The Virtuous Ward

CHAPTER Five

"It's worse than I remember." Amity moaned and her shoulders slumped as she looked into the mirror.

"I'll admit it doesn't do you a treat. Lud, I wish me mum were here. She was wizard with a needle." Betta circled behind her mistress, eyeing the dress from every angle. Her long nose was wrinkled as she debated what to do for the best. "I thought perhaps with your hair up in curls one wouldn't notice the dress. Ain't much of an improvement."

Amity stared wistfully at the intricate shower of ringlets and had to agree with her friend's opinion. The ornate arrangement of curls only emphasized the fussiness of the dress. They had already spent several hours trying different hairstyles but none of them had diminished the effect of the gown. She was doomed.

At the light scratching on the hall door, the girls froze and exchanged apprehensive glances. Moments later the sound was repeated with a decided impatience to the summons. Shrugging in resignation, Amity waved her hand to Betta who opened the door. Much to their surprise it was Max who stood transfixed in the doorway.

"Good Lord, Amity! What is that?"

"It's my gown for this evening." Amity raised her chin, forced by pride to defend the much-maligned dress.

"Devil, you say!" Max blurted out then clamped his mouth shut when he saw the look of misery on the girl's face. With a momentary hesitation, he closed the door and strode into the center of the room. "Turn around, Amity. I wish to be privy to the sensational features of your gown."

Cheeks flushed in embarrassment, Amity turned in a circle, coming to a stop facing him. Her head was bent because she had little desire to see the contempt in his eyes for her ludicrous costume.

Max felt as though he had taken a blow to his ribcage. How was it possible that the girl was wearing a dress that was so patently wrong for her? Honoria would never have permitted her to make such a choice. The dress was far more in Honoria's style than Amity's but he still did not understand how such a mistake could have been made. But more to the point, what on earth were they to do at this late hour?

"I'm dreadful sorry, Max," Amity said in a strained voice.

"Enough said, child. The dress is not suited to you but since our guests will be arriving in another few hours we will have to put our heads together to see how we might contrive."

The relief on Amity's upturned face sent a jolt of sensation much like a pain slicing through Max's chest. He should be angry that the girl had made such a hash of things but she looked so woebegone that he did not have the heart to lecture her. Later there would be time for recriminations, now there was work to be done if they were not all to land in the soup. Folding his arms over his chest, Max stared at the gown through narrowed eyes.

"Turn again so I may see the back." He cocked his head to the side then raised his hand to pull at his lower lip. "You. Girl," he said turning to the young abigail who was wringing her hands in her apron. "Come over here."

"Aye, sir," Betta said, her voice shaking with nervousness. She bobbed a curtsy, standing with eyes lowered in front of Lord Kampford.

Max liked the look of the neat little figure. She was of an age with his ward and her plain face and clean appearance was a far cry from the slipshod servants he had seen in other houses. Although reluctant to give full approval to Amity's selection, he was in general pleased with the girl. "Your name?"

"Betta, milord," she said, bobbing another curtsy.

"Can you sew, Betta?" he asked.

"Only the most basic stitches."

"It'll do. For a start, cut off that sash and every one of those ever-so-charming bows."

Then ignoring the girls, he stalked to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. He eyed the contents, extending a hand to finger a material, then shaking his head in rejection. Finally he extracted a dress of soft wool, nodding in approval of the blues and greens of the plaid. He remembered the night Amity had arrived at Edgeworth. She had worn the dress to dinner and he remembered how startled he had been at the transformation of the gawky child into such an exotic creature. He turned to stare at Amity and a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Dress in hand, he picked up a dainty lilac satin side chair and moved over closer to the girls. Amity's cheeks were flushed and she sent him a wavering smile as he turned the chair around so he could sit with his arms braced across the back. The floor was littered with the bilious pink bows and he winked at his ward as the final one trembled at her shoulder than fluttered down to the carpet.

