First Season Read online

  “Yes, Mama,” Sophie said sullenly with a baleful look at her cousin.

  Hetty flushed and felt uncomfortable in the face of such obvious dislike. Her dream of having a girl her own age to be friends with was rapidly disappearing.

  “You will begin by instructing your cousin in the behavior expected of her at your come-out ball. I plan to hold it next week. You do know how to dance, I trust?” Lady Hardwick asked with a questioning look at her niece.

  “Yes, Aunt,” Hetty replied briefly.

  “I am thankful for that, at least. Sophie, I leave you to instruct your cousin, and later I shall expect you both to assist me in making out the invitations for the ball.”

  Her stern ultimatum delivered, Lady Hardwick stood up and swept regally out of the room, leaving the girls in each other’s reluctant company.

  Jules Tarrant, Marquess of Wakeford, completed his ride around Hyde Park and then turned his gray toward home. A smile touched his lips as he thought of the young girl in the red cape sitting beneath the tree. She had made a pretty picture with her dark curls peeping beneath the bright red hood, framing her delicate features. She had looked remarkably like the young woman who had sat across from him at the duchess’s dinner the previous night and who had eaten all the neat’s tongue. Although what a gently-bred girl could be doing out alone in Hyde Park dressed in a servant’s cape, he could not imagine.

  He was still smiling when he arrived home and joined his sister in the breakfast parlor. As he helped himself to a cup of coffee from the urn his younger sister Emily looked up at his entrance and bade him good morning.

  “What is so amusing?” she added, her brother’s smile bringing a corresponding one to her face.

  Jules glanced at his sister affectionately as he took a seat across the table. Although six years separated them, they looked much alike with their fair skin, clear green eyes, and thick chestnut-colored hair. He wondered again why his sister had not married in the three years she had been out. He knew for certain of five offers she had received, and suspected she had stopped twice that many gentlemen from coming to the point. If she did not quit being so particular Emily would end up a spinster, he reflected, for she was already two-and-twenty years of age.

  “I was thinking that this Season may prove to be an amusing one after all, with the presence of the Biddle heiress,” Jules answered his sister’s question.

  “The Biddle heiress? I believe I have heard some talk of her. Is she the one being sponsored by Lady Hardwick? I have heard her fortune is considerable.”

  “Yes, and she is going to need it,” Jules said as he sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. He then proceeded to relate to his sister the episode of the neat’s tongue at the Duchess of Grimwold’s dinner.

  “The poor girl,” Emily said sympathetically as Jules finished his tale. “What chagrin she must have felt!” But she could not restrain a smile at her brother’s entertaining manner of telling the story.

  “It is obvious Miss Biddle has not the least idea how to go on,” Jules said. “I think I saw her in the park this morning, alone and in a servant’s cape.”

  “It is strange Lady Hardwick is not keeping a closer eye on her,” Emily mused.

  “It will be most diverting to see how Society reacts to Miss Biddle,” Jules continued. “Disgust at her manners will war with admiration of her money.”

  “You make me quite curious to meet her,” Emily said. “I shall tell Mama to watch for invitations to her presentation ball. I assume we shall receive them, for Mama is acquainted with Lady Hardwick.”

  “Inform me if we do,” her brother said. “I shall attend as well. I cannot afford to miss some good amusement, and I am certain Miss Biddle will provide it.”

  “I think you are being wicked, dear brother,” Emily remonstrated, “to hope the poor girl makes more social errors.”

  Jules merely smiled, and Emily turned the conversation to other subjects. But when Jules summoned his valet to help him dress for his daily appearance at White’s his thoughts returned to Miss Biddle as he reviewed his encounters with her. No doubt the Beau would find his anecdotes about the Biddle heiress quite amusing.

  Hetty’s excitement at being in London gradually returned over the next few days as the memory of her disgrace at the duchess’s receded and the day of her come-out ball approached. Lady Hardwick did not allow Hetty to attend any more entertainments before her formal presentation to Society, but Sophie took her cousin along to the circulating library, and Hetty was included in several short morning calls with her aunt.

