“Lady Spencer sends her regards. I’m to take you to the house, Mistress.” He got down and helped me into the coach.
I had dressed carefully. I wore fine black linen with a thread of pale blue worked in as a tiny, discreet stripe and with a middle shade of blue ribbon edging the ruffled sleeves and the seams of the bodice. It was, I thought, an elegant but modest effect. I wore no jewelry other than my ruby ring but I had pinned the white cockade from Cullah’s best hat to my neck as a brooch. It was a sign to Lady Spencer, I suppose, but more importantly it was a connection to him, and I had been feeling in need of my husband’s strong arms as I rode to town to see what had become of Wallace and Serenity.
As I entered the drawing room, Serenity turned toward me once, twice, and then arched her eyebrows dramatically. “Ah, it is you! I thought perhaps a Quaker schoolmistress had come to call upon our family.”
I calmed my face as I knew how to do so well. Serenity’s intent had been to insinuate that my clothing was plain, drab, even ugly. I knew otherwise. It was the sort of insult for one child to make to another and I would not stoop to considering it worthy of reply. I said nothing, but made my way between her and Wallace to sit in a chair beside Amelia.
Time had been kind, even effervescent, to Wallace. He had grown more dashing, more vital. Without a wig, his dark hair now sported a pair of dove’s wings, that elegant note of maturation that put a streak of white at each temple. His figure was trim as ever, and the two of them were resplendent as peacocks in pink brocade silks and lace. Their children paraded in to offer greetings, then the youngest were sent to play at games in another room. The greatest change was in Serenity. She had grown fat as a brood sow, barely able to move in her corsets and laces. She propped herself in a couch and took up most of it, called for a footrest, and grunted, hiding a belch.
Serenity said, “Well, how good to see you, Miss Talbot. Oh, what was your married name again?”
“MacLammond,” I said with a small smile.
“Mackle-mond.” And so it went, Serenity interviewing me as if she meant to hire me for some position, and I answering her queries with care and a smile. At last she offered me an invitation to a ball they meant to have at their home in Boston on the Friday preceding Christmas. “Unless,” she said, tittering behind her fan, “that does not give you enough time to find the loan of a suitable gown. In which case your regrets will be accepted.”
“On the contrary,” Wallace said. “No excuse will be adequate to deny us your presence. It is so boring here nowadays. None of the old people are around. All drummed into service, apparently, against the French.”
I turned to him with a wary feeling. “As is my husband. I am glad to see your service is already finished.”
“What? No, no. They came around Charles City, of course. It seemed a good time for a six-hundred-mile trip to visit my ailing mother, did it not, my dear?”
Serenity nodded approvingly. “But that is why Wallace thinks none of the fun people are here anymore. They’ve all gone to war. Isn’t that tragic?”
“It is indeed,” I said. “Would you permit me to bring my ward? She is of age to be out, though not given the privilege.” I wondered what Serenity would say upon seeing her sister or whether they kept correspondence and she knew of the girl’s place in my home.
“It wouldn’t be a place for servants, except as attendants,” Serenity said.
“She is not a servant. She is a young lady without means for a coming-out ball.”
Serenity looked at Lady Spencer with a roll of her eyes. “Very well. Bring whomever you wish,” she said.
“Thank you. I shall bring my daughter, too, then. It will be her first event and she will turn sixteen just before it.”
Serenity’s whole being sank with her sigh, though she smiled. “How lovely.”
Dinner guests began to arrive. Lady Spencer had arranged a violin duo to play at the far end in the large parlor while everyone gathered. The two men had worried looks on their faces as they worked their bows up and down the strings. I longed to sit and watch them, for I had never heard such music or seen such playing. Too soon we were ushered to the dining hall.
Boston town could boast itself of lavish wealth. My gown was out of style, and too plain. Serenity’s flourishes and lace had been carried out in some form on every woman there. I was a wee blackbird among fluttering silks and whispering brocades. My only comfort was that I might be unobtrusive for it. Lady Spencer took my arm at the door. “Help me, would you please?” she asked, leaning upon me. She introduced me all around.