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Chapter11
Bakewell was a charming village. Narrow streets lined with stone buildings weaved through the hilly town, and a beautiful church sat above the other buildings, its steeple reaching toward the sky. Lady Edith and I sat in the open barouche, the sun shining down on our bonnets.
“We will begin at the modiste. I should like to buy you a few new gowns, if that is agreeable to you.”
I was happy to wear anything Lady Edith approved of, but I could not like the waste. “My mother did her best to provide a trousseau, but we did not have quite as much time as she would have liked. I’ve yet to embroider most of my linens.” A thought occurred to me, for I had yet to gift James something for the wedding. I could embroider something for his particular use, something with his initials. “Could James use a new handkerchief, do you know?”
“Unlikely. It is Benedict who is constantly losing them.”
I nodded, watching the shops we passed and admiring the cozy feel of the town. It was a far cry from London, and I enjoyed the lack of coalfire smoke and the stench of the streets.
“And the cards?” I asked.
“I already sent for them, so we needn’t stop in the print shop today. We should have the cards Monday.”
Five days. That allowed me five days before I would be forced to call upon strangers. The idea drew discomfort through my stomach, and I suppressed the nausea it caused.
“I am certain that, once everyone meets you at church, they will be watching for the notices. It is not a small thing to local Society that a member of the Bradwell family has married—particularly since it was James.”
She looked away, but I wondered if it had pained her to miss the ceremony. She had been nothing but polite to me since my arrival, but I couldn’t help but feel as though there was a barrier between us—as though she did not like me, but she was determined to stay true to her good breeding and not allow her dislike to show.
“It was kind of you to secede the ceremony to my parents’ wishes. They were wed at St. James in London, and it meant a great deal to them for me to do the same.”
Lady Edith gave me a tight smile. “Yes, well, it was important for the wedding to take place so you could travel with James to Chelton. I wanted to be there, but I have grown too old for such long rides in the carriage. I fear it makes me ill.”
“Oh, I was unaware.” But now I understood why she chose the open-air conveyance. I would do the same if I struggled with nausea each time I rode in a carriage.
“While we are at the modiste’s we ought to speak to her about the linens for the ball. I had considered a white theme, and since it will be warm, we can open the courtyard for dancing.”
Dancing? Ball? I pressed my back against the squabs and did my best to sound unaffected. “I was unaware there were any plans at all to hold a ball.”
She looked at me as we rolled to a stop. “We must have a ball. We were not given the opportunity to celebrate the engagement as it was such a rushed affair—so we will celebrate the marriage. Every bride needs a ball, Felicity.”
“Even brides who do not enjoy dancing?”
She waved away my concern and allowed the footman to help her down from the carriage. I followed her, but I was not finished. “I truly cannot dance, Lady Edith. Is there not another way we could celebrate? A large dinner party, perhaps?”
I did not do well in any social function, but at least I was unlikely to faint at a dinner.
“We will have a supper during the ball, and of course the dinner before—you will need to give me a list of names so I do not forget to include anyone important to you. You mentioned you had an aunt nearby? Perhaps she would like to come early and stay at Chelton as our guest.”
My mind was spinning. The conversation was getting away from me. “She was married recently, and I cannot know if she is presently in Northumberland or at her husband’s estate in the south. But in all sincerity, I really do not think a ball necessary—”
Lady Edith stopped and turned to face me. Her eyes were wide, her smile stiff. “My oldest son and the rightful owner of Chelton has been married. In the eyes of Bakewell and its surrounding gentry, that is the most momentous thing to have happened in years. It is a blessing and worthy of celebration to many, Felicity. I do not wish to host a ball because I enjoy parties. We must have a ball because it is expected, and James does not shirk his duties.”
James did not shirk his duties, but I did? I could not ask if that was what she meant, but neither did I need to. She had made herself perfectly clear.
“Do we understand one another?” Lady Edith asked, the barest hint of an edge to her refined tone.
“Yes, of course.”
“Wonderful.” She turned back to continue walking toward the modiste’s shop, and I walked beside her. “I have been debating the merits of an all white ball, and if we choose to do that, it would be marvelous to have you appear in an exquisite, white gown. What do you think?”
“White would be lovely. But it would be costly and difficult to keep clean.”
“You needn’t worry about either of those things. It is important, I think, to give Chelton a good showing, and what better than the color that signifies purity.”
I missed my footing but managed to right myself without falling. Purity? If I wondered before whether or not James had told his mother of the scandal and the gossip surrounding our hasty engagement, I needn’t now. She was fully aware of the dark cloud that shamefully followed me around—would continue to follow me for the next six months.
