Chapter 5
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The pair rejoined the three ladies waiting at the edge of the floor. The Countess a little ruefully teased, "You don't want to join the dancing tonight Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth searched for a polite reply, "I should be glad to make myself available to dance."
The Countess regarded her thoughtfully. "And how did you find your supper partner tonight?" she asked, and then added, "I'm sorry about the unexpected seating change, there were a few unexpected guests tonight."
Elizabeth flushed. "I did not mind it at all. I was very glad to be seated with Lord Waverly." She paused, and the flush deepened. "As to how I found him, he ah... Well at first he wasn't attending at all, not even eating really." She paused again and Lady Briarly wondered if she should prompt the girl to continue. "But later, he attended very well. And he ate the rest of what was served," she added.
'She answered as though reporting on a small child's progress at supper,' thought Lady Briarly, amused. As this seemed to be all that was forthcoming, Lady Briarly asked, "remembered his manners finally, I gather? And then he showed you the library?"
Elizabeth nodded mutely, blush unabated.
'Oh well,' thought Lady Briarly, and decided that Elizabeth hadn't returned to dance because she'd thought no one would ask her.
"Um, has, has Lord Waverly left already?" Elizabeth ventured. Her eyes having scanned both the dance floor, and those gathered around the edges, then turned toward the gentlemen's smoking room quizzically.
Ruefully the Countess answered, "Yes, I'm afraid so, he's in a mood tonight, so I gave him leave to retire." She watched the girl's shoulders settle a little and thought, 'I should introduce her to some other gentleman, since that idea didn't work out.' Lady Briarly had decided to throw the two of them together when an opportunity presented itself, after witnessing a seemingly speaking evening of alternating glances between them, at an event held in London the previous season.
A young gentleman just happened to be passing, when the Countess stepped boldly into his path. "Oh, Mr. Edwards, are you busy at the moment?" she asked.
"No," replied the young gentleman, with a cautious expression.
"Then may I present miss Elizabeth Dowen to you as a dance partner?" Lady Briarly asked brightly, boldly pulling the young man over to the trio of Dowen girls and their mother.
Mr. Edwards brightened a little. "Of course, I should love to." And if his expression dimmed a little when Elizabeth's hand was pressed into his, by the enthusiastic Countess, it was little enough that it may have been a trick of the light as he turned to lead her to the floor.
He was a bit taller than she was, which was nice, Elizabeth thought. But the movements of the dance were causing a bit of an ache in regions unused to being touched. And she thought he'd probably rather be dancing with one of her prettier sisters, so she apologized, "I'm sorry."
He gave her a puzzled look as they whisked through the steps.
"That you had to dance with me?" she added.
"If I appeared reluctant..." he trailed off a little offended.
"Oh no," she replied. "It just seemed that Lady Briarly waylaid you as you passed." She flushed a little, as her earlier blushes had finally faded.
"Oh. Well, I suppose so, but I'm used to it, for m'mother is also always suddenly insisting I must dance with this one or with that one. It's fine." The pair lapsed into silence, and eventually the dance ended. Mr. Edwards led her politely back to her family, and then bowed to Rebecca and Anne. "As I've been encouraged to dance with one, perhaps I might have a dance with each?" he inquired.
The two enthusiastically agreed.
As soon as Rebecca sailed off in his arms, Lady Dowen turned to her tallest daughter. Elizabeth was feeling a bit uncomfortable and was making to sit on one of the small padded couches provided amongst the ubiquitous chairs. "Elizabeth! You can't sit, you'll look like a girl that's on the shelf and has given up hope!"
"But Mama," she replied "I am almost on the shelf, for I shall be twenty one in less than three months, and," she paused to choose her words, "I'm feeling a little weary tonight. I hadn't thought you would mind me resting in the library here."
Her mother flushed a little and snapped, "Well, you are not in disgrace with me." Elizabeth wondered a little at this effusive declaration, and glanced at Anne, who just shrugged.
