The Duchess (4 page)

“We shall buy the entire bolts of whatever we choose,” Allegra said matter-of-factly. “I should not like to see myself coming and going, nor would my cousin. Ahh,” she held up a clear pink striped silk, “this would be perfect for you, Sirena! It favors your coloring.”

“The whole bolt of each fabric you choose?”
The Frenchwoman was absolutely astounded. These fabrics did not come cheap, for they had to be smuggled into England as France was no longer a civilized country in which to live, or do business.

“Yes,” Allegra said. “Is there some difficulty in my request?”

“I must ask Madame Paul, Mademoiselle Morgan. Never have I heard of such a thing!”

“It must be,” Allegra said firmly. “I am certain that Papa will make it well worth Madame Paul's while to cooperate, but if she feels she cannot meet our wishes, I can always obtain my fabrics elsewhere. Of course I would want Madame Paul to do our gowns. We will send a message to London to ascertain your employer's desires in the matter. Will that be satisfactory, Mademoiselle Francine?”

The modiste nodded weakly. “Of course, Mademoiselle Morgan,” she replied. This innocent-looking girl was going to be a power to be reckoned with one day. She sat silently now as the two young girls pored over her fabric samples, not even daring to make suggestions. The Morgan girl obviously knew what she wanted, and she was not hesitant about telling her pretty cousin what would be suitable for her either. Oddly enough, the country-bred miss had excellent taste.

There was a knock upon the chamber's door, and it opened to admit two young women in maid's garb.

“Ahh,” Allegra said smiling, “here are Honor and Damaris. Come, lasses, and help us to disrobe so Mademoiselle Francine can obtain the measurements she will need.”

The servants quickly did her bidding. Shortly both Allegra and Sirena were standing in their lawn chemises. The Frenchwoman took her measurements, working quickly for she suspected that Allegra would have difficulty standing still for very long. She carefully wrote each figure down upon a clean sheet of parchment. “Neither of you will need a corset,” she told them.

“I wouldn't wear one even if told I had to,” Allegra announced.

“You may change your mind one day, Mademoiselle Morgan,” the modiste told her with a small smile. “Voilà! It is finished!”

“You will return to London tomorrow?” Allegra asked her.

“Oui,
mademoiselle, I will,” was the polite reply.

“Then you will take my instructions regarding the bolts of fabric from Mr. Trent to your mistress. If she does not wish to cooperate with us, then I must go to the mercers who import through Papa's firm. I should, however, hate to lose that wonderful forest green silk. It will make me a most marvelous riding outfit, don't you think? I can just see the jacket with the gold frogs below my cream silk stock.”

The modiste smiled. “You have not only an excellent eye for color, but for style as well, mademoiselle,” she told Allegra.

“Thank you,” was the quiet reply.

When Mademoiselle Francine reached London several days later she told Madame Paul of her conversation with Allegra Morgan. Madame laughed to her friend's surprise.

“And what did Monsieur Trent say?” she asked Francine.

“Marie! He said whatever the young mademoiselle wanted she should have! Is Lord Morgan
that
rich? And can you afford to lose all that wonderful fabric so that one girl may not see it made into another gown for someone else? Oh, Marie! It was so difficult to obtain that fabric as it is! Now not to have it to display and offer to our most important customers … !” Mademoiselle Francine was near tears.

“Do not weep, Francine,” Madame said sharply. “We still have the fabrics that were not chosen, as well as a number of others besides. Actually it makes our season easier. Each bolt of fabric Miss Morgan chose for herself and her cousin would have made two to three
gowns. Now we shall just have to make one gown, but we shall be paid for the three, plus the cost of the fabric! Those are Mr. Trent's terms to me. We shall have more time for our other customers, plus a handsome profit to bank as well. Now, tell me what the two young ladies were like. Plain? Beautiful?”

