Scales and Sensibility by Stephanie Burgis
Chapter 18
When Elinor stepped into the bedroom, the first thing she saw was the pile of newspapers that lay on her bed.
Thank goodness. She’d asked Carter earlier to arrange their collection, and now she was even more grateful than she’d expected to be. If the illusion was already beginning to show its seams, she had no time to lose. She needed to arrange a swift and permanent escape from Hathergill Hall, the very moment that Penelope’s début ball came to an end.
Benedict might have blamed his eyesight once, but twice would strain anyone’s credulity. And if the next person to see through the illusion was Sir John or Penelope…
She winced and sank down onto the bed cross-legged, spreading the papers all around her.
They were no longer clean and freshly-ironed, as Sir John had already read them over breakfast, but they were still packed with closely-lined text. She pored through them as Sir Jessamyn wandered off to fall asleep on a non-crinkly area of the bed. The Spectator had been printed in London only two days ago, and it was full of Society gossip that she skimmed past as she hunted for advertisements.
Two titled gentlemen (referred to coyly by the writer as Lord F— and Sir G— H—) had participated in a drunken carriage race that left destruction to the tune of some £45 in their wake…the Prince Regent had ordered the commission of a new statue for his Brighton Pavilion, modeled on his favorite dragon…The celebrated Mrs D—L— was planning…
Wait.Elinor flipped back to that notice.
The celebrated Mrs. D—L— —or in other words, Mrs. De Lacey—had been planning to host a fabulous Venetian breakfast yesterday morning. According to the Spectator’s journalist, it would be attended by several fashionable figures and decorated with a South American theme. The Spectator confidently expected it to be one of the great events of the year.
And it had been held yesterday morning. Was it even possible for Mrs. De Lacey to have reached this part of Somerset by the middle of last night after spending the entire morning in London? Elinor was no expert in geography…but she had a feeling of cold certainty that the answer was no.
Elinor read the notice over and over again, but the tiny, printed words never changed. How many other people had read them?
Sir John had set off so early this morning, he couldn’t have had time to read the paper in any detail. He might well have missed that one small item of gossip, more focused on the larger news of the day. Penelope, on the other hand, was only interested in the gossip when she read a newspaper…but fortunately, she rarely did. There was a good chance that today, as she’d poured out her woes and waited for her father to hunt down her cousin, she hadn’t bothered to pick up the Spectator for light reading.
That only left Lady Hathergill, Gavin Armitage, Miss Armitage…and every single servant who might read this paper after Elinor.
Her hands moved before she had even finished the thought, ripping off half the page and shredding the news item into dozens of tiny pieces. It was only as the last shreds fell onto her lap that she realized her mistake.
Sir John wasn’t the only gentleman in the neighborhood who ordered the Spectator. Millie and Lucinda both came from households that subscribed to the London papers, even though their families couldn’t afford London seasons for the girls. Everyone in the neighborhood would know soon enough that the famous Mrs. De Lacey had arrived at Hathergill Hall…
…And now that Elinor had ripped up the newspaper, she had just alerted every servant in the house that there was something interesting to be read in it.
Elinor stared at the shreds and felt an uncharacteristic scream of sheer frustration build up inside her, the kind that her sister Rose—or their cousin Penelope—would have unleashed without a thought.
Only fierce willpower kept it locked inside her chest.
“Too much,” she said hoarsely. “This is simply too much.”
Sir Jessamyn lifted his head off the bedcover to look up at her with lazy curiosity.
“Can’t anything be easy?” she asked him. “Just for once, can’t one single thing—no!” She slammed her mouth shut, as her mind caught up with her.
No matter how much Mr. Aubrey might snarl about fairy tales, Elinor knew exactly what happened whenever she asked for help around Sir Jessamyn.
“I just wish everyone could see me differently.”
“I wish to know.What does your mother really think?
Her melodramatic impulse to scream had evaporated, replaced by cold panic. Elinor swallowed hard as she held her dragon’s golden gaze. “Don’t worry, Sir Jessamyn,” she said steadily. “I’ll be fine. Really. I’ll think of something.”
Carefully, she reached out to stroke the little dragon’s blue-and-green head. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.
Elinor breathed out a sigh of relief.
The shreds of paper on her lap and on the bedcover were a reminder of just how much danger she was in...
But at least Sir Jessamyn’s face hadn’t gained any new markings. Not yet, anyway.
* * *
In the end,she found only two advertisements for a governess, and neither of them was promising. One of them requested ‘a lady with a full command of the Spanish language to prepare three children for a voyage to South America,’ and the other, placed by a Mrs. G. Galsworthy, offered ‘a comfortable situation in which the delights of shared family life may well replace any vulgar monetary payment.’
Elinor had to read that second one twice to make certain that she hadn’t misunderstood. “They won’t even pay their governess a salary?!”
Sir Jessamyn, sleeping sprawled across the foot of the bed, did not respond. But after a long moment of inner conflict, Elinor gritted her teeth and made a careful note of the second advertisement’s details.
Like it or not, if she didn’t find anything more promising within the next few days, she would have no choice but to apply for the position and pray that ‘the delights of shared family life’ in Mrs. Galsworthy’s household were less appalling than she suspected.
