Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ihad barely finished dressing when the sound of animated conversation drifted up from the dining room.
My sisters, it seemed, had not only risen early but had apparently spent their waking moments formulating plans of such scope and ambition that they required immediate discussion at considerable volume.
"Eliza!" Georgiana called as I descended the stairs. "Come quickly! We have the most marvelous ideas."
I entered the dining room to find both sisters already seated at the table, surrounded by what appeared to be enough correspondence to outfit a small postal service.
Victoria held a pen poised over a sheet of paper covered in her precise handwriting, while Georgiana gestured expansively with a piece of toast.
"We've been planning," Victoria announced without preamble.
"So I gathered. Planning what, exactly?"
"Your reintroduction to Society, of course." Georgiana beamed at me as though she'd just announced the solution to world hunger. "We've identified no fewer than five families worthy of immediate acquaintance, and Victoria has composed the most elegant letters of introduction."
I sat down rather heavily in my chair. “Five families?"
"The Burtons’, naturally—they have that son recently returned from the Peninsula. The Ashforths, though they're currently in Bath. The Hollings, who maintain that hunting box near Wells." Victoria consulted her list with the efficiency of a military strategist. "The Aldridges, the Thorntons…”
"That seems rather... comprehensive."
"One must be thorough in these matters," Victoria said primly. "First impressions are crucial, and it's far better to err on the side of inclusivity than to risk offending anyone of consequence."
"And what, precisely, do these letters say?"
Georgiana leaned forward eagerly. "Victoria has been most clever.
She's introduced you as our dear sister, recently arrived from London to take up residence at Wyndham Hall.
We've mentioned your refined sensibilities, your excellent education, and your desire to become an active member of the local community. "
"Without being too specific about your circumstances," Victoria added. "Widowhood requires delicate handling—one wants to evoke sympathy without appearing desperate for attention."
I poured myself coffee with hands that trembled slightly. "I see. And when exactly do you propose to deliver these missives?"
"This morning!" Georgiana clapped her hands together. "We thought to make calls immediately after breakfast. Strike while the iron is hot, as it were."
"Georgiana, you’ve been here exactly one day. Don't you think it might be prudent to allow me time to... settle in?"
"Nonsense," Victoria said briskly. "Settling in is precisely what we're helping you accomplish. The sooner you establish yourself socially, the sooner you'll feel truly at home."
"But I do feel at home."
Both sisters stared at me as though I'd spoken in a foreign tongue.
"You can't possibly," Georgiana said. "Not really. Not with only a steward for company and no proper social connections."
"Mr. Brooks is—"
"A very capable man, I'm sure," Victoria interrupted. "But hardly suitable as one's primary companion. You need friends of your own station, Eliza. People who understand your position and can provide appropriate guidance."
I took a fortifying sip of coffee. They were correct, of course in their intent.
I needed friends. I needed a place in the local society.
I would be glad to have friends. But something about them reading our aunt’s mail without me, and diving in as they had, ruffled some feathers I’d forgotten I had.
"And what makes you think I require guidance? "
"Oh, darling." Georgiana's voice held the sort of gentle pity usually reserved for small children and the mentally infirm. "You've been through such an ordeal. It's only natural that your judgment might be somewhat... clouded. We're here to help you see clearly again."
"My judgment is perfectly clear, thank you."
"Of course it is," Victoria said soothingly. "Which is why you'll recognize the wisdom of our approach. Now, I've also sent word to London—Mr. Boucher should arrive by week's end."
"Mr. Boucher?"
"The designer we both adore. He has the most exquisite taste, and I thought he might advise on some improvements to the house. Nothing dramatic, just some touches to bring things up to current fashion."
I set down my cup with deliberate care. "You've summoned a designer from London. Without consulting me."
"I've engaged his services, yes. At my own expense, naturally—consider it a gift. And I've also arranged for Madame Rousseau to visit. Your wardrobe will need refreshing if you're to move in proper society."
"My wardrobe is perfectly adequate."
"For mourning, perhaps. But you'll need day dresses, evening gowns, riding habits..." Georgiana ticked off items on her fingers. "One can't make a proper impression in outdated clothing."
