Chapter 6
The perils of polite chitchat.
Meg regarded her reflection in the full-length looking glass, hardly able to comprehend what she was seeing.
In the first place, she had only ever seen her full reflection in a window, having never owned more than a hand mirror.
In the second, she had never seen anything so beautiful as the gown she wore now.
A pale blue crepe petticoat over white satin was prettily ornamented about her feet with a deep border of tulle and trimmed with blonde lace and blue-coloured ribbon, festooned and decorated with tiny silk roses.
Betty knelt at her feet, quickly making an adjustment to the hem, for as with many of the gowns Nat had bought for her, they were not quite perfect having been made for another client.
Betty had clucked and shaken her head over the errors, which Meg had brushed off by saying she had demanded the work be completed at short notice for her unexpected betrothal, which was close enough to the truth to be believable and mollify Betty.
Getting to her feet, Betty stood back and admired her handiwork.
“Well, miss, you do look lovely, and I’ve done you proud with your hair, if I say so myself,” she added with obvious pride.
Meg smiled. “I hardly recognise myself, Betty. You are a marvel.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll think about keeping me on, then?” Betty asked eagerly. “I know I’m a bold chit for asking, but them what don’t ask, don’t get, my ma says. I would very much like to be a lady’s maid, if you think you’d like to employ me once you’re married?”
Meg’s face fell, her stomach knotting as she realised their ruse was not only affecting the lives of Nat’s family. Oh, Lord, however was she to keep this up? Now even Betty was relying on her for her future.
Betty’s cheerful expression grew anxious as she noted Meg’s lack of enthusiasm, and she hurried to explain her reluctance.
“You are quite marvellous, Betty, but we aren’t married yet. I should have no hesitation in taking you on, though,” she added, as she saw the girl frowning. “At the very least I shall ensure to write you a splendid letter of recommendation.”
“Don’t you think you’ll marry Mr Ashford, then?” Betty asked in confusion. “He seems such a nice fellow, and he dotes on you, I reckon. The way he looks after you and sees to your comfort, well, it’s touching, ain’t it?”
Meg blushed, wishing she could explain that he was doing it for show, and because he was terrified she’d bolt if anything upset her.
“Oh, I don’t know, Betty. I’m just feeling nervous and out of sorts at having to dine with the dowager duchess and his mama, and Lady Della.
I’ve never been in such illustrious company before.
I have never socialised or attended grand dinners.
What if I do or say something dreadful?”
This, at least, was entirely true, and Betty hurried forward, taking her hands, which were cold and clammy with anxiety.
She smiled encouragingly at Meg. “Oh, now, Miss Bancroft… I didn’t know that, but I tell you this, you look like a duchess yourself, so you don’t need do nothing but smile and nod and agree with the conversation.
Everyone will be too busy admiring you to worry about anything else, and it’s normal that you’d be quiet on your first night. No one will remark it, I promise.”
Meg let out a shaky breath and laughed. “I think you are very wise, Betty, if rather too easily impressed by me. I am no beauty to be admired by all, but you are quite right. All I need do is smile and be agreeable. I ought to manage that much.”
“That’s the spirit, miss. But you’ll knock their eyes out all the same,” she replied stoutly, handing Meg her gloves.
“Bless you,” Meg said, a sudden rush of affection for her staunch support and admiration inducing her to give Betty a swift embrace.
There was a knock at the door, and Meg jumped.
“Oh, well, that will be Mr Ashford,” she said, attempting to sound cheerful at the prospect of seeing her beloved when all she wanted to do was dive under the bed and remain there until it was all over. “I shall see you later.”
“Yes, miss, have a lovely evening, and don’t fret,” Betty advised her.
Meg turned, smiling, and then wondered how Betty’s evening would be. “Are they nice to you? The staff here? You’ve been made welcome?”
“Very nice,” Betty said with a grin. “And the grub’s splendid from what I hear. I can’t wait for my dinner.”
Meg laughed, relieved, and opened the door. She went out, finding Nat had walked to the window and was peering out into the darkness.
“Good evening,” she said.
Hearing her voice, he turned, a smile on his lips that froze as he looked at her.
A swift dart of anxiety struck Meg as she wondered if she had unwittingly spilled something on her gown or her hair was falling down, but a quick check assured her all was well.
