Miss Amelia's Mistletoe Marquess. Jenni Fletcher
I suppose it does, although I’m afraid I’ve never worn ringlets.’
‘Never?’ Lady Fentree sounded genuinely shocked. ‘Well, how extraordinary.’
‘Is it?’ Millie looked around the group in dismay, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, after all. Judging by the looks being exchanged, everyone else thought it extraordinary, too. As if she’d needed another way to prove how drab and boring she was!
Which was nothing but foolishness and vain self-regard on her part, she chided herself, sitting back in her chair as the conversation moved on without her. There was no cause to feel jealous of the other young women either. Clothes were simply the external trappings of a person and not a reflection of the soul beneath. Self-sacrifice and duty were the things that really mattered in life and she for one could survive perfectly well without new gowns or elaborate hairstyles. It was only being in society that made her feel this way and she’d be back out of it soon enough, as soon as she and her mother returned to the Foundation, where nobody had forty-five minutes to waste in idle chatter about bonnets.
For once, however, the idea of noble self-sacrifice failed to provide its usual consolation. Looking around a room filled with smiling, chattering faces, she still couldn’t help but feel just a little bit…well, boring. Was she boring? She didn’t want to be, but compared to everyone else, her impulsive younger sister Lottie especially, she couldn’t help but suspect that she was. Lottie wasn’t there, of course, having stayed behind in London with a cold while she and their mother came to spend Christmas in the country, but Millie still knew what she’d say. She’d tell her to stop behaving like an old maid and just enjoy herself for once. That was the whole point of this holiday, after all, even if Millie suspected their mother had ulterior motives.
They were staying at the house of her father’s cousin, Lady Alexandra Malverly, the only member of his family who hadn’t disowned him after his marriage to her bluestocking mother, Lilian. Despite rigid opposition, the two women had become close friends and remained so even after his premature death from typhoid ten years before. Since then, Alexandra had issued regular invitations for them to visit, but her mother had generally refused, being unable to make reciprocal offers herself. This year, however, she’d said yes, claiming that she needed a change of scene and a rest. Given how worried they were about Millie’s twin brother, Silas, that was hardly surprising, but it was still out of character enough for Millie to wonder if there was something else behind it.
‘I really think you ought to try ringlets, Miss Fairclough.’ Lady Fentree’s fan tapped her knee, startling her anew. ‘A little more width at the sides would make your face look rounder. Yes, indeed, you must try ringlets and with a Pamela bonnet, too. I shall advise your mother to purchase one.’
‘Oh, no.’ Millie lifted a hand in protest. The last thing her mother could afford was a new bonnet for her. ‘I’m perfectly happy as I am. There’s really no need to trouble yourself.’
‘It’s no trouble…’
‘But I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’
‘Well, I’m sure I was only trying to help!’ Lady Fentree tossed her head and gave a loud, affronted sniff. ‘In any case, it seems that your mother is otherwise occupied.’
Millie followed the direction of her gaze across the drawing room to where her mother was deep in conversation with a strikingly handsome, dark-haired gentleman. Now that she thought of it, she’d been talking to him the last time she’d looked and the time before that. Which was…surprising. Even more so the fact that her mother was actually laughing, something she rarely did at the Foundation. Or at all any more. In fact, in the decade since her mother had been widowed, Millie didn’t think she’d ever seen her talk to any man, family members excluded, with anything other than polite interest.
‘She does look rather engrossed.’ The woman on her left tittered. ‘I’m sure bonnets can wait.’
‘My mother has far more important matters to concern herself with than bonnets.’ Millie stiffened defensively.
‘Oh, yes, Lady Malverly told me all about your Foundation.’ Lady Fentree looked pointedly around at her companions and gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Mrs Fairclough and her husband set up an institute for women of questionable virtue a number of years ago. I understand that Miss Fairclough here assists in its running.’
‘I do, but it’s for women in need,’ Millie corrected her, ‘virtuous or otherwise. In particular, it’s for women with nowhere else to go. Our Foundation provides them with a place to stay and helps them get back on their feet.’
‘Very laudable, but I don’t think I’d like my Vanessa to involve herself in such matters. A young lady ought not to know too much about that side of life.’
‘No, far better to learn about bonnets,’ Millie heard herself snap, ‘but I’ve been raised to believe that we can’t just ignore things—or people—that we might prefer not to notice. We have a duty to help others.’
‘But surely we can do both?’ Her cousin Alexandra appeared at her side suddenly, wearing a placatory smile. ‘Personally I’ve never understood why we can’t help those less fortunate than ourselves and wear the latest fashions.’
‘Quite!’ Lady Fentree’s voice had the force of a small cannon. ‘Although I might suggest that this Foundation teach a few lessons in manners as well!’
‘What a splendid idea.’ Alexandra placed a restraining hand on Millie’s shoulder. ‘I’ll suggest it to Lilian later, but now I’m sorry to say we must leave you. It seems the weather is conspiring against us.’
‘Why, whatever do you mean?’
‘It’s snowing. Quite heavily, too. If we don’t leave now, then I’m afraid we might become stranded and I wouldn’t want to trespass on your hospitality overnight.’
‘No indeed.’ Lady Fentree narrowed her eyes at Millie. ‘I prefer not to share my roof with revolutionaries.’
‘But we’ve had a perfectly lovely evening, haven’t we, Millie?’ Alexandra’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
‘Yes…thank you.’ Millie rose to her feet and bobbed a dutiful curtsy. ‘Please forgive my bluntness, Lady Fentree. I meant no offence.’
‘Mmm.’ The look on the other woman’s face was anything but forgiving. ‘In that case, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in the country, Miss Fairclough, though I very much doubt that our paths will cross again.’
Millie gritted her teeth as she followed Alexandra and a few other guests from the village out into the hall. They’d all travelled together to save the need for individual carriages, but now the thought of sitting in a constricted space and reviewing the evening’s entertainment made her want to scream.
‘Millie dear…’ Alexandra’s voice was gently chiding.
‘I know. I was unforgivably rude.’
‘Not without provocation. It might do Lady Fentree good to be reminded that there are other people in the world, but perhaps it was a little tactless to do it under her roof.’
‘I’m sorry, Cousin.’
‘Never mind.’ Alexandra patted her arm sympathetically. ‘It’ll be forgotten soon enough, but it’s not like you to be so sensitive. Are you feeling all right?’
‘Yes… No.’ Millie looked down at the floor in consternation. ‘Not really. I thought Mama might have told you I received an offer of marriage last week.’
‘She did mention it, yes…’ Alexandra paused tactfully. ‘From the local Curate—although I understand it’s not a love match.’
‘No. It’s not romantic for either of us. Gilbert’s a good man and he says he wants a wife who can work alongside him, but we’re not in love.’