Page 81 of Not Quite a Lady
‘It is modelled on a shako,’ Lily said repressively. ‘With ostrich plumes and a cockade of French lace.’
‘It sounds very dramatic,’ Caroline observed. ‘And I imagine the colour would look wonderful on you. I think I would find all that frogging and the jacket a little heavy in appearance, but perhaps I am not envisioning it correctly.
‘And how do you manage your hair under a shako? I have admired them before, but I cannot see what one can do unless one has a crop.’
‘I just bundled it up inside,’ Lily admitted, whisked back to the woman-only gossip of the afternoon and forgetting that Jackand the servants were in the room. ‘And the bodice is very form-fitting.’
‘Ooh!’ Penelope sighed. ‘Howdashing.’
‘It was. Very.’ On the surface Jack’s voice held nothing but simple agreement, but Lily’s gaze flew to his face and saw the heat in his eyes and the suggestion in his slightly parted lips.
He had never commented on that habit – had he? She racked her brains as she accepted the dish of peas from Susan beside her. There had been some recognition in his expression that she was riding out to make a splash that day, but when she had come back to his room and pulled off her hat…
She could almost feel the weight of her hair tumbling free, very improperly. And she could recall that Jack had seemed rather strange, distant perhaps, that afternoon.
Oh goodness, he thought that outfit provocative and now it is making him think about…about the sort of thing we were doing this afternoon.
‘But not, I think, the sort of habit that would be suitable away from London,’ Lady Allerton’s pronouncement flattened Susan who was quite obviously calculating how she would look in it herself.
‘But we will need a trip into Newcastle to take the dress lengths and the sketches to the modiste. Presumably we will be able to have the use of the carriage horses tomorrow, Lovell?’
‘Certainly you may, Mama.’
‘Thank you, dear. I was surprised you wanted them for ploughing, but then, I have never understood agriculture. What exactlyareyou ploughing?’
Caroline broke into a fit of coughing, the footman hastened to fill her water glass and Jack made a considerable business of ensuring his sister was quite all right.
It occurred to Lily that he had not answered his mother’s question, but if she did not pursue it, a guest hardly could.
‘I hope I will have news tomorrow about my own carriage. I really should call on my agent and there is also a warehouse I want to look at.’
‘I am sure we can fit all that in,’ Lady Allerton said, nodding to the footman to clear the first remove.
‘But we wanted Lily to help us choose things,’ Susan protested.
‘Miss France has more important things to do, Susan,’ her mother reproved her.
‘My business should not take too much time,’ Lily smiled reassurance at the flushed girl. ‘I will simply call upon Mr Lovington’s office and collect some paperwork and have him arrange a visit to the warehouse later in the week when I return.’
‘Do you mean to pore over dusty old ledgers?’ Susan asked. ‘Jack is bad enough, I did not think ladies had to do such things.’
‘I enjoy it,’ Lily said lightly. ‘I find it satisfying to make things work better than they did before.’
‘Miss France is a notable businesswoman, Susan, and an example to you to pay attention to your lessons.’ Jack sounded infuriatingly pious and earned himself a scowl from his youngest sister and a laugh from everyone else.
Lily found herself relaxing into the warmth of this close, loving family.
It was only later as she climbed into the high, curtained bed, and snuggled down to sleep that she was conscious of the small ache of envy. What joy to have sisters to share with, how wonderful to grow up with a mother to guide you, what a pleasure to have an elder brother to tease and look after you. All the money in the world could not buy her those treasures.
Lily woke the next morning with the disconcerting feeling that she had been dreaming, but no recollection of the night at all. She had left strict instructions for Janet to wake her in plentyof time to be down for breakfast.
She had been only half-joking when she had told Jack she was worried about getting lost. She was also distinctly nervous that she did not know how one should behave in a castle.
Luncheon and dinner had appeared reassuringly normal, but for all she knew, breakfast was different up here in the North. She was sure she had heard something about porridge, which did not sound very appealing. Or perhaps that was Scotland.
To her relief breakfast at Allerton could have been taking place in any London house containing three lively young ladies. Porridge did not make an appearance and Jack was reassuringly un-talkative, remaining immersed in his newspaper and apparently content to allow the chatter about modes and bonnets to wash over his head.
Only when he was drinking his second cup of coffee did he remark, ‘You will be uncomfortably tight with five in the carriage, Mama. I need to visit Newcastle. I was going to take my curricle and there would be room for–’