“My word, you look lovelier every time I see you,” he said, sounding so very surprised at this that Meg had to believe he meant it. “That gown is perfection.”
“It is lovely,” Meg agreed, quite able to believe his reaction was all to do with her ensemble and new hairstyle.
“And Betty is a wonder with a needle and thread, and with hair, so you did better than you knew by fetching her for me. I feel like a princess,” she added, which was a ridiculous thing to say, but true all the same.
How many times had she daydreamed as a young girl, thinking about parties and pretty dresses and dancing with a handsome fellow, and about having friends and people to talk with?
This was hardly the dream she had envisioned for herself, fraught as it was with the danger of discovery, but she ought to be grateful for all the wonderful experiences she was being given, like the beautiful gowns and staying in such a lovely place.
“You look like a princess,” Nat replied simply. “Everyone will wonder how the devil I managed it.”
Meg snorted, which was definitely most un-princesslike. “No, they will wonder what on earth you are doing getting involved with a woman with no connections and no money, but we shan’t squabble about it.”
“No, we shan’t,” he said, offering her his arm. “Because you are wrong. Now, are you ready to face the inquisition?”
“Well, I was before you said that,” Meg replied tartly. “Will it be so bad?”
“Nothing you cannot handle, but they are bound to be curious to know how you pinned down such a wild and wicked bachelor,” he said, grinning at her. “You remember our history?”
Meg sighed. “Every word, heaven help me, though I strongly believe I shall be sent to a place of great heat after this little escapade. Poor Betty just asked if I would keep her on as my maid once we are married. I wanted to sink into the ground, truly I did. She will be so disappointed.”
“I shall see Betty is settled too, and perhaps you will keep her on. You never know.”
She sent him a scathing look as they reached the staircase. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, whoever heard of a governess with a lady’s maid?”
“Well, perhaps you will meet a friendly fellow here over Christmas. There’s bound to be a Christmas ball. You might be swept off your feet and married before the New Year. Stranger things have happened,” he said, winking at her.
“Not to me,” she replied under her breath as they made their way down the stairs. “And I hardly think anyone would dare to steal your fiancée from under your nose.”
Nat guided her through the house to a very formal sitting room.
It was beautifully decorated in shades of green and gold, the walls covered in wonderful paintings that Meg longed to take a closer look at.
A fire blazed in the elegant white marble fireplace, and the conversation of those gathered already halted as they entered the room.
Meg did her best to appear relaxed and to ignore the prickling sensation of scrutiny as they went to greet Nat’s grandmother.
“Well, Gee-Gee, now I see what you have been doing with this talk of renovations. This room was so dark and gloomy before. You have transformed it,” Nat said with obvious approval.
The dowager duchess, sitting rigidly upright in an elegant chair upholstered in rich green silk, looked no less splendid.
Dressed to impress as usual, tonight she wore a high-necked gown of black and gold silk, with a multitude of glittering jewels about her throat and wrists, and a diamond tiara sparkling in her thick white hair.
“I am pleased,” she admitted, looking around the room with satisfaction.
“Now, make the introductions, and be quick about it. I want my dinner.”
“Certainly,” Nat replied, turning and giving Meg an encouraging smile as he turned her to meet the others in the room.
Meg took a breath and pasted a smile to her face as he led her first to an older man, perhaps in his early sixties.
He had the look of the dowager about him, the same thick white hair and sparkling eyes, and appeared a rather merry fellow.
“Uncle Charles, might I present my fiancée, Miss Magaret Bancroft. Meg, my dear, this old reprobate is Lord Charles Seymour.”
Meg curtsied, her nerves somewhat eased by the friendly way the fellow smiled at her.
“My dear, what a delightful surprise this is. We had no notion. Why, you are a dark horse, sir, a very dark horse,” he said to Nat cheerfully.
“Keeping such a beauty from us is sheer wickedness on your part. But we have her now and we shan’t let her go,” he said, offering her his arm and waving Nat away.
“Uncle,” Nat protested, but to no avail.
“No, no, go away, young scoundrel. I shall make the introductions now. Let me see, oh, yes. I suppose I had better introduce my son, Aubrey, that’s the foppish dandy you see before you.
Pray do not let his waistcoat affect your eyesight, I declare staring at it for too long will give you the megrim. ”