Chapter 5
“Now, remember girls, you must be on your best behaviour,” Catherine said, impersonating their mother as their carriage headed towards town.
Cecelia had to bite back laughter. She had to admit that she felt a little better outside of the house, out from under her mother's oppressive gaze.
Though she hadn't mentioned it for the last couple of days, Cecelia knew very well the matter that flooded her mother's mind.
“What does she truly believe we could do that would be so terrible?” Mary asked.
The three of them looked at each other and laughed all over again. Even Cecelia's lady's maid, Sophia, looked amused.
“I suppose it is most likely to be me she is concerned about,” Cecelia said, thinking of all the rebellious things she had done when she was younger.
“And rightly so,” Catherine said. “We are all concerned with you.”
Cecelia grimaced. She hated being the centre of attention.
“Let's just get to the modiste and get home before mother has kittens,” she said, hoping to get things over and done with.
“Don't forget the bookstore,” Mary reminded her, “you promised.”
Cecelia scowled and ruffled Mary's hair. “How could I possibly forget?”
“I don't see why we have to do this anyway,” Catherine complained, “it isn't as if you will actually attend any events this Season.”
“Be that as it may,” Cecelia sighed. “I promised Mother I would see everything arranged in case Lord Cumberland has a change of heart.”
Just to utter his name made Cecelia shiver.
“Do you think he shall?” Mary asked, her expression growing excited. “Wouldn't it be wonderful?”
“Something like that,” Cecelia grumbled as the carriage pulled up outside the modiste. She could think of many other words to describe it.
Their trip inside went just as Cecelia had anticipated.
She spent much of the time trying to avoid being pricked by pins, listening to Catherine complain of how bored she was, whilst Mary continued to insist that they must get to the bookstore before it closed for lunch.
“I promise, we shall go to the bookstore,” Cecelia insisted, adding, “and if you quit complaining, Catherine, I shall take us to the tearooms for ice-cream once we're finished.”
“And to buy apples at the market?” Mary chirped, her big blue eyes round with hope.
“And to buy apples,” Cecelia promised, smiling. Her sister had always been fond of Mrs Mable's apples.
“If you wish to buy apples, you had better make haste,” Catherine said, her scowl assuring Cecelia that she only cared to get home. “Mrs Mable likes to close the stall early sometimes.”
****
Having partaken in ice cream at Percy's Tea Shop, the three sisters made their way to Mrs Mable's market stall, laughing as they went.
Unable to hide her mischievous side, Cecelia found herself poking and prodding her sisters as they went, tugging a loose curl of Mary's back behind her ear, “Don't you know you ought to be more aware of these things, Lady Mary?”
The girls laughed at how she sounded just like their lady's maid.
Sophia followed on, grim faced while a footman followed behind with their modiste purchases.
“Don't you know it's impolite to comment on a young lady's appearance?” Mary countered, sticking out her tongue.
“You know what Mother would say about that tongue of yours, Mary,” Catherine said.
“Keep it in your mouth,” the three girls said, laughing as they reached Mrs Mable's stall.
They brought three apples for themselves and a bunch more to return home with before Cecelia was unable to stop herself from performing a magic trick.
Using her handkerchief and a little sleight of hand, she made Catherine's apple disappear.
Her sister looked quite unimpressed.
“I was going to eat that!” she exclaimed before Cecelia magically made it reappear to the delight of everyone.
At the sound of the chapel bells tolling, Cecelia sighed, her heart sinking. “I suppose we ought to consider returning home.”
Sophia looked relieved, as did the footman, but both her sisters complained.
“I thought you were bored?” Cecelia said to Catherine, who shrugged.
“Mother will likely bore me to tears with her meddling when we get home,” she pointed out.
“Then we had better enjoy the ride home,” Cecelia insisted, nudging her sister playfully.
And so, they did, impersonating all those members of the ton they found ridiculous, like Lord Appleby, who only ever spoke of his magnificent orchards, and dowager Lady Vanderbalm, who was always sour-faced no matter the weather and company.
As they drew closer to the house, Cecelia realized she couldn't quite let their outing come to an end. Calling to the coachman, she asked him to drop them at the bottom of the driveway before insisting to her sisters, “You must race me back to the house.”
“Oh, My Lady, are you quite certain that is a good idea?” Sophia protested, but Cecelia's mind was already set.
She and her sisters piled out of the carriage at the end of the driveway and lined up.
“Are you ready?” Cecelia asked, and her sisters looked ready to burst with excitement.