  Heeding her mother’s instructions, Sophie grudgingly instructed Hetty in the behavior proper in London Society, and Hetty found herself repeating the rules to herself much of the time. She was determined to make a good impression on Society, and not bring any more disgrace on her aunt, but it was going to be very difficult, she feared. There seemed to be so many rules in London. Do not dance with someone unless he has been presented to one as a suitable partner by someone one knows; do not meet one’s partner’s eyes too long; do not go anywhere unattended; do not, do not. Her focus on proper behavior caused the ladies Hetty met during the morning calls to label her, as had the duchess, “pretty, but no countenance.”

  The one bright spot in her first fortnight in London was the arrival of her new wardrobe from the modiste. She and Daisy unwrapped the parcels eagerly, exclaiming over the fine materials and modish styles. Daisy urged her to try some of them on so that she could see her mistress in the London fashions, and Hetty willingly complied. Yet, as she viewed herself in the glass, she was aware of a sense of disappointment. Although the gowns were undeniably modish, Hetty felt she did not look any better in them than she did in the ones she had brought from Derbyshire. Well, she told herself as Daisy helped her out of a fawn-colored walking dress, she must trust her aunt. Lady Hardwick undoubtedly had excellent taste, for she and Sophie were always in excellent looks.

  Hetty, remembering her promise to her mother to write frequently, penned a letter describing her new wardrobe and the sights of London. However, Hetty said little about her aunt and cousin, and as she folded the finished letter, she felt she had not been entirely candid with her parents. It was a new feeling, and not one she liked. Yet she did not feel she could tell them of Sophie’s puzzling hostility and Lady Hardwick’s harshness without either worrying them unduly or sounding ungrateful. Perhaps things would change for the better and she would be able to write of them in the next letter, Hetty thought hopefully as she tied her letter-case shut.

  At last the day of Hetty’s come-out ball arrived. Lady Hardwick had spent the squire’s money lavishly in decorating for the ball. Great urns of flowers stood everywhere, and potted palms had been placed along the sides of the staircase, creating an exotic walkway to the first floor, where the Great Salon was to serve as the ballroom. The carpet in the salon had been removed, the floor beeswaxed, and gilt chairs placed along the walls for the chaperones and guests who were not dancing. Supper was to be served in the dining room, and an extra bedchamber and dressing room on the first floor would function as a card room and withdrawing room.

  Lady Hardwick had chosen to clothe her daughter and niece in matching gowns of the requisite white muslin for the ball, selecting a style with a V-neck, short sleeves and a rather full skirt, trimmed in light blue ribbons, and worn with matching light blue silk gloves and slippers. As Daisy helped her mistress into the gown, Hetty felt rising excitement. The day she had dreamed of for so many years had finally arrived: her presentation to Society was imminent!

  Daisy brushed Hetty’s dark hair until it shone and arranged the curls in as close an approximation of the style a la Sappho as she could achieve. She then fastened the garnets that Hetty had selected from her pitifully meager jewel-case around her mistresses nck and stood back to see the effect. Encouraged by her maid’s admiring murmurs, Hetty stepped before the cheval glass and surveyed her reflection. Yet, although she looked fresh and au courant, the image that
confronted her was somehow disappointing. The deep V-neck of the frock emphasized the smallness of her figure, and, combined with the full skirt, made her appear rather pear-shaped. But Hetty hid her disappointment as she thanked Daisy, for the girl had done her best to make her mistress look well.

  Lady Hardwick and Sophie were already dressed and waiting in the ballroom when Hetty went upstairs. She immediately recognized that the gown that caused her to look less attractive made Sophie appear particularly fine. The gown flattered her cousin’s fuller figure, and the blue of the trim and accessories was exactly the color of Sophie’s eyes. Pale blue sapphires with pearls sparkled at her throat, and anticipation of the evening ahead had added a glow to her cheeks.

  “How beautiful you look, Cousin Sophie,” Hetty exclaimed involuntarily.

  Hetty’s compliment was rewarded by the first genuine smile she had received from her cousin.

  “Thank you,” Sophie replied with the assurance that comes from knowing one is indeed in one’s best looks. “You look very fine as well,” she added condescendingly.

