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She shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind and helped her father for several hours, before going next door to help the ladies practice for the musicale.
“Oh, Miss Beaton,” Belinda wailed when she saw her. “We’re the scandal of the Season and it’s only just begun.”
“I’d say Miss Chandler is the scandal of the Season,” Viola replied.
“Society doesn’t think that way.”
“I suppose they are herd animals,” Bernadette agreed. “Our brother, who was already seen as a man of no moral fiber whatsoever, inadvertently caused the scandal and therefore we, as his sisters, are also to blame. We mustn’t take it personally, Belinda, it’s in their nature. They’re too small-minded to go against the herd.”
“They’re like lemmings,” said Betsy, “and we’re the cliff.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Belinda asked.
“That’s a myth, Betsy,” Bernadette said. “Lemmings have such a large population that sometimes a smaller herd will break off and migrate to a new home and if they encounter an obstacle, such as a river, they will all jump in together to swim across. Some of them don’t make it, but that doesn’t mean they committed suicide.”
“And why anyone should know something like that, especially a lady, is beyond me.” Blanche sniffed, entering the music room. “Miss Beaton, thank you for keeping our brother out of the gaming hells last evening.”
Donotblush.“Of course.”
“We must do our best to impress upon him the need for a complete and total reform,” Blanche continued. “No more gambling, drinking, or profligacy.”
“What’s profligacy?” Birdie asked, joining them with a sheaf of staff paper rolled under her arm.
“Never you mind,” said Blanche. “The day after a ball we are supposed to have suitors ringing our bell, bringing us flowers. And not one suitor has arrived.”
“Lord Flanders paid you a call this morning,” Bernadette pointed out.
“He doesn’t count.”
“He does seem rather taken with you,” Viola said.
“As a boy he was always plaguing me. I can’t imagine why he’s courting me now.”
“Have you thought that perhaps he did that to be noticed by you?”
“We’re not talking about Flanders. We want West to find a new duchess. Despite her fortune, Miss Chandler was the most unsuitable candidate imaginable. He must choose someone better this time. She must be of excellent family and prospects.”
“If Great-Aunt Hermione were here, she would champion Lady Winifred Woolfrey,” Bernadette said. “She loves her. She’s always comparing us to her and finding us sorely lacking. And she’s so amiable and good that I can’t even hate her. She’s really the loveliest person. Even if her conversation is rather conventional and boring.”
“Conventional and boring is precisely what our brother requires,” Blanche said.
“There’s no hint of scandal in her family?” Viola asked.
“None whatsoever.”
“I don’t think West likes her very much,” Betsy said. “And how are we supposed to make him reform?”
All five young ladies considered that for a moment, their faces grave.
“It won’t be easy,” Bernadette said. “We’ll have to keep him with us at all times.”
Betsy nodded. “And hide his spirits.”
“We’ll make him come to the opera with us tonight,” said Blanche.
“He’s still asleep,” Birdie said. “I checked. I asked Sebastian to wake him but he flatly refused for fear of bodily injury.”
“Someone ought to wake him.”