"Now, mes enfants , I will give you an important piece of advice," Max said, tenting his fingers and pointing at the two startled girls. "Never take half measures. Society loves the outrageous. They are jaded souls prepared to accept the most outlandish of stories."

He outlined his plan for the gown, grinning at the look of amazement on the girls' faces. Once they understood what was required they exchanged glances and then burst into laughter while Max looked on in approval.

"Are ye up to the challenge, me hearties?"

"Aye, sir," Amity answered while Betta nodded in agreement.

"Then I shall up anchor, leaving you to the drudge work."

Without a backwards glance, Max crossed to the door, leaving behind him a flurry of activity. He smiled as he listened to the soft voices, shrill with excitement and shared laughter. He sauntered down the hall to his rooms hoping that the sheer audacity of their project might be rewarded.





"You look quite elegant this evening, cousin," Max said, bowing to cover a grin as Lady Grassmere edged into the main salon.

Cousin Hester was as usual in grey, the dress varying not a whit in style from the others in her wardrobe. The only addition, to indicate the importance of the occasion, was the necklace of diamonds which glittered at her neck. She whispered a greeting then sank onto the settee, folding her hands in her lap.

Max tried not to fidget but was filled with a restlessness as the hour for the guests’ arrival drew near. He had done what he could to salvage the situation and now he must rely on Amity for the rest. His shoulders tensed at the sound of footsteps crossing the marble hall. The doors swung open on well-oiled hinges and his eyes widened as his ward entered the room, stopping just inside the doorway.

Amity resembled the ancient warrior goddess he had pictured the night she arrived at Edgeworth. It was difficult to recall the appalling gown in the face of its transformation. The sleeves were still puffed but the material swathing her arms had been removed, replaced by long white gloves. The stiff pleated ruffle had been torn from the bottom of the overskirt and the muslin remaining was frayed like the tatters on a pauper. Now that all of the bright pink bows were gone, the pink underskirt seemed softer, closer to peach in tone. The plaid material had been cut and resewn as a long sash, falling from one shoulder to cross her bosom where it was attached at the waist with a round, filigreed silver ornament. Without all the ruffles and bows, the simple style of the gown was well suited to the tall, red-haired girl.

Raising his eyes to her face, Max felt a tightening in his chest at the look of pride on his ward's face. Her clear blue eyes shimmered like the water in a Scottish loch. Her hair had been combed out and was brushed to a burnished ripple of curls that hung down her back to her waist. She wore no jewelry, only a circle of small, white flowers crowned her head.

"Oh my word, child," cousin Hester cried, so unsettled that her voice rose to a shrill screech. "What sort of May game are you playing at?"

"Fustian, cousin," Max said, stepping forward to take Amity's hand and draw her further into the room. "Surely you have seen the traditional regalia for a Scottish maiden."

"Scottish?" Hester's eyes goggled as they swung between her cousin and his ward.

"It was demmed clever of Amity to remind us of her illustrious heritage on such an occasion."

Amity's mouth trembled with the effort it took not to laugh at Max's drawled tone. Entering into the affair, she pursed her mouth and commented in injured tones. "Everything is near perfect, Lady Grassmere, except that Max would not permit me to wear the knife at my belt."

"Knife?" Hester squeaked, groping in her reticule for her ever-present bottle of salts.

"Naughty, puss," Max hissed, then raised his voice to a bright, chivvying tone. "Never say, Cousin Hester, that you have forgotten the traditions of the Frasers of Scotland. Amity does well to bring honor to her ancestors." Knowing he was striking at one of his cousin's pet animadversions, he added, "Young girls nowadays ignore the past and are more interested in the fashions and etiquette of a more modern world."

Like a fish, Hester leaped at the bait. "Our Amity is not light-minded like most young girls," she whispered.

Amity bit the inside of her cheek so as not to go off in whoops since Lady Grassmere had been chiding her continually for her impetuous behavior which she considered quite shatterbrained. She lowered her eyes, knowing that if her gaze crossed Max's she would ruin herself in the eyes of her chaperone.