  “That is enough chatter,” Lady Hardwick remonstrated her charges. “I hear voices below and it is time we take our places to receive the guests. Hetty, stand beside me and Sophie, stand to Hetty’s left.”

  Hetty and Sophie took their places with Lady Hardwick just inside the door as the first guests began to arrive. Hetty found herself subjected to sharp scrutiny from the guests, especially the matrons with unmarried sons or daughters in tow, the former assessing her acceptability as a possible match and the latter calculating how much of a threat she was to their own daughter’s standing for the Season.

  At first to remember all the names of those she was presented to, but she was soon overwhelmed by the sheer number of guests. Yet she felt she was acquitting herself creditably, and some of her natural sparkle returned. For several minutes Hetty felt that despite the less than auspicious start of her London visit that it would after all be the wonderful experience she had hoped.

  But just as her confidence in herself returned Hetty saw the Duchess of Grimwold arrive. By virtue of her rank, the older woman swept straight to the front of the receiving line. Her heart sinking, Lady Hetty curtseyed deeply as their noble guest approached, keeping her eyes on the floor and hoping the duchess would not condescend to remember her, a hope quickly dashed.

  “Well, gel,” the duchess boomed, “I hope your aunt has provided enough neat’s tongue for the two of us at supper tonight, eh?” She laughed heartily at her words, and Sophie smirked at her cousin as Hetty’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

  Hoping not too many people had overheard the duchess’s comment, Hetty struggled to regain her composure. But to her deep mortification she saw that the person in line behind the duchess was the chestnut-haired gentleman she had seen in the park and at the dinner.

  “Jules Tarrant, Marquess of Wakeford,” she heard him announced. As he turned from Lady Hardwick to Hetty his eyes met hers with a look of sardonic humor, and Hetty flushed even more deeply. “Lord Wakeford,” she said faintly.

  “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Biddle,” he said.

  Hetty responded in form and turned away from him to the next person in line, his mother, the dowager countess, more quickly than was quite proper. Hetty would have known the older woman was somehow related to the marquess, for she had the same thick chestnut hair, although hers was liberally streaked with gray. The dowager marchioness acknowledged Hetty’s presentation to her kindly, and Hetty was next presented to her daughter, Lady Emily Wakeford. The marquess’s sister also had a strong family resemblance, but Hetty was relieved to see that Lady Emily’s eyes did not hold the same supercilious amusement but rather warmth and kindness.

  Most of the other guests Hetty was presented to that evening blurred together in her mind as the evening progressed, with the exception of an older man dressed immaculately in black silk breeches, ruffled silk shirt, a white waistcoat, and black coat. The lack of color in his clothes made the gentleman’s attire conspicuous, but it was the look he directed at Hetty that made her particulary note the gentleman, whose name was Lord Satre. Although his manner was exquisitely polite, he somehow made her feel uncomfortable. Or perhaps unclean was a better word, Hetty decided. He looked at her as though she stood in the receiving line in nothing but her shift.

  At last Lady Hardwick allowed Hetty and Sophie to leave their positions at the door and the dancing began. According to etiquette, Hetty danced first with the ranking gentleman present, who, to Hetty’s horror, turned out to be the supercilious Lord Wakeford. As he led her onto the floor, Hetty thought dismally that since she always seemed to make some social error when she was around Lord Wakeford, she would probably trip or step on his immaculately shined shoes. But to her great relief, she did not. Indeed, had it not been for the light of sardonic amusement always visible in the marquess’s eyes, she would have enjoyed the dance very much, for he was an excellent dancer, and Hetty herself was very graceful and light on her feet.

  When the dance ended Lord Wakeford returned returned Hetty to Lady Hardwick with every appearance of having truly enjoyed partnering Hetty. No sooner had Lord Wakeford left than Hetty’s hand was claimed for the next dance by a handsome young man with brown hair. He was followed by another handsome young gentleman, and to her surprise Hetty found herself much in demand as a dance partner.

