist on her lips. “She died many years ago. She bore two children, Theodore and Emmeline. Unfortunately, Theodore is no longer with us either. At present, it is only my brother-in-law and young Emmeline who live there.”

The solemn silence clung to my skin as I gazed at the estate. “What a large house for only two people. I’m sorry for your loss.” My voice was sad, and so were Mrs. Kellaway’s eyes when she looked at me.

“Yes. There has been a great deal of tragedy within those walls. It isn’t often that we are invited there. I worry over Emmeline’s social opportunities. I have offered to bring her to London with Alice, but she insists on remaining behind to care for her father.”

“It is a breathtaking house,” I said. “I daresay I wouldn’t wish to leave either.”

Mrs. Kellaway gave a soft smile. “Perhaps we might call upon them while you are in town.”

“I would like that very much.” I longed to see the inside of the estate that had captured so much of Owen’s heart. Perhaps then I might understand him better.

As if she had read my mind, Mrs. Kellaway said, “Owen used to spend every summer there. He had a very special bond with his cousin, Theodore. After he died, Owen was lost in anger and resentment for so long.” She shut her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to forget an already banished memory. “He knew from a young age that he would need a profession, so it was only two years later when he began his schooling, determined to be an honorable physician and a great man. I think he has come to be both.”

Mrs. Everard perked up at that, giving me her full attention. “And quite handsome too, is he not?”

I laughed and looked down, feeling my face warm. “Yes.” It should not have been so embarrassing to admit, yet I felt like I was revealing some sort of secret. Owen was not handsome in a discreet way that was dependent on the preferences of any given observer. He was the sort of handsome that was inarguable. Still, Mrs. Everard was far too pleased with my reply.

A few minutes later, when we arrived at the village, Mrs. Everard led the way across the cobblestones, pointing out her favorite bakeries, millinerys, and bookshops. On occasion, she peeked her head into the door of a shop and greeted the owner—all of whom instantly recognized her.

Young children flocked to the windows of sweet shops, pressing their faces against the glass to look at the displays. I smiled as I watched them, thinking of Peter and Charles and how much they would love to do the same. If I ever brought them here, I would have to check their pockets.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Everard said, stopping in front of a little dress shop at the curve of the road. She threw the door open and marched inside.

I followed, surprised and amused again at Mrs. Everard’s familiarity with this village. A woman appeared from around the corner wearing a smile so large and open-mouthed, that I imagined, had she been closer, I would have seen the back of her throat. “Harriet! It has been nearly a week since I have seen you! Much too long!”

Mrs. Everard met her halfway across the room with a warm embrace. She began saying something else to the modiste, but I couldn’t decipher the words.

The modiste crossed the room to me, making the old floorboards creak beneath her feet. Seeing her more closely, I noticed that she seemed to be a bit younger than Mrs. Everard, but not by much. Her eyebrows were extremely arched and thin, and she had a dark mole at the corner of her mouth. “My name is Madame Fareweather. I hear you require a new gown.”

I glanced at Mrs. Kellaway before nodding.

“Come, let us begin.”

Madame Fareweather grasped me by the arm and led me to the center of the shop. “First, I will need to acquire your measurements.” She fetched a measuring tape from a nearby table and instructed me to hold still with my arms outstretched. She stood shockingly close as she wrapped the tape around my waist, then my bust, then each of my arms. Upon closer inspection, I realized the mole on her cheek was in the shape of a tiny heart. She must have drawn it on, but I wouldn’t dare accuse her of such a thing.

Madame Fareweather took note of each of my measurements before directing my attention to the rack of gowns her assistant had rolled into the room.

“Mrs. Everard tells me this is your first garden party,” the modiste said in a singsong voice. “Do you realize what that means?”

“That I will surely make a fool of myself?” I guessed in a weak voice.

She laughed, and the other two women joined her. “It means that you must look more beautiful than you have ever looked in your life. She gestured at the gowns. “Half the work shall be mine,” she eyed my hair, “one fourth shall be your maid’s, and the last fourth depends on the manner in which you present yourself. The answer is confidence , my dear.” She took me in from head to toe. “I perceive that you don’t have enough of it.”

Perhaps this woman could lend me some of hers. I gave a shy smile, looking down at the floor.

