Page 8 of Murder at Madame Chambon's
But her mama’s lofty bearing and the way she’d delivered her expectations for Evelina had been almost military.
“Careful, Miss, or you’ll get run down!”
Evelina stepped back as a carriage drawn by four handsome bays passed them and, as she locked eyes briefly with the occupant, recognition hit her like a physical blow.
Surely that was William?
A surge of excitement made her dizzy, and she had to cling to the handle to steady herself.She’d remember the shape of his jaw and those piercing blue eyes beneath curling dark blonde hair anywhere.
But perhaps not.This man was in a handsome carriage whereas the ‘William’ she’d met had been coatless, his face and shirt streaked with dirt.Yes, he’d spoken like a gentleman when they’d both rescued the child, but she’d not expected to see him again.
She watched as the carriage disappeared around the corner, and the moment was gone.
Still trying to compose herself, Evelina shook out her skirts and took the first step.
And her heart, which was already beating much faster than usual on account of her suspected sighting of the man who had saved her life, now went into double time as the door opened and the parlor maid greeted her with, “Good morning, Miss Tarot.Lady Durham and Mrs.Tarot are waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Chapter4
So, this was her mother.
Six years older, her hair was not the same eye-catching shade of red, though it was certainly brighter than Evelina had expected of a woman of her mother’s years.
Now, it was fashionably styled with curled bangs at the front, and a braid-wrapped chignon beneath a pert head little hat upon which perched a turtledove, its feathers dyed to match her gown.
The neckline of Mrs.Tarot’s emerald silk polonaise was demure, but the abundance of accessories was troubling.There were too many of them, from the mauve gloves to the enamel chatelaine watch and the garnet necklace, bracelet and earrings, all in shades to match the dyed feathers of the turtledove atop Mrs.Tarot’s headdress.
“Evelina, my dear, come and greet your mama!”
Evelina stepped forward, deliberating whether to kiss Mrs.Tarot on the cheek or offer her hand.
The decision was made for her when she was drawn into a brief but not unaffectionate hug before her Mama set her away from her and, after some pontification, declared, “You are every bit the beauty I had hoped.”
Cautiously, Evelina sat opposite the two ladies.
Lady Durham was a slender, delicate, and composed beauty who spoke in soft, modulated accents.
Evelina’s mother, by contrast, was a force to be reckoned with.Statuesque, with features that hinted at the beauty she must have been, her voice was her most confusing feature.She sounded like an Englishwoman trying to sound French.And Evelina, having lived the past twelve years in Paris, should know.
Furthermore, while Evelina had never enjoyed an easy familiarity with her mother, she now felt she was staring at a stranger.
Her mama’s laugh was like a deep bark, her voice harsh and her tone emphatic.
Evelina had remembered her as a forceful and dominating person; and she was still.But there was something … somehow coarse about her.She hated to admit this even to herself, and now she was glad she was meeting her in the privacy of Lady Durham’s drawing room.
But she would not criticize, not even silently.Evelina was dependent on her mother’s goodwill and satisfaction, as she would do well to remember.
“Evelina, in three days, you have accomplished more than I hoped for.You have secured the interest of Lord Dunstable and now you must work hard to draw him in.”
Evelina must have revealed her shock, for her mother leaned forward, shaking her head as if Evelina had already objected.
“Your father has provided you a fine dowry, my dear.Lord Dunstable has a grand estate, a title, and everything for which a girl like you could hope.You do not want to become the prey of fortune hunters.”
“But Mama, I have attended but one ball.Lord Dunstable was pleasant enough, but I barely know him.I hope I shall have many suitors from which to choose.”
Although Evelina could envisage marriage to a man such as Lord Dunstable, she had to assert a modicum of independence, she realized, in the face of her mother’s dominance.
“You have a few short weeks and there is no time to dilly-dally, my girl.You’re already older than I would like.It was most unfortunate that you fell ill when you did, but you are recovered now, and your beauty has returned.It is, in fact, in full bloom, and we can’t risk it fading before you secure the right husband.”
