Chapter 13 Angina Amid the Accoutrements
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ANGINA AMID THE ACCOUTREMENTS
Lady Catherine was well-pleased by the results of their first foray into society together, and her pleasure was exponentially increased when the marquess did indeed call upon Anne the day after.
So pleased was she that a shopping excursion was planned; evidently Anne’s gowns, elaborate as they were, would not be enough to attract a marquess.
She threw up her hands as she came upon Anne, with Mrs Jenkinson at her side, Elizabeth, and Lord Saye at a late breakfast at Rosings House.
“There you are! I need only half an hour or so for a bit of coffee. You there.” She pointed at a nearby footman.
“Tell them we need the carriage and have one of the maids get Miss Bennet’s and Miss de Bourgh’s things. ”
Lord Saye informed them, “I will attend you as well, but only if you promise me that we shall go for cream ices when we are through.”
“Shopping?” Anne asked with her brows raised. “Do not gentlemen despise shopping with ladies?”
“Not this one,” Lord Saye replied blithely.
“Very well, you may come,” Lady Catherine decided. She raised her coffee cup and drank it with an unseemly haste, then gestured to a footman for another. “But that dog of yours is not coming with us.”
Lord Saye looked deeply offended. “Florizel is a gentleman and he—”
“And he will rumple our skirts and get dog hair everywhere.” Lady Catherine glared at her nephew over another cup of coffee. “My decision is final.”
Lord Saye rolled his eyes and grumbled but did as she asked.
Lady Matlock joined their party as soon as she heard of it, and thus they were a crowded but reasonably merry group going to Bond Street.
Elizabeth resolved that she would purchase a new fan, or perhaps a bonnet if she saw one that suited her, but it was immediately evident, as they moved through the shops, that Lady Catherine intended to make a gift of a new gown to her.
She protested at once, knowing she could not accept.
“Lady Catherine, truly, you are too generous and I—”
“Pah!” spat Lady Catherine. “I am not generous at all, I assure you. I merely wish to be certain you look like you belong with us.”
“Be that as it may, I could not—”
“Let the old bird buy you a gown, Elizabeth,” said Lord Saye from where he stood flicking disdainfully through bolts of cloth.
His aunt shot him a stern look which he met with a little wink followed by blowing a kiss to her.
“I mean that in the kindest possible way, my dear auntie. Elizabeth, stop upsetting my aunt and accept the gown. Look at this material; it will suit you well.”
He lifted a length of a fine puce silk, and Elizabeth rejected it immediately. “I could not possibly wear that colour.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “You would be a vision in this colour, perhaps even lure in your own marquess.”
Elizabeth sent him an exasperated look, but Lord Saye ignored her, intent on summoning the shop girl.
Everything happened very quickly in the concoction of her new gown.
Elizabeth offered nothing of her own opinion in the creation of it—but then, so it was back at home too.
For as much as Elizabeth was opinionated on many subjects, fashion confounded her.
It was Jane and Lydia who had a passion for clothing and understood how to dress to advantage.
Elizabeth had always found it best and easiest to succumb to whatever they believed would be the thing.
Now it was Lord Saye who had the ideas, seconded by Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine.
All three of them had a much more daring take on fashion than Jane did; the sleeves on Elizabeth’s new dress would be scant and the bodice rather low.
However, it was undeniably going to be a beautiful gown, the likes of which Elizabeth had not before owned.
For Anne, a more ornate concoction was ordered, by the directives of Lady Catherine.
No low bodices for Anne; instead there would be an embroidered overdress, long sleeves, and ornate trim.
Her mother did at least concede to Anne’s choice of fabric, a pale green silk that suited her, bringing a blueish tinge to her grey eyes and lending her pallor an otherworldly quality.
While Anne was measured and modelled, Lady Matlock came to sit by Elizabeth, speaking in a low tone. “You performed an invaluable service at the ball, my dear. Consider this gown a token of thanks from my sister.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were both grateful to leave the ball with no more a scene than was had. It might have been far worse.”
“You refer to Anne’s distress over seeing her cousin?”
“Anne too much enjoys the notion of herself as the heartbroken heiress. You did well in…shifting her focus, shall we say? Too often she dwells on guilt and misery. That is no way to get a husband.” Lady Matlock sighed, her perfect posture for a moment allowed to slump.
“I blame myself. I should do better to ensure we will not meet him. I will take greater care in choosing our amusements henceforth so that we do not meet him.”
A bit of a scuffle drew their eyes then; Lady Catherine stumbled, and Lord Saye quickly rose and grasped her arm tightly.
“Unhand me, Saye,” she snapped, slapping at his arm. He ignored her, leading her to a nearby chair. “Of all the insolence! Nephew, I said, unhand me.”
Lord Saye continued to ignore her, calling to the shop girls, “A sip of something to drink perhaps?”
There was a fluster then which displeased Lady Catherine enormously. She scolded everyone involved, telling them to return to their duties and even going so far as to offer them suggestions to improve the shop—and yet she did not rise from the chair.
When a bit of sherry was brought to her, along with a little biscuit, Lady Catherine pronounced it unneeded and wasteful; she proclaimed that the biscuit was dry and the sherry inferior—but she drank and nibbled nevertheless.
Her complexion, which began as a terrible shade of grey, slowly returned to a healthier hue.
She blamed the shop girls for her distress, informing them that windows were placed such that patrons were subjected to both excessive heat and light in their eyes.
When at last she appeared to be fully restored to her usual state, Lady Matlock asked her, “Shall we return home?”
“No,” said Lady Catherine decisively. “I am perfectly well. I have no idea what all of this fuss is about.”
While the two older ladies spoke, Elizabeth rose and went to Anne who remained with patterns and pins stuck all over her. Though Anne stood with an air of unconcern, Elizabeth saw the dismay in her eyes.
“She will be well.” Elizabeth touched her arm. “It is warm in this shop.”
Anne nodded. “It is the windows, just as Mama said…they are facing the wrong direction. The breeze comes from the side. The whole place is set up entirely wrong; I would have advised them to put it all different.”
“As would I,” Lady Catherine called from her chair.
No more was said of the matter thenceforth. Lady Catherine recovered, and the gowns were ordered. Lord Saye spoke as the voucher was being signed, reminding them of their promise to take him for a cream ice; and the party was on their way soon thereafter.
It was while they were at Gunter’s enjoying their treat that Anne discovered she had left her fan behind in the dressmaker’s shop. Or at least she hoped she had. It was possible it was somewhere else altogether, but she believed she remembered giving it to Lord Saye to fan her mother.
Lady Catherine appeared dangerously tired by then, her face drooping in a noticeable way, and Lord Saye was eager to be off to whatever manly pursuits he generally undertook in a day; thus did Elizabeth offer to return for the fan, assuring them all that the walk would do her well.
A footman had come along with them to manage their purchases, and he was deemed sufficient to guard over Elizabeth’s honour for the mile or so in which she would be out of their sight.