Chapter Seven
THE HEAVY OLD CARRIAGE rolled along the road, carrying the three women into the village of Wooton Beck.
It was a quiet little town, with a village green, an unremarkable stone church, and rows of shops and cottages that marched up the rising slope.
It was significant, however, to the occupants of the carriage, because only a mile or so past Wooton Beck lay the sprawling home of the Bankes family.
Lady Odelia had provided Francesca, Irene and Lady Claire with her own carriage for the journey.
Although old-fashioned, it was well-sprung and luxurious.
No effort had been spared to provide for their comfort.
There was a basket of food and drink if they became hungry or thirsty.
And there were lap robes to lay across their knees if it became too cool.
Irene glanced across at her mother, who was napping, her head nestled into the corner of the carriage, and wondered whether she ought to wake her.
Lady Claire, she knew, would want to have enough time to put herself to rights before she met Lord Radbourne and his family.
Still, she hated to interrupt her slumber.
Between the excitement of the coming visit and the added work of getting ready for it, Irene’s mother had been missing sleep the last ten days.
In Irene’s opinion, there had been little need for the multitude of preparations that Lady Claire and the others had so enthusiastically embraced.
First, there had been the apparent necessity for new clothes.
Irene had argued against it, pointing out that she had ample garments, but her mother and, somewhat to her surprise, her sister-in-law had agreed that she could not face the house party without at least two or three new frocks.
“You must have a good evening gown—one that hasn’t been seen time after time this past Season,” Lady Maura had insisted, her interest diverted for the moment from her plans for her upcoming baby.
“And a few new day dresses, as well. Do you not think so, Lady Claire? We cannot have Irene looking dowdy at Radbourne Park.”
Irene had been so shocked by such a generous gesture from her brother’s wife that she had agreed to the trip to the dressmaker’s shop, and Humphrey had been so pleased at the sight of his little family basking in such seeming harmony that he had opened up his purse, giving Lady Maura free rein for their purchases.
Of course, Irene had quickly realized that Lady Maura’s eagerness to get rid of her troublesome sister-in-law through marriage lay behind her sudden burst of goodwill, but it had nevertheless been pleasant indeed to go on an outing with Maura in which there was almost no verbal sparring between the two of them.
Francesca, when told of the trip to the mantua makers, had decided to come along, and her presence had, of course, enlivened the excursion.
Somehow, amidst all the laughter and chatter and unaccustomed bonhomie, Irene had found herself purchasing far more than she usually did and, moreover, purchasing dresses that were softer and more attractive than those she normally wore.
Francesca had insisted that only the gold satin ball gown would do, and indeed, Irene had been so swayed by the soft golden glow of the material that she had at last agreed, though she insisted that there be only one row of festooned flounces, not three, around the bottom of the skirt and that the low neckline be raised an inch.
Then there had to be soft dancing slippers to match and a gold-tissue wrap to drape around her bare arms, not to mention ribbons and flowers for her hair.
After that, it had been a quick slide into agreeing to the gray bombazine carriage dress trimmed with black gauze, a hunter-green evening dress, and two new day dresses of jaconet muslin, as well as the accessories that the other women agreed were absolutely necessary to complement the clothes.
Sated and tired, they had then retired for the day, but Maura, dazzled by this newfound friendship with one of the leading lights of the ton, jumped at Lady Haughston’s offer to come by the following day and help them go through Irene’s closet to select the rest of her clothes for the trip.
Irene, tired as she was and rather embarrassed by her strong affection for the gold ball gown, put up only a faint protest.
The next day, Francesca had descended on the house, accompanied by Maisie, whom she proclaimed was a wizard with a needle, and all the women repaired to Irene’s room, where her entire wardrobe was sifted through and talked over.
No one could deny that Francesca’s eye for fashion was impeccable, and her maid’s prowess with a needle and thread was equally impressive.
Almost before Irene knew it, with an added ruffle here or a ribbon there, a lowered neckline, lengthened or shortened sleeves, a bit of lace or a row of satin knots, her dresses were transformed into something altogether more flattering and fashionable.
She protested a little at their ruthless handling of her clothing, but the results were so attractive that she could not bring herself to make them return the dresses to their former state.
What did it matter, she asked herself, if she did not dress as severely as she usually did?
After all, she had made it plain to Lord Radbourne that she was not interested in being his wife, and in any case, he clearly was a man who sought a wife only for the most practical of reasons, not for her appearance.
It would not matter if she looked her best; she did not need to deter his suit.
Moreover, in general there was no longer any actual need to look quite so…
plain, she thought later that evening as she studied her reflection in the mirror.
She had established herself as a spinster; she was past the age when most men would even look her way if they were considering a wife.
So there was really no need to downplay her looks.
She could, for instance, loosen the plain knot in which she normally wore her hair.
It would not hurt to try the French style of a cascade of curls that Maisie had suggested, or to put an ornament in her hair.
And even though she was wont to consider the time and effort that females spent on clothes as a foolish waste, she had to admit that the last few days had been the most pleasant she had ever spent around her sister-in-law; she had, in fact, quite enjoyed the laughter and gossip and camaraderie that the women had shared as they worked on her clothes.
The pleasant atmosphere was, she knew, largely the result of Lady Haughston’s efforts.
Things had not continued so pleasantly, of course.
Maura could not spend ten days in an uncritical mood, nor could Irene refrain from resenting the other woman’s advice and, worse, her rule-making.
But the prospect of escaping Maura’s presence in a few days made it much more bearable, as did the arrival of her new clothes.
She could not resist trying them all on and preening, just a little, before the mirror.
Nor could she resist the little spurt of pleasure she felt at thinking about the surprise with which the other young ladies would regard her when they saw her in the unaccustomed finery.
After all, while Irene was perfectly happy with being a spinster, she could not help but feel a bit of resentment at the way other young women consigned her to the social rubbish pile because of it.
Excitement had built in her over the last week and a half while she worked on her clothes, making sure they were clean and pressed, with every loose button resewn and any torn bow or ripped-out hem mended. Just packing them required a great deal of time and effort.
Although she expected to be at Radbourne Park for no more than two weeks, such a visit required a large wardrobe.
She must take slippers for dancing, and an extra pair in case the first was damaged in some way.
There must be riding boots in case there was an opportunity to ride, as well as sturdy walking boots in the more likely event that she decided to take a tramp through the countryside.
And, of course, there must be less elegant slippers to wear during the days, at least two or three to go with her different frocks.
All the shoes must be cleaned and inspected and wrapped carefully in cloth, then packed away.
And that took care of only the footwear.
A large number of dresses must be packed, for she could not be seen wearing the same few garments every day.
She must also take a riding habit, a carriage dress for traveling, a walking dress or two made of heavier material for the long walks she was looking forward to taking in the country, several day dresses, evening dresses for the formal suppers, and of course, two of her very best ball gowns for whatever elegant parties the Bankes might have during the two-week visit.
Then there were nightgowns, petticoats, chemises, and stockings of differing quality and weight, as well as a practical flannel petticoat in case it turned chilly and the Radbourne house was drafty.
On top of that there were outer garments.
It was, after all, almost September, and the weather was likely to get cooler while she was at Radbourne Park.
She must have her best long velvet cloak to wear if she had to venture outside in one of her evening or ball gowns, as well as a couple of pelisses for daytime wear.
Last, but certainly not least, a number of accessories must be taken: gloves, both long and short, everyday and elegant, including leather riding gloves; ribbons and other hair ornaments; her small amount of jewelry; fans; and, of course, a number of hats.
And Maura, much to Irene’s astonishment, had lent Irene her own small sable muff to keep her hands warm.