Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (44 page)

Elise looked down to the stitchers working on the hem of her gown. “Excuse me,” she said. Holding a rose-colored ribbon in place on her sleeve, she stepped off the stool and addressed her maid and the seamstresses. “Bridget, Madame, will you give us a few minutes please? I’ll ring when I’m ready to continue.”

Adding a straight pin to the ribbon before leaving, Madame Fuichard and her two assistants quit the room. But not her maid, Bridget. She looked directly at Elise and her friend. “You’re due to come out in five days,” said the red-headed maid, just a few years older than Elise. “If you do something foolish now, His Grace’ll banish ye for sure. An’ because I don’t have a fondness for the Grampians in winter, I won’t be going with ye.”

Once the door shut behind her maid, Beverly said, “I was wondering why he didn’t come for breakfast. Now I hear he’s gone to Woodhenge to make arrangements.”

Elise lifted her hands, showing Beverly her inability to hold them steady. “I have never in my life been so nervous as I am now. These horrid butterflies are the result of the entire
ton
believing Michael,
my Michael
, is in need of a bride
now
simply because his uncle has died and he’s ascended to the title.”

“You can’t say it took you by surprise. We all knew this day would come as the old earl has been on his deathbed for the past year,” Beverly quipped. “Heaven knows the new Earl of Camden has a responsibility to all those women in his family. After all, he’s now the only male and will need to see to an heir very soon.”

“His mother and older sister have been pressuring him to take a bride for the past year. Now he
must
wait three months.” Elise sighed. “My heart wants to believe he’s been waiting for me, but my brain says it’s unlikely.”

“I’ve always wondered why the old earl never married,” Beverly said. “Was he... you know, light in the instep?”

Elise shook her head. “Heavens, no! It’s not common knowledge, but—” Elise checked to make sure Bridget hadn’t come back into the room, and continued, “The old earl had a scandalous marriage many years ago. He’d fallen in love with, and married, a young lady who was unfaithful while he was in India on the Crown’s business. She then became with child by her lover. Both mother and babe died in childbirth. And the earl, as you know, never remarried.” Elise’s mind raced at what she could do now to benefit her cause. “This does not help my chances.”

“Michael will be in mourning for three months, Elise,” Beverly stated. “He’ll not start a bride hunt until after that.
That’s
when you need to worry about competition.”

“In three months I won’t have you here to help me think things through because your Papa will be back any day now. Won’t he?” When her friend nodded, Elise sighed, feeling as though the whole world was conspiring against her.

“I won’t be moving to Land’s End, Elise. I’ll only be a few blocks away.”

She nodded as she caught her reflection in the mirror. “I had so hoped to win him over gradually during this season. Now I shall have to contend with every mother of a marriageable-age daughter, and the daughters themselves, all pursuing Michael for his new title and wealth.” Elise studied the dress pinned onto her with a disapproving eye, and sighed with double frustration. “You would think that Michael being my brother’s life-long friend would give me an advantage,” she muttered. “He’ll likely not wish to be in the same room as me.”

She stamped her foot, her complete annoyance giving rise to a flourish of unladylike manners. “Damn his uncle for dying last night!”

Beverly gasped at Elise’s invective. “The man couldn’t very well plan the time of his departure from this world, Elise.”

She sat at her dressing table, her shoulders slumping in dejection. “I’m sorry for my selfish tirade. The old earl really was a dear man.” A pin stuck her in the waist and she pulled the offensive thing from the dress.

Beverly nodded, “You know, that dress has turned out better than we originally thought.” Her friend eyed it closely. “But, something is still missing.” She shook her head. “Perhaps after you have your jewels and your mother’s tiara on, it will complete the effect.”

Elise contemplated her friend’s words. The as-yet unfinished dress she planned to wear Saturday was completely conventional, and the latest fashion among her set. It gave her the appearance of a proper young lady. The lady her brother wanted her to be. She did want to please him—all of them really—and make he, Lia and Grandmother proud of her on her special night.

The skirt was crushed white silk with rows of narrow rose-colored satin ribbons ringing the skirt up to the knee. The same colored ribbons ringed the puffed white silk sleeves at the edge. The bodice of rose-colored silk ended just below her less than acceptable bust line. It successfully created the desired effect of a more abundant cleavage than God had provided. A wide band of silk rosettes, precisely three shades lighter than the ribbons, intertwined with satin greenery at the hem of the floor-length creation. More of those same rosettes were sewn into the folds of ribbon gathered on the sleeve, and on the same material gathered between her breasts.

Looking at herself in the mirror with a critical eye, she realized that the dress she once adored, she now hated. The exquisite, one of a kind creation from Madame Fuichard made her look just like all the other girls out on the marriage mart this season. She would be unremarkable among the herd of other chits being paraded about by anxious mamas.

“What am I going to do, Beverly? How
ever
will I get him to notice me?” She stamped her foot again. “You more than anyone know I have the worst luck where Michael is concerned. Now to be forced to catch his eye while all the other unmarried ladies out there do likewise.... Why, I could never compare! I am not as pretty as they are.”

“You are so,” Beverly argued.

Elise cut her off, “Not to mention that he remembers every misdeed and prank I’ve executed on him since I was ten.”

“He doesn’t know about Attila,” Beverly said with a confident smile.

Elise remembered seeing Michael at Tattersalls that day three years ago and laughed. “No! He doesn’t know that was us, and it’s best left that way.” She began to pull pins from the dress, removing all the rosettes as her imagination began to wander. “I knew Attila was perfect for Michael when I started him under saddle. And I was right, for Michael loves that horse.” She smiled as she pulled pins from a ribbon and tossed it onto the table. “To this day, the man has no idea I was the one who trained him.”

