Page 4 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Chapter Two

Fortunately, Uncle Alford departed for the country on the morning following their arrival in London, after declaring himself a trifle uneasy about leaving Letty in a place where scoundrels lurked on every corner. He declared that Letty was an intelligent young woman, but of a spirited nature and no

t always prudent. Therefore, he demanded his sister write to him every week to assure him everything went well. Until the hackney took him away, Letty was on tenterhooks, fearing he’d demand she come with him.

Letty’s first day at the modiste’s disappointed her. It seemed that her aunt, who had never married, had quite conservative views about dress. And worse, the modiste, Mrs. Crotchet, a lady in her fifties, tended to agree with her. They decided that Letty must be seen to be a demure young lady, and it appeared that even her ball dress would lack glamor. No fripperies were to be indulged in. Letty’s dreams of fur muffs, feathered, high-crowned bonnets, and military-styled pelisses, faded while practical styles were discussed in serviceable colors such as nankeen, snuff, and drab.

Because Letty’s father had been the second son of a baron, she was to be presented. Young ladies were allowed to wear more color on this occasion. She dreamed of ruby velvet with point lace like the one she’d seen in the Belle Assembly fashion periodical, or a gown bordered in gold and adorned with tassels, but she didn’t hold out much hope for either of these. Fortunately, the presentation was some weeks away and gave her time to practice her curtsey.

Now, all her hopes lay with the Kirkwood’s ball held on the Saturday of the following week.

Letty’s days were taken up with accompanying her aunt about. Many hours were spent in Hatchards Booksellers in Piccadilly, and Minerva Press on Leadenhall Street, where her aunt searched for a particular book. Aunt Edith’s penchant for gothic fiction surprised her. On the way home, they often stopped for an ice at Gunter’s, another of her aunt’s indulgences.

Toward the end of her second week, two of Letty’s gowns arrived from the modiste. She rushed to open the boxes. Once untied, and the gowns spread out over her bed, her heart sank. The morning gown was acceptable, although quite plain and of a serviceable material, but the ball gown! It was as bad as she had feared.

Aunt Edith came into the room. “Perfect for a modest young lady,” she declared, looking pleased.

Letty stood before the mirror. The modest style wouldn’t be hideous on an older lady, she thought bleakly. The sprigged muslin was undeniably pretty, but the green of the sash not a good color for her, and the frill around the neck made her think of an African lizard she had seen pictures of in a book.

On the night of the ball, Mary, Aunt Edith’s maid, arranged Letty’s hair, and struggled to create the style she wished for. The overall effect was uninspired, for her locks, as straight as a broom handle, resisted the curling tongs, and the green ribbon looked drab against her dark hair which had not a hint of gold.

“How nice you look, Letitia,” her aunt declared, while handing her a velvet box. “You shall wear my pearls.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Letty clasped the strand around her neck, her reluctant fingers fumbling with the catch. As the necklace rested against the high neck of the gown, the pearls tended to look more cluttered than glamorous, but at least the pearl earrings were pretty. She turned her head, enjoying the way they danced against her neck. If only she could take her scissors to the gown and cut a scoop neck and replace the horrid flat green ribbon with white. She was good with a needle, it wouldn’t take more than an afternoon to create pretty puff sleeves. But of course, she couldn’t. She would have to wear it and cringed at the thought.

On Saturday evening, a hand to her nervous stomach, Letty sat stiffly upright as the carriage took them through the streets to St. James’s Square. They stepped down before the imposing Kirkwood mansion, ablaze with what must be a thousand candles. It was all so terribly grand, Lettie caught her breath. Admitted by a footman, they moved through the reception rooms like Aladdin’s cave, crammed with guests decked out in fabulous jewels. Their names were announced in the ballroom by the expressionless butler to the seemingly disinterested guests, few of whom paused to glance at them.

Huge crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling edged in gilt and painted with landscapes and putto. Swathes of gold silk damask dressed the long windows and banks of colorful blooms clustered around marble columns. It didn’t matter to Letty that the long room was noisy, smoky, overly perfumed, and too warm, for the atmosphere was electric.

