toward the window, Scawen. I want to see the road. I cannot see the road from my window, just the chimney pots and the lake and those demmed swans. ”
Phoebe threw up her hands and went below stairs to speak to Cook, to see that the meat was carved when it arrived at the table. With luck, Lavinia would tire herself out before dinner, and be in her bed when the guests arrived.
* * * *
At Wildercliffe that morning, Jane was also making plans for the dinner party. She examined her gowns, wishing she had one that was more stylish. Miss Prism did not permit the empress style that was all the crack in London. “Decadent!” she said, condemning them with a word. With great trepidation, Jane took the scissors to her evening gown and scooped out the neckline. Fay supplied her with Belgian lace to finish off the border. Sewing was a necessary skill for a vicar’s daughter, and the job was done well. It did not look in the least homemade, but quite stylish. She would wear her one piece of good jewelry, the small string of pearls Papa had given Mama for a wedding gift.
Next she went to work on her hair. She customarily wore it bundled back in a bun, but it was naturally curly. She brushed it out at her mirror and tried arranging it in various styles. She and her friend Harriet often used to arrange each other’s hair in their bedroom at night, to pass the time. But without Harriet to help her, the job proved difficult. The best she could do was to loosen the front curls somewhat, and pin the rest up in a roll across the back of her head. It looked rather elegant. Fay lent her a small diamond pin to set amidst the curls at the front. Before going below stairs for lunch, Jane resumed her usual coiffure.
By early afternoon, she sat at the desk in the Blue Saloon, writing a letter to Harriet Stowe. Her gaze often turned to the window toward Swann Hall, as she wondered if she would see Fenwick and Swann riding forth to visit her and Fay. They did not come, but at about three o ’ clock, Lord Fenwick called. He came not through the meadows but by the road, driving a spanking yellow curricle whose silver appointments twinkled in the sunlight. The rig was drawn by a pair of blood grays.
“ I am just off to Bibury to buy Mrs. Swann some marchpane, and thought you might like to come with me, ” he said to Jane, after a few words of greeting to the ladies.
Jane ’ s heart beat faster. She had never been in a curricle. She and Harriet used to watch them fly by, driven by the out and outers in Bath, and wish they might have a drive in such a dashing rig. And with Lord Fenwick by her side! She positively ached with pleasure, yet her voice, when she spoke, was calm.
“ You don ’ t mind if I go, Aunt Fay? ”
“ Run along, dear. There ’ s little enough to amuse a youngster here. I shall have a rest. ”
“ You really ought to have a walk about the park, ” Jane said.
“ We ’ ll do that after you return. ”
“ I mean to hold you to that! ” Jane said, in a scolding way. Then she ran for her bonnet and pelisse.
The drive was everything she had imagined, and more. Fenwick drove at a fast pace to impress her, when she admitted she had never been in a curricle before. She clung for dear life to the edge of the precarious perch, and could not restrain a little squeal of fearful delight when he took the corners at what seemed to her a reckless speed. Stone houses and fields of sheep spun past in a blur. Conversation was virtually impossible with the wind whistling in her ears, and so many new sensations to be enjoyed.
When they drove into town, heads turned to ogle them. Jane felt she was living in a dream. For this one brief hour, she was the pampered lady in the curricle with the dashing gentleman by her side, and not the poor creature gazing enviously as the rig whizzed past. She would include an account of the outing in her letter to Harriet.
“ I look a quiz! ” she exclaimed, clutching at her bonnet, when at last
Phoebe threw up her hands and went below stairs to speak to Cook, to see that the meat was carved when it arrived at the table. With luck, Lavinia would tire herself out before dinner, and be in her bed when the guests arrived.
* * * *
At Wildercliffe that morning, Jane was also making plans for the dinner party. She examined her gowns, wishing she had one that was more stylish. Miss Prism did not permit the empress style that was all the crack in London. “Decadent!” she said, condemning them with a word. With great trepidation, Jane took the scissors to her evening gown and scooped out the neckline. Fay supplied her with Belgian lace to finish off the border. Sewing was a necessary skill for a vicar’s daughter, and the job was done well. It did not look in the least homemade, but quite stylish. She would wear her one piece of good jewelry, the small string of pearls Papa had given Mama for a wedding gift.
Next she went to work on her hair. She customarily wore it bundled back in a bun, but it was naturally curly. She brushed it out at her mirror and tried arranging it in various styles. She and her friend Harriet often used to arrange each other’s hair in their bedroom at night, to pass the time. But without Harriet to help her, the job proved difficult. The best she could do was to loosen the front curls somewhat, and pin the rest up in a roll across the back of her head. It looked rather elegant. Fay lent her a small diamond pin to set amidst the curls at the front. Before going below stairs for lunch, Jane resumed her usual coiffure.
By early afternoon, she sat at the desk in the Blue Saloon, writing a letter to Harriet Stowe. Her gaze often turned to the window toward Swann Hall, as she wondered if she would see Fenwick and Swann riding forth to visit her and Fay. They did not come, but at about three o ’ clock, Lord Fenwick called. He came not through the meadows but by the road, driving a spanking yellow curricle whose silver appointments twinkled in the sunlight. The rig was drawn by a pair of blood grays.
“ I am just off to Bibury to buy Mrs. Swann some marchpane, and thought you might like to come with me, ” he said to Jane, after a few words of greeting to the ladies.
Jane ’ s heart beat faster. She had never been in a curricle. She and Harriet used to watch them fly by, driven by the out and outers in Bath, and wish they might have a drive in such a dashing rig. And with Lord Fenwick by her side! She positively ached with pleasure, yet her voice, when she spoke, was calm.
“ You don ’ t mind if I go, Aunt Fay? ”
“ Run along, dear. There ’ s little enough to amuse a youngster here. I shall have a rest. ”
“ You really ought to have a walk about the park, ” Jane said.
“ We ’ ll do that after you return. ”
“ I mean to hold you to that! ” Jane said, in a scolding way. Then she ran for her bonnet and pelisse.
The drive was everything she had imagined, and more. Fenwick drove at a fast pace to impress her, when she admitted she had never been in a curricle before. She clung for dear life to the edge of the precarious perch, and could not restrain a little squeal of fearful delight when he took the corners at what seemed to her a reckless speed. Stone houses and fields of sheep spun past in a blur. Conversation was virtually impossible with the wind whistling in her ears, and so many new sensations to be enjoyed.
When they drove into town, heads turned to ogle them. Jane felt she was living in a dream. For this one brief hour, she was the pampered lady in the curricle with the dashing gentleman by her side, and not the poor creature gazing enviously as the rig whizzed past. She would include an account of the outing in her letter to Harriet.
“ I look a quiz! ” she exclaimed, clutching at her bonnet, when at last
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