The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Fifteen

"...and who is the arbiter of what is or is not passe?" Miss Marbury demanded.

"Who, indeed!" Emilia answered forcefully. 

Throughout Miss Marbury's speech, despite her eyes glazing over, she felt she was getting quite good at where to toss in a demure "Very true" or a more impassioned "Precisely!" She'd often indulged Miss Prudence just so on long rides, when Prudence had a mind to be passionate about something, and Emilia had no way to escape it. It was best to let her get it out so Prudence could bury herself back in her book and leave her in peace.

"Fashion might dictate popularity for the moment, and I shall always treasure innovation," Miss Marbury said, "but that is no reason to toss away classic works. They should be given due respect. They are not old. They are immortal!"

Emilia was not quite sure if applause was in order, but she was tempted to clap her hands, if only because it seemed the speech was over. She quite liked the girl, but since she wouldn't know a sonata from a symphony, this speech was wasted on her. It might even be wasted on Miss Prudence. "Yes. Very well said. We must always respect the classics." That was a response Miss Crewe herself might agree with, what with her endless ramblings on the blasted Greeks.

"How lovely to meet a kindred soul!" Miss Marbury said, smiling widely and leaning over the table. "It is quite rare. I very often have no one to attend the opera or the symphony with me. I must always beg an escort or bring my maid."

"Your maid is quite lucky," Emilia said sincerely. In London, Miss Prudence was always going to see this or hear that and, more often than not, the only companion she brought was Carter. She wouldn't mind a trip to a show now and then, if only to see the gowns and hair on display.

"Meg is not so fond of it, the poor dear." The girl giggled. "I've pretended not to see the cotton in her ears. But my family has a box at Covent Garden. And I would be so glad, when next we're both in town, to have you as my guest."

How in God's name was this pleasant girl friends with Mary? Emilia decided to seize on that topic rather than promise Miss Prudence's attendance at the opera — even though it would serve her right for hatching this scheme in the first place. "Does Miss Hartley not attend with you on her visits?" she asked. "How often does she visit? You must be great friends to put up with traveling together. I've seen friendships torn apart over the lack of trunk space. Do you get on very well? Is she spending the remainder of the season with you?" It would help to know Mary's next movements.

Miss Marbury stared at her, silent.

Yes. Bombard the poor girl. That should work.

Emilia forced a laugh. "Forgive my curiosity. I've simply known Miss Hartley for a very long time and... and..." She could not think how to finish that, except ...and I don't know how anyone puts up with her!

"Oh, no. I was simply wondering what to answer first," Miss Marbury said easily. "I've known Mary since I can remember, though we've only met on her visits to London. Our mothers are very old friends and... Well, my mother considers her a good influence on me."

How could Mary be a good influence on anyone except the Devil, himself? Still, that it was a forced friendship made much more sense. And perhaps that meant complaints and possible pertinent details that might aid them.

"Mary never attends the opera with me. She says all the people there are doddering old fools." The girl shrugged. "To be fair, it is an older crowd, but I quite like that. The discussions are always very informed and never so concerned with fashion as with artistry." Miss Marbury laughed and plucked a scone from the generous pile on the table. "Perhaps I am an old woman myself, just a bit early. I'm finding more and more in common with them as the years go by."