To Each Her Own
The early summer sunlight filtered through the branches of a silver birch, dappling the courtyard of 14 Cavendish Square with shifting shadows. The clink of porcelain and gales of unrestrained laughter filled the air, suggesting a party of much larger size than the group of four young ladies who sat around a small table, enjoying an early luncheon. The primary culprits were the misses of the household, Rosemary and Isabel Stanhope. Isabel was regaling her friends with a recount of a pompous suitor's attempts to woo her at the ball they had attended the previous evening. Her older sister was laughing uproariously, while surreptitiously sneaking sandwiches to the pair of bloodhounds at her feet.
"So then he informed me that he understood if I felt - swoonish, I believe, was the term he used as he had been advised by more than one young lady that dancing with him was a heady experience. He suggested that we step out to the terrace for some 'fresh air.'" Isabel's mouth was drawn into a charming smile, revealing her somewhat famous dimples, but her eyes flashed with annoyance. It was well known that the young man in question made a habit of luring ladies to the terrace for the purpose of stealing gropes and kisses.
Rosemary shook her head and guffawed into her cup, nearly choking on a swallow of tea. The mass of rich sable curls at her crown slowly began to free itself from its many pins, but she barely noticed. Impatiently tucking a loose strand behind her ear, she tipped her head in amused anticipation. "I hope you went, Bel," she chuckled. "The further along they think they've gotten, the funnier it is when you dress them down."
"Of course I didn't," Isabel replied, arching one comely black brow. "Lord Blaisdale was at that moment on his way to offer me champagne. Leaving on his arm was infinitely more satisfying, believe me." She turned to the young woman seated to her left. "I saw you dancing quite a bit with Geoffery Ashby, Em. Do you fancy him?"
Emily Heaton blushed becomingly and laughed. "He's very nice," she admitted, her fair skin glowing pink, her large brown eyes downcast beneath long lashes. "His sister invited me to call on her this afternoon."
"Is that so?" Isabel replied, casually buttering a roll. "Will you go?"
"She must, mustn't she? It would be rude not to," Rosemary sighed, making a moue of disgust. She regarded social calls as a chore to be avoided at all costs.
Neither sister noticed when the fourth member of their party, Anne Carmichael, subtly indicated to the maid that she should refresh the teapot. Miss Carmichael was such a frequent guest of the household and so much more comfortable in the role of hostess than either of the Misses Stanhope that the staff never thought twice about accepting instructions from her. Her mother had died when she was young and Anne had long assumed the role of mistress in her father's house, so she was well accustomed to monitoring the details that frequently escaped her friends' notice.
"Miss Ashby is a nice enough girl, but she's something of a fashion plate," Anne informed her cousin. "Do you know what you will wear?"
"I hadn't even thought of it," Emily confessed, looking worried. "I suppose I should go home and put something together."
"Why don't you wear something of mine?" Isabel offered. She and Emily shared similar petite figures, although Isabel was a bit curvier than her elfin friend. "I've been called a fashion plate myself, on occasion," she added, with a sideways grin at Rosemary, who usually leveled the charge. "Besides, I'm to call on Lady Albright this afternoon so we can share the carriage."
"That sounds lovely, thank you," Emily agreed, sipping her tea.
"So tell us, Em, what do you see in your Mr. Ashby?" Rosemary asked teasingly. "I don't believe he's said two words to me since I met him."
"He's somewhat shy," Emily replied, obviously uncomfortable that the subject had been reintroduced. "But I've found that we have quite a bit in common."
"Does he like poetry?" Anne inquired mildly, but with a knowing smile.
"Oh yes! We discussed Childe Harold while we were waltzing. I should so like to see Venice. Mr. Ashby has not been, either."
"Pity," Isabel replied. "And what does he think of Lord Byron, the man?"
"Well, he condemns his scandalous behavior, of course," Emily answered with a quick glance at Anne, who was pursing her lips in displeasure. "But one can enjoy the poetry while reviling the poet."
"Certainly," Rosemary agreed. "One need not even necessarily revile the poet. Many people seem quite fond of him." She grinned mischievously.
"Really, Rose," Anne admonished. "Not even you could withhold objection to some of Byron's exploits. He is simply beyond reason or civility."
Rosemary laughed. "If the part about his sister is true, then I'm afraid even I would cry foul. But I'm sure many of the stories are exaggerations."
"Well, I admit I'm sorry I never made his acquaintance," Isabel sighed. "He is so terribly handsome."
