Kate.
"No, we have only begun, my dear. A lady must have a different gown for every major ball."
"How silly!" said Kate.
"Well, that is an exaggeration, perhaps. But if you wear the same gown, you must do something different. A different shawl, new ribbons, perhaps another flounce."
"Mama, I know you and Papa ..."
"Sh, Kate. We have been through it all before. If you had chosen one of the young gentlemen at home, that would have been fine. You know I would have loved having you close by. But none of them would do, as anyone with two thoughts to rub together could see. I mean, can you imagine, in your wildest dreams, being Mrs. Peter Abernathy?"
The three of them giggled, as they always did when Mrs. O'Connor said this. Peter Abernathy was a handsome young man, but he could barely count to ten.
"To give the boy credit, madam," said the maid, with the easy familiarity of an old family retainer, "he was smart enough to recognize what a gem our girl is."
"Quite right, Dolly. I should not malign the boy so," said Mrs. O'Connor.
Kate smiled as her mother and the maid laughed again. It was so good to hear her mother's laughter—it
was pure and bright, like the water in a crystal clear brook. She studied her mother's face, watching for signs of fatigue. Her mother turned to gaze at her, giving her a reassuring wink.
"Here we are, Mrs. River's shop. When we have finished with our fitting, dear, let's go to Gunter's for an ice."
"That would be wonderful," said Kate, hopping down and reaching back to help the maid descend. Together, they steadied her mother as she climbed down.
Two hours later, they had no thoughts of ices from Gunter's. There was that familiar tightness around her mother's eyes and mouth, and Kate insisted that she was too exhausted to go another step. The coachman turned the carriage toward their small house just off Berkley Square.
It was a modest residence, rented for the autumn Season. It suited their needs, having just enough room for the family and their few servants. Kate and Dolly helped Mrs. O'Connor to her room and saw her settled in the big bed. Her cheeks were the color of the white sheets, and Dolly declared that she would fetch a restorative.
"No, Dolly. That is not necessary. I only need to rest. I will be fine by dinner. Wake me when it is time to dress again."
"Very good, madam," said the maid, putting a finger to her lips as she led the way out of the room.
In the corridor, Kate motioned for the maid to follow her, and they went into her bedroom.
"She looks so very tired," said Kate, pitching her bonnet on the bed and peeling off her gloves. Dolly picked up the discarded items, checked them for loose ribbons or buttons, and then put them away.
"She'll be fine, miss. Your mother will come about.
Just you wait and see. And when you start going to all those balls, she'll be right there with you." The maid returned to her young mistress's side and patted her head.
Kate managed a slight smile and said, "Sit down, Dolly, and tell me again about Mama's Season."
"Oh, miss, I've got a thousand things to do .. . oh, very well. Your mother was the prettiest belle of the Season, she was. She was tall and slender, like a reed. All the men were writing poems to her and making up the most dreadful songs."
"Did she receive flowers every day?"
"At least four or five bouquets every single day. And then there was that one day when among the bouquets there was a single daisy tied with a bright blue ribbon."
"From Papa," said Kate, who knew the story as well as the maid, but never tired of hearing about her mother and father's fairy-tale romance.
"Yes, and when your papa saw her wearing that ribbon that night, he knew she had chosen him. He was grinning from ear to ear, and your grandmama—rest her soul—she was fit to be tied. She tried to reason with your mama, but she would hear not a word against your papa. Your grandmama vowed she would not receive a penny of her dowry, but they refused
"No, we have only begun, my dear. A lady must have a different gown for every major ball."
"How silly!" said Kate.
"Well, that is an exaggeration, perhaps. But if you wear the same gown, you must do something different. A different shawl, new ribbons, perhaps another flounce."
"Mama, I know you and Papa ..."
"Sh, Kate. We have been through it all before. If you had chosen one of the young gentlemen at home, that would have been fine. You know I would have loved having you close by. But none of them would do, as anyone with two thoughts to rub together could see. I mean, can you imagine, in your wildest dreams, being Mrs. Peter Abernathy?"
The three of them giggled, as they always did when Mrs. O'Connor said this. Peter Abernathy was a handsome young man, but he could barely count to ten.
"To give the boy credit, madam," said the maid, with the easy familiarity of an old family retainer, "he was smart enough to recognize what a gem our girl is."
"Quite right, Dolly. I should not malign the boy so," said Mrs. O'Connor.
Kate smiled as her mother and the maid laughed again. It was so good to hear her mother's laughter—it
was pure and bright, like the water in a crystal clear brook. She studied her mother's face, watching for signs of fatigue. Her mother turned to gaze at her, giving her a reassuring wink.
"Here we are, Mrs. River's shop. When we have finished with our fitting, dear, let's go to Gunter's for an ice."
"That would be wonderful," said Kate, hopping down and reaching back to help the maid descend. Together, they steadied her mother as she climbed down.
Two hours later, they had no thoughts of ices from Gunter's. There was that familiar tightness around her mother's eyes and mouth, and Kate insisted that she was too exhausted to go another step. The coachman turned the carriage toward their small house just off Berkley Square.
It was a modest residence, rented for the autumn Season. It suited their needs, having just enough room for the family and their few servants. Kate and Dolly helped Mrs. O'Connor to her room and saw her settled in the big bed. Her cheeks were the color of the white sheets, and Dolly declared that she would fetch a restorative.
"No, Dolly. That is not necessary. I only need to rest. I will be fine by dinner. Wake me when it is time to dress again."
"Very good, madam," said the maid, putting a finger to her lips as she led the way out of the room.
In the corridor, Kate motioned for the maid to follow her, and they went into her bedroom.
"She looks so very tired," said Kate, pitching her bonnet on the bed and peeling off her gloves. Dolly picked up the discarded items, checked them for loose ribbons or buttons, and then put them away.
"She'll be fine, miss. Your mother will come about.
Just you wait and see. And when you start going to all those balls, she'll be right there with you." The maid returned to her young mistress's side and patted her head.
Kate managed a slight smile and said, "Sit down, Dolly, and tell me again about Mama's Season."
"Oh, miss, I've got a thousand things to do .. . oh, very well. Your mother was the prettiest belle of the Season, she was. She was tall and slender, like a reed. All the men were writing poems to her and making up the most dreadful songs."
"Did she receive flowers every day?"
"At least four or five bouquets every single day. And then there was that one day when among the bouquets there was a single daisy tied with a bright blue ribbon."
"From Papa," said Kate, who knew the story as well as the maid, but never tired of hearing about her mother and father's fairy-tale romance.
"Yes, and when your papa saw her wearing that ribbon that night, he knew she had chosen him. He was grinning from ear to ear, and your grandmama—rest her soul—she was fit to be tied. She tried to reason with your mama, but she would hear not a word against your papa. Your grandmama vowed she would not receive a penny of her dowry, but they refused
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