Another young gentleman approached, and shortly Anne was also whirling through the lively steps. Constance bit her lip, and unusually hesitantly asked her daughter, "Would you like me to ask your father to shorten the term of your punishment? I should have asked that it not include days when we are setting out to amusements anyway."
"Oh no Mama," replied Elizabeth quickly, "or I should feel even more guilty. For it was entirely my fault and Bevan has had me in his care as much as any of our governesses, twas he that taught me to ride after all. And he taught me to know better than to dismount so carelessly next to a guest's horse, I was simply tired and didn't look. I should at least do this much until he is healed."
"Alright," replied Constance helplessly, and seated herself beside her daughter. "But you aren't on the shelf yet, and Rebecca is dancing happily, and she's already 23."
"But Mama, she has been firmly engaged for 3 years now," replied Elizabeth logically.
Her mother had to admit that this was true. And when the dancers returned, partners were traded, and Anne and Rebecca were off again as quickly as they'd come.
Elizabeth let her thoughts wander back to the puzzle of Lord Waverly. She refused to let them wander directly to the shocking... occurrence... in the library, which she was trying a little desperately not to think of, but they wandered around it. She blushed a little at the remembrance of his insistence that he found her lovely. It wasn't that she thought herself ugly, simply that next to her pretty sisters she was often considered plain, and frequently called so.
Taking more after her father than her mother, Elizabeth's face was stronger than her sisters' delicate heart shapes. She was as tall as most men, taller than many, though not so tall as her father and brothers. Admittedly, her grown sisters were also taller than their petite mother, however none of them had her tendency to tower over a dance partner.
Her hair, a medium brown, did not show especially well when compared to her siblings. Anne was a honey blonde, who had their mother's hair, as did their elder sister Amanda and youngest brother Thomas. Marcus, Rebecca and Trinity had hair of rich auburn, and the dark locks of the three eldest of their siblings matched their father.
Elizabeth wondered why Lord Waverly had done such a thing with a girl he didn't even know the name of. And then silently scolded herself with the thought that obviously, she had invited him to. In front of all sundry, even. Such behavior was not even excusable by the fact that she'd always found him extremely attractive, and been utterly delighted to be seated with him, until she'd realized he wasn't attending to a word she said. Elizabeth sighed.
Several dances had passed, unattended by Elizabeth. Her mother was standing and chatting with Anne and Rebecca who had returned this round to rest with cups of lemonade. Old Lord Oakley approached Elizabeth's seat, made her an old-fashioned bow, and asked if she would take to the floor with him.
Once he had her away into the set, he confessed that he'd invited her out of incurable curiosity. "For at my age, outrageous stories are what one treasures most. So please confess my dear, did you really lift your skirts for the Marques?"
Uncomfortable and embarrassed, she blushed and hedged, "I suppose the rumor will be across half the county soon." The short, elderly, but still spry, fellow chuckled and assured her that none of the rumor, should there be one, would be spread by him.
Elizabeth supposed that perhaps by telling part of the truth, the incident might be made to seem more harmless, and decided to confess the first part of the encounter to her charming and encouraging dance partner. "I did. And showed him my trousers. But he didn't laugh, only raised an eyebrow, and said 'trousers?'"
She bit her lip and watched to see how this bold indecent act would be viewed by Lord Oakley, who laughed and inquired, "Your trousers?"
"Yes." And then she explained how she'd come in late from her punishment of mucking out stables, and tried to cover by simply pulling her gown on over the top of her trousers. She'd thought that there'd be time to set her underthings to rights before they set out. But her mother had dragged her off to have the maid do up her hair, and this had had to be redone three times, before she was satisfied. And then it had been time to load into the carriage, for it was a good four hour drive between the estates. And so, she had wound up attending the Countess Briarly's summer party in her trousers.
