CHAPTER TWELVE
The house in Grosvenor Square, while not as extensive as Willington House, was large and comfortable. Lady Susan had persuaded her lord to take an extended lease, so that the family could enjoy many London Seasons to come, even when her girls had been settled with husbands.
‘It is ideal, my dear, Phoebe,’ Eleanor had overheard her to say to Lady Pike. ‘The ballroom is impressive, why, even the Regent would value it greatly should he condescend to honour us with his presence.’
Lady Susan had great expectations.
Dressmakers, seamstresses and milliners had been summoned. Eleanor was fitted for a new riding habit as promised and even with headgear; a turban of turquoise silk, with a long floating scarf attached. While she foreswore fashion, she was taken with it and was very pleased.
‘Now, as for your gowns, Eleanor,’ Lady Susan said. ‘Simple cutting of course; nothing too elaborate for the chaperone. I think three will suffice.’
‘But Mama,’ Cecilie protested. ‘Eleanor cannot last the whole season with just three gowns. Think of the shame of it, being seen in the same gown more than once, let alone thrice.’
‘Pshaw!’ her ladyship exclaimed. ‘Eleanor’s gowns are merely to allow her to fit into the scene while she is in your company. No one will notice her. She is your chaperone.’
Thankfully, Eleanor thought, she did not wish to be noticed and pointed out for gossip. The notoriety of her father’s death had not yet touched her personally, being out of Society as she was. It would be as well for her now, in her present lowly position, that she not be connected with Sir Edward Wellesley. Lady Susan knew her history, but it would seem had forgotten it.
Invitations to balls, assembles, sports occasions and parties were beginning to arrive. Lady Susan picked through them with great care, choosing which they would accept.
‘Oh! Here is one from that insufferable Lady Bradscott.’ She laid it aside, murmuring to Eleanor in a low voice as she did so. ‘She was formerly on the stage, you know. Quite unsuitable for my girls.’
Lady Susan sent out invitations of her own to her friends and acquaintances. As the Season would develop the number of promising friendships would increase. There was many a noble family that Lady Susan had heard about and was determined to cultivate, thus extending their social circle and increasing prospects for her girls.
In the first week of April Lady Pike called with glorious news. The application she had made on behalf of the Birkett twins to be presented at Court had been accepted, and she showed them the Royal Summons she had received that day from the Lord Chancellor.
Lady Susan had been waiting feverishly for this news. Until her girls had been presented they could not go about in Society. Already the Season had begun, and Eleanor knew her ladyship was much exercised by the idea that suitable suitors were already slipping through her fingers.
‘When will it be?’ Dorothea asked excitedly
‘Next week, my dears,’ Lady Pike said. ‘I hope, Susan that you have seen to the girls’ attire for Court?’
‘It was all seen to early in the new year,’ Lady Susan told her. ‘And they have been thoroughly drilled on the procedure, I assure you.’ She lifted her hand to her throat; her eyes gleaming. ‘Think of it; my girls bowing before the Regent.’
‘My daughters will be presented this very night,’ Lady Pike said, equally as moved. ‘Dear Constance is sponsoring them.’ She sniffed. ‘I know I shall be overcome.’
Lady Susan’s gleaming eyes sharpened. ‘How soon can we expect to lay our hands on some vouchers for Almack’s?’
Lady Pike looked taken aback. ‘Susan, you move ahead too fast. I have a few friends in the ton but it will take time to arrange. There will be enough occasions for our girls without Almack’s. The Season stretches before us.’
The twins were restless. ‘Mama, cannot we ride in the park?’ Cecilie asked peevishly. ‘It is too bad that we cannot go out and about until after the presentation. Surely, a ride in the park will not offend Society?’
‘The girls should have exercise and fresh air,’ Eleanor opined.
She too felt languid for want of outside activity. She missed her morning rides at Willington House, and she missed the company she had had then. Major Warburton had not yet come up to town, and Eleanor wished so much that he would.
‘Mr Jeffrey Warburton left his card this morning,’ Eleanor reminded her benefactress. ‘The girls, in the company of a gentleman, their uncle, together with their chaperone, would not draw disapproving frowns, I am sure.’
Lady Susan was swayed.
‘You may ride before breakfast tomorrow,’ she agreed. ‘Jeffrey will accompany you as well as Eleanor. I will send him a note to that effect.’
Lady Susan drew Eleanor aside later.
‘You must be watchful, Eleanor,’ she said. ‘As the girls ride no gentleman is to speak with them on any account. You must also supervise any conversation with Jeffrey.’
‘Mr Jeffrey Warburton does not strike me as a predatory man,’ Eleanor ventured. ‘I do not believe that he would willingly compromise the girls.’
Lady Susan sighed. ‘Jeffrey is the third son of my older half-brother, Sir Hugo Warburton,’ she said. ‘His father supports him now, generously too, but sadly there are no prospects for him. When the title passes to Sir Hugo’s heir, Jeffrey will be left without means. There is nothing for him but to marry well. It must not be one of my girls.’
In the saddle the next morning, Eleanor felt that all was right with her world. They walked their horses sedately through the park in company with many other riders.
Eleanor was watchful as instructed, but could not prevent the girls going into fits of giggles whenever a passing gentleman raised his hat.
‘My uncle, Major Warburton will be town next week,’ Jaffrey told Eleanor, as they rode.
She felt her face glow at the news, and used her scarf to hide it.
‘I shall be glad of it,’ he continued. ‘He has many friends and acquaintances of power and distinction, whereas I am bereft of influence.’
Eleanor understood what he meant now that Lady Susan had confided in her. He, poor young man, must find an heiress to marry or be force into the clergy or the military, and he seemed right for neither. Need must come before love, it seemed. Was that her fate too?