Marjorie Farrell by Autumn Rose

anything so rich,” Nora protested.
    “Mama, it looks beautiful,” Miranda sighed as Madame held the fabric up against her mother.
    “But I should be trying to look…” Nora paused, searching for the right word.
    “Older?” offered Madame.
    “Perhaps a turban, Mama,” added Miranda.
    All three laughed. “You will look old enough next to your beautiful young daughter, my dear. No need to add to your years, only to celebrate them.”
    Nora and Miranda selected scarves and gloves and slippers and made an appointment for the final fitting.
    “Are you sure you can afford these dresses?” Miranda asked. “I got so excited I forgot to look at the price.”
    “I received a generous advance for Cordelia’s Conquest , so do not even worry about them. We have little enough frivolity in our lives, so we may as well enjoy it.”
    “It is fun, isn’t it?” Miranda smiled, giving a little skip as they walked along.
     

Chapter 9
     
    The week passed quickly, and on the night of the dinner, both women were dressed and waiting. Nora had intended to hire a carriage, but Jeremy insisted on sending his chaise. When it arrived, the groom, looking as haughty as the invitation-bearing footman, handed them in.
    “I feel like Cinderella going to the ball,” whispered Miranda. “But Lady Whitford’s chaise would not dare turn into a pumpkin!”
    When they reached Mayfair, however, Miranda became subdued. She had been to London off and on over the years, but usually for visits to her mother’s publishers, to the theater, or to tea with another writer. Their visits had never taken them into the more fashionable parts of town, and so this view of the town houses of the ton were her first. By the time they had passed several houses whose steps were crowded with guests, both were silent. When they reached Lady Lavinia’s, the crush was not as bad as others they had seen, but there were enough carriages waiting to make Miranda gasp.
    “I thought this was to be a small dinner dance.”
    “I think that ‘small’ means one thing in Hampstead and another in Grosvenor Square,” replied her mother, feeling quite sympathetic to her daughter’s fear. She was not looking forward to the evening herself. While she had attended many dinners as formal, the guests had been quite different: literary types like herself, and those of the nobility who were more interested in discussing art or politics than sharing the latest gossip about Prinny.
    The butler who greeted them at the front door was much friendlier than any servant they had met so far. He had been with the family since before Jeremy was born and was quite sympathetic to his young master. He had a footman take their wraps and announced their arrival, watching Jeremy hurry over with something like a twinkle in his eye.
    Nora and Miranda were both so dazzled by the blazing chandeliers, the jewels and dresses and gleaming boots and winking diamond studs, that they were almost blinded to the men and women wearing them. They were able to utter only conventional phrases in response to attempted conversations. Unable to take in the whole, they were dazzled by the parts. They were separated at the table, Lavinia having given in and placed Miranda next to Jeremy. Nora was on the other side and quite a few spaces down, between a young man whose shirt points were so high and cravat so starched that he could not turn his head more than an inch or two and appeared to be addressing the elaborate centerpiece instead of Nora whenever they spoke. On the other side was an elderly gentleman with whom Nora tried to converse, only to find that he was hard of hearing. She would have had to shout to make herself understood, and so she gave up. She would have been insulted at Lavinia’s seating arrangement had she not been amused. So she concentrated on her food and surreptitiously observed those across from her and attempted to eat only a little of each. How can they eat so much? she thought as she