Lord Oakley laughed a great deal at this account, and swore that he should have certainly laughed had he been the one granted the viewing privilege. She demurred any further display of her scandalous trousers. He told her kindly, not to mind it, and teased her until she smiled wryly as well. He patted her arm fondly as he walked her back, and said, "There, that's better, a pretty girl should smile after all," and deposited her at her mother's side.
Where she was greeted by a small display of despair as she settled back onto the small couch with a, hopefully, inaudible sigh of relief. "Why can't you behave so prettily and charmingly with men young enough to be your suitors?" her mother didn't quite wail.
Elizabeth regarded her small, pretty, plump mother, with wry fondness. "Are you so sure you wish to discount him as one of my suitors?" she teased. "For perhaps a very old man with whom I might be friends would be better than none at all."
"Elizabeth!" Her mother groaned. Her sister's were back out whirling around the dance floor, Rebecca with an older man of their acquaintance, Anne with a youth perhaps even younger than she this time, for though it was a fairly large party it included a broad mix of age groups.
"Smile Mama," Elizabeth told her mother, "for didn't you hear old Lord Oakley? A pretty girl should smile. And you are far prettier than I am. Besides forever telling me I should keep a pleasant expression at such gatherings, regardless."
This complimentary teasing restored much of her mother's usual good humor, and the lady admitted it was so, though she stoutly denied being prettier than any of her daughters.
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The pair rejoined the three ladies waiting at the edge of the floor. The Countess a little ruefully teased, "You don't want to join the dancing tonight Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth searched for a polite reply, "I should be glad to make myself available to dance."
The Countess regarded her thoughtfully. "And how did you find your supper partner tonight?" she asked, and then added, "I'm sorry about the unexpected seating change, there were a few unexpected guests tonight."
Elizabeth flushed. "I did not mind it at all. I was very glad to be seated with Lord Waverly." She paused, and the flush deepened. "As to how I found him, he ah... Well at first he wasn't attending at all, not even eating really." She paused again and Lady Briarly wondered if she should prompt the girl to continue. "But later, he attended very well. And he ate the rest of what was served," she added.
'She answered as though reporting on a small child's progress at supper,' thought Lady Briarly, amused. As this seemed to be all that was forthcoming, Lady Briarly asked, "remembered his manners finally, I gather? And then he showed you the library?"
Elizabeth nodded mutely, blush unabated.
'Oh well,' thought Lady Briarly, and decided that Elizabeth hadn't returned to dance because she'd thought no one would ask her.
"Um, has, has Lord Waverly left already?" Elizabeth ventured. Her eyes having scanned both the dance floor, and those gathered around the edges, then turned toward the gentlemen's smoking room quizzically.
Ruefully the Countess answered, "Yes, I'm afraid so, he's in a mood tonight, so I gave him leave to retire." She watched the girl's shoulders settle a little and thought, 'I should introduce her to some other gentleman, since that idea didn't work out.' Lady Briarly had decided to throw the two of them together when an opportunity presented itself, after witnessing a seemingly speaking evening of alternating glances between them, at an event held in London the previous season.
A young gentleman just happened to be passing, when the Countess stepped boldly into his path. "Oh, Mr. Edwards, are you busy at the moment?" she asked.
"No," replied the young gentleman, with a cautious expression.
"Then may I present miss Elizabeth Dowen to you as a dance partner?" Lady Briarly asked brightly, boldly pulling the young man over to the trio of Dowen girls and their mother.
Mr. Edwards brightened a little. "Of course, I should love to." And if his expression dimmed a little when Elizabeth's hand was pressed into his, by the enthusiastic Countess, it was little enough that it may have been a trick of the light as he turned to lead her to the floor.
He was a bit taller than she was, which was nice, Elizabeth thought. But the movements of the dance were causing a bit of an ache in regions unused to being touched. And she thought he'd probably rather be dancing with one of her prettier sisters, so she apologized, "I'm sorry."
