Page 52 of The Unforgiven
“Thanks, Jill.”
“So how are things with your new American family?” Jill asked, deftly changing the subject.
“Things are going well. Seth makes me feel a bit smothered, but he’s just excited about finding a daughter. I like his son—my brother,” Quinn amended. “He’s an interesting bloke. Perhaps he’ll come to England one day. It’d be fun to show him around. He’s a history buff, like me.”
“And what about Seth? Do you two have anything in common?”
“Not a blessed thing.” Quinn laughed.
“I think you do,” Jill replied.
“And what might that be?”
“Your drive. You must get it from him. He sounds like someone who sets his sights on something and goes for it. Like you.”
“I haven’t thought of that, but I suppose you’re right.”
“Isn’t genealogy fun?” Jill asked, dripping sarcasm. “Now you can try to figure out whatwonderfultraits you got from your birth parents.”
“I don’t think I really want to go there, Jill. Sylvia is as wily as a fox, and Seth is the proverbial bull in a china shop.”
“It’s a wonder you turned out halfway normal, given the zoo you come from.” Jill giggled.
“Did I?”
“I was being kind. Ooh, a customer. Gotta dash.”
“Talk to you later.”
Quinn disconnected the call. She felt much better after talking to Jill, and more focused. She’d stay for another week, get footage for Rhys, spend a few more days with Seth and Brett, and then she’d go home.
TWENTY-EIGHT
SEPTEMBER 1858
Arabella Plantation, Louisiana
“You sit still now, Miss Madeline, so I don’t burn you,” Cissy said as she expertly applied hot tongs, turning Madeline’s naturally wavy hair into artful ringlets atop her head. Cissy suggested clipping Madeline’s hair at the front so she could curl the shorter pieces and arrange them into a fashionable hairstyle. The rest of the hair was pinned high at the back of her head with long ringlets cascading over her shoulders. Madeline normally wore her hair parted in the middle and twisted into a simple knot, so this was quite a departure for her. Cissy said that the most fashionable hairstyle was called “à la giraffe,” but Madeline flat-out refused to allow Cissy to try it out.
The effect of the shorter curls around her face was rather pleasing, but Madeline’s mind wasn’t on her hair. George had invited her to accompany him to a dinner party tonight given by his friend Preston Montlake in honor of his guests, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe of Kingston, New York. Madeline had never been to any type of formal gathering, so her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She felt an overwhelming desire to yank up the bodice of her gown, which was off-the-shoulder and had a rather daring décolletage, accentuated with wide flounces made of lace. She wore layers of petticoats beneath the bell-shaped skirt, and her corset was laced so tight she could barely breathe. Silk opera-length gloves and a small jeweled reticule would complete the ensemble. And, of course, she would take her mother’s fan.
“George, I really don’t know,” Madeline said when George brought up the party several days ago. “I wouldn’t know how to behave in such company. I’ll be the youngest person there, won’t I?”
“Come, Maddy. Please, do me this favor. It’s darn awkward to attend a gathering like this by yourself, and Amelia is refusing to leave her bed. I would gladly decline, but Mr. Monroe owns one of the largest textile mills in the North, and he’s looking to increase his supply of cotton. Preston is already under contract with him, and he means to give some of us an introduction. I’d be a fool to miss out on such an opportunity.”
“I haven’t anything appropriate to wear,” Madeline said. She had no idea what a lady would wear to a dinner party, since her mother was long gone and Amelia hadn’t gone out anywhere since Madeline arrived at the plantation.
“Cissy will find just the right thing. She always attended on Amelia when we went out or entertained at home. Is that a yes?”
Madeline nodded. She couldn’t let George down, not after he’d been so good to her, and perhaps this would be an opportunity to learn something of this world she’d been thrust into. Sooner or later, Amelia would recover and there would be gaiety at Arabella Plantation once more. Amelia had told Madeline of the parties they’d hosted and described the food and her gowns in exquisite detail. She obviously enjoyed socializing, so it couldn’t be all that unpleasant.
“There you are,” Cissy said, admiring her handiwork. “You sho look pretty, Miss Madeline.”
Madeline’s hand went to her hair, but Cissy deftly caught her wrist. “Don’t touch it. You’ll ruin it.”
“Sorry,” Madeline muttered.
“Here, let me put your bonnet on, and be careful when you take it off. Do it just so.” Cissy made a lifting motion with her hands. “Straight up, without touching the sides.”
