By Wednesday morning Caroline's mood had reached a level beyond exasperation she would not have thought previously possible. Her temper was quick and her tongue wickedly sharp; her overall attitude could be only described as entirely disagreeable.
She had been surly with the house staff for most of the week. Surrounded by incompetent fools, she had found fault in every household matter and was for all intents and purposes not speaking to either of her siblings. Just seeing Charles made her blood boil, and as for Louisa? Well that sheep was no better. How could they both be so calm, so willing to allow their cousin entry into their family home? Charles almost appeared excited, as though awaiting a visit from a dear absent friend. Really, could the man be any more ridiculous? This way no friend to be sought.
She wasn't sure what annoyed her most, her brother and sisters accepting attitude or the insufferable continued presence of Montague. He was always watching her, correcting her; he had even had the audacity to repeat his desire that she control her temper upon Alfred's arrival. He brother had meekly agreed with the request, not brave enough to breach the subject on his own.
What did they take her for? She was no simpleton. Of course, she had no intention of insulting their cousin. Oh, she may think ill of him and curse his very being, but she was no fool. She would charm him, flatter him; do all in her power to play him at his own game. Let him think her nothing more than a genteel female, something pleasing to look at; but she would be studying him. She would unravel the truth of the matter and the risk he truly posed to their family once and for all. How impressed Darcy would be when he realised her cleverness. Her brother and his sidekick could go to the devil for all she cared.
If it had not been for the upcoming Mayweather charity masquerade Caroline would have gone utterly to distraction. She had spent nearly every free moment upon her return to London designing and seeking out props for her costume. With great satisfaction she had refused to help her brother; let precious Louisa guide him since he was so fond of her advice.
Her costume had to be perfection. Many in attendance would be dressed in pairs, themed creations between married couples and those in the midst of courtship. It was as much as stating your alliance as staking your claim to all those present. Caroline was well aware she was not part of a pair. She told herself this did not bother her. The only man she desired to align herself with was about as likely to wear a costume for a masquerade as her brother was to join the war effort. Darcy never succumbed to something so frivolous, referring to the whole idea as nothing more than vanity inspired dress up. For her part she wanted to agree with him, too many people full of their own importance prancing about in such over-the-top ridiculous costumes; yet she could only bring herself to nod in agreement at his opinion on the matter.
In truth Caroline adored dressing up. As a woman particularly fastidious over her everyday wardrobe, the chance to wear something elaborate and in some ways, shocking, was too good an opportunity to miss. Her sister and Mr Hurst had settled upon Samson and Delilah; nothing original there, the room would likely have several.
She wanted to look powerful, statuesque and above all beautiful. She had drawn up several ideas until she came across a concept so perfect it simply had to be done. Athena. Ladies often dressed as Roman empresses with long tunics and scandalous bare arms, though no one she knew had dared to dress as the goddess of war.
The dress was rather simple, folds of cream silk carefully gathered to drape artfully across her body. Large gold coin replicas were attached at her collarbones where the fabric was attached. Her shoulders and arms were bare with a sliver of skin showing down her back. It was risqué but nothing untoward when it came to a costume ball. For her feet she had chosen leather sandals with ties which wound their way up to her knee.
She had Mcguvans' model her a small statue of Nike, the goddess of victory, which topped the handle of an ornate golden spear. A golden helmet with scarlet plume in the style of a Roman solider completed the look. The final thing which would be added was a taxidermy tawny owl, with its wings out stretched as though landing upon her shoulder. It was to be attached to a leather pad which was to be bound to her right shoulder. All in all, she was delighted with the outcome.
Her final fitting at Madame Della Rue was this morning. The little tawny owl she had brought with her, all boxed and ready, waiting to be sewn to its leather fastener once positioned in the perfect location. In the run up to such a well-attended social event of the London season, one had to book an appointment with the mantua maker ahead of time. Luckily as Caroline almost exclusively used Della Rue, who coincidentally was about as French as Caroline was a duchess, the two had formed a rather unlikely friendship. This meant during such a social boon of the season Caroline was sure her needs would be met by her dressmaker, rather than being cast off by increased demand of the higher social classes. For who wouldn't wish to dress the daughter of a Duke to that of a tradesman?
Stepping down from her carriage she allowed Simon to take the box containing her newly acquired fine feather friend. She was just about to enter the shop front when she remembered the small parcel still sitting upon her seat.
"Simon, in the carriage you shall find a small package wrapped in brown paper. I thought perhaps while you waited with Jenson the item may be of use to you. Can you read at all boy?"
"A little miss, me ma taught me and my sisters to write our names and read aloud from parts of the bible."
"Very well, Jenson will help you. He likes to be read to. You will be doing both him and yourself a service. It is a book we had growing up in the school room. If it is not to your taste, we shall find another. Take the carriage to wait on Firth Street, it is quieter and more shaded for the horses. I shall come to you once I am ready to return home."
Upon entering the dressmakers, she was surprised to find the front of shop empty. Typically, a small blonde-haired girl called Anne Marie was always present, welcoming each visitor with a toothy grin rather too large for her otherwise weak features. She could hear a flurry of voices from through the back. Clearly the appointment before had ran on longer than expected. Caroline let out a rather over the top huff of announce. How dare they keep her waiting!
No sooner had the ill-tempered moan left her lips than the blonde-haired girl appeared, there was no toothy grin present.
"Apologies Miss Bingley but Madame Della Rue is still with her previous appointment." The girl dropped her voice to a whisper; "the lady insisted her friend also be fitted even though the appointment was only for one."
"I see," replied Caroline drily. See knew how these things were. She took a seat upon a chair and fanned her skirts around her. "And how long pray tell am I expected to wait?"
"A few moments only. May I bring you tea Miss Bingley while you wait?"
