Page 7 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)
Chapter Seven
THE brITISH INSTITUTION
Two days later, at a very discreet hour
‘P erhaps La Belle Assemblée is not quite the oracle of Parisian fashion I thought,’ Sophie murmured, wide-eyed as she angled her head to follow the line of the sketch.
‘La, you must know the fashion pages are weeks out of date by the time they reach us,’ Aurelia replied, stifling a yawn with a silk-gloved hand. ‘But I suppose you have been living with country bumpkins, and between your suffocating sister and worrisome aunt, I doubt you’ve worn anything but empire-line muslins before.’
‘Actually, I was referring to the puffed sleeves and skirts, rather than the materials,’ Sophie replied, trying to suppress a rise of annoyance.
She glanced up and down the gallery again, just to make sure they were still quite alone. She’d experienced such varied feelings since stepping inside The British Institution: excitement, guilt, and more than a little concern that she’d allowed a moment’s frustration to prevail over one of her fundamental rules. If they were spotted, there would most certainly be a black mark against them, and she had no desire to be outed to either Phoebe or her doting aunt, who believed her to be shopping for ribbons.
‘Take this plain barège silk, for example. They’ve added several rows of the same material– bouillons – either in horizontal lines, or in bias. And look, here are flounces in large quiltings, and full wadded bands in bias, I believe… The sheer variety is beyond anything I’ve ever seen, and so exciting!’
‘Oh yes, fascinating!’ Aurelia replied, rolling her eyes. ‘Now I’ve seen a few pink-laced chemises I can entertain drawing rooms around London for months. Sophie, I love a new dress like any debutante, but when you start talking about quiltings and bias, you sound like a common modiste.’ She paused to shudder. ‘In truth, this exhibition is not what I expected at all, and I’m beginning to understand why we’re the only ones here.’
Sophie frowned, quietly thankful she’d taken the precaution of leaving her faithful abigail nearby with strict instructions to alert her should anyone arrive who might recognise them.
‘To be honest, I was rather surprised to receive your invitation at all,’ Aurelia added, her eyes narrowing, ‘but then I suppose the sickly sister and the wildling aren’t old enough, and the other one is far too busy honeymooning with her stolen husband to chaperone you anywhere.’
‘Aurelia, Josephine isn’t sickly, Matilda isn’t a wildling, and Phoebe is Viscountess Damerel now,’ Sophie countered firmly. ‘Plus, you know full well that theirs was the love match of last season, so you can’t speak of theft either, particularly as you have also been engaged yourself since. Tell me, what did happen to the delightfully scented Duke of Cumberland?’
Aurelia opened her mouth to retort, just as the large doors at the entrance to the gallery swung open, admitting a visitor. Sophie spun away, conscious she was tempting fate quite enough already without adding in a public scene.
‘I thank you for your company, but I have no desire to listen to untruths,’ she forced politely. ‘Now, might I suggest we peruse the rest of the exhibition as swiftly as possible, before taking our leave?’
In truth, Sophie had no desire to leave at all. Most of the designs and materials on display were like nothing she’d ever seen before. There were gowns of figured satins with beautiful festoons of roses and their foliage in rich clusters; high-necked pelisses of fine net over white satin, finished with flounces of lace and richly embossed in flowers; and the sleeves were a wonder in themselves, varying from long sheer American styles to daring short ones, with long gloves rucked just beneath the elbow.
But despite all this, and her previous scepticism, it was the vast array of undergarments that had really captured her attention. She’d never seen anything beyond the usual knee-length muslin drawers, yet it seemed Paris considered undergarments an art form in themselves. There were silk pantalettes, held together by a tie at the waist and a multitude of delicate-coloured ribbons in other unmentionable places, as well as pretty satin knickerbockers adorned with broderie anglaise, and a variety of other designs that seemed in every way both scandalous and glorious.
In short, Sophie was quite certain that should her aunt ever discover her attendance at the exhibition, she would not only disapprove but likely confine her to her bedchamber for the rest of the season itself.
