Chapter Two #2
Smuckers own father hailed from Cowling, and he knew very well that Barnoldswick was in Yorkshire, but Barrowford was in Lancashire. That part of the world was still smarting over past battles of the who-should-be-king variety.
He’d not said anything of it yet. It could very well be that things had changed since he was a boy and there was not such enmity between the two counties as there had been.
Hopefully.
What he could be certain of is that the two gentlemen would know each other. One was to be a viscount, the other an earl, and they lived under ten miles from one another. The question was, did they get on?
He’d tentatively inquired if the two gentlemen were to travel to Chemsworth together. The viscountess had no idea, nor did she know if each was aware the other was coming.
And that was another opportunity for disaster. Either one of them might have refused to come if they’d known the other was coming too. He really thought that was not going to be the delightful surprise the viscountess imagined it would be.
Mr. Smuckers closed his eyes and reminisced about his days in Bath under the watchful care of his sister. It had been very peaceful there.
Poppy and Pansy had been to see Mr. Clyde and bought piles of fabrics. It seemed their mother had got very liberal with the amount they might spend since there were no other sisters in the house needing the same.
They had watched surreptitiously as Mr. Clyde made various attempts at conversation with Miss Millthorpe.
Certainly, he was tragically in love with her.
As for the lady’s own feelings, she kept them very much under wraps.
Both Poppy and Pansy were hoping for a match so Miss Millthorpe would not be lonely.
As soon as she was able, the lady had moved into the cottage.
She seemed to enjoy it, but they could not imagine how her evenings were with nobody to talk to.
She always said that Poppy and Pansy had talked at her enough to last a lifetime, but they did not quite believe it.
Once Mr. Clyde could be drawn away from Miss Millthorpe, Poppy had selected an array of velvets in soft colors, silk ribbons to complement them, and two pretty bonnets to trim.
Pansy had gone for darker silks in claret, emerald, and navy.
Poppy could not say why, but this difference in their preferences suited them.
They looked alike, for the most part. There were only two small differences that could be noticed in their appearance.
Which cheek their beauty spots were located on, and that Poppy’s face and arms had grown just the slightest bit more rounded than Pansy’s.
They speculated that it was because Pansy spent so much more time on her horse and Poppy spent so much more time with a book and a biscuit.
At least, they could see this little bit of difference. It was not clear that anybody else did.
What they were sure of was that the differences in the colors they favored seemed to highlight the differences between them.
Poppy had a softer face, framed in soft velvet.
Pansy had more angles, framed in sharper colors.
Though they were, as Marigold always said, thick as thieves, they had grown into their own people.
As they’d grown, they’d begun to keep track of their differences.
Pansy was mad for India Pickle. Poppy would always find room for Mr. Moreau’s Savarins.
Poppy liked playing piquet, Pansy called it maddening.
Pansy was better on the pianoforte. Poppy was better at sketching.
They had several times attempted to analyze their skill at sewing to see who would come out on top, but neither of them were very good and Miss Millthorpe said they were equally bad.
Despite their differences, they did agree that they must always follow Mr. Brummel’s precepts regarding style.
He had been so kind at Lily’s house party, taking much of his time to develop their taste.
He had seemed to enjoy acting as their mentor.
He’d said they still had moldable minds.
Ladies older than they had been at the time often became stuck in their ways, even if their ways were very wrong.
According to Mr. Brummel, the cut of the dress and subtle decoration would be everything.
The dress must fit perfectly and a restrained hand must be used to apply any decorations.
Mr. Brummel had been particularly disdainful of ruffles, and so they disdained them too.
They also recalled he’d been against Pomona green and said ladies should not go round dressed as the color of an apple.
Particularly not that shade of apple. Therefore, they would eschew ruffles, fussiness, and Pomona green.
Pansy secretly liked the color, though she would never admit it as Mr. Brummel had taken such offense to it.