"How perceptive you are, cousin," Max said. His voice had a choked quality but after clearing his throat he was able to continue. "Perhaps I might remind you of the significance of Amity's costume in the event some of our guests should not be epris of Scottish traditions. The sash is the tartan of her family's clan. As my ward mentioned, owing to the sensibilities of some of our gently reared ladies, the ancestral dagger has been replaced by a broach of heraldic design."

"Very tasteful, Maxwell," Hester simpered.

"Why thank you, cousin." He spoke louder than usual to cover the chortle of laughter which slipped from his ward's smiling lips.

"And the torn skirts?" Hester asked, leaning forward in her interest.

Max looked blank and there was an uneasy silence for several moments before Amity stepped into the breach.

"How clever of you to notice, Lady Grassmere," she said, trying to remember Max's original plan. "The ragged edges are symbolic."

"Symbolic of what, dear child?" Hester said. "This is all so exciting you see. I must admit I know very little of Scottish customs but I should imagine some of the more unenlightened will ask."

"One might have assumed as much," Amity said, casting her eyes to the ceiling for inspiration. "Well it indicates, that is, it is symbolic of, eh, poverty. Ah yes, poverty."

"Yes?" the old lady asked.

"Do go on, Amity. No need to be missish in the face of Cousin Hester's curiosity," Max said, leaning against the side of a glass-fronted bookcase, arms folded across his chest and his head cocked to the side in great interest. His ward narrowed her eyes and he suspected for his own peace of mind that in future he would be wiser not to goad her.

Amity chuckled at the wary expression that crossed Max's face and she determined to give a good accounting of herself. She was so concentrated on impressing her guardian with her inventiveness that she forgot the presence of Lady Grassmere.

"My family dates back many centuries and over the years many customs have changed but always there is an echo of the old days. The laird called all the clan together when his daughter came of age. For days they celebrated with fairs and games and, uh, hunting," Amity invented. Her eyes flashed as she became caught up in her own narrative. "At midnight the entire clan would stand in a circle and the proud father would lead his daughter to the center. Flagons of wine would be raised in a toast to the marriageable girl. Then, in order to prove that she was a maiden of exceptional beauty, he would rend her garments until she stood before the clan in nothing except the veil of her hair."

As Lady Grassmere took in the significance of the girl's words, her wrinkled cheeks flamed with color then whitened to an ashy pallor. Amity was immediately contrite, dismayed that her need to revenge herself on Max had led her to so distress the older woman. She ran forward and dropped to her knees before Lady Grassmere.

"I beg your pardon for my ill-considered words, milady. I have a wicked tongue and should be beaten for my remarks."

The tone of sincerity in the girl's voice did much to soothe the older woman's sense of ill usage. Her face returned to a more normal color and she patted Amity's cheek to indicate she appreciated the girl's concern.

"My apologies for my tasteless joke, Lady Grassmere. It was nothing but a bold fiction. In actual fact the torn skirts indicate that a young girl should not be judged by her wealth but the sweetness and generosity of her nature."

"That is charming," Cousin Hester said in relief. "Sentiments I can with whole heart approve. Now stand up and turn around so that I might see the full effect."

Amity did as requested and earned a wink of encouragement from Max who also was feeling slightly ashamed of his outrageous behavior. He had been much touched by his ward's immediate awareness that she had gone too far. He had noticed that despite Cousin Hester's fluttery ways and old-fashioned ideas, Amity never gave her anything but the utmost respect. Her laughter earlier had not been at the expense of the old lady but rather her enjoyment of the jest. There was much to be lauded about the girl, despite her impetuous nature. A ward to be proud of.

As the sounds of arrival echoed from the hall, Max gathered Amity and Lady Grassmere to receive their guests.





"Egad, Honoria, whatever are you about with such a paltry toilette?" Percy Waterston asked, raising his quizzing glass to stare at his sister.

"Shut up, you ninny," Honoria hissed, brushing out the wrinkles in her skirt. "I wanted a simpler ensemble tonight."