‘You’re still worried we might be seen, aren’t you?’ Aurelia said slyly. ‘Well, much I care for that! My parents are so heartily sick of me this season, they can hardly wait to remove to the country again. Apparently I’ve exhausted every decent match and I’m to try again next year.’ She paused to wrinkle her nose in distaste. ‘And if I don’t find a husband next season, my parents will marry me off to one of their ancient friends, like the Earl, just to be rid of me. I suppose I don’t much mind who it is, but I’d as lief not have a husband as old as my grandfather!’
She paused to laugh, though there was a distinctly brittle edge.
‘Surely it won’t come to that?’ Sophie frowned.
Aurelia shrugged.
‘My view of marriage is rather less fictional than the general Fairfax outlook, though I’m not entirely persuaded I might not have a little success this season after all…’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Perhaps, if you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you who has been setting their cap at me.’
Sophie glanced up sharply. It was the first she’d heard about Aurelia considering a match this season, and surprisingly welcome too. Perhaps it would finally lay Phoebe’s marriage to the viscount to rest.
‘Well, that is intriguing!’ she encouraged. ‘Is it anyone we know?’ she added, wondering which of this season’s eligible bachelors had been threatened into matrimony by the arch-matriarch Marchioness Carlisle.
‘Why, you really can be quite obtuse sometimes, Sophie,’ Aurelia sighed, fanning herself. ‘I thought you must have noticed a certain nobleman’s marked attentions lately?’
Sophie stared, aware of the oddest pool of disquiet in her stomach. She’d certainly noticed Aurelia fawning over one gentleman in particular, but she couldn’t mean him, could she?
‘You mean to say… that is… you’re saying that… Lord Rotherby has made you an offer?’ Sophie asked incredulously. ‘Self-confessed notorious rake Lord Rotherby, who claims not to possess a heart?’
She swallowed, trying not to look as shocked as she felt. It wasn’t that Aurelia wasn't both attractive and a significant catch. It was just that Lord Rotherby had done nothing but convince her of his permanent bachelordom from the moment they met.
Aurelia surveyed her as though she’d just crawled out from Edward’s sleeve.
‘La, much I care for that!’ she scorned. ‘I’m a creature of the real world, and know it is far better to marry with your head than your heart. And no, not an offer yet – a girl can only work so fast after all– but he has been paying me considerable attention and I do have a plan!’ She smiled smugly, before lowering her voice. ‘Lord Rotherby frequently travels to France on account of some extended family living there. I believe they’re based in Paris, though there’s also a maiden aunt who conducts her life in the oddest fashion, travelling across Europe in the pursuit of artistic endeavours rather than living at Grosvenor Place?—’
‘I like her already!’ Sophie murmured.
‘Anyway,’ Aurelia continued, glaring, ‘the last time we conversed, he said I’d adore Paris which was so clearly an invitation that I’ve made up my mind: I’m going to accompany him on his next trip! It is simple yet brilliant, is it not? Imagine waking up to the scent of freshly baked croissants and le chocolat , safe in the knowledge you’re shortly to become Lady Rotherby? Not even my parents will be able to object, and I’ll have spared myself a husband in his dotage too. I have to say that this time, I have surpassed even my own expectations!’
Sophie gazed at Aurelia in horror-struck silence, certain all the colour had drained from her face. Aurelia was the most conceited and self-centred debutante of her acquaintance, but even she didn't deserve utter ruin. How she’d convinced herself Lord Rotherby, of all gentlemen, could be relied upon to behave with any kind of honour was beyond all belief.
‘But Aurelia!’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘European shores are not Gretna Green. And what makes you think Lord Rotherby will behave honourably when pressed in this manner? Suggesting you will adore Paris, is not the same as asking you to run away with and marry him! He’s a rake and a confirmed bachelor, and much more likely to abandon you in France, without any hope of a match or return to polite society at all,’ she finished in a rush. ‘Truly, this is a madness, Aurelia, and you will end up ruined and alone.’