He gave her a puzzled look as they whisked through the steps.
"That you had to dance with me?" she added.
"If I appeared reluctant..." he trailed off a little offended.
"Oh no," she replied. "It just seemed that Lady Briarly waylaid you as you passed." She flushed a little, as her earlier blushes had finally faded.
"Oh. Well, I suppose so, but I'm used to it, for m'mother is also always suddenly insisting I must dance with this one or with that one. It's fine." The pair lapsed into silence, and eventually the dance ended. Mr. Edwards led her politely back to her family, and then bowed to Rebecca and Anne. "As I've been encouraged to dance with one, perhaps I might have a dance with each?" he inquired.
The two enthusiastically agreed.
As soon as Rebecca sailed off in his arms, Lady Dowen turned to her tallest daughter. Elizabeth was feeling a bit uncomfortable and was making to sit on one of the small padded couches provided amongst the ubiquitous chairs. "Elizabeth! You can't sit, you'll look like a girl that's on the shelf and has given up hope!"
"But Mama," she replied "I am almost on the shelf, for I shall be twenty one in less than three months, and," she paused to choose her words, "I'm feeling a little weary tonight. I hadn't thought you would mind me resting in the library here."
Her mother flushed a little and snapped, "Well, you are not in disgrace with me." Elizabeth wondered a little at this effusive declaration, and glanced at Anne, who just shrugged.
Another young gentleman approached, and shortly Anne was also whirling through the lively steps. Constance bit her lip, and unusually hesitantly asked her daughter, "Would you like me to ask your father to shorten the term of your punishment? I should have asked that it not include days when we are setting out to amusements anyway."
"Oh no Mama," replied Elizabeth quickly, "or I should feel even more guilty. For it was entirely my fault and Bevan has had me in his care as much as any of our governesses, twas he that taught me to ride after all. And he taught me to know better than to dismount so carelessly next to a guest's horse, I was simply tired and didn't look. I should at least do this much until he is healed."
"Alright," replied Constance helplessly, and seated herself beside her daughter. "But you aren't on the shelf yet, and Rebecca is dancing happily, and she's already 23."
"But Mama, she has been firmly engaged for 3 years now," replied Elizabeth logically.
Her mother had to admit that this was true. And when the dancers returned, partners were traded, and Anne and Rebecca were off again as quickly as they'd come.
Elizabeth let her thoughts wander back to the puzzle of Lord Waverly. She refused to let them wander directly to the shocking... occurrence... in the library, which she was trying a little desperately not to think of, but they wandered around it. She blushed a little at the remembrance of his insistence that he found her lovely. It wasn't that she thought herself ugly, simply that next to her pretty sisters she was often considered plain, and frequently called so.
Taking more after her father than her mother, Elizabeth's face was stronger than her sisters' delicate heart shapes. She was as tall as most men, taller than many, though not so tall as her father and brothers. Admittedly, her grown sisters were also taller than their petite mother, however none of them had her tendency to tower over a dance partner.
Her hair, a medium brown, did not show especially well when compared to her siblings. Anne was a honey blonde, who had their mother's hair, as did their elder sister Amanda and youngest brother Thomas. Marcus, Rebecca and Trinity had hair of rich auburn, and the dark locks of the three eldest of their siblings matched their father.
Elizabeth wondered why Lord Waverly had done such a thing with a girl he didn't even know the name of. And then silently scolded herself with the thought that obviously, she had invited him to. In front of all sundry, even. Such behavior was not even excusable by the fact that she'd always found him extremely attractive, and been utterly delighted to be seated with him, until she'd realized he wasn't attending to a word she said. Elizabeth sighed.
Several dances had passed, unattended by Elizabeth. Her mother was standing and chatting with Anne and Rebecca who had returned this round to rest with cups of lemonade. Old Lord Oakley approached Elizabeth's seat, made her an old-fashioned bow, and asked if she would take to the floor with him.