The dressmaker had come in from Wantage and she had no need of sketching out designs. Poppy and Pansy had been sketching dresses themselves for years. They flipped through Ackermann’s for the latest silhouettes and then removed any excessive decoration that had been included.
At Lily’s house party, Mr. Brummel had often pointed to Lady Lavinia’s dresses as having gone too far. That began to be their watchword. If they could imagine Lady Lavinia wearing it, they must turn their faces from it.
Poppy had handed over her preferred sketches, all short-sleeved but for the sage- colored dress.
The short-sleeved would utilize cap sleeves as they were certain Mr. Brummel would not prefer a puff.
Short sleeves were not ideal for a house so cold, but most of the dresses she already owned were long-sleeved.
She was willing to suffer for fashion when there were gentlemen set to arrive and she would cover her arms with one of her shawls or even one of the fur throws in the drawing room.
She’d purchased a soft blue, a buttery yellow, a crème, and a peach, all in velvet.
She purchased dyed marabou for the cuffs of the sage dress as she thought it would be charming without breaking any of Mr. Brummel's rules. The rest of her decorations, which would be minimal, were of the ribbon variety. The two new bonnets she would dress with a more liberal hand, as Mr. Brummel was not opposed to decorating a bonnet in some interesting fashion. She’d got all sorts of interesting trimmings, and she would just see what struck her fancy.
The dressmaker had taken their measurements and there had been fittings galore, and finally their new wardrobes were finished.
That had been a week ago. Since then, Lord Smythesdon and Violet had arrived with Bertie. They were followed the next day by Daisy and Lord Hemmings.
Bertie and Teddy had fallen into a natural friendship, as Teddy was perfectly willing to follow his older cousin’s lead.
It seemed to Poppy that Teddy viewed Bertie as the height of manliness.
This was probably due to Bertie throwing around the idea of Eton and sports, though such a thing was still in his future.
Teddy had begun with one thing over Bertie—the location of The Inviolate Kingdom on the third floor, just outside the nursery. That advantage had not lasted long, as Bertie had crowned himself king and Teddy was to be his trusted advisor.
They were to ring the cowbell when they saw a carriage approach in anticipation of the gentlemen from Yorkshire arriving.
That day was today and the boys had been up there since breakfast, having brought a picnic basket with them.
Now, Henrietta came in and said, “Time to get you dressed for the big day.”
“Goodness, it really is a big day. Ever since I was just a little girl I have seen these days come and go for my sisters. Pans and I have always been up on the balcony, ready to ring the cowbell. Now the cowbell rings for us. It is our day.”
“It’ll only be Pansy’s day if she manages to get here in time to change.”
“Yes, she’s off riding with Marigold. I like to ride sometimes, but not on a day like this. Pansy says it burns off her nerves though.”
“What do you think? Your newest muslin?”
Poppy nodded. “That must be the only choice. The real dilemma is what to wear this evening for dinner. It is such a cold day that I think I am leaning toward the sage long-sleeved with the little marabou cuffs.”
“Oh yes, that one is very pretty.”
“I do wish to look pretty,” Poppy said. “Pans and I are rather fraught over this whole thing.”
“Just remember, they are gentlemen, not ogres.”
“We are not worried about that. We are worried that we will both fall violently in love with the same gentleman. We have a pact that we swore to each other. We will both give him up if that happens.”
“Of course you have a pact. My advice, do not fret over it too very much. The fates have a way of sorting things out.”
Pansy burst into the room in her riding habit. Her cheeks were pink and she looked rather glorious, though she did smell of the stables.
“I am back in good time, I told you I would be.”
“A basin of water is already in your room,” Henrietta said. “Do go and wash the horse from yourself and I will be in as soon as I’ve dressed Poppy.”
“This is it, Pops. This is the day.”
“I’m a wreck just thinking of it.”
“All we have to do is be ourselves and be charming.”
“And remember the pact.”
“We should have a signal once we know who we prefer. That way, we will know right away if we are heading into disaster.”
“Agreed,” Pansy said. “What’s the signal?”