Sophie paused to inhale deeply, perplexed by her own reaction. Aurelia’s plan sounded beyond foolish, but it didn’t explain the rise of agitation she felt at the thought of Lord Rotherby disappearing onto the continent with her either.
‘La! What a worryhead you are!’ Aurelia retorted with a dismissive shake of her head. ‘Lord Rotherby may well be a rake, but he is also a nobleman, from an old family like mine. We understand one another! I also have an old, beloved friend in Paris who has much influence with him, and if necessary my mother will make such a fuss that he’ll have to wed me. Anyway, I’m sure he’s already contemplating it, for even a notorious rake is still a man when all is said and done. You’re just envious because a darling of the ton wants to show me Paris, while you have yet to secure any interest from anyone!’
She smiled superciliously while Sophie gritted her teeth, wondering why she didn’t just consider herself well rid of two of the most obnoxious characters of her acquaintance.
Instead, she adopted a tone Phoebe would have recognised from a Fairfax production of Macbeth three summers before.
‘It’s your decision, Aurelia,’ she replied coldly, ‘though in truth, the season has hardly begun. Most debutantes are just getting to know the eligible bachelors and certainly wouldn’t be tempted to take such a chance. Indeed, if Phoebe’s happiness is anything to set standards by, it is quite possible to hope for a match of the heart, as well as the head.’
‘Oh, another love match enthusiast,’ Aurelia crowed. ‘How exceedingly quaint! Do you plan to steal another’s betrothed from under their nose, too?’
Sophie inhaled sharply, as a pale girl in a modest dress and shawl peered around a column a few paces away.
‘I said wait outside the library!’ Aurelia hissed, making the poor abigail shrink and flee in terror.
‘For the last time,’ Sophie replied, white-lipped, ‘Viscount Damerel broke off your engagement long before he married my sister, as well you know. And now, if you don’t mind, the hour is advancing!’
Sophie walked up to the next exhibit, her thoughts whirling. The truth was, no matter how much she believed Aurelia was making the gravest of mistakes, or that Lord Rotherby was highly unlikely to be forced into anything by the threat of dishonour, neither were the type to listen or be told anything. Which left Sophie washing her hands of the pair of them, no matter how oddly her stomach churned at the thought.
She inhaled deeply as she gazed up at a Prussian-blue ribboned corset, wishing for the umpteenth time that she’d been able to bring her own sketchpad.
‘Part of your love match plan?’ Aurelia nodded at the corset.
Sophie inhaled deeply, wondering if old Phoebe would have landed Aurelia a leveller by now.
‘Actually, I’ve always believed fashion should be a blend of art and functionality,’ she replied when she could trust her voice, ‘and that there should be room for both. For example, this designer has explored very contemporary lines, with an acknowledgement of the feminine shape which puts our own corsetry to shame. Indeed, most make me wonder if they were designed with females in mind at all.’
‘A fascinating insight!’ a low and familiar tone interrupted them. ‘Even if I am a little surprised to find a young lady expressing it so freely.’
She caught her breath, as all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck began to strain.
‘Better a young lady with an opinion, than another one without one,’ a female voice chimed in. ‘In my view, the real pity is that such items are hidden beneath the layers of clothing deemed necessary by polite society!’
Then the newcomer tailed off into a throaty laugh that didn’t sound polite to Sophie at all.
Sophie closed her eyes in disbelief. It seemed the height of misfortune to run into any of her acquaintance– she’d deliberately selected an early and unfashionable hour, and they’d barely been there above thirty minutes. Yet, when she turned, there was no denying the tall, languid nobleman or the hawk-eyed lady beside him at all. A warm flush crept into Sophie’s cheeks as she forced herself to meet his curious gaze. She didn’t know his companion, but could read everything into the way she hung off his arm.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Dominic?’ the lady asked coquettishly, tapping his arm with a closed fan. ‘We ladies like to know one another.’
‘Of course,’ Lord Rotherby replied smoothly, though it seemed to Sophie that he was reluctant.