  Jules Wakeford watched Miss Biddle dance gracefully across the floor with Lord Arlington, feeling a sense of disappointment. After his first two encounters with Miss Biddle at the dinner and Hyde Park, he had counted on the heiress providing him with a continual source of amusing anecdotes with which to regale his friends at White’s. The Beau had been most diverted by the stories of the neat’s tongue and the red cape. But so far this evening the young girl had not fulfilled his hopes. Perhaps this Season would turn out as dull as the last. With an imperceptible shrug, Wakeford resigned himself to his ennui and went to claim his partner for the dinner dance.

  When Jules and his partner, Miss Evanston, entered the supper room, he spied empty chairs at a table that contained both Miss Hardwick and Miss Biddle. Hoping Miss Biddle might yet provide some entertainment, he seated his partner at the table and went to fill plates for Miss Evanston and himself. As the party ate their dinners, the girls chattered inconsequently to their partners and friends and Jules’s mind began to wander.

  “Did you notice Mr. Addison’s coat?” one of the girls, Miss Alcock, asked Miss Hardwick. “He looks quite the popinjay in that coat with the padded shoulders and small tails,” she proclaimed, glancing at an exquisite young gentleman in a bright yellow coat who sat at a nearby table.

  “Yes, and with lavender breeches,” Miss Biddle’s voice chimed in.

  Jules’s wandering attention was reclaimed. Young ladies did not use the word “breeches,” and Miss Biddle’s comment caused an uncomfortable silence to fall at the table. The men looked embarrassed, and Miss Alcock tittered.

  “Miss Biddle,” the young lady dared to explain to Hetty in a low voice, “a young lady does not refer to a gentleman’s, ah, nether garment, with that word. One refers to them as ‘inexpressibles,’ ‘ineffables,’ or perhaps ‘unmentionables.’ ”

  Jules watched Miss Biddle’s delicate pink compection turn red with embarrassment at her faux pas.

  “You must forgive my cousin,” Miss Hardwick said to the group. “She is from the country and not accustomed to town manners. In Derbyshire I suppose a certain coarseness of idiom is not minded,” she excused Hetty, a strange mixture of mortification and malicious pleasure evident in her expression.

  Feeling rather sorry for the young girl despite his pleasure that Miss Biddle had not let him down after all, Lord Wakeford turned the subject and the group were soon chattering as happily as before.

  Hetty’s blunder at supper somewhat shook her confidence, particularly since her comment had been overheard by Lord Wakeford, but by the end of the evening she had regained her sp
irits. How could she not be happy? She had not sat out a single dance. The gentlemen had all been quite kind and did not seem to mind that she was newly come up to London from the country. Many had even complimented on her dancing.

  After the last guests departed, Lady Hardwick turned to her daughter and niece with satisfaction. “I am most pleased with the way the evening went,” she proclaimed. “It was a definite success. You did quite well, Henrietta,” she unbent to say to her niece. “I did not notice any errors of manner on your part. You were quite prettily behaved.”

  “That is not quite true, Mama,” Sophie contradicted, and proceeded to recount the supper conversation to her mother.

  Lady Hardwick frowned, but did not seem much upset by the incident. “You must watch your speech very carefully, Henrietta,” was all she said. “Refinement in one’s conversation is expected of a young lady in London.”

  Clearly irritated with her mother’s mild reprimand to her cousin, Sophie spoke again.

  “Perhaps you ought to warn Cousin Hetty about fortune hunters now that she has been presented to Society,” she said with false concern. “Many of the gentlemen who danced with you tonight are short of funds and hope to ingratiate themselves with you in hope of gaining control of your fortune. I do not have to worry about such considerations,” she added. “Gentlemen who dance with me do so because they wish to, not because of my wealth.”

  Sophie’s unkind words robbed the evening of much of its pleasure to Hetty and her face fell. Inovlunatarily she turned and looked at her aunt in mute appeal.

  “There is truth in what Sophie says,” Lady Hardwick acknowledged. “You will indeed have to be on your guard against fortune hunters, Henrietta. I have put it about that your father has control of your fortune until you are of age, but that will not keep all the fortune hunters away. But do not fret yourself over it, I shall find you an acceptable match before the Season ends.”