Once he had her away into the set, he confessed that he'd invited her out of incurable curiosity. "For at my age, outrageous stories are what one treasures most. So please confess my dear, did you really lift your skirts for the Marques?"
Uncomfortable and embarrassed, she blushed and hedged, "I suppose the rumor will be across half the county soon." The short, elderly, but still spry, fellow chuckled and assured her that none of the rumor, should there be one, would be spread by him.
Elizabeth supposed that perhaps by telling part of the truth, the incident might be made to seem more harmless, and decided to confess the first part of the encounter to her charming and encouraging dance partner. "I did. And showed him my trousers. But he didn't laugh, only raised an eyebrow, and said 'trousers?'"
She bit her lip and watched to see how this bold indecent act would be viewed by Lord Oakley, who laughed and inquired, "Your trousers?"
"Yes." And then she explained how she'd come in late from her punishment of mucking out stables, and tried to cover by simply pulling her gown on over the top of her trousers. She'd thought that there'd be time to set her underthings to rights before they set out. But her mother had dragged her off to have the maid do up her hair, and this had had to be redone three times, before she was satisfied. And then it had been time to load into the carriage, for it was a good four hour drive between the estates. And so, she had wound up attending the Countess Briarly's summer party in her trousers.
Lord Oakley laughed a great deal at this account, and swore that he should have certainly laughed had he been the one granted the viewing privilege. She demurred any further display of her scandalous trousers. He told her kindly, not to mind it, and teased her until she smiled wryly as well. He patted her arm fondly as he walked her back, and said, "There, that's better, a pretty girl should smile after all," and deposited her at her mother's side.
Where she was greeted by a small display of despair as she settled back onto the small couch with a, hopefully, inaudible sigh of relief. "Why can't you behave so prettily and charmingly with men young enough to be your suitors?" her mother didn't quite wail.
Elizabeth regarded her small, pretty, plump mother, with wry fondness. "Are you so sure you wish to discount him as one of my suitors?" she teased. "For perhaps a very old man with whom I might be friends would be better than none at all."
"Elizabeth!" Her mother groaned. Her sister's were back out whirling around the dance floor, Rebecca with an older man of their acquaintance, Anne with a youth perhaps even younger than she this time, for though it was a fairly large party it included a broad mix of age groups.
"Smile Mama," Elizabeth told her mother, "for didn't you hear old Lord Oakley? A pretty girl should smile. And you are far prettier than I am. Besides forever telling me I should keep a pleasant expression at such gatherings, regardless."
This complimentary teasing restored much of her mother's usual good humor, and the lady admitted it was so, though she stoutly denied being prettier than any of her daughters.
The pair rejoined the three ladies waiting at the edge of the floor. The Countess a little ruefully teased, "You don't want to join the dancing tonight Elizabeth?" Elizabeth searched for a polite reply, "I should be glad to make myself available to dance." The Countess regarded her thoughtfully. "And how did you find your supper partner tonight?" she asked, and then added, "I'm sorry about the unexpected seating change, there were a few unexpected guests tonight." Elizabeth flushed. "I did not mind it at all. I was very glad to be seated with Lord Waverly." She paused, and the flush deepened. "As to how I found him, he ah... Well at first he wasn't attending at all, not even eating really." She paused again and Lady Briarly wondered if she should prompt the girl to continue. "But later, he attended very well. And he ate the rest of what was served," she added. 'She answered as though reporting on a small child's progress at supper,' thought Lady Briarly, amused. As this seemed to be all that was forthcoming, Lady Briarly asked, "remembered his manners finally, I gather? And then he showed you the library?" Elizabeth nodded mutely, blush unabated. 