Kate Moore by An Improper Widow

Author:An Improper Widow [Widow, An Improper]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-11-03T06:50:56+00:00

13

The evening of the opening subscription ball of the season, the ladies of the Lacy household descended her ladyship’s stairs, conscious of the late hour and the patronesses’ insistence on timely arrival.

“Susannah, you promised you would not wear a cap tonight,” remarked Evelina somewhat crossly.

“I promised I would not wear a cornette, Aunt. No one will remark on this sort of cap at all, and I shall remain among the chaperones all night,” Susannah replied.

“It’s Almack’s, dear. You must wear feathers. I’m certain I have some that would look well with that lavender gown.”

“No thank you, Aunt.”

“Think of Juliet, dear. She mustn’t be thought a dowd,” Evelina pleaded.

“Oh well, Mama, I don’t suppose it really matters, does it?” Juliet said.

They had come halfway down the last flight of steps. Chettle was beaming up at his mistress from the entry.

“Has the carriage been brought round, Chettle?” she asked.

“Yesh, mi . . . la . . . dy,” he said.

He stepped back, bowed with sweeping formality, and crumpled in an undignified heap upon the marble squares of the entry.

“Ooooh,” Evelina wailed.

Two footmen rushed to the fallen man’s side. One pulled the bell rope. Evelina scurried to Chettle and went down on her knees on the marble tiles. A maid poked her head into the entry, took one wide-eyed look at the scene, and dashed off through the door to the kitchens.

“Poor dear man,” Evelina said to the footmen. “How is his head? I distinctly heard his head crack against the tiles.”

“Felt nothing, ma’am,” said one of them. “Fair foxed he is.”

“Not again,” cried Evelina. “Mrs. Chettle will be in a taking.”

Susannah and Juliet had reached the bottom of the stairs, and from where they stood, the smell of sherry was unmistakable.

Mrs. Chettle strode into the entry with a swish of bombazine, looking very stern. She cast an offended glance over her husband’s prostrate form and lifted Evelina to her feet. “Now, my lady,” she said. “You mustn’t trouble yourself about this foolish old man.” She turned to the footmen. “Thomas and James, you will convey Mr. Chettle to his bed.”

The two footmen grasped Chettle’s shoulders and feet and lifted him off the floor. Chettle groaned.

“He lives,” breathed Evelina.

Mrs. Chettle turned back to her mistress. “There my lady, Chettle is alive, and you may take Miss Juliet and Mrs. Bowen to Almack’s just as you planned.”

“But we must send for a doctor. I must see that Chettle has received no injury to the skull,” Evelina protested.

“You go ahead, Mama,” said Juliet. “We don’t have to go to Almack’s tonight.”

Juliet’s suggestion brought all movement in the entry to a halt and drew every eye but Chettle’s to her.

“Not go to Almack’s!” Evelina cried, dropping her air of trembling helplessness. “My dear, you don’t mean it. You must be seen there. Your papa may think it a foolish extravagance to attend, but if you want anyone other than Brentwood, you must go.”

Juliet shrugged. “If you say so, Mama.”

“Wait here,” said Evelina in more commanding tones.

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