"Don't worry, Isabel, I'm sure he'll return to England one day," Anne replied irritably. "There must be at least half a dozen women he hasn't "
"Anne!" Emily cried, laughing. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "Mr. Ashby is also fond of the works of Shakespeare, particularly his sonnets."
"How romantic," Rosemary replied, affecting a saccharine tone.
"I think it is," Isabel replied, squeezing Emily's hand. "Good for you, Em. I hope you like his sister."
"I hope his mother likes you," sensible Anne retorted, but noticing her cousin's alarmed expression, quickly added, "And of course, she will."
"You'll come with me, won't you, Anne?" Emily asked anxiously. "I can never think of anything to say when I'm nervous."
"I can't, darling," Anne sighed. "But don't worry. Mrs. Ashby is a rather loquacious woman. Sit by her and you won't have the opportunity to speak, even should you want it." Emily looked as though she would follow her counsel to the letter.
"So Miss Heaton and I are paying social calls this afternoon. And what will Miss Stanhope and Miss Carmichael be doing with their time?"
"Riding in the park," said Rosemary, through a mouthful of scone. She swallowed and smiled. "With George and Teddy." All of the Stanhope's were known for their good looks and gregarious dispositions, and George Stanhope was no exception. He and his best friend, Teddy Bristow, were two of the most popular young men in their social set, and Rosemary gleaned great delight from being "one of the boys."
"Of course you are," Isabel laughed. "And you, Anne?"
Anne smoothed one hand over her sleek blonde hair and adjusted the smart, sea-green bonnet perched fashionably upon her head. "I have to get home and review the books with Mr. Holland. I doubt Henry's spared a thought for bills or orders since I arrived." Anne's twin brother was the ringleader of George Stanhope's clique and a notoriously charming rogue. Anne usually spent spring and summer with him in London, returning to her father's estate in Kent after the season ended. Henry was only too happy to let his sister run his household while she was in town, and Anne, despite her words, was exceedingly fond of her brother and content to keep his books for him.
"Well, we had better run along if we're to put together a costume suitably chic enough for the incomparable Miss Ashby," Isabel commented wryly, once again taking Emily's hand in her own. "I hope we'll see you tonight, Anne?"
"I don't doubt it," Anne replied, rising smoothly and brushing her gloved fingers across the front of her dress. "Are we all attending Lady Lonsdale's ball?"
"Indeed," Isabel agreed. "Have a lovely afternoon, darling. Rosemary, I expect we shall see you sooner rather than later."
The four girls rose and left the courtyard. Rosemary, Isabel and Emily bid good-bye to Anne at the front door and then went upstairs to dress.
Which girl do you want to follow?
"So then he informed me that he understood if I felt - swoonish, I believe, was the term he used as he had been advised by more than one young lady that dancing with him was a heady experience. He suggested that we step out to the terrace for some 'fresh air.'" Isabel's mouth was drawn into a charming smile, revealing her somewhat famous dimples, but her eyes flashed with annoyance. It was well known that the young man in question made a habit of luring ladies to the terrace for the purpose of stealing gropes and kisses.
Rosemary shook her head and guffawed into her cup, nearly choking on a swallow of tea. The mass of rich sable curls at her crown slowly began to free itself from its many pins, but she barely noticed. Impatiently tucking a loose strand behind her ear, she tipped her head in amused anticipation. "I hope you went, Bel," she chuckled. "The further along they think they've gotten, the funnier it is when you dress them down."
"Of course I didn't," Isabel replied, arching one comely black brow. "Lord Blaisdale was at that moment on his way to offer me champagne. Leaving on his arm was infinitely more satisfying, believe me." She turned to the young woman seated to her left. "I saw you dancing quite a bit with Geoffery Ashby, Em. Do you fancy him?"
Emily Heaton blushed becomingly and laughed. "He's very nice," she admitted, her fair skin glowing pink, her large brown eyes downcast beneath long lashes. "His sister invited me to call on her this afternoon."
"Is that so?" Isabel replied, casually buttering a roll. "Will you go?"
"She must, mustn't she? It would be rude not to," Rosemary sighed, making a moue of disgust. She regarded social calls as a chore to be avoided at all costs.
Neither sister noticed when the fourth member of their party, Anne Carmichael, subtly indicated to the maid that she should refresh the teapot. Miss Carmichael was such a frequent guest of the household and so much more comfortable in the role of hostess than either of the Misses Stanhope that the staff never thought twice about accepting instructions from her. Her mother had died when she was young and Anne had long assumed the role of mistress in her father's house, so she was well accustomed to monitoring the details that frequently escaped her friends' notice.