'Oh well,' thought Lady Briarly, and decided that Elizabeth hadn't returned to dance because she'd thought no one would ask her. "Um, has, has Lord Waverly left already?" Elizabeth ventured. Her eyes having scanned both the dance floor, and those gathered around the edges, then turned toward the gentlemen's smoking room quizzically. Ruefully the Countess answered, "Yes, I'm afraid so, he's in a mood tonight, so I gave him leave to retire." She watched the girl's shoulders settle a little and thought, 'I should introduce her to some other gentleman, since that idea didn't work out.' Lady Briarly had decided to throw the two of them together when an opportunity presented itself, after witnessing a seemingly speaking evening of alternating glances between them, at an event held in London the previous season. A young gentleman just happened to be passing, when the Countess stepped boldly into his path. "Oh, Mr. Edwards, are you busy at the moment?" she asked. "No," replied the young gentleman, with a cautious expression. "Then may I present miss Elizabeth Dowen to you as a dance partner?" Lady Briarly asked brightly, boldly pulling the young man over to the trio of Dowen girls and their mother. Mr. Edwards brightened a little. "Of course, I should love to." And if his expression dimmed a little when Elizabeth's hand was pressed into his, by the enthusiastic Countess, it was little enough that it may have been a trick of the light as he turned to lead her to the floor. He was a bit taller than she was, which was nice, Elizabeth thought. But the movements of the dance were causing a bit of an ache in regions unused to being touched. And she thought he'd probably rather be dancing with one of her prettier sisters, so she apologized, "I'm sorry." He gave her a puzzled look as they whisked through the steps. "That you had to dance with me?" she added. "If I appeared reluctant..." he trailed off a little offended. "Oh no," she replied. "It just seemed that Lady Briarly waylaid you as you passed." She flushed a little, as her earlier blushes had finally faded. "Oh. Well, I suppose so, but I'm used to it, for m'mother is also always suddenly insisting I must dance with this one or with that one. It's fine." The pair lapsed into silence, and eventually the dance ended. Mr. Edwards led her politely back to her family, and then bowed to Rebecca and Anne. "As I've been encouraged to dance with one, perhaps I might have a dance with each?" he inquired. The two enthusiastically agreed. As soon as Rebecca sailed off in his arms, Lady Dowen turned to her tallest daughter. Elizabeth was feeling a bit uncomfortable and was making to sit on one of the small padded couches provided amongst the ubiquitous chairs. "Elizabeth! You can't sit, you'll look like a girl that's on the shelf and has given up hope!" "But Mama," she replied "I am almost on the shelf, for I shall be twenty one in less than three months, and," she paused to choose her words, "I'm feeling a little weary tonight. I hadn't thought you would mind me resting in the library here." Her mother flushed a little and snapped, "Well, you are not in disgrace with me." Elizabeth wondered a little at this effusive declaration, and glanced at Anne, who just shrugged. Another young gentleman approached, and shortly Anne was also whirling through the lively steps. Constance bit her lip, and unusually hesitantly asked her daughter, "Would you like me to ask your father to shorten the term of your punishment? I should have asked that it not include days when we are setting out to amusements anyway." "Oh no Mama," replied Elizabeth quickly, "or I should feel even more guilty. For it was entirely my fault and Bevan has had me in his care as much as any of our governesses, twas he that taught me to ride after all. And he taught me to know better than to dismount so carelessly next to a guest's horse, I was simply tired and didn't look. I should at least do this much until he is healed." "Alright," replied Constance helplessly, and seated herself beside her daughter. "But you aren't on the shelf yet, and Rebecca is dancing happily, and she's already 23." "But Mama, she has been firmly engaged for 3 years now," replied Elizabeth logically. Her mother had to admit that this was true. And when the dancers returned, partners were traded, and Anne and Rebecca were off again as quickly as they'd come. Elizabeth let her thoughts wander back to the puzzle of Lord Waverly. She refused to let them wander directly to the shocking... occurrence... in the library, which she was trying a little desperately not to think of, but they wandered around it. She blushed a little at the remembrance of his insistence that he found her lovely. It wasn't that she thought herself ugly, simply that next to her pretty sisters she was often considered plain, and frequently called so. Taking