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“And this evening, you will accompany Hardbury and me to the theater, where you will wear your finest jewels and wink at everyone while you sip champagne.”
“Champagne? After last night?” Cassandra said. “Lucy and I werewearingchampagne.”
“Exactly. It will be more entertaining that way, and you do know how I like to be entertained.”
“Oh, please, can we?” Emily said again. “But I suppose you’ll just say I’m too young to go out.”
Again, everyone looked at Cassandra, waiting for her decision. She truly had ended up the head of their family, regardless of whether she could do it. She tried to figure out what was right, but she had no idea and was tired of doing the right thing anyway. Doing the right thing had not made anyone happy.
“Youaretoo young, so we shall simply have to dress you up,” Cassandra said. “If anyone asks, we shall say you are our seventeen-year-old third cousin Georgiana from York.”
Emily clapped her hands with delight. “Or Rosalind. I should rather be called Rosalind. And I am a French emigrée who is spying—”
“No.” Cassandra held up a silencing hand. “I am willing to bend the rules, but I draw the line at treason.”
* * *
As it was Sunday afternoon,Hyde Park was at its most full. Which meant, Cassandra thought, feeling faint again, there were tens of thousands of people to stare at her. But on the upside, it also made it easier to hide.
Arabella was not wrong. No one gave Cassandra the cut, but neither did they rush to approach, waiting to see what others did first. But she did receive cordial nods to go with the speculative looks.
Lucy, Emily, and Isaac stayed apart but within sight. Lucy was also getting speculative looks, especially of the male variety, but Isaac’s scowls and threatening manner with his cane kept them all at bay.
And of the ladies who did approach, not all were friendly. One lady, Mrs. Peale, a former Bolderwood supporter, was almost belligerent.
“What is this absurd story that throwing glasses is a Warwickshire tradition?” Mrs. Peale said. “I never heard of such a thing.”
Arabella’s look was cool. “And? The tradition has existed happily for centuries without your knowledge or approval.”
“But Miss Lightwell said she wished that man to marry her!”
“Really! The depth of ignorance among the so-called educated classes,” Arabella muttered. “How tedious to explain yet again.” She sighed impatiently. “The young woman flings the glass and makes a wishfor the future. But each wish will come true only if the glass is caught. Miss Lightwell wished that she would get married, not that that particular man would marry her. Good grief, Mrs. Peale, is Hampshire so dull that you have no traditions of your own? Or is it thatyouare so dull that you cannot comprehend them?”
“Of course I understand traditions, my lady,” Mrs. Peale protested, fairly quivering with indignation. “But it seems to me that Miss Lightwell was…That is, she appeared…”
Arabella’s eyebrows rose.
“I mean to say, she looked…”
Arabella’s eyebrows climbed higher.
“Everyone thought she was…”
“Beautiful,” Arabella finished. “Miss Lightwell is uncommonly beautiful. A curse of such beauty is that it inspires petty jealousy in certain women and leads to spiteful gossip. I have no time for such women. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Peale?”
At which point, Mrs. Peale apparently remembered who Arabella was and realized that, upon reflection, she truly did agree.
“Terrible thing, petty jealousy, spiteful gossip,” she said. “Not me! Ha ha. And such a lovely tradition, this wishing on flying glasses. Perhaps my Frances can do that at her come-out.”
Arabella widened her eyes. “That would bemarvelous.”
Somehow, Cassandra managed not to speak until she was sure they were out of earshot. “Arabella, you are wicked. You are deliberately distorting the truth.”
Amusement lit Arabella’s face. “Hardbury has bought me a publishing house. He says I must not use it for mischief, but it is so tempting to fill volumes with arrant nonsense and see how much people believe.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t see why that’s wrong. Men have been doing that for centuries, the only difference being that they won’t acknowledge that it’s nonsense.”
“The idea of you owning a publishing house is terrifying.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Arabella smiled with satisfaction. “What do you mean to do about Lucy? Give her a thousand pounds and put her on a boat to Brazil?”