"Simple, ma dear," Percy drawled. "It verges on the bucolic."

Honoria wore a gown of heavy blue silk which was patterned in the Grecian style. The classic design did little to enhance her short, rounded figure. It had always been her custom to wear filmy materials that floated around her to emphasize her petiteness. Aware at twenty-six that she was no longer a debutante, she chose dresses with a youthful prettiness and was partial to ruffles and bows.

"Don't be nasty or I shant loan you another cent and you'll be forced to go to the moneylenders," she snapped.

Honoria's voice was shrill since she did not feel she was at her best in such a plain, unadorned gown. When she had first thought of the idea for Amity's dress she had imagined that the simplicity of her own apparel would further emphasize the gaucheness of the young girl. Now she was not so sure.

"Don't dawdle, Percy," she said, digging her sharp nails into the satin sleeve covering his arm.

"I say, we are in a wretched mood tonight." Percy led her toward the staircase, nodding to several acquaintances. "I can see nursemaiding the little ward has put you quite out of temper. I myself am most anxious to meet the delightful Miss Fraser. One senses the unleashed talons which are ruining my jacket are intended instead for the little deb, n'est pas?”

"Don't be boring, brother dear." Her voice was apathetic to indicate her disinterest but her eyes flashed for a moment much to Percy's amusement. "I have quite enjoyed jauntering about town with the girl. She's been bowled over by my offer of friendship since she knows no one else in town. But two weeks of ingenuous enthusiasm is more than I can abide. Besides I have nothing in common with the chit."

"Nothing but Max," came the acid retort.

Honoria dug her nails into her brother's arm, all the time smiling to those around them. It was a smile that never reached her eyes. "It is time and enough to be about my own affairs. I am positive Max is on the brink of making me an offer and, if you know what's good for you, you'll do what you can to encourage the match. It would be a pity if the rest of the ton discovered that your pockets were to let."

"Too cruel, sister mine. If I weren't in such desperate straits I would let Max discover what sort of woman he is about to marry."

Percy clenched his teeth, knowing that he could never risk such a satisfying revenge. It was to his best interest that Honoria marry Max. Unlimited advantages would be available through his connection to Lord Kampford. The duns would cease hounding him; the opera dancers would once more seek his patronage. His sister's gasp brought him back to the reality of the moment and he turned to see a false smile of greeting stretched across her face.

Amity had been waiting for the arrival of Honoria and had not missed the momentary shock as the woman took in her improvised gown. She extended her gloved hand in a graceful almost regal gesture as the woman approached.

"At last, Honoria, I have been breathless for your arrival," Amity said, adopting the woman's artificially bored tones.

"La, sweet child, how gracious you are this evening." Honoria smiled although her pale blue eyes were narrowed like a cat's. "You look quite ravissant ."

"Thank you for your kind words," Amity said. She was surprised that she did not feel as awkward as usual beside the elegant Miss Waterston. On closer observation, she realized that Honoria did not look as striking as she had expected. She had always been envious of the breathtaking ensembles the woman wore but this evening her gown was quite plain. Perhaps she had not wanted to steal any of Amity's attention and in her envy Amity had done the woman an injustice by suspecting her of deliberately sabotaging her wardrobe.

"How sweet to wear your hair au naturel , just as if you knew nothing about the current mode."

Honoria's sugary words dispelled any doubt for Amity of the woman's good will. They were now at daggers drawn. She smiled, speaking carefully for the benefit of her guardian. "I appreciate such a compliment from someone of your vast experience."

Honoria's eyes flashed with anger but without another word, she turned to Max, her eyelashes fluttering as she tapped him coyly on the arm with her fan. "And you, good sir, look quite handsome this evening."

Amity wanted nothing more than to listen to the exchange between Honoria and her guardian but mindful of her social duties turned to the elegant dandy who was waiting to be received. When she realized he was Honoria's brother, her smile of welcome faltered.

