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Her duties for Connie were not arduous. Her time before breakfast was her own, usually spent at one of several fine instruments, playing and then writing down whatever melodies came into her head. After breakfast, she sat down with Connie in her sitting room to work through the letters and invitations received, deciding which needed attention and which not. The latter were tossed onto the fire, which rather shocked Eloise, to whom paper was a great expense and every scrap to be saved, but she supposed that the mountain of letters that arrived each day was too great to be stored. Then there was the matter of composing replies and adding new social events to Connie’s diary.
Connie went off to see the children while Eloise laboured at her desk, a smaller one of matching style to Connie’s. Then there would be a change of clothes, followed by shopping, or paying calls, and sometimes sitting in the splendour of the Chinese Saloon or one of the many other saloons to receive callers. Another change of clothes for dinner, and then often a different gown again for an evening engagement.
“How are you enjoying the season thus far?” Connie said one day, pouring sherry for them both, as Eloise tossed the final letter into a basket. “It is a little different from Bath, I imagine.”
“Bath is slower, that is all,” Eloise said. “And smaller, of course. One knows the residents all too well, meeting the same little group everywhere. Visitors are fallen upon instantly for their novelty value.”
“That is true here, as well. There is nothing so exciting as a new face. But the social activities… I doubt you go out every night, as we do here. When the season is fully under way, one might attend four or five engagements in one evening, if one had the stamina.”
“I should find that exhausting,” Eloise said. “But Aunt Beth likes to be out almost every night. There is always some concert or recital to be enjoyed, and she has her friends with whom she plays cards. It is not quite like last night’s rout, of course — so many people squeezed into one house, and so many candles and flowers and a supper board laden enough to feed the five thousand. I am not at all used to that, although I should very much like to be used to it, naturally.”
“You enjoy all this junketing about, do you?” Connie said, her expression startled. “The first time I was ever in town, I was utterly overwhelmed by it all, and even now I tire of it very quickly. I like to see my friends, that is all, and if one may only meet them at Almack’s, then that is where one must go. Which reminds me, we will very likely see Lady Sefton at the rout tonight, and I must wheedle some vouchers from her for you. And on Thursday, you will attend your first ball. Are you looking forward to it?”
“Oh, yes! And you must not be rushing about to find partners for me, you know, as you did when the carpets were rolled up at the duke’s house, for I am just as happy — happier, in fact — to sit and listen to the music. The soprano was excellent last night, I thought, although her choice of music was not the best.”
“Do you sing?” Connie said. “I am sure you must, for all the Whittletons have admirable voices, and your cousin Julius sings like an angel. I would have him here every season if I could, but Humphrey stole him away for his gaming house in York, and what call he has to sing there I cannot imagine. But for an evening party, a singer is so useful. I know you play well, for I hear you practising every morning before breakfast, but then every lady plays. I play myself, or used to, so there is nothing in that. But to sing! That is a great gift.”
Eloise laughed. “I do not quite see it that way. I have always sung, so to me it is perfectly natural. In Bath, I would sing just going about the house with a duster in my hand. I am not quite settled enough to do that here.”
“Oh, but I hope you will be very soon, for what could be more charming? I never got into the way of it as a girl, for Papa liked us to be silent at all times, unless we were reciting our lessons or reading from the Bible. I had a very disagreeable papa.”
“I have one of those,” Eloise said.
“But your papa was so charming, everyone said so,” Connie said.
“Oh, very charming and personable and entertaining, and as feckless as a man can be.”
Connie’s tutted in sympathy. “And so he left you and your mama and however many brothers and sisters…”
“Two brothers and a sister.”
“…destitute.”
“We were very close to that state, it is true. But we survived, so let us not talk about him. Tell me why we are collecting information about the daughters of cits and nabobs and provincial mayors. We have ten letters — no, eleven, another came in today — proposing this girl or that for your kind attention. What are you planning to do with them, Connie?”
“I am going to invite them here one afternoon next week for tea and cakes. It is a tradition I began… oh, it must be six years ago now, when Humphrey was angling for a bride to finance his gaming house. He needed a hundred thousand pounds or some such ridiculous sum, so I obligingly rounded up all the wealthiest cits’ daughters for him to choose from. Word got out, so now I like to have a little tea party every year for girls just coming out, girls with money but no connections, and especially those from far away, who might not know anyone in town.”
“You surely do not invite them to balls here as well?” Eloise said, shocked.
“No, indeed. It is not for them to meet me so much as to meet each other. The young women make friends, their mothers exchange cards and so they all have acquaintances with whom to share titbits of information, to invite to each other’s entertainments and to wave to in Hyde Park. It also gives them a little polish, I feel, to see Marford House, so that if they find themselves in such a place in future, they will not be overwhelmed by it, as I was when I was new in town. Eleven should be enough, so we will send out the invitations tomorrow. Goodness, is that two o’clock already? We must get changed but first, see if you can find that invitation from Lady Westerlea that we left in the‘Maybe’box.”
“Here it is. Have you changed your mind? Shall I burn it?”
“No, no. What day is it? Friday? We have nothing else that day, do we? Drop it in the‘Yes’box.”
“A musical soirée?” Eloise said, reading the card. “That sounds delightful.”
“Lady Westerlea’s soirées are the best in town. Very superior performances. I usually find them dull and would not bother unless there were friends to be seen there, but you deserve a treat. I dare say we will not persuade any of the men to go, but some of the ladies might come along.”
“How kind you are!” Eloise cried, touched. “But I must tell you that I am more than content to enjoy this season following you to whatever eventsyouchoose. Such an unforgettable treat for me simply to be here and store up memories to take back to Bath. I would not wish you to put yourself out onmyaccount.”
Connie dimpled charmingly. “My dear, do you know what gives me the most pleasure in life, after my dear Francis and the children, of course? I love matchmaking, and I flatter myself I am rather good at it, too. Naturally I want to make a match for you, and since you are so musical, where better to look for a husband than at a musical evening? But if you have a sweetheart waiting for you in Bath, then I will find some other young lady to benefit from my schemes.”
Eloise laughed, but said at once, “No sweetheart, and I would very much like you to make a match for me, my dear cousin. My aunt and I manage well enough, but a husband… oh, that would make things so much easier. But it must be the right man.”
“Naturally, but I am sure we can find you someone to suit. Ah, here is Mrs Powell to chase us upstairs. Fosbrook so dislikes to be kept waiting, my dear, and one must always keep one’s maid happy.”
“Must one?”
