First Season Read online

  A footman announced that the carriage was ready, and the three went down to the street.

  The carriage moved very slowly through the crowded London streets, for the fashionable world was just beginning to bestir itself at eight as the haut ton set out for the first of the evening’s entertainments. Hetty wished to ask her cousin about the duchess before they arrived, but Sophie pointedly kept her head turned away from Hetty, and the women rode in silence for some time. Finally the carriage stopped, and Hetty prepared to get out.

  “Not yet, Henrietta,” Lady Harwick said impatiently. “We do not alight from the carriage until it stops before the door. It will be a few minutes yet, as there are many carriages and we must wait our turn.”

  The few minutes turned out to be closer to a half hour, and Hetty was beside herself with anticipation by the time the carriage stopped for the last time and the carriage doors were thrown open by footmen in elaborate livery holding flambeaux. The footmen let down the carriage steps and handed out the passengers, and Hetty descended in a daze, looking at the brightly lit house before her in awe. It was not a town house like her aunt’s, but a large detached house of a size to equal to the great houses in Derbyshire. A carpet led from the street up the stairs and into the house, the edges lined by curious bystanders who gawked at the gentry in their fine clothes.

  Hetty followed her aunt and cousin up the steps and into the house, where the duchess stood to receive her guests. Still in a daze, Hetty was presented to the Duchess of Grimwold, and barely had the presence of mind to sink into a curtsey with a muffled “Your Grace.”

  “So this is the heiress,” the duchess boomed in a loud, rather strident voice. “Pretty, but no countenance,” she proclaimed, turning from Hetty dismissively and addressing her next guest.

  Hetty passed on down the line, not even registering the duchess’s rudeness in her effort to remember the names and faces of all the people to whom she was being presented. Staying close behind her aunt and cousin, Hetty passed into a huge salon lit with glittering chandeliers and almost stumbled as she took in the room’s magnificenence. White walls and ceilings were lavishly covered with gilt stucco designs of intertwined wreaths and festoons, and an ornately carved fireplace of veined marble dominated one end of the room. Candles glittered everywhere in elaborate chandeliers, their light reflecting in the magnificent jewels worn by the guests. Hetty stared open-mouthed at a huge looking-glass framed in elaborately carved and gilded wood, when she felt an elbow jab her sharply in her ribs.

  “Don’t gawk so,” her cousin hissed at her, and Hetty, aware she was indeed gawking, made an effort keep her eyes downcast and her facial expression neutral. She had no conception of the time passing, but was beginning to feel tired when she realized the women were slowly making their way into the dining room. Hetty had hoped to sit near her aunt and cousin, but found herself separated from them in the crowd and took a chair halfway down the table. The gentlemen followed the ladies into the dining room soon afterward and Hetty found herself sitting between two unknown gentlemen. Or, rather, one unknown gentleman, Hetty corrected herself, for she remembered having been presented to the older gentleman who sat at her left, although she could not recall his name.

  Hetty glanced about the room, searching for her aunt and cousin, and as her gaze travelled over the table she found herself looking into the green eyes of the gentleman seated directly across the table. What a very fine-looking gentleman, Hetty thought appreciatively, noting his wavy chestnut hair, tightly fitting coat and immaculate linen. Then, remembering her cousin’s admonition not to gawk, she quickly looked down at her place, but not before she registered an amused smile on the lips of the dashing gentleman.

  Servants were busily uncovering the many serving dishes on the table, releasing a bouquet of delicious odors. While they were thus employed, Hetty dared to glance around the table again, remarking the fine raiment of the guests. The gentlemen all wore tight-fitting coats over sparkling white linen, and the women were clad in gold-and silver-embroidered muslins of incredible fineness, their necks adorned with magnificent jewels. Hetty’s excitement dimmed and she began to feel nervous. What did she know of dining with duchesses? What if she inadvertently did something wrong?