"No need to fear, my pet," Percy drawled. "I can see now why my sister has been in such a state. I have nothing but admiration for anyone who can put Honoria out of countenance."

Amity giggled as he gave her an extravagant leg. Seeing the response in his twinkling eyes, she relaxed her guard and spoke with ease to him. "I did not know Honoria had a brother."

"It is a fact that she would just as soon forget," he said, grimacing in the direction of his sister. "Perhaps you might save me a dance later and I can tell you the sad story of my life. It is very droll, my angel."

Percy turned to speak to Max and Amity awaited the next introduction from Lady Grassmere. She was impressed with her chaperone's grasp of names and titles. The little woman never hesitated, her voice a sibilant whisper as she smiled a greeting to each newcomer. Soon the majority of the guests had arrived and Max indicated that it was time to open the ball.

For Amity the entire evening whirled together in a kaleidoscope of colors and scenes. The rich satins and silks, the glitter of diamonds and gems too numerous to recall, the glorious music all joined together in her mind, a memory she would hold dear all the days of her life. But the moments most precious to her were the ones when Max danced with her. She could see in his face that he was proud of her and her heart swelled with gratitude that it was so. There was nothing she wanted so much as to please her guardian. She felt sharp disappointment when he returned her to Lady Grassmere and disappeared in the crowd.

Max fought back a yawn of boredom and glanced around the ballroom to see if he had done his duty by the dowagers and young girls. He caught sight of Amity who was talking to Cousin Hester. His eyes kindled with warmth as the girl's mobile mouth broke into an impish grin. He wondered what mischief she was up to now. All in all he was well pleased by her behavior this evening. Many a starchy tabby had whispered that she found Amity a very taking child. More to the point, Max had seen the gleam in several of the gentlemen's eyes as they took in the fresh beauty of the girl. He would soon have her off his hands, he thought, wondering why that should give him little pleasure.

The evening was going well and now he was free for the moment to pursue his own intentions. It took him little time to locate Honoria and less to cut her away from the men who surrounded her. Giving her his arm, he led her around the room until he was able to find a seat for her in a quiet window embrasure.

"Would you like something, my dear?" he asked as she arranged her skirts on the red brocade cushion.

"Why I have everything a young girl would require," Honoria said.

She bit off a coy giggle as she noticed his eyes wandering to his ward. His smile widened as the red-haired chit reached up to adjust the wreath of flowers on her head. Honoria's jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed in thought until her mouth turned up in a smile that had little to do with humor.

"Why, Max, you must be congratulated," Honoria said.

"Congratulated?" Max said, turning to her in surprise.

"How ever did you convince your ward not to wear that awful dress?" She kept her eyes wide with innocence although a shaft of pleasure shot through her at the guilty start from her companion. She lowered her voice just enough to indicate she was taking him into her confidence. "Your little ward is so impetuous. Argue though I might, I could not convince her that she was making the wrong choice."

"Wrong choice, my dear?" Max asked.

In a startled gesture, Honoria raised her gloved hand to her opened mouth. She dropped her eyes as though overcome with shame that she had spoken out of turn. She held the pose for a second then raised her head, her eyes anguished at the thought she had betrayed Amity. "Forgive me, Max," she said in a whisper. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what, Honoria?" He was confused. He had assumed that the ball gown had been some sort of mistake but now he wondered if he should have questioned his ward further.

Honoria placed her hand on Max's sleeve and sighed in resignation. "I would never have spoken to you but since Amity is your ward I know you will want to curb any tendencies she might have that would make her unsuitable for the marriage mart."

"I would appreciate anything you can tell me. I have always known you had a fine eye for the proprieties and I must admit to a certain puzzlement. What transpired at the dressmakers to have resulted in the gown I saw earlier in the evening?"

"Was the gown dreadful?" Honoria asked as if afraid to hear the answer.

"The gown did not suit the child," Max answered.