I felt a familiar sensation—the walls closing in, choices being made for me, my own preferences dismissed as temporary aberrations that would be corrected by those who knew better.
"I haven't agreed to any of this."
"Of course you have," Victoria said reasonably. "You want to be happy, don't you? You want to belong somewhere, to have friends and purpose and perhaps, eventually, companionship?"
"I see.”
"Managing an estate, by yourself, is hardly a purpose suitable for a lady."
I wasn’t alone. I had Mr. Brooks, but even as I thought the words, I knew they were only partially correct. But aunt had done it. A quiet voice reminded me that she too had Mr. Brooks. "Why not?"
Both sisters exchanged the sort of look that suggested they were dealing with someone who required infinite patience.
"Because," Georgiana said gently, "it's not what you were born for. You were educated to grace a drawing room, to manage a household, to be an ornament to society. Burying yourself in ledgers and garden soil is a waste of your gifts."
"The trick is learning to be a valuable ornament."
I nearly coughed in exasperation. The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lucy, who entered with fresh tea and what appeared to be a small mountain of calling cards.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am," she said to me, "but these have just arrived by messenger."
Victoria seized the cards with obvious delight. "Oh, how perfectly timed! Word of our arrival has already begun to spread."
She rifled through the cards with practiced efficiency, her expression growing more animated with each one she examined.
"Lady Burtons has invited us for tea this afternoon. Mrs. Aldridge requests the pleasure of our company for luncheon tomorrow." She looked up triumphantly. "You see? Society here is eager to receive you properly."
"How could they possibly know of our arrival so quickly?"
"Country gossip travels faster than London scandal," Georgiana said wisely. "And our arrivals yesterday were hardly inconspicuous."
"No," I agreed, remembering the parade of carriages and luggage. "They certainly weren't."
"Which means," Victoria continued, "that we must be dressed and prepared to make calls within the hour. First impressions, Eliza. They matter enormously."
An hour later, I found myself seated in Victoria's elegant carriage, wearing my second-best day dress and a bonnet that Georgiana had insisted upon lending me.
My sisters, resplendent in traveling costumes that had probably cost more than most people's annual income, chatted excitedly about the calls we were about to make.
"Lady Burtons will be our first stop," Victoria announced, consulting her carefully organized list. "She's the widow of a baronet and has considerable influence in local society. If she approves of you, others will follow suit."
“Which of course she will," Georgiana said confidently. "You're charming when you make an effort, and we'll be there to smooth any awkward moments."
I wasn't sure whether to be comforted or alarmed by this assertion.
Lady Burtons's house proved to be a handsome Georgian manor set in well-maintained grounds. We were received in a drawing room that managed to be both elegant and comfortable, decorated in shades of green and gold that complemented the view of the gardens beyond.
Lady Burtons herself was a woman of perhaps fifty, with kind eyes and an air of genuine warmth that immediately put me at ease.
She welcomed us graciously, expressing proper condolences for my recent loss while avoiding the sort of morbid fascination that some people brought to discussions of widowhood.
"How lovely to have Wyndham Hall occupied again," she said, settling us with tea and delicate cakes. "Your aunt was much missed when she passed. Such a vital woman, always involved in some charitable endeavor or improvement to the estate."
"She sounds like she was wonderful."
"Indeed she was. And we're all so pleased that the property has remained in the family. There was some concern that it might be sold to strangers."
Victoria leaned forward with interest. "Concern?"
"Oh, you know how it is in the country. We form such close communities that the thought of unknown neighbors can be quite unsettling. Particularly when the estate is as significant as Wyndham Hall."
"Significant?" I asked.
"Oh my dear, surely you realize? Wyndham Hall is one of the finest properties in the county. The grounds alone are worth considerable attention, and the house itself is architectural treasure. Your aunt was quite the figure in local society—her opinion carried real weight."
I felt a flutter of something that might have been pride, or perhaps anxiety. "I had no idea."
"Which speaks well of your modesty," Lady Burtons said kindly. "But you'll find that your position here comes with certain... expectations."
"What sort of expectations?"