  A voice disturbed Hetty’s thoughts, and she turned to the gentleman on her left, who was addressing polite comments to her. Hetty, embarrassed by not being able to remember the gentleman’s name or rank, felt her face redden and answered in monosyllables. Before long the gentleman ceased to endeavor to draw Hetty into conversation and turned his attention to the woman on his left to Hetty’s relief.

  Seeing that the other guests were helping themselves to the dishes of the first course, Hetty followed suit, taking a small amount of stewed fish and a taste of the neat’s tongue from the serving dishes nearest her plate. The gentleman on her left offered her a dish of harricoed mutton, and Hetty accepted it, taking a little for herself and placing it to her right. Then, lest her manners be found lacking, she picked up the dish of neat’s tongue to offer to the gentleman on her right. But that exquisite gentleman was deep in conversation with the lady on his right, and did not notice her action. Hetty hesitated, unsure what to do. Should she offer it to the gentleman on her left, or did one offer dishes only to the person at one’s right? Or was it possible that in London only gentlemen offered dishes to ladies and not ladies to gentlemen?

  Hetty realized with a sinking feeling that the informal dinner parties she had attended in Derbyshire had not prepared her for formal dining on this order. She returned the neat’s tongue to its original place before her as the gentleman on her left offered her another dish, this one of braised venison. Hetty took a small amount and attempted to pass the dish to the gentleman at her right, who once again failed to note her action, so she shifted the two dishes already on the table to her right to make room for a third, thinking that the gentleman to her right was rather lacking in manners. Although, she thought in fairness, perhaps he had noticed how she had failed to engage in conversation with the gentleman to her left and thought she wished to be left alone.

  Thinking the dinner was not turning out to be at all the enjoyable occasion she had thought it would be, Hetty glanced down the expanse of table, wondering how long the dinner would continue. It was then that she noticed the many liveried servants standing around the side of the room. Occasionally one would leave his place and take a dish from the table and offer it to a guest. With some relief, Hetty decided it was the servants’ duty to notice when entrees were not moving about the table, and began to eat again. However, no servant came to remove any of the serving plates piled to her right.

  Hetty’s gaze flickered across the table to the elegant chestnut-haired gentleman, and felt her cheeks suffuse with a blush as she met his amused glance once again. Flustered, she reached for the dish of neat’s tongue that remained before her and took a large serving before replacing it. Hetty did not particularly care for neat’s tongue, but better the chestnut-haired gentleman think she wished a serving of neat’s tongue than think she was staring at him.

  Suddenly the strident voice of the duchess rose above the low buzz of conversation.

  “Brampton, where is the neat’s tongue? You know I am particularly fond of neat’s tongue.”

  There was a quick whispered exchange among the servants, and one picked up the dish before Hetty, on which only one serving remained, and took it to the duchess.

  “What d’ye mean, gel, keeping all the neat’s tongue for yourself?” the duchess demanded as the near-empty plate of neat’s tongue was set on the table before her. “Strange behavior for a guest, but then, an heiress may do as she pleases, I suppose. Much like a duchess, heh, gel?” she concluded, laughing loudly.

  Hetty felt herself blush in mortification as the regard of the entire table momentarily focused on her. She did not dare look anywhere but straight ahead, and even that was not safe, for she found herself looking into the amused green eyes of the chestnut-haired gentlem
an for the third time that evening. She quickly dropped her gaze to her plate as the duchess turned the attention of the guests back to the servants.

  “Well, why are you all standing about like loobies? Fetch more from the kitchens,” the duchess commanded, and, dismissing the incident, engaged one of her neighbors in conversation.

  Hetty felt some of the color retreat from her face as the guests returned their attention to their food, but she still felt excruciatingly uncomfortable, although the incident had caused the gentleman to her right to notice the accumulation of dishes to his left and he had passed them on.

  It seemed to Hetty that hours passed before the dinner was over, but at long last coffee was served and the women left the dining room to the men and their port. Hetty found her aunt and cousin and stayed close for the remainder of the evening, although she knew they were angry with her. No doubt because of the neat’s tongue, Hetty sighed inwardly. Her suspicions were borne out as soon as they settled into the carriage to return home, whereupon Sophie turned to her mother with a martyred look.

