A Typical Afternoon in the Life of a Regency Lady of Distinction
Miss Amelia Haversford dawdled over the remains of her light nuncheon of chicken and fruit.
Although she was to oblige her Mama and finish writing invitations to the ton for their musical soiree next week, she would much prefer to join her bosom buddy Miranda for a trip to the new modiste.
It was said that Madame Fouquet had designed dresses for the best of society in Paris until just recently and imported the most ravishing silks imaginable.
That thought led her to contemplate what she was to wear to tonight’s ball. She ate the last bite of perfectly ripened pear from the family’s country estate, and sighed.
“Kitty,” she addressed her older sister who had already been out for a season, “do you feel the blossom pink silk with cream overlay best suits me for tonight?”
Her sister glanced out the window overlooking the back garden. “You should hate to be caught in that if we suffer another very close evening, Am. Dare you wear the new lighter weight azure blue?”
Amelia flicked the end of her linen napkin at her sister playfully. “A dare it would be indeed to wear a new gown before Mama says I may. She chided me woefully for the expense of this one and bade me give over my own pin money to purchase the matching gloves.”
“Unlucky child, Am, not to be born first and have the pick of family treasures to establish our consequence for the rest of the brood. Mama said I might pick something from the smaller family diamonds to wear tonight if I choose.”
“Does this talk of establishing consequence have anything to do with Sir William Fulton, sister? I hear he danced twice with you last week at the Cliveson ball.”
Her sister rose from the table, pointed her nose up in the air dramatically, and said in a strong tone of revulsion, “Please don’t remind me. Sir William is only in line for a baronetcy and has clammy hands. But more to your point, they were just country dances at a small private ball and so are of little moment.”
Amelia stood and smiled at her sister. “What is of this moment is that I remind Mrs. Brown to have the maid start to heat the bath water early. That new girl is as slow to move as Lord Strathmore seems to be, or will he address papa soon for your hand, do you think?”
“I know you are funning me miss, so I shan’t fly up to the boughs with your sauciness. Dear Lord Strathmore is on the point of calling on papa soon, I feel.”
“Will papa agree, do you feel?”
Kitty’s eyes flashed. “I should think so, he has above ten thousand a year, the London townhouse and Eversleigh, his family estate in Sussex.”
“You will make the decision easier for him if you let Maeve do your hair up in that style which makes you look so ravishing, sister.”
“You are a dear to say so. A la Greque, it shall be then.”
“Papa says you and I may go in the barouche tonight and to be ready to leave at 10:00 sharp as Mayfair is so crowded this time of year. Our brothers must accompany us naturally.”
The door opened and the footman walked in with a white box. He bowed and said, “Flowers for you, Miss Amelia.”
He set them on the sideboard and removed the lid of the box. “Thank you, Daniel. Oh, look Kitty, blue orchids from,” she looked at the card, “oh, from Sir Kenneth Langdon. That settles it, the azure blue must be worn despite Mama’s frets.”
“What you mean dear little sister, is that the second Langdon son will do for you.”
***
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