Meanwhile, her own family was waiting. By the time she had arranged her own hair and changed her gown, they had all gathered in the drawing room along with Benedict, Mr. Aubrey, and the two Armitages. Even Lady Hathergill was in attendance. With new houseguests in residence, Sir John and Penelope could hardly keep her locked up indefinitely.
When Elinor walked into the room, for the first time that she could remember, she found her aunt sitting fully upright in a hard-backed chair instead of reclining on a couch or padded armchair. With her cheeks flushed with enthusiasm and energy evident in every wave of her hand, Lady Hathergill was almost unrecognizable. She appeared to be holding the room spellbound—or at least mute with horror.
“…And of course those coverings look utterly ridiculous! You agree with me, don’t you?” She aimed the question at Miss Armitage, who sat beside her with blue eyes dancing and one gloved hand pressed to her mouth.
Lady Hathergill sped onwards before Miss Armitage could reply. “Vulgar and overstated, to say the least. But of course once the draper had claimed they were the latest London fashion, there was nothing more to be said. Sir John has never in his life been able to resist a—”
“Look, Mama!” Penelope said. “Mrs. De Lacey has arrived!”
From the expression of joy on Penelope’s face, she might have been announcing the arrival of an angel from Heaven. Sir John’s face, shining with perspiration, showed the same desperate relief.
“Mrs. De Lacey!” He bounced out of his chair with alacrity and gestured sweepingly to the closest open seat. “Come in, come in, do! I hope you’ve enjoyed some rest? Have you—”
“It is good to see you, my friend.” Lady Hathergill smiled at Elinor with unaffected pleasure. “I am so glad you changed your mind about visiting us, although I must say, I do think you have made a mistake. I know you were lying when you claimed a putrid sore throat in your last letter, but it was a perfectly good excuse. I can’t imagine why you’ve decided to come after all instead of staying in London. It is deadly dull in Somerset, and particularly in our house—why, I feel as if I fell asleep years ago and have only just woken up!”
Gavin Armitage coughed loudly but didn’t quite manage to disguise his laugh. His face was flushed and his brown eyes sparkling as he rose to his feet. “Mrs. De Lacey,” he said. “You have missed quite a…fascinating discourse by her ladyship.”
“Indeed?” Elinor raised her brows in a quelling look.
Perhaps she should have been glad that Penelope and Sir John were experiencing even a tiny fraction of the humiliation that she had suffered in their house. Perhaps she even would have been, under different circumstances. But Elinor couldn’t bring herself to be a partner now to the malicious delight that sparkled in Mr. Armitage’s eyes.
“Mrs. De Lacey.” Benedict nodded to her, unsmiling, as he stood.
Mr. Aubrey, alone of all the gentlemen in the room, remained sitting in his armchair…and for once, Elinor couldn’t blame it entirely on his book. The moment he saw her, he had scowled and lowered his head. She only just caught his muttered imprecation as he pointedly turned the page in his book.
“…blasted fairy tales!”
She sighed.
Sir Jessamyn craned his neck to look around hopefully. It had, after all, been nearly three hours since he had last eaten.
“Aha!” Miss Armitage said.
It was so unexpected that they all turned to look at her. Even her astonishingly well-trained dragon gave a start of surprise. She directed a look of stern reproof at him, then relaxed to smile at the rest of the company, waving one hand in graceful apology. “I do beg your pardons. I didn’t mean to be uncouth. It’s only that I’ve finally discovered the answer to a question that has been bothering me ever since we arrived. Until now, you see, I simply couldn’t think of what had changed about Mrs. De Lacey.”
“Mrs. De Lacey?” Gavin Armitage raised his eyebrows and turned to face Elinor. So did everyone else in the room.
Elinor swallowed, and forced her face into an expression of light interest. “Good heavens. I didn’t think I could have changed so much in only four days.”
“Four days?” Miss Armitage frowned at her. “I didn’t see you four days ago, did I?”
Oh, dear. “But I thought—the rout that your brother mentioned, where I’d seen him last…” What had he called it? “At the Redmans?”
“The Rothershams,” Gavin Armitage corrected her. She could hear the bafflement in his tone.
Elinor’s heart sank. Mrs. De Lacey wouldn’t have made that mistake. How could she? “Of course,” she said. “I only misspoke—I attend so very many routs, you see, it’s terribly difficult to keep track.” She thought about trying for a careless laugh. Best not. In her current state, it might come out as the squawk of a dying duck. “But I had thought—”
“I wasn’t at that rout, I’m afraid,” said Miss Armitage. “Gavin claimed it wouldn’t be suitable for an unmarried lady, you see.” Her tone was dry…and her dark blue eyes were fixed on Elinor’s face with open speculation.
“Of course,” Elinor repeated. “I had…forgotten.”
She sat down on the first empty seat she could see, a spindly chair just to the right of Sir John. Her vision was tunneling with panic. Benedict was frowning at her from the couch, but she forced herself to ignore him and look straight into Miss Armitage’s eyes.
“So,” she said. “Have you come to a conclusion? What is so different about me today?”
Miss Armitage looked back at her with raised eyebrows…and all too much intelligence in her gaze.
“Oh, that was my mistake,” she said. “It wasn’t you who had changed, after all. It was your dragon.”