But overall, her transformation appeared complete. The little girl who insisted on wearing the same dress year in and year out had been replaced by a young lady in ruffles and plumage. Instead of the Encyclopedia Britannica, she now read Burke’s Peerage and Cornhill Magazine. And while she never slimmed to an elegant svelteness—she retained a hint of a double chin and the buttons of her bodice always seemed in danger of popping open—her tendency toward plumpness worked very well with her wide eyes and rosy cheeks.
She wasn’t beautiful, but she was darling. People responded to her the way they would a nursery rhyme character all grown up and come to life. Boys and young men became tongue-tied, their eyes busily darting from her pink, pillowy lips to the firm rise of her breasts.
Livia was half envious of this response her little sister evoked from the gentlemen and half . . . mournful. Who was this girl swaddled in flounces, who put honey on her face and coconut oil in her hair? What had happened to the Charlotte Livia remembered, that noted odd duck who was the only person with whom Livia felt comfortable, the only person Livia trusted?
And then, the day before they were to leave for London for their first Season together, Charlotte said to Livia, “I spoke with Papa today.”
They were walking in the fields on the outskirts of the village. The day was sunny but still cool. The countryside was a fresh, sparkling green. And Charlotte’s cream-colored dress, dainty with lace and passementerie, offered an impossibly pretty contrast against this backdrop of brightly lit nature.
Livia was feeling downhearted at the likelihood that the new Charlotte would swim in proposals by the end of the Season. Livia’s chances on the matrimonial mart were nowhere as favorable. She was a misanthrope—rare was the man or woman who didn’t deeply disappoint her. That was bad enough for a young lady, but to make matters even worse she was a misanthrope who didn’t know how to pretend not to be one.
If Charlotte were to accept a proposal, Livia would be left all alone at home.
She sighed. “What did you and Papa talk about?”
“Do you remember the day we met Mr. Cumberland? I said I didn’t want to marry.”
“You told Papa you don’t want to marry today, right before we are to leave for London?”
“No, I spoke to him the day after we met Mr. Cumberland.”
Livia blinked. That would have been five years ago.
“I told him I did not think the institution of marriage would suit me very well. I said I wished to look into other means of livelihood.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said that he believed I was too young to make any permanent decisions. He encouraged me to look into aspects of being a girl that I hadn’t explored at the time—fashion, etc.—to experience more fully the traditional path for a woman before I rejected it altogether.”
This sounded shockingly reasonable and wise—Livia could scarcely believe they were talking about Sir Henry.
“I did as he asked. As it turns out, fashion is rather enjoyable. And so is talking to people—amazing how much they’ll tell you if you only inquire. And I imagine there should be something interesting to a London Season as well. But none of it changed my mind about marriage, since none of it changed the economic and political equation that is marriage. I do not like the idea of bartering the use of my reproductive system for a man’s support—not in the absence of other choices.”
Livia’s eyes bulged. The old Charlotte had never gone anywhere; she’d been but reupholstered in fine muslin and a jauntily angled hat! Livia was ashamed that this simple camouflage had fooled her completely.
“And you told him that?”
“That he already knows. What I told him today was that I’d settled on a choice of career: I believe I will make a fine headmistress at a girls’ school. If I achieve that position at a reputable school, I can earn as much as five hundred pounds a year.”
Livia sucked in a breath. “That much?”
“Yes. But I cannot become a headmistress overnight. I must attend school, undertake the required training, and then work my way up the ranks. I asked Papa to foot the expenses until I can pay him back.”
“And he is amenable to it?”
“Our agreement is that I will wait until I’m twenty-five. If by then I still haven’t found anyone I wish to marry, then yes, he will sponsor my schooling.”
Livia was flabbergasted. “I can’t believe it.”
“He gave his word as a gentleman.”
A man’s word was no trifling matter, so Livia shook her head. She supposed she must believe now that Sir Henry had made a serious promise. “But it’ll be a long time before you turn twenty-five, almost eight years. Anything could happen in the meanwhile. You could fall in love.”