The Valiant Highlander by Amy Jarecki

Author:Amy Jarecki
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 2016-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

After spending half the day being poked and prodded by the tailor, Mary sat on the settee in the drawing room and watched Miss Barbara wield a fan. Goodness gracious, if only she’d known a fan properly wielded in a skilled woman’s hand could be more effective than a dirk.

“There is a language to fan use,” Barbara said, only her violet eyes appearing over the ruffled edge of her weapon. She blinked, looking rather like a doe flirting with a stag. “All women must carry fans—not only to cool themselves or to appear genteel, but a fan can be used to communicate when it is not appropriate to speak one’s mind.”

Mary chuckled. “Which seems to be the majority of the time.”

“Exactly.” Barbara closed her fan and slapped it in her palm. “Now pay attention. Your fan must be carried, opened, closed and fluttered with precision and reason.”

Mary picked up one of Barbara’s fans from the table, opened it, then fanned her face with rapid flicks of her wrist. “It doesn’t seem too difficult.”

“Aye, but fanning quickly like that means you are engaged.”

Mary snapped the thing closed. “Hardly.”

“See?” Barbara twirled and sat beside her. “You must always hold your fan with the pretty side facing out—and never cover your face with it…unless you’re very serious about flirting.”

With a cough, Mary rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t flirt.”

“No? We’ll have to see about that.” Barbara took her closed fan and shook it at Mary with pursed lips—of course the gesture must have meant something—most likely disbelief. She flicked the frilly thing partly open with her thumb. “For example, pressing a half-opened fan to your lips means you may kiss me.”

Mary drew a hand to her chest. “Shocking.”

Barbara’s shoulder shrugged. “Ladies must find ways to make their wishes known. If you hold your fan in your left hand in front of your face, you’re telling a potential suitor you are desirous to make his acquaintance.”

“My goodness, does Sir Donald know you’re teaching me about fan language? I thought he wanted me to sit erect at the dining table, smile, curtsey deeper and keep my opinions to myself.” And stop pulling the powder cork with my teeth.

Lowering her fan, Barbara grinned deviously. “He told me to introduce you to ladies’ etiquette. Fans are an integral part of who we are when in public. No well-bred woman leaves her home without her fan. And you must not forget men as well as women are well acquainted with its language.”

Mary lifted her fan and slowly spread it open, displaying a painting of a couple picnicking under a tree. “Sir Donald speaks fan?”

“Aye, all gentlemen speak fan.” Barbara touched her fingers to Mary’s shoulder. “Always remember you must be discrete. If you communicate with your fan, it is only for the eyes of the person with whom you are conversing—not an entire hall filled with dignitaries.”

“Good heavens, how am I going to learn a new language?” With a sigh, Mary fanned herself slowly. “What does this mean?”

“You’re married.

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