The Wayward Debutante. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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      Chapter Four

      It was a perfect morning for a walk in the park. The sun shone softly through the trees, dappling the path with light, and a mild breeze gently teased Eleanor’s hair, loosening it from the knot at her nape. She carried her scratchy straw hat in her hand, at least for the time being. Eventually, Louisa would notice and insist she put it on once more.

      Right now, though, Louisa was about ten paces ahead of her and gaining distance with every step. Beatrice walked stiffly by her side. They’d been arguing until just a few minutes ago, although Eleanor had been unable to hear what about. It hardly mattered, since Louisa picked fights just for fun. Beatrice had made a few murmurs of appeasement but now, knowing her efforts were pointless, had given up in favor of stony silence. Eleanor was thankful that her sister had come along, although she would have preferred to be alone with her. They hadn’t had a meaningful conversation in ages, and could hardly do so with Louisa listening in. Beatrice tended to understand her better than anyone else, and not that long ago, she’d also been a reluctant debutante. She’d have some words of encouragement or advice. And good heavens, did Eleanor need it, at least if she was going to survive the rest of the season. Of course, she couldn’t confess everything that was on her mind: James Bentley, no matter the impression he’d left on her, was simply out of the question.

      For the moment, though, their conversation would have to wait. She hummed quietly, letting herself be lulled into daydreams by the satisfying crunch of her kidskin boots hitting the gravel path. She allowed herself to lag even farther behind and began to imagine herself away from Hyde Park, away from the stifling governance of spinster aunts, uncomfortable hats and tight stays. There was so much more to life than her petty existence. She had a mind of her own; she had interests that had nothing to do with finding a suitable husband and producing suitable children. What was all the fuss about getting married, anyway?

      And why did the only man to excite her have to be distinctly unsuitable? What on earth did that say about her taste? Granted, he was handsome. Granted, he had wanted to kiss her, and that was certainly a novel experience. No one else had wanted to kiss her before; all the young men she’d met so far only wanted to kiss Lady Arabella Stuart or Lucinda Cator, the season’s two Most Desirables.

      “Eleanor!”

      She looked up with a small jerk, anticipating the reprimand that Louisa’s sharp tone promised. Louisa and Beatrice had halted several paces ahead, but were now standing, waiting for her to catch up. Both women looked annoyed.

      “How many times must I say your name? And where is your hat?” Louisa demanded. She squinted directly into the sun, which made her look even crosser than normal.

      Eleanor immediately began to rearrange her hat and walked briskly to reach them. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I wasn’t attending. Is something the matter?”

      “I asked, Eleanor, why your sister denies having received an invitation to my dinner next week.”

      Eleanor thought carefully before answering, not having the faintest idea how this question pertained to her. Both Louisa and Beatrice were staring at her impatiently. Hoping for a clue, she said slowly, “I didn’t know you were holding a dinner, Auntie. I’m afraid I haven’t put it in my diary.”

      “You’re not invited. It’s for married ladies only. What have you done with the invitation?”

      Eleanor wasn’t prepared for this interrogation, not right now, not when her mind had so recently been indulging in far more pleasurable thoughts. What did they want from her? “But I thought I wasn’t invited. Why would I have the invitation?”

      Beatrice sighed at her continued confusion. “You aren’t invited, Eleanor. Louisa insists she gave you the invitation to pass on to me several days ago, but I never received it. Did you forget?”

      “I knew I should have entrusted it to my footman,” Louisa added resentfully before Eleanor could reply. “But your sister was at my house for a visit, anyway, Beatrice, so I gave it to her instead. Useless girl. I repeat, Eleanor, where is the invitation now?”

      Eleanor had gone pale as the memory came back. She knew where the invitation was, or at least where it had been when she’d parted ways with it. It had been in her reticule, along with other useful things like money to pay her driver. Luckily, she knew where Beatrice’s housekeeper kept a small supply of funds for day-to-day sundries, so she’d been able to pay him on arrival. But given the events of that evening, the invitation had been insignificant enough to slip from her mind entirely.

      Louisa was still looking at her, waiting for an answer that she didn’t actually have. She certainly couldn’t admit that she’d left the invitation at the theater when she shouldn’t have been there in the first place. All she could do was be vague, but that would only send her aunt into a greater rage.

      “It is possible I lost it, Auntie.”

      “It is possible? Did you or did you not?” Her nostrils flared slightly.

      Vagueness wasn’t working, so she tried bluntness instead. “Well, I don’t know where it is now. So I suppose that means I did lose it. Yes.”

      Beatrice sighed deeply. “It no longer matters, Aunt Louisa. I never received it, and I’ve made other plans. Just this morning I told Lucy that I’d spend the day with her.”

      Louisa shook her head. “You will have to change your plans. Your sister-in-law will understand.”

      “I can’t just change my plans. I made a promise.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Eleanor said, quietly but sincerely, hoping that her apology would placate her aunt enough so that they could change the subject.

      “Your apology is noted, Eleanor, but not particularly helpful at this stage. I must have even numbers. Who ever heard of seating thirteen around the dinner table?”

      “Well, I am sorry, Auntie.”

      “Thirteen! It’s preposterous.”

      Eleanor bit her lip, not wanting to retort. But she hadn’t slept well the night before and didn’t have her usual patience for her aunt’s histrionics. “Don’t you think ‘preposterous’ might be a bit strong?”

      “What?” Louisa spluttered.

      “It is hardly a crisis. No one will even notice.”

      Louisa’s mouth opened and closed a few times, fishlike, before she could speak. “I…I am not accustomed to this impudence from you, Eleanor. Where does this boldness come from?”

      Eleanor refused to answer her. She was sick of being treated like a child. She crossed her arms and stared back stubbornly.

      Louisa’s gray eyes narrowed. Still looking at Eleanor, she said, “Beatrice, I am going home. We will finish our discussion there. I do not approve of flippant girls.”

      And with a curt nod, she turned and marched off.

      Beatrice shook her head as she watched her walk away. “Why did you provoke her, Eleanor? She’s going to be in one of her sulks for the rest of the day, and I’m the one who’ll have to talk her out of it.”

      “It’s not as if СКАЧАТЬ