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Perhaps, in another twenty to thirty years, it would take Charlotte nearly half an hour to traverse the room as well.
“We wanted to tell you,” Lady Kingman started, the feathers in her headdress bowing as a breeze from one of the open windows caught it. She paused, then turned to her lifelong friend. “What was it now, Agnes?”
Lady Keats pulled at the long strand of pearls about her neck. “About her hem.”
“My hem?” Charlotte glanced down at her skirt—had some part of it become tucked or soiled? Nothing looked out of place.
“Oh, that’s right,” Lady Kingman continued. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Lady Keats said, patting the hand of her friend before returning to fiddling with her pearls. “Always have.”
“Well, it’s just that you are such a sweet dear, one can’t help but say nice things.”
“It’s easy to find nice things to say when you are around. As my dear, late husband used to always say—”
“Pardon me,” Charlotte broke in, feeling quite forgotten completely. “Was there a problem with my hem?” If there was, it was best she remedy it directly so that she might return to her guests.
Both women turned to her, their eyes wide.
Clearly, they had forgotten she was still there.
Lady Kingman leaned in toward Charlotte and whispered, “Ribbon.”
“Ribbon?” Charlotte repeated.
Lady Kingman nodded sagely, as though her single-word response was clear to all. The feathers slowly wilting atop her head made the action all the more ludicrous.
Only it wasn’t clear, not in the least, and Charlotte wasn’t at all sure what to do with the solitary response.
The two elderly women just stood, looking at her, as though waiting for her to...what? Say something?Dosomething? Charlotte had no idea what they expected of her. One would think that after years of dealing with thehaut tonin nearly every setting, she could handle a couple of old ladies who she’d known since her coming out.
Finally, at length, Charlotte asked, “Has a ribbon come loose?” Not that her dress had any ribbons on it. But from a distance, one with poor eyesight might mistake it for having ribbon, could they not? She always hoped that, someday, if her own mind started to slip, her friends would continue to treat her with kindness and respect. She was determined to do so now. If only she understood what they were getting at, it would be far easier.
Instead of agreeing, however, the two women scowled.
“Your dress hasn’t got any ribbon on it,” Lady Keats decried, even as her companion declared, “We can see, you know.”
Embarrassment crept up Charlotte’s neck. “Of course,” she said. “Only, you said something about my ribbon.”
The two elderly women turned to one another, gave each other a look, shook their heads—clearly displeased with Charlotte’s lack of ability to guess at their meaning—and turned back toward her.
“You should have thought toaddsome ribbon to your hem,” Lady Keats said, speaking the words slowly as though Charlotte were a simpleton for not having realized as much before now.
“It would have made the whole look far superior,” Lady Kingman added quickly.
“Oh,” was all Charlotte could say.
In that moment, though she was determined to remain polite, Charlotte felt her resolve cracking. The exhaustion of hosting a large ball plus the worries and strangeness of what she’d heard that afternoon were finally breaking down her pleasant air.
Shewantedto say more. She wanted to remind the two elderly ladies that she was a grown woman, and at a little over fifty, she was fully capable of making her own gown decisions. But this was the way it had always been. Ever since each of these women had a son who’d called on Charlotte during her first Season, they’d taken it upon themselves to let Charlotte know how she might improve her attire, her complexion, her hair, or even her nature.
That first Season, Charlotte had welcomed the advice, as then, both the Ladies Keats and Kingman had been quite fashionable. She’d felt each bit of advice from either of them a nugget of pure gold, and one she followed without question.
Now, however, after more than twenty years of advice, she usually just listened, thanked the ladies, and then bid them farewell.
They meant well, but good heavens, couldn’t they understand she wasn’t that young little debutante anymore? She was older now than they had been when they’d first begun offering her advice.
“A ribbon would have been a beautiful addition,” Charlotte said. “Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to speak with Lady Campbell.” The lady’s husband was a member of the committee and close friends with Lord Windham—who she was frustrated to find had yet to appear tonight.
Both elderly ladies smiled at Charlotte as she turned and moved away. Their kindly-meant advice rankled more tonight than it had in years. Between worry over Emma Tilbury and what Lord Windham had said to the young woman, Charlotte was already on edge.
Then there was Seth.
He’d not yet made an appearance, and Charlotte was beginning to truly think he might not. Still, she tried not to lose hope. He’d promised he’d be here—she’d never known him to go back on a promise. For now, she’d simply have to hold on to that.