"Miss Ashby is a nice enough girl, but she's something of a fashion plate," Anne informed her cousin. "Do you know what you will wear?"
"I hadn't even thought of it," Emily confessed, looking worried. "I suppose I should go home and put something together."
"Why don't you wear something of mine?" Isabel offered. She and Emily shared similar petite figures, although Isabel was a bit curvier than her elfin friend. "I've been called a fashion plate myself, on occasion," she added, with a sideways grin at Rosemary, who usually leveled the charge. "Besides, I'm to call on Lady Albright this afternoon so we can share the carriage."
"That sounds lovely, thank you," Emily agreed, sipping her tea.
"So tell us, Em, what do you see in your Mr. Ashby?" Rosemary asked teasingly. "I don't believe he's said two words to me since I met him."
"He's somewhat shy," Emily replied, obviously uncomfortable that the subject had been reintroduced. "But I've found that we have quite a bit in common."
"Does he like poetry?" Anne inquired mildly, but with a knowing smile.
"Oh yes! We discussed Childe Harold while we were waltzing. I should so like to see Venice. Mr. Ashby has not been, either."
"Pity," Isabel replied. "And what does he think of Lord Byron, the man?"
"Well, he condemns his scandalous behavior, of course," Emily answered with a quick glance at Anne, who was pursing her lips in displeasure. "But one can enjoy the poetry while reviling the poet."
"Certainly," Rosemary agreed. "One need not even necessarily revile the poet. Many people seem quite fond of him." She grinned mischievously.
"Really, Rose," Anne admonished. "Not even you could withhold objection to some of Byron's exploits. He is simply beyond reason or civility."
Rosemary laughed. "If the part about his sister is true, then I'm afraid even I would cry foul. But I'm sure many of the stories are exaggerations."
"Well, I admit I'm sorry I never made his acquaintance," Isabel sighed. "He is so terribly handsome."
"Don't worry, Isabel, I'm sure he'll return to England one day," Anne replied irritably. "There must be at least half a dozen women he hasn't "
"Anne!" Emily cried, laughing. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "Mr. Ashby is also fond of the works of Shakespeare, particularly his sonnets."
"How romantic," Rosemary replied, affecting a saccharine tone.
"I think it is," Isabel replied, squeezing Emily's hand. "Good for you, Em. I hope you like his sister."
"I hope his mother likes you," sensible Anne retorted, but noticing her cousin's alarmed expression, quickly added, "And of course, she will."
"You'll come with me, won't you, Anne?" Emily asked anxiously. "I can never think of anything to say when I'm nervous."
"I can't, darling," Anne sighed. "But don't worry. Mrs. Ashby is a rather loquacious woman. Sit by her and you won't have the opportunity to speak, even should you want it." Emily looked as though she would follow her counsel to the letter.
"So Miss Heaton and I are paying social calls this afternoon. And what will Miss Stanhope and Miss Carmichael be doing with their time?"
"Riding in the park," said Rosemary, through a mouthful of scone. She swallowed and smiled. "With George and Teddy." All of the Stanhope's were known for their good looks and gregarious dispositions, and George Stanhope was no exception. He and his best friend, Teddy Bristow, were two of the most popular young men in their social set, and Rosemary gleaned great delight from being "one of the boys."
"Of course you are," Isabel laughed. "And you, Anne?"
Anne smoothed one hand over her sleek blonde hair and adjusted the smart, sea-green bonnet perched fashionably upon her head. "I have to get home and review the books with Mr. Holland. I doubt Henry's spared a thought for bills or orders since I arrived." Anne's twin brother was the ringleader of George Stanhope's clique and a notoriously charming rogue. Anne usually spent spring and summer with him in London, returning to her father's estate in Kent after the season ended. Henry was only too happy to let his sister run his household while she was in town, and Anne, despite her words, was exceedingly fond of her brother and content to keep his books for him.
"Well, we had better run along if we're to put together a costume suitably chic enough for the incomparable Miss Ashby," Isabel commented wryly, once again taking Emily's hand in her own. "I hope we'll see you tonight, Anne?"
"I don't doubt it," Anne replied, rising smoothly and brushing her gloved fingers across the front of her dress. "Are we all attending Lady Lonsdale's ball?"
"Indeed," Isabel agreed. "Have a lovely afternoon, darling. Rosemary, I expect we shall see you sooner rather than later."
The four girls rose and left the courtyard. Rosemary, Isabel and Emily bid good-bye to Anne at the front door and then went upstairs to dress.
Which girl do you want to follow?