“I would say so! They’re a bunch of degenerates, most of them. And those who aren’t are simply too self-aware to be anything but tiring.”
Bernadette smiled. She was sure that wasn’t quite true—there were nice people in every group. But the assessment did seem largely fair, as far as she saw.
“They’re mostly horrid,” Viola continued. “And you’re a dear. No, you’re better out of their circles entirely. As am I.” She leaned back, seeming relaxed. Bernadette wished, suddenly, that her family was more like Viola’s was. They were content to be on the edge of society—a little unusual, a little eccentric. People’s opinions meant nothing to them.
“I wish I could care as little as you do,” Bernadette said sadly.
“You don’t care. Everyone around you does. It’s not your fault,” Viola said gently.
“I suppose.” Bernadette shut her eyes for a moment. Perhaps it was true that, of her own mind, she would never have cared whether society included her or not. But her parents had always cared, and Mama always made her feel lacking. And now, wishing she was more like Lady Emily made it impossible to think of anything but her own lacks.
“I am aware that you do not care for them, much like myself,” Viola said, smilingly.
Bernadette looked down. She tried to find words. “Am I very awkward? Very insipid?” she asked. Her voice trembled, close to tears.
“What?” Viola exclaimed. “No! Don’t be foolish,” she said firmly, taking Bernadette’s hand. “You are extremely interesting and very eloquent when anyone speaks to you,” she told her. “If people are too foolish to be able to talk with you, it’s not your fault.” She raised a brow, smiling at Bernadette with reassurance.
Bernadette swallowed. “But I am clumsy and awkward. And inelegant. I can see that. I know what I look like,” she insisted, a tear running down her cheek. “I know I’m not a society beauty.”
“Nor am I,” Viola countered, grinning. “But I know what you mean,” she added slowly. “You mean you feel awkward compared to ladies like Lady Beatrice or Lady Cobham and her children.”
“Yes,” Bernadette murmured. “That’s what I mean.” She sniffed, feeling her spirits lift. It hadn’t occurred to her that she wasn’t the only person who felt that. And Viola struck her as graceful and elegant. Yet Viola, apparently, didn’t feel graceful and elegant either.
“TheTonapproves of things that follow its rules,” Viola said slowly. “Someone—possibly a handful of someones—decides what is acceptable, and the rest of them are all too scared or too dazzled to contradict them. Those dazzled, scared and foolish people ridicule everything that is outside the rules. It doesn’t really mean anything.”
“I suppose,” Bernadette said softly. “But it still hurts.”
“It does,” Viola agreed. “But we don’t have to bother ourselves with them, do we?”
“No,” Bernadette said softly. “But...but he does. Lord Blackburne does. I know he does.” He had been dazzled, as Viola had said, by Lady Emily. And if that was so, then he was as foolish as everyone else.
“I am surprised,” Viola said slowly. “I would have thought he was the last person to follow their rules. I don’t know how he can,” she added.
Bernadette frowned. “He’s Viscount Blackburne,” she pointed out.
“He never struck me as being part of high society,” Viola noted steadily. “And if he is, I don’t know how he can judge others.”
“I don’t know if he does,” Bernadette said slowly. “I just wish I knew.”
“What is it you wish you knew?” Viola asked thoughtfully.
Bernadette paused, thinking. “I wish I knew if he overlooked me like everyone else does.” She could barely speak.
“Well, I don’t think so, but only he knows,” Viola said lightly.
“You mean I ought to ask him?” Bernadette whispered nervously.
“I think you ought to talk with him,” Viola said firmly. “You don’t want to spend your life not knowing what he thinks.”
Bernadette nodded slowly. She didn’t want to spend her life not knowing. She didn’t want to spend her life drowning in shame imagining that he despised her. And there was only one way to find out, and that was from him directly. She had to find the courage to find out.
Chapter 22
Bernadette stood in her bedchamber, heart thudding with nerves. Judy stood opposite her, a frown at her brow.
“How can she? It’s entirely wrong,” Bernadette argued feeling aggrieved.
“I don’t know, milady. All I know is that your best blue gown has just been aired. You can use it tonight.”