“Miss Morgan is extraordinarily beautiful. She has skin like a gardenia, Marie. It is quite flawless. Her hair is the color of that mahogany table you ordered from Mr. Chippendale last year. Dark, not brown, but not quite black, and with a faint hint of red to it. Her eyes are most unique in color. They are violet.”

“Violet?”
Madame queried, disbelieving.

“Violet,” her companion repeated firmly. “She has dark brows, and thick dark lashes. She is taller than is fashionable, but actually not too tall. Slender with a tiny waist. Her bosom is not yet full, but pleasingly rounded. She has a lovely smooth broad chest that will make a wonderful display for her jewelry. Her hands and feet are delicately made.

“As for Lady Sirena, she will be an Incomparable without a doubt. She is dainty and petite. Her hair is that wonderful pure blond without any darkness to it. Her eyes are blue-gray with surprisingly long sandy lashes. She is so recherchée, and the gentlemen will adore her. Miss Morgan is quite protective of her, for Lady Sirena is as natural and sweet as a honeycomb. There is neither malice, nor deceit in her. She is most charming, and loves her cousin every bit as much as Miss Morgan loves her. They are an unusual pair.”

“Miss Morgan then is not quite so helpless,” Madame noted.

“Not that one!” Mademoiselle Francine said. “She is charming and obviously educated, perhaps too educated for a young lady of breeding and fashion. She does not
tolerate fools, and speaks her mind. She is fully aware of the power and the status of her father's wealth, and the fact she is his heiress, confers upon her. If she wants something, she wants it! I wonder if the gentlemen will like her despite her great beauty and fortune.”

“She will have a titled husband before the season's end,” Madame said cynically. “Her family will seek out the best title they can find, and Miss Morgan will wed it, mark my words, Francine. They will not settle for a mere baronet, or petty lordling. It will be a gentleman of some consequence, and her father's wealth will obtain him.”

“But what of l'amour?” Mademoiselle Francine asked, plaintively.

Madame laughed. “These English make their marriages like shopkeepers making the best bargains. There is little sentiment involved, I fear. It is all about status and wealth.”

“Pauvres petites,”
Mademoiselle said.

“Do not weep for these girls, Francine,” Madame replied. “They will get exactly what they seek, and deserve. And strangely, most will be very happy. They are odd people, these English. Home and hearth are what matter most to them. They have no sense of adventure.”

“But everyone should have love,” Mademoiselle persisted.

Madame laughed again. “You are a romantic, Francine,” she said. “Now give me the measurements you took, and we will begin designing.”

O
n their arrival in London Allegra found a number of invitations awaiting Sirena and herself. The envelopes were piled upon a silver tray in the order in which they had been received.

“Gracious!” she exclaimed. “What am I to do with all of these?”

Charles Trent took the ornate salver from the butler, Mr. Marker. “I shall go through these myself, Miss Allegra, and arrange for them to be answered properly. Ahh, I see the Bellingham crest. She usually gives the first ball of the season. That will be an acceptance. Some will be invitations from those seeking to improve their social standing by inviting you. Then there will be those from very important people, and some events that are certainly not suitable for young ladies in their first season.”

“Such as?” Allegra demanded.

Charles Trent smiled. “Certain card parties where the wagering is fast and deep, Miss Allegra. Why the Duchess of Devonshire has been known to lose hundreds of thousands in a single night. You don't want to get caught up in anything like that, but of course, there will be those only too eager to lure you into their gaming hells. Your father would not approve.”

“This season we are to join sounds more and more dangerous to me,” Allegra said. “I wish Papa had let me remain home. If I must marry I could have wed with Rupert Tanner. He has asked me, you know, but Papa will not hear of it.”

“A second son?
I should hope not!” Lady Abbott declared.

“His father was in favor of it,” Allegra said.

“I don't doubt it. Having a second son wed with the greatest heiress in all of England would have been quite a coup,” her aunt replied. “The old Earl of Ackerly is a sly dog, and always was. Besides, his countess is not someone your father would have you related to, even by marriage. She is his second wife, and her background is quite shadowy.”

