The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Eight

Chapter 8

So too in blowing your nose, you must not make the noise of a trumpet, but do it gently and quietly; and, when you sneeze, use your handkerchief.

~ The Habits of Good Society: A Handbook for Ladies and Gentlemen (The Last London Editor; 1860)

Day 2 of Sinclair Wife Wooing (Colton is Catching)

Eleven o’clock: Picnic on the lawns

Dinner

In attendance: Lord Gabriel Sinclair, Miss Oriana Brightmore, Miss Imogen Brightmore, Miss Isabella Wolcott and Miss Caroline Bentley

Victoria sneezed.

It was the sound of a trumpet.

Mrs Littleford glared disapprovingly at her, especially when she wiped her dripping nose on her sleeve.

“Miss Colton,” she sneered derisively, “no gentleman in his right mind would consent to marrying you if you continue in this vein.”

“Fantastic,” Victoria sniffed miserably, feeling utterly wretched and helpless. A foul cold had befallen her during the course of the night, scratching her throat vilely and bestowing on her a permanently red nose. It was awful.

Unfortunately, Delores hadn’t felt compelled to cancel this morning’s deportment lessons and Victoria was still obliged to attend, much to her own dismay. Mrs Littleford had seen Victoria’s malady as a pretext to initiate a discussion about how a lady should sneeze, sniff and cough in society and among people of acquaintance. And, as much as she tried, she found it physically impossible to sneeze demurely into a handkerchief or cough without it sounding like she was hacking up one of her own lungs.

“I fail to see the humour in this,” Mrs Littleford was saying tautly. “You are quite beautiful, Miss Colton. If only your behaviour was testament to your beauty, you’d find you could have any gentleman your heart desired. Why, I am quite astounded many of them are still so eager to court you although it is no surprise that Lord Beverly fled as quickly as he did.”

Either she was inflicted with an illness that affected the mind, or Victoria had become a new person overnight, but she couldn’t feel bothered to articulate a response to the dictatorial woman. Let her rather believe that Beverly had fled rather than know the true reason for his sudden absence.

“Hmm.” Mrs Littleford studied Victoria closely where she huddled dejectedly in a corner of a settee in the drawing room they always used for lessons. She pursed her lips and gave her a baleful frown for good measure. “I can see that it would serve little good to continue today,” she said at length. “But I must insist that you not go out into company today. Bed rest is what you need and maybe you’ll be fit to continue tomorrow.”

“Eugh.”

Mrs Littleford had such a look of disdain on her face at that utterance that she did not even bother bidding Victoria farewell, rather she merely stomped off in a right fit.

So Victoria did spend the day in bed and most of her morning she was left to doze. And doze she did, like a woman starved of sleep because of all these early mornings, and only reawakened close to noon. Feeling somewhat livelier than she was during the deportment lessons, Victoria managed to haul herself from her bed and pad lightly to the window where the sun streamed through like luminescent yellow ribbons.

Lo and behold, there was Gabriel, strutting about with four nitwits dogging his every step as he flaunted about on the lawn like an arrogant peacock.