"Oh la! I knew it would be thus. At least I was afraid it might be," Honoria said in quick recovery. "You see, my dear, our visits to Madame Bertoldi did not go at all well."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Max asked in surprise. In the two weeks that Honoria and Amity had been going around town there had not been the slightest hint that things were not as they should be. "Was the seamstress inadequate?"

Honoria caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked up at Max through a veil of lashes. "It must have been all my fault, Max," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Max's heart was not impervious to the distress of the beautiful woman. He took her hand and raised it to his lips and when he spoke his voice was caressing. "Come, my dear. You must know that I would never find fault with you. In my eyes, you are perfection."

"Oh, you are too kind, Max, and I am a beast to treat you to such a display of emotion. It is that I did not know what to do and I was so afraid that I would disappoint you." Honoria gave a wistful smile, then retrieved her hand and placed it primly in her lap atop the other. "Amity is a delight and it is laudable that she has rather, well, strong opinions. I tried to include her in the decisions when we were choosing her wardrobe. Her tastes are quite untutored and I advised her where I could but she would have her way."

Honoria was pleased when Max began to scowl. She knew he was not angry with her and she was very careful to choose her words so that she seemed to be defending Amity when in actual fact she was doing her best to undermine Max's confidence in the girl.

"The ball gown was her idea?"

"She said she had always dreamed of having such a dress," Honoria said, sticking to the actual truth. The stupid girl had never an idea of how the gown would look on her tall figure. "I suggested several other styles but she was not to be moved."

Max could understand now why Amity had looked so miserable. She was such an honest girl that she would have realized she had no one but herself to blame for such an error in judgment. He should have kept a closer eye on her instead of leaving poor Honoria to contend with her impetuousness. Tonight Miss Waterston looked rather tired, perhaps the result of dealing with his rambunctious ward. He would have to talk to Amity about being kinder to Honoria and more grateful for the advice the woman was so eager to give.

"No need to worry your pretty head, my dear. Now that Amity is launched I can assume our trials are almost at an end."

Max stared across the ballroom and watched as his ward once again took the floor. It would seem that she had been a great success this evening. She was dancing with Lord Bancroft Paige, a rather priggish young man but more than suitable. He was possessed of an ancient family name, unblemished with the slightest hint of scandal, and Max had it on good authority that the man was quite plump in the pocket. According to the latest on dits, Paige was hanging out for a wife.

"Bancroft looks quite taken with your ward," Honoria purred. "He would be an excellent prospect for the child."

"Perhaps," Max said, his eyes intent on the flashing smile of his ward as she skipped through the pattern of the dance. "I'll admit he is well looking, if she is partial to the Byronic ringlets of his blond hair. He may be a trifle young for Amity. He is only seven and twenty, after all. And of course his sister is a real tartar."

"Ophelia Paige?" she asked in feigned surprise. "Why the child would be lucky to have such a steadying influence in her life. Ophelia would be more than happy to advise Amity."

Max snorted at the possibility of the dowdy woman giving Amity anything but harsh criticism. He had heard her speak in disparaging tones of the light-minded females who tried to ensnare her brother.

"You do intend to marry off the child?"

Honoria's abrupt question jolted Max from his reverie and he spoke more sharply than usual, his words hearty to be more convincing. "But of course, my dear. That is the purpose of this evening after all. It is my dearest wish."

"And mine also," Honoria said.

Her tone was low and the throaty quality surprised Max. When he glanced down at her there was a definite invitation in her eyes which he had not seen before. It was not that she was cold but there was a certain aloofness about her that had always intrigued him. He felt guilty that he had not taken the time to mention his intentions to her, but, no matter her willingness to accept his suit, this was not the proper time for a declaration.

"By the looks on the faces of several gentlemen here, I suspect there will be no absence of offers for my ward."

At his jocular tone an expression of dismay touched Honoria's face; she had expected to hear other words from his lips. Max patted her hand but noting the petulantly pursed lips that would augur no good for the remainder of the evening, he added, "Give me a smile, my dear. Once Amity is settled I will have time and occasion to consider my own future."