They were silent a moment as Elise continued removing adornments from the unfinished dress. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Beverly asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been fretting over this for the last hour.” Elise pointed at the pile of rosettes and the ribbon from the hem she’d just pulled. “There is far too much frippery on this dress. It isn’t what I normally wear, so why pretend I like it?” Their eyes met in the mirror again. “I need a dress that reflects
me
. The old me
and
the new me. Who I have always been, and who I am today.”

Beverly’s eyes grew wide with excitement. She smiled and nodded. “More important than a just a dress, what you need is to come up with a plan for
making
him take notice of you. Though nothing like you did when you were fifteen. That little act nearly got you killed and it was over a year before Michael returned to Haldenwood.”

“I did
not
nearly get killed. I was barely scratched. And I never would have fallen off that trellis if it wasn’t rotted to begin with.” Elise remembered all too well how fabulous Michael looked when stripped to the waist, baring that magnificently muscled chest and back of his. She had stared, mouth agape at the beauty of him. As she felt the vines ripping away from the stone, and the remnants of the ancient trellis crumbling beneath her, her friend screamed, alerting him to her presence as she dangled from his balcony. He’d come running to the rail and looked down just in time to see her land flat on her back in the freshly weeded flower beds below.

“Perhaps it was a little embarrassing for him, but I was duly punished.... after father ascertained I was indeed well and truly alive.” Elise closed her eyes and sighed. “I remember thinking I’d died and gone to heaven.” Meeting her friend’s blue-eyed stare, she added, “That was before I fell!”

Beverly threw her arms up and flopped back on the mattress. “You’ve been falling for him since you were ten. One day I’m afraid you might fall too far and get hurt.” Her friend turned a worried expression to her and said, “you must, I implore you, endeavor to restrain yourself. The consequences are too severe for us now.”

“I shall, I promise, but I need your help devising some way to make him notice the new grown-up me, and not remember the irritating little brat I was.” Elise clasped her hands together in a praying fashion and brought them to her breast. “I so desperately want him to realize that I have waited for him all these years, and I am already his.”

“What we need is a plan,” Beverly said.

“Yes, you’ve said that.” Elise stared at her short, mousy-brown hair in the mirror, now wishing her hair were longer, her face prettier, her features more feminine, and her nearly non-existent bosom, more full and lush. Anything so he would see her as a beautiful, desirable woman. Michael was so perfect in her eyes that he deserved a charming, ladylike wife. Granted, she could do nothing about her actual looks, but what about her clothes? Could her clothing help portray her in a more desirable light? A tighter fit to the bodice? A dropped waist perhaps?

But more important than her looks and clothing, she understood it was her behavior that must be tempered. To that end, she vowed to continue to work on that part of her personality. It often felt like a sisyphian task she undertook, with the hope that one day Michael might think her worthy.

After several minutes of complete silence while both girls contemplated the problem, Beverly leaped from the bed, startling Elise. “I’ve got it! Or, at least, I think I do.”

Eyes closed, Beverly paced the long hand-tied Turkey rug, rubbing the bridge of her delicate nose with the thumb and forefinger. “What we want is for Michael to see you for the woman you’ve become, and not as the girl you were. Right?”

“Yes, of course. You said as much a few minutes ago.”

“You know me, Elise, everything has to be mapped out, the goal identified and a plan put into motion to accomplish the task.”

“Yes, yes, you have always been the planner. But what have you come up with?” God, she hoped it wasn’t too unorthodox. With her brother overseeing every move she made, she’d never get away with anything outrageous. If she even tried, Bridget was right, he’d send her to that box of rocks he used as a hunting lodge up in Scotland for sure.

“You must not only behave differently, but look different as well,” she said. “Stand up.”

Elise did. Beverly walked around her. “You look just like every other chit at every other ball we’ve been to this past month.”

Elise resisted rolling her eyes. She knew that. Hadn’t she just been thinking it all morning? Beverly tugged at Elise’s short, straight locks. “Granted, your hair is shorter than the other girls’, but it is very much the trend now that you and your sister-in-law started the fashion. Why every woman with a backbone is liberating herself of the nuisance of long hair.”

Elise smiled at her best friend. “Yes but my hair just sits there, where your hair is fabulous, curling like it does.”

“Elise, this will become a mutual admiration session if we let it. We simply must stay on task.”

“Right.”

“Now, let’s start with this dress. It’s all wrong. It’s a debutant’s dress. What you want is something more... womanly. A sheath of a dress. Something that will maximize what figure you do have with less frills and flounce. Something a tad more daring. Are you following me?”

“I believe I am,” Elise whispered, staring at the dress in the oval pier glass. “You’re right. That is what has been bothering me since I saw myself in the mirror.”

“You need something plain, but not white,” Beverly said as she continued to scrutinize Elise’s figure and dress. “No pastels, either. The only people who wear pastels are little girls and wall flowers.”

“I don’t think my brother will allow me to make my debut in a scarlet peignoir, Beverly.” Just because she’d been daring in the past, she had to remember her goal—to become someone Michael would desire. She wanted to be the kind of woman he would be attracted to, and proud to marry.

“No, I shouldn’t think he would. But he needn’t know what your gown looks like does he? And what about the duchess, or your grandmother? Will either of them be assisting you on Saturday evening?”

“I suppose I could manage with just Bridget.”

“Yes you can. Now about your dress....”

After several more minutes of staring into the mirror, Elise and Beverly concluded the current dress just would not do. So they sketched a design for a new dress. A dress that was sure to catch the eye of every man in attendance. Most hopefully, the new Earl of Camden.

“What if we’re wrong?” Elise asked. She realized, for the first time, that this feeling of doubt was foreign to her. If the stakes weren’t so high, she’d throw caution to the wind and go with her heart. “What if this backfires? This is my entire future we’re placing in the hands of a modiste.”