Page 19 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

O livia’s dressing room was crowded with boxes, gowns on hooks where there were not usually gowns, loose fabrics draped over chairs, shoes littering the floor, and too many people. She regarded herself in the full-length mirror. Rather, she regarded her dress and her companions. Mrs. Byrd stood to her left wearing an anxious expression. Vanessa, just behind Olivia’s right shoulder, looked pleased. She couldn’t see her mother’s face but heard a hum of approval.

The dress was eggshell white and made of silk. There was no discernible waistline, but the fabric gathered in pleats under her bust, then rose upward between her breasts where the pleats twisted into what looked like a small white rose. The stitching was complex and rather ingenious, Olivia thought. But the neckline dipped down into the rose and was lower than anything she had ever worn.

The dress required specially made underthings which seemed to hold her bosoms in place rather than rearranging them. Everything was soft and comfortable. And yet…she frowned.

“What is it?” Vanessa asked, her brow wrinkling. “What don’t you like?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think white is my color. I look sickly.”

“You look angelic,” Mama said from the back of the room. “It has to be white for your debut ball. And don’t forget there will be silver threading and pearls.”

“I know.” Mrs. Byrd had hired an embroiderer in Ipswich to decorate the gown with silver thread and stud it with pearls to catch the light and make Olivia sparkle. Still, white was not her color. She didn’t know how she would keep it clean for an entire evening.

“Olivia, you will be stunning,” the duchess said from her seat beside Mama.

The gown for a lady’s coming-out ball was supposedly the most important one she would ever wear—more important even than her wedding dress. Although, there was also whatever hideous thing the London modiste was creating for Olivia to don when she was presented to the queen. That was significant too, and there were very strict rules. Mama insisted on an experienced London dressmaker for that. Olivia found the whole thing tiring.

She turned a little to the left, then to the right, and looked herself up and down. The style was flattering. She imagined herself with the side-of-the-head bun that Tansy had mastered. She might well be stunning, but she would not look like herself.

“Yes, well, thank you, Mrs. Byrd. This should do very nicely.”

Mrs. Byrd sighed with relief. “I’ll get this one off to the embroiderer. Would you like to see the yellow next or the blue?”

Olivia winced. They had done this already with a dozen day dresses and now it was time for the ballgowns. Mama had ordered six. The white was the most important and had been done first. But now there were fittings again. And so many choices to be made. Sleeves and collars and beadwork. A million tiny buttons or a half-million slightly larger?

“Bring out the yellow,” Mama said for her. “Yellow is a difficult color with Olivia’s hair. We may need some contrast about the neck.”

Mrs. Byrd turned to bustle about in her boxes. Vanessa and Tansy helped Olivia out of the white silk.

“This is unbearable,” Olivia muttered for Vanessa’s ears only.

“Stay strong,” Vanessa whispered back. “I told Georgiana to bring Arthur in if we were more than three hours.”

Olivia smiled at that. Mrs. Byrd would pack up her wares in an instant when a baby with a tendency to spit entered the vicinity.

If not for little Arthur, Olivia didn’t know how she would have gotten through the month. It wasn’t simply that February was dreary. She still managed to ride most days, although she had to keep the rides short and stay close to the house unless she was visiting a tenant. She enjoyed being with her family. Parlor games after tea. Billiards with her brothers or the Duke of Hovington and Alice. A few brief conversations with Vanessa—not strategizing, but becoming more comfortable with one another. Olivia wasn’t bored. Rather she was sad. This would all come to an end, and she was already nostalgic for it.

Mrs. Byrd held up the yellow ballgown for scrutiny. A pale slip of a satin dress was covered by a white tissue overdress. The sleeves puffed and the neckline dipped, but not too much. Olivia fought her way into it.

“Those are the wrong undergarments,” Mrs. Byrd said, biting her lip. “More substantial stays will help with the fit.”

Mama came closer and circled Olivia while scrutinizing her from all angles. Then she sighed.

“I can’t help thinking we made a wrong choice with that yellow.”

Mrs. Byrd fingered the gauzy overdress. “I could have this dyed blue. Or perhaps green. That would change the look considerably.”

“Vanessa,” Mama said, “what do you think?”

It was grand that Mama and Vanessa were finding common ground. Olivia only wished that not so much of it involved dressing her.

Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe it is salvageable. It’s a beautiful dress, but wrong for Olivia. Do you know, though, it would be perfect for Alice.”

“You’re right,” Mama said, scowling. “Take it off. Let’s see about the blue. And, Mrs. Byrd, we’ll have it refitted for Alice.”

Oh, bosh. That meant starting over with something else. Unless five gowns were enough. But they wouldn’t be. She would be going to more than five balls. Many more. They would have to visit a modiste in London after all. They had already overtaxed poor Mrs. Byrd.

She wiggled into the blue. Better. It had a floral print and fit loosely. Olivia could move in it.

“You’ll have to tighten the neck and those sleeves,” Mama said.

Mrs. Byrd nodded. “Hold up your arms, please, Lady Olivia.”

Olivia dutifully held out her arms while Mrs. Byrd put pins everywhere, making what had been comfortable less so. Then they helped her out of the dress, pricking her here and there with the pins.

“Are we finished?” she asked.

“I have the pink day dress back again,” Mrs. Byrd said. “I’ve lengthened the train as you asked.” She nodded to Mama. “Would you like to see?”

“Oh, yes, while you are here. Let’s have a look.”

Olivia held her breath and counted to ten. Surely they had been at this for over three hours. Tansy and Mrs. Byrd dropped a pink cotton dress over her head, then fussed with the buttons. Olivia had agreed to pink under the condition that there be no ruffles or bows. She had worn a dress she hated that Mama called “very pretty, very feminine” to tell Benjamin that she loved him, and he’d run off to Canada. She would never wear anything resembling it ever again. And this one had too many ribbons. She looked like Jilly Byrd.