Aunt Edith introduced Letty to a couple of her friends, one a lady of similar age, and an elderly gentleman. They sat on a sofa placed amongst the potted ferns. Aunt Edith fanned herself and talked to them, while Letty, who could hardly hear for the voices swirling around them, watched the ladies mill about in their finery, and the gentlemen, so impressive in their evening wear and crisp white cravats, gather in groups. The haute ton were all here, and Letty was sure there would be intrigue and scandal on everyone’s lips. A self-confessed snoop, she would have loved to wander among them and eavesdrop.

A quadrille was announced, and couples formed sets as the orchestra struck up. Not one gentleman approached Letty. She seemed to be invisible. Her aunt barely noticed being deep in conversation with the lady beside her. The elderly gentleman rose and limped away. No help in that quarter. Letty was even prepared to dance with him had he asked her.

When the footman appeared with a tray, Letty took a glass of lemonade, which she sipped to ease her dry throat. She trembled with humiliation and nerves when, following the announcement of a country dance, she again failed to attract a single man’s attention. She might have a sign on her head declaring her a wallflower. Seated near her, were two young debutantes in their white muslins. Their wide-eyed gazes met hers briefly and then they quickly looked away. As if whatever kept the gentlemen at bay might be contagious.

Another hour passed while Letty became convinced that the whole ballroom had become aware of her discomfort. Gentlemen bypassed her with barely a glance, seeking the fashionably dressed women in their elegant finery. When the master of ceremonies called a waltz and the dance floor filled again with twirling dancers, Letty could bear it no more. She stood. “I must go to the ladies’ withdrawing room, Aunt.”

Aunt Edith cast her a glance that was faintly sympathetic. “Very well, Letitia. Come straight back.”

Letty threaded her way through the crowd. Those not dancing stood drinking champagne together, either in deep discussion or laughing at some seemingly droll on-dit. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, which made her feel worse. She located the withdrawing room and hovered before the mirror. With the fear that she appeared desperate, Letty fiddled with her hair, but there was little she could do with it. She was tempted to pull the offending ribbon off, but then it would be like being naked, with every lady’s head dressed so lavishly with flowers and pearls and feathers, so she let it be.

As she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips, two women of a similar age to her, entered the withdrawing room, talking together. They appeared like fairies in their fragile gauze and white satin gowns, bordered around the hem with embroidery and silk flowers. Their scoop-necked gowns displayed a tasteful amount of décolletage, and a few inches of skin between the small-capped sleeves and their long white gloves. Letty glanced at them enviously. She smoothed her long sleeves and smiled at the brunette the other girl had called Miss Somersby as she stood beside Letty at the mirror.

“It’s quite a crush, isn’t it?” Letty said.

Miss Somersby leaned closer to the mirror and patted a perfectly ordered curl by her ear. “Yes, the Kirkwood’s always is, of course, being the first ball of the Season.” She turned away and addressed the blonde girl with pink roses in her hair who came to join her. “Did you see Annabelle Freemont? If she had another feather in her headdress, she might fly off.”

“And the jewels Lady Meredith Neave wore!” The blonde girl tittered. “I declare it hurt my eyes to look at her.”

“Some badly dressed people here tonight,” Miss Somersby observed, turning to view the elegant fall of her gown from over her shoulder.

Without another glance at Letty, they left the withdrawing room. Letty followed as they walked away through the crowd, arm in arm.

One look at the daunting crush of beauti

fully dressed, indifferent people, and she couldn’t bear to face them. She turned and hurried away down a deserted corridor.

Entering through the first door she came to, she found herself in a library where a coal fire smoldered in the fireplace, despite the vast room being unoccupied. With a gasp of relief, she scurried across to ease the cold knot in her chest before the flames. The mirror above the marble mantel reflected her anguished face. How long before her aunt wished to leave? How long might she stay here until her absence was noted?

---