  “Mama, I was never so mortified in my life.”

  Lady Hardwick looked at Hetty with an expression, visible even in the dim light of the carriage, that told Hetty she seconded her daughter’s feelings.

  “Henrietta, I thought you told me you had attended formal dinners. What did you mean by keeping a dish all to yourself?”

  Hetty stared miserably at the floor of the carriage. “The gentleman to my right was in deep conversation with the lady to his right and rarely took any of the dishes I placed to his left, so I saw no purpose in setting the neat’s tongue there as well.”

  “How do you conduct yourself at dinners in the country?” Lady Hardwick asked in exasperation.

  “We take some of the dish before us and then pass it to our neighbors.”

  “Then why did you not do the same here?” demanded her aunt.

  “I tried,” Hetty protested. “The gentleman to my right was so inattentive I began to think perhaps things were done differently here in London. And then I saw all the servants, they were taking some dishes to the guests …” She faltered and stopped.

  “The servants are there to put the dishes of the various courses on the table and remove those of the last unless they are specifically asked to obtain a particular dish. Much as they do in the country, I am sure,” Lady Hardwick finished with some asperity.

  Hetty made no reply. She felt very stupid. Why had she not simply spoken to the gentleman on her right to get his attention as she would have at home? Why had she frozen?

  “I can see I made a mistake to imagine that my sister raised you with even the most rudimentary knowledge of how to get along in polite Society,” Lady Hardwick continued. “I must catechize you and discover just what you know and do not know before we go anywhere else. Fortunately for you, this evening the duchess was disposed to find your faux pas amusing. The next hostess may not,” she finished.

  “I am sorry, Aunt Ernestine,” Hetty said, knowing her apology was inadequate but not knowing what else she could say. She glanced at her cousin, hoping to find some sympathy, but the look on Sophie’s face could be described only as gloating.

  Once back at the town house, Hetty retreated directly to her room after bidding her aunt a good night. Daisy had fallen asleep in an armchair, waiting for her return. Hetty did not wake her maid, unwilling to answer the excited questions she knew would be forthcoming if she did. She undressed herself quietly and slid between the cold sheets of her bed, feeling a complete failure. Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed into her pillow.

  Her Season in London was not beginning the way she had imagined. Her aunt was nothing like her mother, and her cousin had not shown a desire to be close to her or even be friendly. Yet she could not blame them for being upset with her; no doubt it had been very mortifying to Lady Hardwick and Sophie to have her so singled out by the duchess. She would try harder. Still, she thought, as she drifted into merciful sleep, they could have been a little more understanding.

  Chapter Three

  Hetty woke early again the next morning, aware of a dull pain behind her eyes. She wondered at it a moment, and then remembered the happenings and tears of the night before. She turned over and buried her head in the pillow, but sleep and its merciful oblivion refused to return. She slipped from the bed and padded over the velvety carpet to the window. The view of the carriage house and bare yard disappointed her anew, and she felt a sudden longing for the open spaces of the country.

  She glanced at the plain-cased bracket clock above the escritoire. Seven o’clock. The servants would just be rising, and her aunt and cousin would probably not be up for hours. Why not go for a walk? Perhaps she could find her way to Hyde Park. Sophie had spoken of it as a place the haut ton went to walk and ride. Her spirits lifted at the thought of getting some fresh air. Perhaps a brisk walk would dissipate her headache.

  Daisy was not yet awake, so Hetty dressed herself in a walking dress and shoes. Thinking the early morning air would be chill, she pulled on her hooded red wool cape before slipping quietly out of her bedchamber.

  In the passageway outside her room Hetty spotted a maid carrying a pitcher of hot water and stopped her to ask the way to Hyde Park. The girl looked at Hetty with an odd expression, but gave Hetty the required directions, and Hetty let herself out the front door and walked briskly down the street. She found Orchard Street easily, passed Portman Square, continued to Oxford Street, and turned right to Hyde Park as the housemaid had told her. The sight of the grass and trees revived Hetty’s spirits, and she walked slowly along a path in the park, feeling at home among the greenery. Even the air seemed fresher here, she thought. The park was almost deserted at the early hour; only a few horsemen appeared to be taking advantage of the near-empty lanes to have a gallop.

