Page 27 of Scales and Sensibility
Elinor could only smile and nod…even as she felt the straight brown hair against her fingers, hanging behind the illusion of thick black curls. The difference between what she’d seen in the mirror and the physical substance she’d touched with her fingers had made the entire procedure twice as difficult as it should have been. It wouldn’t have been easy even without the illusion…but she knew how astonishingly, miraculously lucky she was that it had worked at all under these circumstances. Apparently, Sir Jessamyn’s illusion was clinging tightly to the truth and following her own physical features and actions as closely as possible.
Elinor was grateful, too, that she’d taken the time to do that painstaking work under Carter’s patient direction. Every member of the Hathergill household was gathered now along the two long couches and the cluster of straight-backed chairs, along with Benedict Hawkins, Mr. Aubrey, and—the muscles in Elinor’s back tightened as she recognized them—two young ladies whom she knew only too well: Penelope’s closest friends and admirers, Lucinda Grace and Millie Staverton.
Lucinda’s and Millie’s avid gazes went straight to the gray gown that Elinor wore. “Isn’t that—?” Lucinda’s whisper pierced the room.
Millie’s eyes opened wide with delighted horror. “Why, Penelope was right. She reallyiswearing—”
“Mrs. De Lacey!” Sir John surged to his feet, followed by Mr. Hawkins.
Mr. Aubrey was the only gentleman in the room to remain seated. Elinor took no offense at his lack of attention; he was, of course, reading a book, and judging by his expression of furious disgust, this author was clearly as hopelessly deluded as every other dragon scholar…apart from himself. She doubted that he could be roused from such satisfying outrage without the use of physical force, but she did wonder just how much time and effort Penelope, Millie and Lucinda had wasted in the attempt.
That thought made her lips quirk and her spine relax enough to allow her to move somewhat gracefully forward and take her own seat—notin the spot that Sir John had indicated, on the couch between him and Penelope, but beside his wife, on the couch opposite. Of all of the people in this room, she most trusted her aunt not to make any sudden movements.
Sir Jessamyn had also tensed when they’d first walked into the room and he had seen Penelope, but now he climbed down Elinor’s arm and onto her lap, where he curled up in a warm, glittering pile of blue and green scales and buried his face beneath his tail.
“My dear friend.” Lady Hathergill roused herself to give Elinor a sweet, vague smile from the other side of the couch. “How glad I am to see you again after so long. I do hope the trip from London was not too difficult for you?”
“Mama!” Penelope let out a sharp titter. “How can you even ask such a thing? Only look at her. Do you imagine Mrs. De Lacey wouldeverwear one of my cousin Elinor’s dreary gowns if her trip had not beendifficult?”
Lucinda and Millie giggled in perfectly enthralled unison…and Elinor’s chest tightened by instinct. She knew that sound.
For the past six months, whenever Penelope had been most dangerously bored, one of her favourite solutions had been to summon Elinor to do her assigned sewing—assorted plain mending for the household—in the sitting room on command. Then Penelope would enjoy making all of her keenest witticisms, while Lucinda and Millie giggled in delighted appreciation and whispered their own addendums into Penelope’s ears.
Elinor, of course, could never respond with anything but courtesy…and even when shewasthere in the room to hear them, Lady Hathergill had only ever closed her eyes and drifted safely away into her own world, far from the unpleasantness that surrounded her. So Elinor had taught herself to endure those moments by wearing an expression of solid stone, keeping her back stiff and her face firmly lowered over her work.
Mrs. De Lacey, though, didn’t have to endure any of it—so Elinor was finally free to fight back.
“Don’t you care for your cousin’s gowns, then?” She cocked her head in inquiry, her voice like honey. “I am all astonishment, Penelope. I had heardsomuch about your generosity to your poor cousin. Youwerethe one who chose all of her clothes from the moment she arrived, were you not?”
“Well…” A pretty flush rose in Penelope’s cheeks. “Ididallow her to use my own dressmaker, because I felt so sorry for her, but—”
“Andyou chose the patterns and quality of cloth that would be available to her, did you not?” Elinor smiled sweetly. “That iswhat I was told. So—as you were so motivated by generosity, andof courseonly desired to help her—this gown must be whatyouconsider most attractive, must it not?”
Penelope stared at her, open-mouthed and silent. In the corner of her vision, Elinor saw Mr. Hawkins’s brows lower into a frown as he watched. Millie let out an uncertain giggle—but it cut off as Lucinda glared her into silence.
Sir John smiled fondly at his daughter. “Youwereonly too generous to your cousin, weren’t you, pet? Aye, there’s the danger of innocence, Mrs. De Lacey. You never know when your own acts of kindness can betray you.”
“Yes!” Penelope’s chest rose and fell; tears sparkled in her blue eyes as she seized control of the new conversational direction. “My cousin stoleeverythingfrom me,” she whispered. “When I think of how I trusted her and was so cruelly betrayed…”
This time, it was Elinor’s turn to be struck dumb. Millie and Lucinda, however, were more than ready to leap into the breach.
“She reallywasterrible, Mrs. De Lacey,” said Millie. “If you had only seen the way she used to sit there scowling at everything and everyone—”
“She looked exactly like a crow crouched in the corner of the room,” Lucinda said. “Penelopetriedto make her choose gowns in brighter colours, but she actually refused. Refused! Can you believe that anyone would choose that shade of grey?”
Mourning, Elinor thought distantly.I was mourning. For my parents.But Mrs. De Lacey couldn’t know that. No, wait. Could she?
Her head was beginning to cloud with rage, making it difficult to think through what she could or couldn’t say. Sir Jessamyn had lifted his own head from his tail and was humming worriedly in the back of his long throat as he looked up at her. She stroked his neck gently, fighting for control.
Millie scooted her chair closer, brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “Do you know, Penelope said sheneversaw her cousin laugh. Not even once! She—how did you say it, Penelope? Oh yes—shesaid Elinor could never have been introduced to a sense of humour. It wouldn’t even know what to do with a stormcloud like her. Ha!” She beamed. “That’s what Penelope said. She’ssoclever, you know! Everyone thinks so.”
“What a pity that Penelope’s cousin was so unappreciative of her wit.” Elinor knew she had to take better control of her tone, but it was becoming more and more difficult, especially as she caught Mr. Hawkins shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
“The weather today…” he began.
“Oh, she waspoor company ineveryweather,” said Penelope. “No matter how I tried to like her…”
Elinor was trying with all of her might to focus on the warmth of Sir Jessamyn’s scales under her hand and the support of his glittering, golden gaze focused so very intently on her face. “Perhaps she didn’t hear anything that amused her.”
