Azalea (7 page)

Azalea nodded and turned to Millie.

The younger girl seemed quite uncomfortable
with her prospective position as Azalea's abigail. "Folks do seem
to stare at me a bit, Miss Azalea. I never thought much about my
looks back home, but here... Couldn't I find some sort of work to
do in the kitchens? I've already made friends with the scullery
maid and one or two others there."

Her mixed ancestry had caused little comment
in Virginia, where free Negroes and mulattos were not uncommon. But
for the first time, Azalea realized how noticeable Millie must be
in London. She agreed to this arrangement, recognizing that the shy
girl might be happier occupying a less-conspicuous position than
that of abigail.

With this matter settled to the satisfaction
of all concerned, Azalea returned to the house to discover that
Lady Beauforth was awake, but had sent word that she would remain
in her room until nuncheon.

Marilyn descended half an hour later and
asked if Azalea were ready to commence their shopping
expedition.

"More than ready," Azalea replied. She had
grown a bit bored with no one to talk to and no duties to perform.
"I am eager to make myself presentable for London Society. I will
appreciate any advice you can spare me, Cousin, for I can see that
your taste is flawless." She was determined to do what she could to
overcome the young lady's animosity, whatever its cause.

Seemingly gratified by the compliment,
Marilyn bestowed a brief, dazzling smile on her cousin and agreed
to guide her selections if necessary.

The girls' first stop was at the
establishment of Madame Jeannine, the hairdresser Lady Beauforth
had proclaimed to be superior to all others. That lady exclaimed
over the thickness and rich auburn colour of Azalea's hair as she
deftly cut and styled it with rapidly moving scissors and comb.

"A delight to work
with,
mademoiselle
," she said more than once during the process.

In a surprisingly short time, she handed
Azalea a mirror and invited her to view the result. Azalea gasped
with pleasure. Relieved of excess weight, her natural curls had
reasserted themselves and framed her face charmingly. The back
remained long, though not so heavy, and was piled loosely but
artfully on top of her head.

She looked questioningly at Marilyn, who
reluctantly admitted that it looked very well. Azalea thanked
Madame Jeannine as they took their leave of her with a profuseness
that Marilyn appeared to consider slightly ill-bred.

En route to their next destination, the shop
of a very fashionable modiste on Bond Street, Azalea couldn't help
noticing the unusual level of noise in the streets. She commented
on it to her companion.

"What do you mean? I perceive nothing out of
the ordinary," said Marilyn in some surprise.

"Why all the shouting,
singing, and street shows. And see those
jongleurs
over there? Is some type
of fair or festival in Town?"

"No, my dear, it is merely London."
Marilyn's breathy voice held amused condescension. "Do you mean to
say there are no hawkers or entertainers on the streets in
America?" she asked, betraying more interest than she had yet shown
in a conversation with her cousin.

"Why, no. At least, not in Williamsburg. The
merchants confine their selling to their shops, for the most part,
and the public entertainment is to be found in the theatres, or in
the town square during summer lay-by festivals. But I find all of
this most interesting and exciting," she added quickly, not wishing
Marilyn to think her critical of London.

Her cousin merely looked thoughtful,
however.

Azalea was entranced by the
dazzling array of silks, satins, velvets, muslins and laces paraded
before her at Madame Clarisse's exclusive shop. Still, she was not
so dazzled that she neglected to enquire about prices before
ordering anything to be made up for her. She was secretly shocked
by the replies, delivered in an accent that belied
Madame
's fashionably
French name.

It took little of her mathematical training
to tell her that her small competence could quickly be consumed by
far less than Lady Beauforth's idea of an adequate wardrobe.
Nevertheless, she ordered three morning dresses and an evening
gown, slightly less elaborate than what the modiste recommended.
She also purchased a pair of stockings, some drawing-room slippers
and a parasol.

"I believe that will be all for today, thank
you. Shall we return home for nuncheon, Cousin?" she enquired
brightly, turning to Marilyn.

"All?" repeated Marilyn in obvious
disbelief.