‘Miss Fairfax, may I present Mrs Haxby. Mrs Haxby, this is Miss Fairfax of… the fearless Fairfaxes.’
Sophie suppressed a frown.
‘Well, how delightful,’ Mrs Haxby smiled showing her pearly-white teeth, ‘I am honoured, Miss Fairfax.’
She bobbed a swift curtsey that suggested entirely the opposite, while Sophie reciprocated, certain she was being inspected.
‘Oh Lord Rotherby, what a surprise,’ Aurelia gushed, holding out her hand and ignoring Mrs Haxby entirely.
‘Lady Aurelia,’ he returned with a barest of nods. ‘The pleasure is all mine, though I’m not sure it’s entirely advisable for you and Miss Fairfax to be here,’ he quizzed with a faint frown.
Aurelia only laughed coyly, making Mrs Haxby stare.
‘Oh, Lord Rotherby, you’re always such a rogue,’ she admonished. ‘As though you would expect me to miss this exhibition, when you have long known my interest in Parisian fashion!’
It was Sophie’s turn to stare as Aurelia smiled archly.
‘Indeed?’ he drawled, pan-faced. ‘I admit I had quite forgotten that, though having already benefitted from Miss Fairfax’s insights into corsetry design, I wonder if you’d care to share some of yours?’
‘Oh, you droll thing!’ Aurelia returned with a giggle. ‘My only insight is that I believe you would have us ladies traversing around in only our corsets given half the chance.’
‘Aurelia!’ Sophie muttered in a strangled tone.
‘I can conceive of nothing more entertaining,’ Mrs Haxby purred, her eyes glinting, ‘and I daresay I have more to choose from than a debutante, after all.’
Aurelia’s doll-like chin lifted instantly.
‘I’m sure none of us are in any doubt of that,’ Lord Rotherby placated swiftly, ‘and now if you’ll excuse us, ladies, I’m sure you have many other appointments to keep.’
He nodded abruptly as Sophie flushed, aware he was telling them to leave.
She swallowed, trying to suppress an inexplicable rise of fury. First, he’d all but dismissed her love match ambitions, and now he was offering moral judgement on her decision to attend a modern fashion exhibition with his… light-o’-love on his arm? She drew a deep breath just as a grating voice rose above the general background hum.
‘But Miss Fairfax! What a surprise! Pray, is your sister, the delightful new viscountess here with you too?’
Sophie looked up to find herself being scrutinised from head to toe by the peacock-styled patroness from Almack’s. She was one of the worst matriarchal gossips of the haute ton, and exactly the type of person Phoebe had been determined Sophie should avoid.
She withered briefly, before gathering herself.
‘Mrs Hendercott,’ she said, forcing with a smile, ‘how delightful to see you! Alas, my sister planned to accompany us but had to leave for?—’
‘Oh, is that Lady Aurelia and Lord Rotherby as well?’ Mrs Hendercott cut in, her gaze narrowing dangerously. ‘What an unexpected pleasure to see so many familiar faces here.’ She turned to Rotherby’s companion. ‘And you are…?’
Sophie shrank a second time, as Mrs Hendercott’s question hung painfully on the air.
‘Mrs Haxby, ma’am, pleased to meet you,’ she returned in grating tone, bobbing another curtsey.
‘Indeed,’ Mrs Hendercott returned with one of her piercing gazes. ‘One can never be sure who one might bump into on these occasions, and it is always a revelation.’
‘My sister left for her European honeymoon a full week ago,’ Sophie rushed, reading everything into the purse of Mrs Hendercott's lips. ‘And my aunt is indisposed today, which is why Lady Aurelia and I brought our abigails instead.’ She rattled on, praying Mrs Hendercott was far too interested in Mrs Haxby to notice their distinct absence from the gallery. ‘Tell me, how is the General, Mrs Hendercott, and all your talented progeny too? Is Cecily quite recovered from her cold? I daresay her morning hacks are assisting, though my sister said her groom clearly has a challenge in keeping up.’
