Page 9 of Seven Swans a Swimming

Arabella sighed and dropped onto the red velvet-covered stool that sat before the large mirror. Lady Cartier had been kindness itself, of course.

“And I’ll send my lady’s maid,” she had said after rescuing Arabella, finding her wandering in a corridor because Nathaniel had not shown her to her suite. “She will be able to get you ready for dinner tonight.”

Which was all very well, thought Arabella, but evidently her ladyship required a great deal of getting ready, for it was a quarter to seven now, and the lady’s maid had not appeared.

She had done the best she could on her own. It was not like the Fitzroys had enough lady’s maids for each of their daughters. Even with Jemima and Caroline married, there were only two for the four remaining sisters, and Arabella had become quite accustomed to sharing with little Sophia.

But still. There was only so much one could do to the back of one’s hair without a second person holding a mirror, Arabella thought ruefully as she attempted to turn her head from one side to the other to see what mess she had made.

Throwing down a pin onto the toilette table, Arabella gave it up as a bad job. Well, it was not as though Nathaniel—Lord Nathaniel—was going to be staring at the back of her head all dinner.

Arabella sat up a little straighter. No, he would be looking at her. Forced to look at her and talk to her. Perhaps then she would be able to charm him a little. Get him to talk, at least. If he attended at all. She was still not certain whether he had been jesting when he had said he would not come to dinner.

She smiled to herself, a little wistfully. It was her bad luck that the man to whom she was engaged was an absolute delight to look at himself.

If only his powers of conversation were equal to his looks.

“Ah yes, the engagement. If it goes ahead. If I like what I see, of course. Dinner at seven, Miss Fitzroy.”

Arabella cleared her throat and looked away from her reflection, turning on the stool to look around her suite. There was only so long one could stare at one’s own face, after all. Especially when it became obvious she was blushing.

Half in an attempt to remove her thoughts from the irritatingly handsome man she had met downstairs, Arabella looked about the suite. Her jaw had dropped the first moment she had arrived, the double doors pushed open to show it off at its best.

Lady Cartier had not been exaggerating when she had called it a suite. The bedchamber itself was large and opened up into a little sitting room that was most pleasant, with a westerly aspect that would be gorgeous in the early winter afternoons.

Everything was luxurious; there was evidently money in the Cartier family. They had even put paper and sealing wax, along with two pens and ink, on the desk that sat in the corner. Mahogany. Nothing but the best.

“So, you can write to your family over Christmas,” Lady Cartier had said with a bright smile. “I certainly would wish to write to my husband and son if I were apart from them at this time of year. See you at dinner!”

And so, she had departed, probably not realizing the pain she had caused in Arabella’s heart.

Her heart twisted again now. She did feel very alone in this large suite all by herself. Her family were near on a hundred miles away, most of them at Chalcroft, the others at Caroline’s side.

She was probably an aunt now, she realized with a lurch. Caroline had undoubtedly had her baby, if everything had gone well, and that would make her an aunt. When would they write and tell her all? Did she have a niece or nephew?

“Oh, miss, I am ever so sorry!”

Arabella turned, startled, to stare at the slightly disheveled lady’s maid who had careered into the door, almost taking it off its hinges by the look of things.

“I completely forget how the mistress asked me a to come to you after I had finished with her, and I was just having my dinner and the housekeeper asked me what you were like, and I realized I clean forgot!” said the lady’s maid in a hurried rush. “Quick, we only have five—who did that to your hair?”

Arabella, realizing whatever she had done to her hair was now visible in the looking glass behind her, flushed. “I tried to—”

“We can fix it,” said the lady’s maid firmly, seeming to get a grip on herself. “Turn around now, there’s a lamb.”

And so, within seven minutes—Arabella could not begrudge the lady’s maid the additional time, she had managed to remove far more pins lodged in her hair than she ever remembered putting in there—she was ready for company.

“There,” said the lady’s maid with a flourish. “I can do no better.”

Which was not precisely a resounding sign of approval, but Arabella had to take it. She had no other choice. The dinner gong had been rung a few minutes ago, and she had absolutely no idea how long it would take her to get down to the dining room.

“Here we go,” she muttered under her breath as she stepped into the corridor and turned right. “Time to face—”

“Left!” came a helpful voice from her suite. “Along, down the steps, left, second right, and straight on, and you’ll see the door ahead!”

Arabella did her best to remember these instructions, but her mind was swirling with so many questions about the strange and unknown Lord Nathaniel that she managed to misremember the instructions. It was only when a kindly footman happened upon her, utterly lost in the library, did she eventually make it to the door of the dining room.

She was hot. She felt rather uncomfortable in the most fashionable of gowns that she had been able to borrow from Caroline. She knew she was late.

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