“My Lady, I think perhaps we ought to ride up to the house,” Sophia protested from the carriage window.
“Oh, Sophia, stop being such a spoilsport,” Cecelia insisted. She placed one foot forward and bent her knees slightly, ready to spring. “3 … 2 … 1… go!”
The three girls burst off with squeals and excitement with Cecelia well in the lead.
Only as she drew halfway down the driveway did she slow her speed, smiling at the idea of allowing one of her sisters to win.
“Come on!” she called over her shoulder. “You can't let me win again!”
“I don't know why we even try!” Catherine called from the final place. “You always win.”
Attempting to make it appear real, Cecelia pretended to trip a little, slowing her pace further.
The carriage came up behind them as if the horses were chasing them down the driveway, and Cecelia laughed as Mary's eyes widened, streaming past her into first place.
“Go on, Mary!” Sophia called as if she had entirely forgotten her protests in favour of seeing the youngest sister win.
As even Catherine took over Cecelia, she quickened her pace to come up just behind her in third.
Panting for breath and laughing excitedly, she turned to look at Mary as she said, “You won.”
Catherine leaned over with her hands on her knees and panted, “You let her win.”
“I did not!” Cecelia protested.
“She did not! I won fair and square!” Mary insisted, bouncing up and down. “What do I win?”
Cecelia cocked her head, thoughtfully. “I think you should take the last apple.”
Mary scowled. “That's a boring prize.”
“Maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you read to me tonight,” Cecelia said, and Mary's eyes lit up.
The carriage pulled up beside them as they made their way up the manor steps, still laughing happily.
Their laughter and playfulness continued into the house as Sophia and the footman followed with their bags.
But when Cecelia spied her mother just inside the drawing room, her laughter caught in her throat.
The deep scowl on her mother's face caused her to glance down at herself.
The hems of her skirts were soaked with mud, and when she lifted her hand, she realized several strands of her hair had come loose from her hairpins.
A glance in the mirror hanging close by told her she couldn't have looked further from ladylike.
And as a second figure stepped into the drawing room doorway, her heart sank.
“George is here,” Catherine hissed under her breath.
“What is he doing here?” Mary whispered.
Cecelia could not speak as her gaze met his. A lump formed in her throat, and she struggled to breathe as she saw the disapproving glower in his eyes.
Her cheeks immediately grew hot with embarrassment, and she hated herself for it. Why should she be bothered by how he might judge her?
“I thank you for your time, Lady Flannery,” Lord Cumberland said, dipping his head. “I must take my leave of you now.”
Before her mother could say a word, he exited the drawing room and slipped past Cecelia without so much as a word.
In fact, he barely even met her gaze as he went, and Cecelia felt once more the sick feeling she had felt when he had snubbed her before.
“Lady Catherine, Lady Mary,” he said in farewell, dipping his head, and Cecelia felt invisible. It was a feeling that made her stomach twist.
Almost the moment that he was gone, her mother swept from the drawing room to grab her by the arm. “What do you think you are doing? Look at you!”
Cecelia's cheeks grew all the hotter. Perhaps, for once, her mother's anger was warranted.
“Wha … what was he doing here?” was all she managed.
Her mother's grip on her arm tightened until she felt nails digging into her flesh.
“He came to offer his decision,” her mother hissed before she added, “you are a foolish, foolish girl. I might have changed his mind had you not come in looking like … like this!”
Cecelia's heart sank. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and her hands started to grow clammy. “He said no then?”
Her mother threw her arm away as if she could no longer stand to touch her. “Of course, he said no! And I should agree with him to do so, looking at the state of you!”
Cecelia opened her mouth to argue, but there was really nothing left to say. For once, she thought her mother might be right.
“Why would anyone agree to chaperone such a rebellious, ridiculous girl?”
Her mother's words stung immeasurably, and tears started to prick her eyes.
“I … I'm …” she stammered, wondering if she ought to apologize, but her mother did not give her the chance.
“Get out of here! All of you! I cannot stand to look at you!”
“Mother, we were only—” Mary began, but Catherine cut her off.
“It was Cece's idea!”
“Go!” their mother snapped, and Cecelia didn't think she had ever heard her raise her voice so loud.
“Come,” Cecelia said, holding back tears as she started to herd her sisters out of the foyer. “We should get washed up.”
As she followed her sisters up the stairs, she glanced back over her shoulder to see her mother's lady's maid fanning her mistress. The paleness of her mother's face was concerning. She had never seen her looking quite so stressed or ill.
What have I done?