  After she walked for several minutes, Hetty decided to rest a moment under a tree and review the happenings of the previous night. Her blunder at the duchess’s did not seem quite so terrible now, only foolish. She had been a gudgeon to be so overwhelmed by the grandeur of the duchess’s residence that she did not use her common sense and do as she would at any dinner. No wonder her aunt had been so perturbed with her. She must try very hard to be a credit to her aunt.

  This resolution made, Hetty felt better and became more aware of her surroundings. She noticed that she seemed to be attracting the attention of the gentlemen going past on horseback. Two riders slowed their mounts and looked at her quite boldly. A third gentleman, riding a beautiful gray, resembled the chestnut-haired gentleman who had sat across from her at the duchess’s the night before, Hetty thought, looking at him through her eyelashes. Yes, it was he. He had the same amused smile on his lips. For a moment the gentleman looked as though he might speak to her, but then he gave her a mock bow and rode on.

  Relieved that the gentleman had not spoken to her, Hetty decided to go back to her aunt’s house lest the rider change his mind and return. She walked quickly back to Adam Street and let herself into the house, hoping to slip back into her room without being noticed. Alas for her plans, as she was crossing the hall her cousin appeared in the doorway of the small salon.

  “So there you are, Henrietta. Mama requires you immediately in the Great Salon. Prepare to receive a severe dressing-down,” she finished, a pleased look on her plump face.

  Remembering her resolution to try to do as her aunt wished, Hetty did not stop to take off her cape, but went directly upstairs to the Great Salon.

  “Sophie said you wished to speak to me, Aunt Ernestine?” she inquired as she entered the room.

  Lady Hardwick, who was seated again in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, turned at her niece’s voice and frowned forbiddingly.

  “What do you mean, miss, taking a walk by yourself? I could not believe my ears when the maid told me where you had gone.

  “And in that cape of all garments,” she added, looking at Hetty’s red wool cape in undisguised horror. “A countrywoman’
s garment. Although perhaps it was fortunate you wore it, at that. You look like a servant girl in that cape. Perhaps no one recognized you. Take it off immediately. And I do not wish to see you in it again while you are here.”

  “But, Aunt, everyone in Derbyshire wears red wool capes. Even Lord Woodburn’s wife,” Hetty protested in bewilderment as she removed the offending garment.

  “Please remember that you are no longer in the country, Henrietta,” Lady Ernestine said sternly. “Country ways do not do here. Never again are you to wear that cape, and never does a lady walk alone anywhere. Is that understood? You must always be accompanied by a maid or footman, even if you are going only next door.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” Hetty said, thinking it was going to be more difficult to learn the rules of proper behavior in London than she had thought. “I am sorry, Aunt Ernestine, truly I am. I did not realize …”

  Her aunt appeared to relent a little at Hetty’s obvious contrition, and motioned her niece to sit down.

  “Well, I suppose one must make allowances for one not given the benefit of being raised in town,” Lady Hardwick granted. “But I must confess that when Gwendolyn asked me to present you, I did not realize what a difficult task it would be. However, it is my duty, and I shall do the best I can. It is fortunate you are an heiress, Henrietta, for Society will be willing to overlook much in one with your fortune. But for the sake of Sophie and myself, I hope you make an effort to behave in a proper manner.”

  Lady Hardwick then transferred her attention to her daughter, who had followed Hetty into the salon to witness her beautiful cousin receiving a dressing down.

  “You, Sophie, must help your cousin. I expect you to instruct Henrietta on the behavior proper to one her age and station in Society.”

  “But, Mama, why must it be my responsibility? Hetty is so ignorant, it will take all my time,” Sophie protested ungenerously.

  “Do not forget that Henrietta is under our sponsorship and that her behavior reflects on us. You will do as I say.”