"Our grooms would not say that. They would 'draw his cork and darken his daylights,' " she explained. "I shall miss them, for in the usual way I spend most of my time at the stable. I wanted to bring my mounts with me, but Aunt Hettie said you would know where I can buy one."
"Tattersall's would be the place," Laura advised. Olivia's ignorance of city life was so thorough that Laura, with her few scraps of knowledge, continued to pass as an expert.
"You will take me," Olivia said.
"I am afraid ladies do not go there, Livvie. We must ask one of our gentlemen friends to perform that office for us."
"I am so glad I have you to advise me, for I am a regular greenhead. I don't know what I should do if you had not come."
Laura just smiled uncomfortably. All this was very gratifying, but, in fact, she had no gentlemen friends in London to perform such errands as this, and once they arrived, Olivia would soon realize it. "You can always hire a mount," she said. "That is what I shall do."
"Yes," Olivia said reluctantly, "but the best mounts are not usually for hire, are they?"
"Riding in London hardly requires the best mounts. In Rotten Row, the pace is not so fast as you are used to. It is more of a social outing, meeting friends…"
Olivia nodded understandingly. "We shall escape to the country for a good bruising ride from time to time. Some of your gentlemen friends will accompany us. You know, there is just one thing that confuses me, cousin."
Laura looked to hear what this might be.
"I wonder that you did not accept an offer during your first Season, or during the few years since then." Laura colored up, but Olivia soon found her own reason. "I expect you are very choosy. I cannot be so particular. I have only this one Season to find a husband. Auntie thinks that with my dowry and your connections, I might find someone."
Laura could not imagine where this illusion of her vast experience and connections came from. Perhaps to Olivia and her aunt, sequestered in Cornwall, any lady who had had a Season was seen as experienced. The occasional letters she wrote to Cornwall mentioned the highlights of a whole year-a few balls and assemblies and an occasional trip here or there. From this they had made her into their mentor, when she was not much better equipped than they to guide Olivia through the shoals and narrows of a London Season. But she would do her best, for it was now patently clear that Olivia and Hettie Traemore had no more notion of society than they had of building a cathedral.
The day for their departure finally came. Mrs. Harwood's carriage was used to carry their trunks. Laura hoped she could talk the ladies into it, and let the berlin carry the luggage, but she had no success. Hettie's back required the carriage that held the road, and held up traffic for miles.
By the time they reached London, the carriage was widely known by sight, for half of the ton had spent time behind it. In fact, it had become such a byword that it had been given a title: its green dome and slow pace earned it the nickname 'the Turtle.' But its heavy bulk and leather springs did provide an exceedingly comfortable ride. Its interior was so spacious that a folding table could be arranged between the banquettes to hold needle work or a book. As Mrs. Harwood pointed out, when she could find a moment's privacy with her daughter, "It's like sitting at home on the sofa. You'd hardly know you were moving."
"We hardly were moving," Laura said, laughing. "I looked out the window at the crest of a hill, and counted nineteen carriages behind us, trying to pass. The grooms were shaking their fists and hollering."
"Were they hollering? The berlin is so well insulated that I didn't hear them.”
The trip of seventy-five miles from Oakdene to London took two days of hard driving. At twilight of the second day, the coach lumbered up to the door of a handsome brick mansion on Charles Street.
"Do you think it will do?" Hettie asked, with a worried glance to Laura, the expert. "It has a ballroom, and the dining room seats twenty. We hired the servants with the house, just bringing our own groom. And, of course, my dresser and Livvie's woman went on ahead of us to make things ready."
"It will do admirably," Laura decreed. Much better than the little house from which I made my bows five years ago, she added to herself.
All was elegance inside. An impressive butler, Collins, greeted them at the door and led them into a marble-floored entrance. Statues in niches peered down on them from the walls. The first glimpse showed a staircase flowing gracefully upward at their left. They went into the largest saloon, an impressive chamber created by Adam, with embossed ceilings and two of his famous fireplaces. The predominant color, set by curtains and sofas, was a pale strawlike gold. Some green in the carpet and odd chairs gave the feeling of a meadow in spring.
"It was hired furnished, of course," Hettie said. "Lord Montford is not coming to London this year. The estate agent said he needed the money, poor soul. He must be in deep trouble to let out his house to strangers for a thousand pounds."
"That is pretty steep for six weeks!" Mrs. Harwood exclaimed.
"I feel badly taking advantage of him. But then we are taking the hire of his servants off his hands, so in all he will be getting two thousand. I hope it helps to settle his cash problem. Now before we take another step, ladies, what do you say to a nice cup of tea?"
Hettie hobbled on her thorn stick to the most uncomfortable-looking chair in the room and eased herself into it with a grunt. She needed a firm chair for her back. Olivia found the bell cord and pulled it, and in minutes, servants appeared bearing silver trays laden with tea and dainties.
The evening was spent settling into their new home and perusing the journals for entertainments.
"How will anyone know we are here?" Hettie asked.
"We must put a notice in the journals," Laura said.
Hettie just shook her head at such cleverness and repeated once again that she didn't know what they should do without her.
Chapter Three
Even Olivia and Hettie were not so green as to think anything took precedence over a trip to the shops the next morning. They had to see what wares were for sale and, of course, check out the toilettes of the other ladies. Laura went to Olivia's room to prevent her from donning her green uniform with the brass buttons and epaulettes. She found Olivia and her dresser, Fanny, a country woman in her mid-twenties, just sorting through the gowns in the clothespress.
Fanny had the appearance of a kitchen servant, not only in her cap and apron, but in that she had herself not a trace of elegance. Ladies' dressers were usually as stylish as their mistresses' castoff garments could make them.
"What should I wear, cousin?" Olivia asked, and stood waiting to be told.
This was Laura's first chance to see the girl's entire wardrobe, and it was a depressing sight. Much money had been spent on buying expensive material, then having it fashioned into gowns suitable for an ambitious merchant's wife in Cornwall. The fault was largely one of excess, however, and a good modiste could no doubt tame the outfits down to acceptability. Laura selected the plainest gown in the closet and a blue pelisse.
"Lord a'mighty!" Fanny exclaimed. "You never mean you're going to wear those old rags, with a dozen new gowns hanging in the closet? You'll be a laughing stock, Miss Livvie."
"Miss Harwood knows what should be worn," Olivia said doubtfully, and handed Fanny the gown. Fanny's grumble was not entirely audible, but its gist seemed to be that Miss Harwood didn't want any competition.
When Fanny had left, Laura said, "Do you always let your servants speak so freely, Olivia?"
"I pay no heed to Fanny. She is an old grouch, but she has been with me from the cradle, you know, and I cannot be savage with her. She loves me like a sister."