Soulless(58)
CHAPTER EIGHT
Backyard Shenanigans
The Loontwills returned from their shopping expedition flushed with success. Except for Squire Loontwill, who was now less flush than he had been and wore an expression more often seen on men returning from battle— one that had been badly lost with many casualties. Floote appeared at his elbow with a large glass of cognac. The squire muttered something about Floote-liness being next to godliness and downed the liquor in one gulp.
No one was surprised to find Miss Tarabotti entertaining Miss Hisselpenny in the front parlor. The squire muttered a greeting only just long enough to satisfy politeness and then retreated to his office with a second glass of cognac and the mandate that he was not to be disturbed for any reason.
The ladies Loontwill greeted Miss Hisselpenny in a far more verbose manner and insisted on showing off all of their purchases.
Miss Tarabotti had the presence of mind to send Floote for more tea. It was clearly going to be a long afternoon.
Felicity pulled out a leather box and lifted the lid. “Look at these. Are they not utterly divine? Do you not wish you had some just like?” Lying in scrumptious grandeur on a bed of black velvet was a pair of lace elbow-length evening gloves in pale moss green with tiny mother-of-pearl buttons up the sides.
“Yes,” agreed Alexia, because they were. “But you do not own an evening gown to match, do you?”
Felicity waggled her eyebrows excitedly. “Very perceptive, my dear sister, but I do now.” She grinned in a most indecorous manner.
Miss Tarabotti thought she could understand her step-father's deathly pallor. An evening gown to match such gloves would cost a small fortune, and whatever Felicity purchased, Evylin must have in equal value. Evylin proved this universal law by proudly displaying her own new evening gloves in silvery blue satin with rose-colored flowers embroidered about the edge.
Miss Hisselpenny was considerably impressed by such largesse. Her family's means did not extend into the realm of embroidered gloves and new evening gowns on a whim.
“The dresses are due next week,” said Mrs. Loontwill proudly, as though her two daughters had accomplished something marvelous. “Just in time for Almack's, we hope.” She looked down her nose at Ivy. “Will you be attending, Miss Hisselpenny?”
Alexia bridled at her mother, who was perfectly well aware that the Hisselpennys were not of a quality suitable to such an illustrious event. “And what new dress will you be wearing. Mama?” she asked sharply. “Something appropriate, or your customary style—a gown better suited to a lady half your age?”
“Alexia!” hissed Ivy, truly shocked.
Mrs. Loontwill turned flinty eyes on her eldest daughter. “Regardless of what I am wearing, it is clear you will not be there to see it.” She stood. “Nor, I think, will you be permitted to attend the duchess's rout tomorrow evening.” With that punishment, she swept from the room.
Felicity's eyes were dancing with merriment. “You are perfectly correct, of course. The gown she picked out is daringly low-cut, frilly, and pale pink.”
“But really, Alexia, you should not say such things to your own mother,” insisted Ivy.
“Who else should I say them to?” Alexia grumbled under her breath.
“Exactly, and why not?” Evylin wanted to know. “No one else will. Soon Mama's behavior will affect our chances.” She gestured to Felicity and herself. “And we do not intend to end up old maids. No offense meant, my dear sister.”
Alexia smiled. “None taken.”
Floote appeared with fresh tea, and Miss Tarabotti gestured him over. “Floote, send my card round to Auntie Augustina, would you please? For tomorrow night.”
Evylin and Felicity looked only mildly interested at this. They had no aunt named Augustina, but a meeting organized for a full-moon night with a personage of such a name must be a fortune-telling of some kind. Clearly, Alexia, unexpectedly and cruelly confined to the house by their mother's anger, must organize some kind of entertainment for herself.
Ivy was not so foolish as that. She gave Alexia a what-are-you-up-to? look.
Alexia only smiled enigmatically.
Floote nodded grimly and went off to do as he was bid.
Felicity changed the subject. “Have you heard? They are making jewelry out of this fantastic new lightweight metal—allum-ninny-um or something. It does not tarnish like silver. Of course, it is very dear at the moment, and Papa would not allow for the purchase of any.” She pouted.
Miss Tarabotti perked up. Her scientific papers had been all agog over new ways of processing this metal, discovered twenty or so years ago. “Aluminum,” she said. “I have read about it in several Royal Society publications. It has finally debuted in the London shops, has it? How splendid! You know, it is nonmagnetic, nonaetheric, and anticorrosive. “