Finally he made his escape. Though not unscathed, by Jove. He was doomed to host a grand ball at Archer House within the next few weeks. What a crashing bore.
Though perhaps not. It would be Anna’s first real exposure to society, and it might be interesting to behold. She might be interesting to behold.
Ah, and he must ask Edwin Goddard after he was warned of what was looming if he had made any progress yet in his inquiries about the Reverend and Mrs. Snow, possibly still alive, possibly deceased, of somewhere in the vicinity of Bristol—somewhere with a church. But everywhere had a church. That was not much of a clue.
If they were to be discovered at all, however, his secretary would find them. Avery had recently raised his salary. He must do so again in the not-too-distant future. If Edwin were to leave his employ, he would feel rather as if a limb had been lopped off.
*
Anna’s debut into society had been the subject of much animated discussion with her grandmother and aunts. Her wishes had not been consulted. In Elizabeth’s opinion, delivered with a twinkling eye when they were alone together, the dowager and the aunts would come to some sort of agreement, and an opinion from the rest of them would be so much wasted breath. Lady Anastasia Westcott must be presented to Queen Charlotte at an upcoming Drawing Room. That had been unanimously agreed upon early. All else was open to argument.
At one end of the spectrum was the notion that Anna ought to be eased into society gradually by appearances at various select soirees and dinner parties and concerts. At the other end was the suggestion that her debut appearance ought to be at a grand ball hosted by one of their number. One was more likely to learn to swim, Aunt Mildred had said by way of analogy, if one was hurled into the middle of a deep lake than if one merely waded into the shallow edge of it.
One was also more likely to drown, in Anna’s opinion.
But she held her peace. It was a matter upon which she really had no firm preference. She had made the decision to remain in London, to learn the role of Lady Anastasia Westcott and take her place in society. Beyond that, she was at the mercy of her relatives, who knew better than she how the transition was to be accomplished. Balls, soirees, concerts—they were all beyond her experience and equally impossible to imagine.
The proponents of the grand ball idea won the day. And Aunt Louise won the less vigorous argument about where the ball would be held. It was to be at Archer House with the Duke and Duchess of Netherby as host and hostess. The date was set for the day following Anna’s presentation at court. It would be preceded by a dinner, and then she would stand in a receiving line with the duke and duchess. Everyone who was anyone was to be invited, and Grandmama would be astonished indeed if anyone declined. The ton was agog to meet the earl’s daughter who had grown up in an orphanage in provincial Bath. Anastasia would have a partner for each set of dances—no one had any doubt of that, though she would open the ball with the Duke of Netherby and dance the second set with the Earl of Riverdale.
Anna had not seen the duke since the day Harry left to join his regiment.
She would apparently be allowed to dance even the waltz because of her mature age, though there was a strange prohibition against younger girls waltzing until they had been granted permission by one of the patronesses of Almack’s, whoever they were.
It was all enough to interfere with Anna’s appetite for several days ahead of time. She had never attended so much as an assembly in Bath before coming to London, and the queen had been someone who sat upon a throne somewhere in the clouds, only a little lower than God’s. It was easier, she found as the days went by, to keep her mind blank and live from hour to hour. Though that was more easily said than done, of course. The appetite loss did not reverse itself.
*
Dear Joel,