Mama said, “Oh, yes, that’s much better. It’s quite lovely.”

“Yes, it is,” Vanessa said. “Olivia, you will cause a stir.”

Olivia made herself smile. This was awful. That pink-clad girl in the mirror did not look like her either.

This was all artifice. The beautiful gowns. The elaborate hairstyles. She was supposed to walk with mincing steps. Keep her voice low. Laugh quietly without growing breathless. She should not talk about horses unless she was prepared to agree with whatever idiotic thing the man she was talking to might say. She was not allowed to make jests at her brothers’ expense in company—people might misunderstand.

She could not dance with a gentleman unless they had been introduced. Then, whether she wanted to or not, she must dance with him if he asked, unless her card was full or unless she was finished dancing for the evening. Or unless she had already danced with him twice. Two times per event was the limit. Unless it was a waltz. She must never dance more than one waltz with the same man at the same ball. But, of course, a true gentleman would never ask her to break the rules, and she would only be introduced to true gentlemen, so why did Mama keep reminding her of things she already knew?

There was no opportunity for spontaneity. No chance for fun. And no way for a man to know the real Olivia.

Benjamin knew her. But he was not considered a gentleman. And he’d kissed her, which was not a gentlemanly thing to have done, so that proved it. Still, she had encouraged him. What did that prove? That she was not a true lady?

“We are here!” Georgiana called, entering the dressing room with Arthur draped on her shoulder, fussing. For the first time ever , Georgiana looked baggy-eyed. “Arthur wants his Aunt Olly.”

Olivia shook away her guilty thoughts and stretched out her arms.

“No!” Mama and Mrs. Byrd cried at once.

“Take off the dress first, Olivia,” Mama scolded.

Vanessa hurried to undo the buttons and Tansy helped lift it over her head. They exchanged it for a loose dressing gown. Then Georgiana handed over Arthur. He was sucking on his hand and blinking his bright-blue eyes. Everything he did melted Olivia’s heart.

“Alice is waiting for us in the parlor,” Georgiana said.

Mama said, “ Hmmm. Send her here. She can try on the yellow gown.”

With a whoosh of relief, and a smidgeon of pity for Alice, Olivia snuggled Arthur close and led the way out of the room.

*

Olivia settled into Mama’s rolled-arm chair nearest the fire, dismayed by Arthur’s continuing to fuss.

“I think he’s hungry.”

Georgiana said, “It seems so. Give him here.”

Olivia reluctantly rose and took the baby to Georgiana, seated on the davenport beside Vanessa. Georgiana opened the front of her gown and put the babe to her breast. Apparently, her mother, the duchess, had nursed all her own children and Georgiana saw no reason to do otherwise. Although it was sweet to see how quickly Arthur was comforted, it was nevertheless a strange thing for a lady to do, and certainly looked uncomfortable.

“Do you want Mama’s chair?”

“Oh, no. This is fine.”

Olivia paced rather than return to her seat. She had been exhausted in her dressing room, but now had too much energy to sit.

“Alice appeared excited, didn’t she?” Alice had raced toward the dressing room with the same alacrity Olivia had shown exiting it.

“Yes,” Vanessa said. “She did.”

Olivia saw the look the other two ladies exchanged. A bit self-satisfied.

“Oh!” She giggled. “You planned that, Vanessa.”

“No, your mother did. I was merely her co-conspirator.”

Olivia grinned. “Well, then, I’m glad to have been an unsuspecting pawn, I suppose.”

Alice was embarking on her second Season, sponsored once again by the duchess, but her father, the duchess’s brother, had insisted Alice did not need new clothes. He said that the duchess spent a fortune last year, and Alice could wear the same gowns again. Olivia could sympathize with the man’s pride, to a point, but he didn’t understand the ton. Alice would be severely handicapped without a few new dresses. He should think of a new wardrobe as an investment. That was what Jasper, teasing Olivia, had said he did.

Olivia heard her brothers’ voices in the hallway. A moment later, they came into the room. Reg went to Georgiana’s side and bent to kiss her. Jasper took two steps into the room and froze. His face went red.

Arthur was hidden under a shawl that covered Georgiana from shoulder to waist. Nevertheless, Arthur’s snuffling noises made it clear what was going on. Jasper spun on his heel, murmured an incoherent apology, and sped from the room. Reg shook his head, and the ladies laughed.

“I spent my whole life outnumbered by Taverston males,” Olivia said. “Now the ladies are in the majority and the tables have turned!”

“Don’t crow yet,” Reg countered. “We are soon to even the score.”

“What do you mean?” Vanessa asked.

“Jasper has evidently hired himself a social secretary. Benjamin is bringing him to meet everyone. They should be here later tonight.”

Benjamin was returning. Tonight. Olivia held her breath a moment, then let it out slowly, glad that no one could hear the way her heart rate sped up.

Vanessa’s brow wrinkled fleetingly, with surprise or irritation or both. “A social secretary? ”

Reg said, “I think it was Mother’s idea. Just for the Season.”

Mama’s idea? And Jasper had not conferred with Vanessa first? What an idiot.

Vanessa stood and smoothed the front of her gown, her face unreadable. “I’d best make Cook aware. And Mrs. Hardy. Benjamin’s apartments will need to be aired. And I suppose this…?”

“Mr. Boring.”

Vanessa’s eyebrow twitched upwards. “Mr. Boring will also need a room. If you will excuse me.”

Olivia knew she should be concerned that Mama must be worried, but there was no room in her heart for anything but joy. Benjamin would be back tonight. They would have a little more time together. A little was better than none.