“Stop that,” Madame Fareweather said in a sharp voice. “Modesty is endearing and sweet, but confidence is how to acquire what you want in this world.” Her eyes glinted with that very thing when I looked up at her.

She took a step back and circled around me, eyes squinted in deep thought. “Not a long neck, but excellent bone structure, nicely colored lips, rosy complexion, very handsome eyes . . . I know the perfect gown for you.” She stepped aside and rifled through the row of dresses.

Dread dropped through me when I saw the pink gown she had selected. She waved it in front of me on the hanger, and I found myself rather breathless. It was exquisite. And it looked very expensive.

“I would prefer something in a different color,” I said in a quick voice.

Madame Fareweather simply blinked at me and gave me a look that said, you will wear what I say you’ll wear. “Are you certain? You mustn’t make your decision until you have tried it on.”

I had no plausible excuse, so I relented with a nod.

After escorting me to a private room, she and her assistant helped me out of my day dress. Madame Fareweather picked up her pencil and paper once again.

“Oh, I already have a chemise and stays,” I blurted out, reading the note over her shoulder. I was wearing them that very moment.

She gave an airy laugh. “They are ancient.”

My cheeks grew hot.

Madame Fareweather stepped up beside me. Wearing only my ‘ancient’ stays and thin chemise, I felt entirely vulnerable under her scrutinizing gaze. “Confidence may be found within,” she said, “but it may also be found in a set of well-structured stays and a daring neckline.”

I held my breath as her assistant helped me into the gown. When she fastened the final button, she turned me toward the large mirror that rested against the wall.

I stared at my reflection in awe. The dress was stunning. A lace overlay covered nearly the entire thing, dotted with ivory beads and embroidered pink flowers. The pleated hem must have taken days to complete. Ribbon, one shade darker, trimmed all the edges—the bustline, the sleeves, and the hem. The soft pink satin would only require a few alterations to fit me perfectly.

I had always dressed conservatively, but this—this was elegant and mature, new and thrilling. I met my gaze in the mirror. I looked like a lady. I had never been in a ballroom, or witnessed firsthand the trends in Town, but I had seen fashion plates and paintings. I knew enough to realize that this gown was perfection.

Dread flooded my stomach. Why had Madame Fareweather insisted that I try it on? I could never part with it now. If she could have afforded it, my mother would have worn this. She would have loved it. My heart stung with longing so sharp I couldn’t draw a breath.

I hadn’t noticed Mrs. Kellaway and Mrs. Everard enter the room until they appeared behind me in the mirror.

“Oh, Annette.” Mrs. Kellaway’s face lit up. “I have never seen anything so lovely.”

“Madame Fareweather’s judgment is always sound,” Mrs. Everard said, nodding toward the modiste. “Pink is the color for you.”

I didn’t dare wonder what the price of the gown was, but Mrs. Kellaway didn’t seem to care. She circled me with such an awed expression that I could hardly meet her gaze. Who was I if I didn’t keep my promises? I had told myself I would never wear pink without my mother to see it. Was this garden party enough to change my mind? It was embarrassing to think of Owen seeing me in this dress after I had been so firm in my convictions.

But it seemed that I had no choice in the matter.

Madame Fareweather was an excellent saleswoman. “I will have the gown altered and delivered by tomorrow morning, as requested,” she said.

That marked the end of the conversation. After helping me change, she sent her assistant away with the gown and settled a few matters with Mrs. Kellaway at the front desk.

Despite my conflicted feelings about the gown, I thanked Mrs. Kellaway profusely. I had never owned something so fine, and by tomorrow, the gown would belong to me. It was a thrilling thought, and it buzzed through my mind the entire drive home.

Willowbourne passed us again, just as secluded and mysterious as the first time. I realized that it must have been the beautiful thing Owen had loved and lost—the reason he understood me that day in the water gardens. The estate had once been special to him, but now it was associated with heartbreak.

I looked at the grounds, the golden facade, and the pond. They were Owen’s equivalent of my pink dress.

They were just as painful as they were beautiful.

If I could wear my dress to the garden party tomorrow, then Owen could visit Willowbourne again. Perhaps I could convince him, and we might both find beauty in our favorite things again.