Lady in Rags

Chapter Thirteen: Entrapment

Armiger, when conversation could be attempted again, began to talk about the music that was playing. Verity and Miss Walthrope agreed with his sentiment, without understanding it; Mrs Walthrope had an argument. Listening to them, Verity felt very uneducated. Miss Walthrope leaned towards her.

"Jane is such a clever woman. I can never keep up with what she's saying."

"I suppose she was educated highly."

"Not very. Her father was only a lawyer. He could not afford much. My father had me to private governesses all my childhood – and yet I can hardly remember any French, and even though I have quite a passable ability with music, I don't know who these composers are, that they talk of. I like Chopin. Who is Sarque?"

"I have no idea. I'm more poorly educated than either of you, I'm afraid."

Miss Walthrope's mouth opened in a little O of surprise. "But you!? I was sure, from what Jane said of him, that Mr Armiger would only marry a very well educated woman. He is very intelligent, she tells me."

"It's a deficiency in me, yes." Verity did not wish to explain why she was so poorly educated. She noticed that Mrs Walthrope's eyes were once more upon her. "I like to think my own native intelligence compensates for it. But I don't know who Sarque is."

"Sarque," Mrs Walthrope cut in, "is the head-chef of this establishment. You have him to thank for this meal."

"And I thought he was a composer," Miss Walthrope said sadly.

"He must be quite the genius," Verity said. "The food is very good."

"We English have a lot to learn from the French cuisine."

There followed another argument there. Mr Armiger defended British cuisine. Mrs Walthrope attacked it. The continent was far superior. The British, as a species, were too fond of cucumbers to ever develop a worthwhile cuisine.

After dinner, Mrs Walthrope asked if Mr Armiger and his wife would not be dancing, and Verity said that she did not, which was a chance for Armiger to offer Mrs Walthrope his hand. She accepted, and they were off. Verity was left with Miss Walthrope at their table.

Miss Walthrope sighed. "Your really are very lucky to have married him, Mrs Armiger."

The address caught Verity off guard, as it had every time someone had called her by her new name. The content of it more so. She blushed, and then, remembering the tantalizing feel of his waist beneath her hand, blushed deeper.

"I don't know what to say – do I agree? Do I thank you? I think – I think my luck very strange, in this matter."

Miss Walthrope laughed. "Don't be shy. You can say what you will to me."

"Well, I think –" Too delicate to say the truth about their meeting, but full of the memories of it now, Verity faltered. Trying to come up with something to say, she blurted, "You know, when I first met him, I didn't like him at all. I thought he looked like a devil."

"I can't imagine!"

"Oh, yes – but he was quite unpleased at that time. It's very different when he smiles. His entire face changes. I do like his smile."

Her tone was almost dispassionate, for she was not the kind to wear her heart on her sleeve, even if she had had one for him, but Miss Walthrope, older, and far more romantic, gave a wistful sigh that disturbed the napkins on the table.

"And you look well together – both so dark, and tall."

"Thank you."

The dancers came back. Mrs Walthrope was flushed with exertion, her eyes sparkling.