She smiled innocently, praying her dart had found its target. Phoebe had chanced upon the young Cecily riding through Hyde Park, without her personal groom, on more than one occasion. No one would understand the urge to ride alone better than a Fairfax, but Sophie also knew the pastime was even less acceptable in London than Bath, and particularly as an unmarried debutante.
Mrs Hendercott’s thick eyebrows darted together in instant suspicion.
‘Cecily is quite recovered now, I thank you, Miss Fairfax,’ she returned icily, ‘and much too busy for morning hacks with the season underway. And now, as the ladies of the Bridge Club are here in an investigative capacity, we really must take our leave. Lord Rotherby, I must say it is much less of a surprise to find you here. Lady Aurelia, Mrs… Haxby,’ she concluded waspishly.
Both ladies inclined their heads as Mrs Hendercott took her leave, and Sophie slowly exhaled a breath. She was the victor for the moment, but only because of a fragile snippet of gossip. Yet she was sure she’d blotted her copybook too. Mrs Hendercott would be well aware she’d traded Cecily’s minor lapse in good behaviour for a blind eye to her own, but how long would it be before she found a way to penalise her?
‘Expertly done,’ Lord Rotherby murmured as soon as Mrs Hendercott and her vulturous Bridge Club were out of earshot. ‘Though I’m sure you must have been well aware of the risk of attending an exhibition such as this?’ He frowned before continuing. ‘In truth, while it is admirable to know your passion outweighs societal expectation in all things, I’m surprised your guardian permitted it at all.’
The latter part of his address was uttered softly, but the glint in his eyes was clear. She drew herself up to her full height, unwilling to be admonished by a sanctimonious rake or to be reminded of their wager at this time. His double standards infuriated her, while the narrow escape with Mrs Hendercott had only made her feel foolish.
‘I am not interested in your observations, sir,’ she replied coldly. ‘My interests are not your affair, and now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve a number of?—’
‘Oh I do believe we are quite discovered!’ Aurelia declared in delight as some boisterous laughter resounded through the space.
Sophie’s spirits sank further, as she glanced in the direction of the Institution entrance. A matron of the ton and Lord Rotherby were one matter, a group of young gentlemen seeking frivolous entertainment quite another.
‘And what can any young lady do in such circumstances, except throw herself on the mercy of her heroic company?’ Aurelia added, smiling at Lord Rotherby, who looked distinctly uninterested in being heroic in any way.
‘There’s always making an exit with your self-respect intact,’ Mrs Haxby murmured.
‘In truth there is little need for any heroics,’ a sensible tone interjected, ‘when there is another exit, just up ahead.’
‘Sir Weston,’ Sophie exhaled in relief, ‘how truly delightful to see you!’
Sir Weston lifted his curly-brimmed beaver hat as Sophie curtsied, unable to help contrasting his steadfast presence with Lord Rotherby’s clear disapproval.
Briefly, Josephine’s praise echoed through her thoughts.
‘Sir Weston has a quiet air of authority that neither seeks attention, nor shies away from it, and his manner always suits the occasion. He neither tries too hard, nor not enough, and always knows just what to say too.’
She smiled faintly, it seemed her younger sister was far more astute than she’d realised, and now she couldn’t be more grateful for his appearance.
‘Would you be so kind as to escort us home, Sir Weston?’ she asked, ignoring Lord Rotherby’s silent stare, ‘for we find we are quite finished here.’
‘I should be honoured, Miss Fairfax,’ Sir Weston said, executing a very proper bow which was neither too obsequious, nor too small.
‘Thank you, that would be most kind.’ Sophie smiled with real gratitude. ‘I’ve not had the chance to thank you for your delightful daffodils either,’ she continued. ‘They made Damerel Place looked just like Knightswood Park, and my sisters did not stop admiring them for a week.’
‘You are most welcome, Miss Fairfax,’ Sir Weston replied. ‘I believe daffodils possess a true beauty that encapsulates spring– I hoped you might enjoy them.’
‘I did,’ she replied sincerely. ‘They were, by far, my favourite.’