“Besides, you don't love Rupert,” Sirena said. “You've always said he was like a brother to you.”

“Yes, but I am comfortable with him, and he does whatever I tell him,” Allegra admitted frankly.

Mr. Trent swallowed a guffaw at this remark.

“Upstairs with you both!” Lady Abbott ordered. Then she turned to the butler. “Marker, send a footman to Madame Paul's to say we have arrived and would like a fitting on the girls' gowns as soon as possible. They certainly cannot be seen in public in such old-fashioned country clothing.”

“Yes, m'lady,” the butler replied with a bow.

They easily settled into the house on Berkley Square, but late that same afternoon they had a visitor as they sat in the gardens enjoying the sunshine. Marker came with the card, and offered it to Lady Abbott.

“Good gracious!” she exclaimed, paling. Then, “Of course I
am
at home to Lady Bellingham. Show her out here at once! Girls, your very best behavior,
please!
Clarice Bellingham is one of the arbiters of both fashion and society in London. If she approves of you, you will be given entry to everywhere that is important.”

“And if she does not?” Allegra inquired.

“Your season will be a total failure, my dear child,” Lady Bellingham said, coming into the garden. She was a tall, handsome woman dressed in the height of fashion. “They all listen to me, although frankly I do not know why, but there it is. How do you do, Olympia? It has been four years since you brought a daughter to London.” Lady Bellingham plunked her ample frame onto a marble bench, looking about her as she did so. “Septimius has the finest gardener in all of London. I don't know anyone else's garden that looks so beautiful.” She stopped speaking for a moment to catch her breath and gaze sharply at the two young girls in her view.

“I-it is good to see you, Clarice,” Lady Abbott said, regaining her composure. “No, I haven't been up to London since Amanda made her bow. I am a countrywoman at heart, I fear. And then, too, London is not the same without my dear husband. Marker, tea, please.”

“I suppose I should miss Bellingham if he went and died on me,” Lady Bellingham remarked dryly. “I shouldn't like to take a backseat to that featherbrain my son is married to, but fortunately my good husband seems to be in grand health, praise God! How are Augustus and his Charlotte? That marriage was executed quickly, and we were all quite certain …” She paused, and then continued, “Well, you know what everyone was thinking, Olympia. Yet here it is several years later, and she has not produced.”

“We continue to hope, and pray,” Lady Abbott said weakly. She had forgotten what a whirlwind Clarice Bellingham could be.

“Now introduce me to these two fetching young creatures. Who is the outspoken one, and who is the gentle one, as if I didn't already know,” she chuckled.

“This is Miss Allegra Morgan, my niece.”

Allegra curtsied politely, although her cheeks were still warm from having been overheard; and now to be called outspoken was most embarrassing.

“Not Pandora's gel?
Well, she's certainly a rare beauty. I suppose as her father's heiress we can expect she will be a great success,” Lady Bellingham pronounced quite candidly. “How d'do, Miss Morgan.”

“How do you do, madame,” Allegra replied as another rush of heat suffused her face. Lady Bellingham had called her
Pandora's girl.
Did they all have such sharp memories? She supposed so. It was interesting that they could remember her mother when she could not.

“And this is my youngest, Lady Sirena Abbott.”

Sirena made her curtsy to Lady Bellingham, giving her a shy smile as she did so.

“How d'do, my dear,” the formidable lady said. Then she turned to Lady Abbott. “She will certainly be an Incomparable, Olympia. She is the loveliest of your three gels,” and then seeing Sirena flush with pleasure, Lady Bellingham said, “Why, child, has no one ever told you that?”

“No, madame,” Sirena replied.

“Well, you are, and I have seen both Caroline and Amanda. The elder has shoulders a bit too broad, and the other's nose was a bit too retroussé, I fear. Still, they did well in the husband hunt, but you, I suspect, will do better.” She turned her attention back to Lady Abbott. “She has a respectable dowry? I know how selfish Charlotte is, and how she must begrudge this lovely child.”