Caroline nodded in reply as a voice radiated from the room beyond.
"Am I correct? Did I hear you speak of Miss Bingley? Oh, Miss Bingley do come through! What a delight for now we can discuss Miss Carmichaels gown as a threesome, for I do not believe she agrees when I say it suits her very well indeed."
Caroline felt her stomach drop upon recognition of the genteel musical voice. Of all the people to run into, why did it need to be Lady Julianna Mycroft? She felt a pain in her stomach. Was not the pending arrival of her cousin later this afternoon bad enough already?
Caroline stood and took a deep breath, smoothing the silk of her skirts and straightening her back to her full height. Fixing a grin in place she followed Anne Marie into the adjoining dressing area.
"Lady Julianna how wonderful to see you again! May I say that dress is so becoming on you."
"Oh, this old thing?" The pretty red head swayed gently so the dress of forest green swung like a bell with her movement. "I had it made for the Princess of Denmark's summer tea party. Of course, you would not have seen it, for I do not recall you being in attendance." The girl beamed back at her, triumphant in her little barb.
"No indeed." Caroline smiled through clenched teeth. The red head turned her head once more to focus within the curtained area of the room, where Caroline assumed, Miss Annabelle Carmichael was currently being fitted.
Caroline stood quietly, taking in the appearance of the red head opposite. They were similar in age, only a few months between them. Both girls had come out in the same summer of 1809. Caroline, still grieving the loss of her mother from the early spring, had been determined not to delay her coming out ball. Lady Julianna had instantly made her dislike for Miss Bingley known and felt by all. To have someone from trade come out the same summer as a royal princess and several daughters from the most noble families was not to be tolerated. She had done all in her power to make the experience as wretched for Caroline as possible. The woman may appear tolerably handsome now at almost one and twenty, but at seventeen she was what could only be describes as a late bloomer. Caroline's handsome face had only added more insult to her lowly connections in the eyes of the spoilt daughter of an Earl.
She was stubbed at every turn by the girl and her close gaggle of silly female friends. They would attack her, like a flock of geese, unrelenting and unyielding. Caroline had experienced snobbish young woman while in school, but never to the extent she witnessed by the so called fair young ladies of London society. Their mothers had been no better, and for Caroline she had no mother to offer her protection. She was a nobody, new money yes, but not quite rich enough to be allowed into the inner circle. Why introduce another pretty young woman to the marriage mart when there were many other more deserving females to be noticed?
At first, she had been hurt by their censure, embarrassed when they excluded her and tearful in their open rejection. Over time this upset had slowly turned to hate. She despised these women. What were they really other than simply lucky with the lot into which they had been born? She would show them all. At seventeen she had been entirely and completely besotted with her older brother's friend. Upon her coming out, he had continually rescued her at functions where she lacked a dance partner. After so gallant a display how could she not help but believe herself to be seriously in love with him. With him present Julianna and her cronies had not dared spur her; not when she was dancing with the heir of Pemberley. She had vowed then upon realising fully how things should be, that she would marry well. When she was his wife, everything would be different. When she was mistress of Pemberley those girls would need to accept her for one of their own. Even now at nearly one and twenty she despised herself for still wishing to be one of them so badly.
Pulling back the curtain Annabelle Carmichael emerged in the most dreadful mass of pink taffeta and lilac trim Caroline had ever seen. And this thought Caroline, rather unforgivingly, is the silly little twit who allows Richard under her skirts?
"Is she not quite simply perfection," cooed Julianna clapping her hands in glee. "I forbid you to think anything otherwise my dear. You will be the most perfect little Shepherdess that ever was seen. Do not you think her quite perfection Miss Bingley?"
Caroline looked at the younger girl. She looked bloody awful. "Never have I seen someone look more perfect in their part."
"There you see, it is settled. Even Miss Bingley agrees, and we all know how important her opinion is on such matters." Julianna mocked.
"Ladies I really must be asking you that we make haste," interrupted Madame Della Rue in a thick French accent. She cast a look in the direction of her friend who stood as regal as a statue, her face quite expressionless. "Miss Bingley is not my only client this afternoon."
"Oh, of course Madam Rue," replied Julianna. "We wouldn't want to impact on the precious time of anyone of importance now would we. The ball is but three days away." She smiled at Caroline as she ushered Annabelle back behind the curtain to change with the aid of the dressmaker. "It must be so unfortunate Miss Bingley; for one to decide on a costume when I assume, as usual, you shall not be taking part as a duplet?"
"No indeed not," replied Caroline stoically. "I rather enjoy being able to choose an outfit entirely to suit myself without compromise. I find it gives my creatively no bounds. And yourself? Are we to see you as a Maharani to a Maharaja? Or perhaps a Juliet so some poor Romeo? Or better still the unfaithful Guinevere to King Arthur?"
Upon hearing the last couple mentioned Julianna's face grew cold. "Oh," Caroline remarked with a smirk. "Never you mind. I am sure you will make the most becoming Guinevere. There could be a hundred such Guinevere's in attendance and not one will hold a candle to your beauty."
"Quite," replied the redhead coolly gathering her reticule from the chair in which it sat. "I will have you know my dress has over four hundred strands of gold thread interwoven into the bodice alone."
"Then I can hardly contain my excitement," Caroline replied flatly, taking the now vacant seat as Annabelle reappeared in a day dress of pale blue satin.
"Come along Annabelle, it would seem we are quite done here. Miss Bingley always a delight; do give my regard to your brother."
Caroline simply smiled watching the two women follow Anne Marie towards the exit. Finally, as the door closed she could feel the sharp pain of her stomach begin to subside.
"You look like you could do with a little drink?" Madame Della Rue remarked in her native thick cockney accent.
"Ruby, I think that a most excellent suggestion. I'll have a glass of anything that is not sherry."