Before she could continue, Azalea spoke
again. She was not about to mention her lack of funds in front of
the sharp-eared modiste, who had shared enough gossip during the
past hour to demonstrate how carefully she listened to her
customers' chance comments.

"For the present. I find myself quite
fatigued, as well as hungry." Luckily Marilyn was not aware of the
hearty breakfast she had enjoyed three hours earlier.

"Very well. I must not forget you are new to
Town and unaccustomed to the exertions of shopping," said Marilyn
pityingly.

Nor do I sleep until ten
o'clock,
thought Azalea, though she only
nodded in reply.

During the carriage ride back to Curzon
Street, Marilyn kindly offered to bring her cousin up to date on
the current gossip. While she chattered on, Azalea was busy
planning an early, discreet visit to the solicitor her grandfather
had mentioned. It was obvious her present funds would scarcely last
the Season if she were to enter Society as planned.

Why had no one told her London was so
expensive? She determined to have a private conference with Lady
Beauforth at the earliest opportunity. She thought it might be
unwise to mention her problem to Marilyn, who seemed as prone to
carrying tales as the modiste had been.

Upon their return, the ladies were informed
by Smythe that Lord Glaedon had called in their absence and would
look to see them in the Park that afternoon. Azalea was glad they
had missed him. She needed a chance to compose herself first, and
to decide what sort of enquiries about his family would be
appropriate.

She wondered whether Marilyn or her mother
had told him of their American cousin's visit. It seemed likely,
given the degree of intimacy Marilyn had claimed last night. If so,
it seemed odd that he had not mentioned to them the connection
between the two families. She finally decided that her best course
would be to take her cue from him, and to neither volunteer nor
request any information unless he seemed disposed to be
friendly.

After the meal, Azalea rang for Junie and
asked if it would be possible to speak with Lady Beauforth, as she
had not appeared at table. Junie seemed doubtful, but went to
enquire. She returned after a moment to say that her ladyship was
resting, and then asked how the morning's shopping had gone.

"I can see you took my advice about your
hair, miss. It looks lovely!" she declared.

"Thank you, Junie. Perhaps you can advise me
again," said Azalea tentatively. It had occurred to her that Lady
Beauforth might not entirely welcome the news of her guest's lack
of funds.

"Of course, Miss Azalea," said Junie
importantly. Plainly, she was enjoying her new role as
abigail/adviser to the American girl.

"Well, I seem to have a problem. I hadn't
realized London would be so, well, expensive. Can you tell me if
there is any way to make over my wardrobe without squandering all I
have in the world? I'm afraid Lady Beauforth might not understand.
After all, she recommended the modiste I visited today, so she must
not consider her prices outrageous. But I don't see how I can
possibly purchase one fourth of what my cousin seems to think
necessary for the coming Season on what my grandfather left
me."

Junie fairly swelled with pride at this
evidence of Azalea's reliance on both her judgement and her
discretion. "Well, miss, I know there are stalls down in Soho where
there are bargains to be had, but it would never do for you to be
seen there. I could go for you, with your permission. We're much
the same size, and I'm handy enough with a needle to make what
changes might be necessary."

"Oh, Junie, would you? That would be famous!
But... do you think Lady Beauforth would be angry if she found
out?" Azalea suddenly sobered. "I won't allow you to run that risk
on my account."

Junie smiled with genuine affection for this
unique young lady who actually put concern for an abigail above her
own wants. "I'll just be certain she don't find out, that's all,"
she replied confidently. "You be thinking of a way to account for
the new clothes you'll be having shortly, and I'll leave this very
moment!"

Impulsively, Azalea hugged the girl,
assuring her that she could come up with a plausible story.

When Junie returned, less than an hour
before Azalea and Marilyn were to leave for the Park, she brought
with her four dresses that rivalled those ordered that morning at
Madame Clarisse's.

"There were lots to choose from, miss, but I
thought you might need me to help you dress. I can go back
tomorrow, if you like." Junie was nearly breathless, making Azalea
wonder if she had run part of the way home in order to be back in
time to help her new mistress.

