Page 54 of An Amiable Foe
Perry frowned, thunderstruck. “You have something more important to do than search for Marianne?”
“She has made her choice and is no longer my concern.”
Vernon still would not look at him, and after a moment, Perry breathed out in disgust and left the room.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Marianne had spent two days at the Belford estate without feeling like she was in the way, a fact that did not cease to amaze her. Lady Belford continually saw to her comfort, and Sir Belford included her in the conversations at the dinner table, both of them showing a much warmer side than they presented at church or public events.
Amelia was unrelentingly kind, and Marianne finally let down the walls that had always been fixed in place and accepted that she was truly a friend. If she was not entirely successful at banishing thoughts of Mr. Osborne from her mind, she did enjoy moments of true comfort.
After she had been at Loden for a few days, Amelia invited her into her bedroom after breakfast and had her sit on the bed while she opened her wardrobe and perused its contents.
“Marianne, I’ve been thinking. I have a gown in a very modish shade of blue, but I find that it doesn’t suit me. Would you allow me to try it on you and hem it if necessary? I believe we are of a size in the waist, and it might only need to be shortened.”
“That is kind of you.” Marianne hesitated. “I know I am unfashionable. Until now I have not cared. I preferred to use my small independence for the needs of the castle….”
“But?” Amelia prompted with a smile.
“But I suppose paying attention to my dress is not a wasted effort. I have all of my mother’s old gowns, many of which are made from very fine cloth, and all of which are carefully preserved. She was taller than me, and I think she must have been given more generous proportions in her bosom.” Marianne smiled shyly. “At least, it seemed to be so from the one I wore the night of the ball.”
“Well, I might be able to help you with your mother’s gowns. I am terribly fond of fashion and of sewing. However”—she tapped her fingers on the door to the wardrobe before turning—“why not begin with this gown that will likely fit without much alteration? I have no sisters or female cousins to give it to, and I will not wear it again.”
Amelia pulled it out and held it up in front of Marianne as she stood before the mirror. It was of a brilliant blue, unlike her own faded dress, and it had everything she had been seeing on other young ladies—the flounces, the fitted bodice, the puff sleeves with a pleated sheer blue fabric bordering the neckline. In short, it was the most beautiful thing Marianne had ever beheld, and when she tried it on, she turned to look at herself from each angle in the mirror.
“Ooooh,” Marianne breathed out, unable to speak as she saw how the bright color and fine details brought her features to life.
“It is just as I thought,” Amelia said. “A little long, but if you’ll slip it off, it will take me no time at all to hem it. Shortening the length will only increase the flounces and make them more charming. After that, we must contemplate what to do about your hair.”
“My hair?” Marianne repeated, laughing. She felt like she was being swept along by a tide more powerful than her.
No one had ever cared for her appearance that she could remember. At the time of her mother’s death, she already knew how to comb her own hair and dress herself and was not accustomed to getting help from the maids.
“Yes, Marianne. Your hair.” Amelia sat down with the dress in her hands before licking the end of a thread and poking it through the eye of a needle.
“You have the most beautiful brown hair, and I thought perhaps if there were some curls instead of plaits, and maybe…” She reached over to the table next to her where a pair of scissors sat and held them up with a snip-snip motion. “Maybe you will let me make just one little cut on each side so we can add curls there too?”
Marianne threw up her hands and laughed some more. “I am in your hands. The truth is, I have always wished to do something different with my hair, but did not have anyone to ask.”
“Then let us get to work,” Amelia said, bending down over the dress.
Two hours later, they went downstairs, Marianne dressed, for the first time, in elegance from her head to the bottom of her hem. She still wore her old half-boots as Amelia did not wear the same size shoe, but those were barely visible. She entered the drawing room where both Sir and Lady Belford sat, and their exclamations of approval caused Marianne to duck her head with pleasure.
When she had first arrived, after having overcome her initial shyness, Marianne mentioned her surprise that she and Amelia had not yet become acquainted, despite growing up in the same village. Amelia explained that Mrs. Vernon had always been quite protective of her, letting it be known that Marianne did not wish to be invited to any society events. This put the rest of the village off from inviting her to anything.
“She did me a disservice, then,” Marianne said, frowning. It sounded as though Mrs. Vernon had been busily working behind the scenes against her rather than on her behalf.
Had she cared so much that Marianne marry her son that she kept her isolated from village society? Maybe she did when she had thought Marianne would inherit Brindale. And Robert must have grown accustomed to looking upon her in a proprietary way, which he continued to do even after she did not inherit.
“I merely expressed my fears of large gatherings when I was younger, but I needed to overcome it eventually. It is a shame that I did not benefit from more interaction with the rest of the village.”
“Mother regrets not having tried harder,” Amelia had replied. “As do I.”
Now Marianne sat on the chair Lady Belford indicated, appreciating the comfort of moving in a dress that was both stylish and a good fit. She had only time to nod in answer to an offer of tea when a knock sounded on the front door. Amelia had set the tea leaves to steep and was putting out the cups and saucers when the footman entered.
“A Mr. Osborne is here to see you.”
Marianne gasped loudly enough that all three heads turned her way in time to witness her deep blush. She looked around for a door in the drawing room that did not lead to the main hall but did not see one. She did not want to meet his wife—not until she had had time to compose herself.