more after her father than her mother, Elizabeth's face was stronger than her sisters' delicate heart shapes. She was as tall as most men, taller than many, though not so tall as her father and brothers. Admittedly, her grown sisters were also taller than their petite mother, however none of them had her tendency to tower over a dance partner. Her hair, a medium brown, did not show especially well when compared to her siblings. Anne was a honey blonde, who had their mother's hair, as did their elder sister Amanda and youngest brother Thomas. Marcus, Rebecca and Trinity had hair of rich auburn, and the dark locks of the three eldest of their siblings matched their father. Elizabeth wondered why Lord Waverly had done such a thing with a girl he didn't even know the name of. And then silently scolded herself with the thought that obviously, she had invited him to. In front of all sundry, even. Such behavior was not even excusable by the fact that she'd always found him extremely attractive, and been utterly delighted to be seated with him, until she'd realized he wasn't attending to a word she said. Elizabeth sighed. Several dances had passed, unattended by Elizabeth. Her mother was standing and chatting with Anne and Rebecca who had returned this round to rest with cups of lemonade. Old Lord Oakley approached Elizabeth's seat, made her an old-fashioned bow, and asked if she would take to the floor with him. Once he had her away into the set, he confessed that he'd invited her out of incurable curiosity. "For at my age, outrageous stories are what one treasures most. So please confess my dear, did you really lift your skirts for the Marques?" Uncomfortable and embarrassed, she blushed and hedged, "I suppose the rumor will be across half the county soon." The short, elderly, but still spry, fellow chuckled and assured her that none of the rumor, should there be one, would be spread by him. Elizabeth supposed that perhaps by telling part of the truth, the incident might be made to seem more harmless, and decided to confess the first part of the encounter to her charming and encouraging dance partner. "I did. And showed him my trousers. But he didn't laugh, only raised an eyebrow, and said 'trousers?'" She bit her lip and watched to see how this bold indecent act would be viewed by Lord Oakley, who laughed and inquired, "Your trousers?" "Yes." And then she explained how she'd come in late from her punishment of mucking out stables, and tried to cover by simply pulling her gown on over the top of her trousers. She'd thought that there'd be time to set her underthings to rights before they set out. But her mother had dragged her off to have the maid do up her hair, and this had had to be redone three times, before she was satisfied. And then it had been time to load into the carriage, for it was a good four hour drive between the estates. And so, she had wound up attending the Countess Briarly's summer party in her trousers. Lord Oakley laughed a great deal at this account, and swore that he should have certainly laughed had he been the one granted the viewing privilege. She demurred any further display of her scandalous trousers. He told her kindly, not to mind it, and teased her until she smiled wryly as well. He patted her arm fondly as he walked her back, and said, "There, that's better, a pretty girl should smile after all," and deposited her at her mother's side. Where she was greeted by a small display of despair as she settled back onto the small couch with a, hopefully, inaudible sigh of relief. "Why can't you behave so prettily and charmingly with men young enough to be your suitors?" her mother didn't quite wail. Elizabeth regarded her small, pretty, plump mother, with wry fondness. "Are you so sure you wish to discount him as one of my suitors?" she teased. "For perhaps a very old man with whom I might be friends would be better than none at all." "Elizabeth!" Her mother groaned. Her sister's were back out whirling around the dance floor, Rebecca with an older man of their acquaintance, Anne with a youth perhaps even younger than she this time, for though it was a fairly large party it included a broad mix of age groups. "Smile Mama," Elizabeth told her mother, "for didn't you hear old Lord Oakley? A pretty girl should smile. And you are far prettier than I am. Besides forever telling me I should keep a pleasant expression at such gatherings, regardless." This complimentary teasing restored much of her mother's usual good humor, and the lady admitted it was so, though she stoutly denied being prettier than any of her daughters.