Azalea was astonished and delighted when the
abigail revealed what the gowns had cost—a mere fraction of the
modiste's prices. Junie explained that most of the gowns at the
Soho markets had been worn only once or twice, since it was
considered bad ton to be seen twice in the same dress, particularly
a ball gown.

"Then won't the ladies who originally had
these made up recognize them if I wear them in public?" asked
Azalea uneasily. That would be a snag in their ingenious plan.

"Not if I make a few little changes —add a
ruffle here, remove some artificial flowers there. So many dresses
are nearly alike anyway, no one will notice," Junie reassured her.
"Now, what will you wear for your drive in the Park?"

Half an hour later, Azalea descended wearing
one of the new gowns, hastily basted in at the waist. She felt
positively elegant. True, there was a small stain near the hem at
the back which there had not been time to remove, but if she
remained seated in the carriage, no one should notice it.

Marilyn joined her a few moments later,
resplendent in jonquil silk. "We must hurry," she said as they
proceeded to the waiting barouche. "Lord Glaedon dislikes to keep
his horse standing in the Park." Azalea wondered why Lord Glaedon
had not come to fetch them, but refrained from voicing her
thoughts. The drive to Hyde Park was short and in the opposite
direction from Bond Street, affording her a look at more of
Mayfair's imposing homes. The atmosphere here was far quieter than
it had been in the shopping district, she noticed.

When they turned into the Park, Azalea had
to stifle a gasp. So this was where everyone was! Lady Beauforth
had complained last night that London was thin of company, but it
seemed to Azalea that a veritable horde of fashionable people were
here to take advantage of the fine weather, walking, riding and
driving. How on earth did Marilyn intend to find her betrothed in
this throng?

As if in answer, the girl at her side waved
as a tall man in a dark blue riding coat trotted up on an enormous
black gelding. "Lord Glaedon! I trust we have not kept you waiting
long?"

"Not at all, my dear," he said smoothly, as
he bent over her extended hand. Marilyn simpered prettily for a
moment before belatedly recalling her manners.

"This is my cousin, Miss Clayton," she said,
and Lord Glaedon turned his attention to Azalea.

As he bowed in acknowledgement, his eyes
fastened on her face with an expression of mingled curiosity and
bemusement.

Azalea felt similarly bemused, and only just
remembered to nod in return. She had expected some slight
resemblance to Christian, but the likeness was so striking it left
her momentarily speechless. Herschel had the same dark hair and
stormy blue-grey eyes as his younger brother. Even his voice was
amazingly similar. He could have been Christian himself, risen from
the dead.

Suddenly aware that they had been staring at
one another, she made a determined effort to pull herself
together.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, my
lord," she said rather lamely.

As she spoke, his gaze seemed to harden
slightly and he hastily withdrew his hand before it could touch
hers. He flicked a glance at Marilyn.

"Perhaps I should have warned you that my
cousin is newly come from— from America to live with us," she
stammered. "Nothing was really settled until she arrived yesterday,
so I did not mention it before."

Her cousin seemed almost to be apologizing,
Azalea thought indignantly.

"Yes. Quite," was all he said in reply.
"Shall we commence our tour of the Park?"

Marilyn assented eagerly and the coachman
urged the horses on. Lord Glaedon rode comfortably alongside,
listening to his fiancée's chatter, and carefully avoided any
glance in Azalea's direction. This afforded her an excellent
opportunity to examine him at leisure, though she was careful not
to stare, as Marilyn might misinterpret her reasons.

She had been right about the Earl's
resemblance to his younger brother, but there were subtle
differences that became apparent as she watched him. For one thing,
he looked— and acted —far older than Chris would have been if he
had lived, though Herschel was only a year or two older than
Christian, if her memory served her.

Certainly, his manners were inferior to his
brother's. Even his smile had a decidedly cynical twist,
exaggerated by a faint scar that traced a line from his left ear to
the corner of his mouth. It occasionally gave him a mysterious,
almost sinister expression. No, perhaps the resemblance was not so
strong after all, she decided.