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“A little decorum, Julia, if you please,” Mama said, in her serene way. “It is for the gentleman to make his bow first to a lady, and you may then acknowledge him by a slight inclination of the head, nothing more. You should never wave or otherwise try to attract his attention.”
“I beg your pardon, Mama,” Julia said meekly. “I shall try to remember.”
In a very few minutes they came to Fairstead House, the home of Miss Williamson and Miss Ariadne Williamson. The house was a large one, although with only modest grounds, but the two elderly spinsters who resided there were what Mama described as‘shabby genteel’, having the house only for their lifetimes and without the income to support it or themselves with any pretensions to elegance, or even comfort. It was rumoured that they lived in two or three rooms for most of the year, only emerging from this seclusion to entertain when their nephew, Mr Richard Osgood, visited.
Since this gentleman was presently enjoying such a visit, the Fletcher ladies were shown into a previously unseen and rather imposing drawing room in order to meet the honoured guest. He was a young man of about thirty years, already tending towards stoutness, and although his greeting to the callers was all that was polite, his countenance was serious and unsmiling. Julia wondered whether he disapproved of them, or whether he was habitually so unwelcoming.
The Miss Williamsons were otherwise, chattering excitedly over each other to tell all the achievements already attained in Mr Osgood’s life, and the rewards heaped upon him. He was a dean at some cathedral or other, having been singled out personally by the bishop for this honour, and commended by no less a personage than the Archbishop of Canterbury, or perhaps it might have been one of his subordinates, it was impossible to tell, but clearly there was no knowing how high Mr Osgood might aspire to rise. A bishopric, the ladies were certain of it, and who knows, perhaps higher still. They twittered happily together, and in their brown bombazine they looked like nothing so much as two little sparrows, chirping away.
The gentleman in question appeared not to notice all their praise, for he was talking in a ponderous way to Camilla, who looked a great deal less bored than Julia would have been. In fact, she was treating him to her usual performance honed over the years by being practised on a great many Yorkshire gentlemen. Whatever he said, she would respond in a suitable manner, whether smiling, or nodding, or opening her eyes wide and once gasping, as if in amazement. And the stiff and solemn Mr Richard Osgood, the pious churchman who might even be a bishop one day, visibly melted under the attentions of a pretty young girl.
His aunts took so long to elaborate on all the gentleman’s perfections that Julia was beginning to watch the clock and wonder how soon Mama would rise with her society smile to take her leave. But abruptly Miss Williamson said, “But did you receive our invitation, Mrs Fletcher? We delivered it by hand so—”
“Yes, indeed I did,” Mama said, and for the first time Julia could remember, she looked uncomfortable.
“Oh, then may we expect you at our little gathering? Just an informal card party for dear Richard to meet all his old friends… and his new ones, of course. We should be so gratified if you should honour us with your company.”
Mama played with her reticule. “I… have not quite determined… this cold weather, you know.”
“Oh, indeed, but we always have a good blaze, do we not, sister? Poor dear Richard is so troubled with his chest in the winter months, you see, and we could not be at all easy unless we took every precaution. You would be quite comfortable, I am certain of it.”
Julia held her breath. A card party! How she would enjoy that, and so would Pa and Will and Aunt Madge, she knew. But if Mama had decided against it, for some unfathomable reason, then there was nothing to be done about it.
“If you are thinking it might be unsuitable for the young ladies," Miss Williamson went on, “pray be assured that we are most careful about such matters. There will be no excessive drinking, or gambling. Dear Richard is a man of the cloth and we would not dream of exposing him to anything the least bit irregular. There will be a number of ladies present, and Mrs Reynell is to grace our rooms for the occasion, and she would never lend her name to the least whisper of impropriety. And there will be some young gentlemen present. I can see that Miss Weston would love to come.”
Camilla turned great pleading eyes on Mama.
“For myself,” Mama said firmly, “I am not fond of evening engagements at this season, but the gentlemen may wish to brave the elements, and they may escort Miss Weston, if she wishes to attend.”
Julia was not about to let Camilla go if she could not. “I should enjoy it, too, Mama, if you could spare me for the evening.”
Mama glanced at Camilla, who was trying not to look triumphant, and then back to Julia. “Rosie will bear me company, so you may go if you wish, Julia.”
The Miss Williamsons clapped their hands in glee.
When they were safely back in the carriage and leaving Fairstead House behind, Julia said, “I thought you wanted us to mix with the gentry, Mama. Miss Williamson and her sister are gentry, are they not?”
“Oh yes, but so poor! It would be cruel to invite them to dine since they cannot return the hospitality, so in that sense they are quite beneath our notice. A card party with a scrappy supper is not at all the same. I do not object to morning calls, for we accepted the acquaintance before we knew much about them and cannot repudiate them now, but there is no consequence to be gained from their acquaintance, and I do not want Rosie to mingle in such low circles. We cannot be too careful of her just now, when we all have such hopes of her. But you girls may attend the card party, if you feel you might derive some pleasure from it.”
Camilla heaved a satisfied sigh, and murmured, “This visit is going to be more enjoyable than I had suspected.”
Julia eyed her suspiciously, but Mama merely smiled and patted Camilla’s hand indulgently.
As they drove back into the village, they again passed a very elaborate gatehouse, whose drive wound away into trees so dense that no house was visible.
“Who lives there?” Camilla said. “Is it a very grand house?”
“So I believe,” Mama said. “Kelshaw Hall is the home of Lady Frederica and Mr Benjamin Kelshaw. Lady Frederica’s father is the Earl of Pinner.”
“Aren’t we calling there? I thought we were calling on all the local gentry.”
“We are not acquainted with the Kelshaws,” Mama said stiffly.
Camilla’s eyes widened, but she understood. Mr Kelshaw had not called upon Pa when first the family had arrived at Chadwell Park, and Lady Frederica had not called upon Mama. The Fletchers were too closely connected to trade, and therefore unsuitable persons to be acquainted with the daughter of an earl. It had stung Mama very badly when she understood the slight.
Julia said nothing, pondering the oddities of this new world in which they now found themselves, when perfectly respectable people could not be friends because of some perceived disparity in rank.
The ladies had barely removed their coats and bonnets, and settled to their usual tasks in the parlour, before a carriage arrived. Keeble sidled in with a collection of cards on a silver salver.
