Chapter 10 A Simple Little Rout #2
They were rewarded with an eager smile as they made their own introductions, then settled down beside one Mrs Lucinda Phylter.
“How lovely that your Christian name is ‘Rose’!” their new acquaintance hollered. “I love nothing in all the world as I do roses!”
Goodness! She thinks we are as deaf as she must be herself! Belinda realized.
“Then I must assume you have an extensive garden, Mrs Phylter?” Aunt Rose asked, almost as loudly.
“Indeed, I do. Every May, it is flush with blossoms of every colour. Painting them was my greatest pleasure before the palsy made it impossible.” She turned to Belinda. “Do you watercolour, Miss Everson?”
“No, I regret I have little talent for artistic pursuits.”
“Oh, how disappointing!” The elderly woman’s face fell, as did Lindy’s hopes that Mrs Phylter might want to employ her.
Suddenly, a woman in a bright orange turban poked her head into the room, glancing every which way. She ducked out again so quickly that Lindy was left staring at an empty doorway.
“Miss Everson? What has bedazzled you?” Mrs Phylter laughed, having missed the fleeting sight. Placing a gnarled hand on Belinda’s arm, she said in the loudest whisper imaginable, “You must learn to keep your eyes in your head, or you’ll be thought a hayseed who has just blown into town.”
I suppose I ought to expect such silly exhortations, Lindy thought, smiling graciously. In fact, as a companion, I may hear little else.
As Mrs Phylter took a breath, perhaps to expound further on her advice, a passing gentleman arrested her attention.
“Ah, Mr Vine!” she exclaimed.
The man stopped and regarded her through half-closed eyes. While his luxuriant coat proved his wealth, his haughty gaze proved his disdain.
“Why Mr Vine, I had no expectations of seeing you this evening! And your father, is he here as well?”
“Regrettably, no,” came the man’s nasally reply. “And if you’ll please excuse me, I am on my way to Brooks’s where I was expected well over an hour ago.”
“Oh yes, don’t let us keep you from your club.” The elderly woman smiled and he walked away.
But before he reached the door, Belinda saw him stop and engage a man in conversation.
“Mr Vine will be a baron someday,” Mrs Phylter said, not seeing that he was just behind her. “You’re pretty enough to turn his head, Miss Everson, but unless you’ve got a handsome dowry, you oughtn’t set your cap for him.”
I’ve set my cap for no one! Lindy almost cried out as Mr Vine turned to glower at her.
Casting Rose a knowing glance, Mrs Phylter went on. “I suspect that if his father was not a rosarian, no one in the family would pay me any mind at all.” She chortled as if she found no abasement in the notion.
Belinda exchanged a look with her aunt.
I’ll get us away from here, Rose’s eyes said.
Too late, Belinda’s replied.
Though soured on the evening, she knew she must make the most of it, so once Rose was able to extract them from Mrs Phylter’s company, they spent the next hour going from room to room, smiling through a haze of introductions, memorizing names and faces.
Lindy’s greatest consolation in remaining at the rout came when the woman in the orange turban reappeared, this time holding the arm of a fair-haired girl. As there were so few young people present, Belinda hoped she might meet them, but Rose touched her arm just then.
“George looks a little tired,” she murmured. “I think we ought to go now.”
Following the line of her aunt’s gaze, Belinda saw her uncle was seated, resting his chin in his hand as another man stood by, speaking animatedly to him.
Concealing her relief at leaving at last, Belinda followed Rose through the crowd, bobbing her head in farewell at a few guests.
Mr Caspar rose at their approach, and the three of them went out into the brisk evening air.
As they descended the stairs, George missed a step, nearly falling as he grasped at the handrail.
“Oh, my darling!” Rose cried, grabbing onto him. “Are you alright?”
“I beg your pardon, ladies. Clumsy, clumsy!” He straightened his coat and they continued down the stairs a little more slowly. Once they were inside the unlit carriage, Lindy could hear her aunt’s gown rustling as she snuggled up against her husband on the squab.
“So niece, did you enjoy yourself at all?” Her uncle’s voice drifted to her in the near-dark. “You were strung tight as a lyre when we first arrived, but surely there were a few fellows in that crush to whom you were pleased to speak.”
Dipping into her well of patience, Belinda replied, “Uncle, please recall, it’s a lady’s trust I seek to win, not a man’s attentions.”
“Ah yes! So did any old crones catch your eye?”
“There was one woman who certainly caught my ear, as well as every ear around us,” she said, then told her uncle all about Mrs Phylter and her presumptuous hollering, at which he tsked and guffawed in appropriate turns.
When she had finished, Rose said, “Oh Lindy, no one hearing her could think her serious. And I regret telling you, but nearly every woman, regardless of her rank and situation, is wont to nudge you towards some men and away from others.”
“I would that you were wrong in that, though I suppose you are not.” Belinda chewed her lip.
“Regardless,” her aunt went on, “some promising inroads were made this evening. Don’t you think?”
Lindy murmured her agreement, though none of their new acquaintances stood out to her as a likely employer.
And as they bumped over the cobblestones through the dark night, she wondered what other degradations she might soon suffer.