Page 39 of Thief of the Ton
“A little bacon for my niece, Wilkins,” Aunt Edna said. “And perhaps some tea, with a splash of milk.”
Before Lavinia could respond, a plate of bacon, together with a cup of tea, was placed in front of her. At home she could eat what she liked, and take her tea how she preferred—but under her aunt’s watchful eye, she found her meals restricted, both in size and variety. Proper young ladies, according to Aunt Edna, demonstrated self-restraint by eating as little as possible, to maintain the appropriate silhouette. And on no account should she serve herself. According to her aunt, it simply wasn’t done among the older families. A buffet was an outré concept favored by thenouveaux riches.
Lavinia stared at her bacon—thick pink strips interspersed with gelatinous white streaks. She picked up her fork and pushed a rasher across the plate. The strips of fat wobbled, and she set her fork down, swallowing the tide of nausea.
“Child, it’s not seemly to play with your food.”
“I’m not hungry, Aunt,” Lavinia said, “and I have a headache.”
Aunt Edna let out an unsympathetic snort. “I’m not surprised. Lady Francis said you took far too much punch last night. Haven’t I said that…”
She rattled on, reciting a catalogue of Lavinia’s faults. While Lavinia longed to protest against a world that required women to adhere to preposterous rules, it would be a futile exercise where her aunt was concerned. Better to remain silent, give the impression of meekness, and let Aunthave her say. No matter what, she would alwayshave her say. Then, with luck, she’d leave Lavinia alone.
“Is that not a good idea?”
Lavinia glanced up.
Oh no…
What had Aunt Edna said? If Lavinia nodded, she’d avoid admonishment for disagreeing, but she might end up committing herself to something hideous, such as another lesson in deportment or yet another bloody alphabet sampler. She shifted in her seat, her thigh aching from when she’d collided with the banister while negotiating the staircase en route to her bedchamber last night.
She opted for a more neutral response.
“I suppose so, Aunt.”
“Good—I suggest you practice your instrument for the remainder of the morning, then I’ll send Tilly to help you dress.”
“I’m already dressed, Aunt.”
“Lord spare me!” Aunt Edna cried. “It’s as if you refuse to listen to a single word I say. I’ll not have Mrs. Howard look down on us.
“Mrs. Howard?”
“Tiresome child! I’ve already told you, we’re taking tea with her later today, and I’ll not have you looking like a guttersnipe. Though Mrs. Howard’s the daughter of a viscount, her husband’s in trade; therefore, we must assert our superiority of rank, which means wearing a gown worthy of your station—notthat”—she gestured to Lavinia’s gown—“which has seen better days.”
“Very good, Aunt,” Lavinia replied. “May I be excused now? I’m eager to practice.”
Aunt Edna’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but though Lavinia loathed the necessity of practicing an instrument merely to satisfy Society’s rules, it was preferable to spending the rest of the morning in her aunt’s company. Though she heartily disliked Mrs. Howard, the woman had one redeeming quality.
Her eldest daughter Eleanor—one of the sweetest young women in London.
Lavinia rose and approached her aunt, who turned her face to one side in expectation. She kissed her aunt’s cheek.
“Very good, you may go,” Aunt Edna said. “But I’ll be listening, to make sure you practiceproperly. I was most disappointed that you were unable to play at Lady Francis’s dinner last month.”
“I doubt Lady Francis cared,” Lavinia retorted.
“That’s not the attitude, child!” Aunt Edna cried. “Lady Francis’s friendship is much to be desired. And we must think kindly toward her. The poor woman is most distraught about the theft of her vase.”
“The—theft?” Lavinia’s skin tightened in apprehension. The last thing she wanted was her aunt showing an interest in the stolen ginger jar, not when it resided in Papa’s chamber at Springfield Cottage.
“The culprit will be rooted out soon enough,” Aunt Edna said. “Lord Marlow’s been assigned the task. I hear he’s to interview all the guests who attended the house party during which the vase disappeared. Lady Francis told me that if that yielded no success, he might have to interview every guest she’s invited in the past month—which includes us.” She let out a snort. “A waste of time, if you ask me. Doubtless a servant stole it—you know whatthey’relike.”
Aunt Edna rattled on, opining on the lower classes, and Lavinia exited the breakfast room.
A secret thrill coursed through her at the prospect of Lord Marlow visiting. But it was tempered by fear—would she be able to withstand his questioning?
All because of that meddlesome woman, Lady Francis—who’d so pointedly looked down on her.
