The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Twenty

Emilia slid her eyes to the window, quite distracted by the rain, considering there was little other noise in the drawing room that she cared to hear.

Even Mrs. Baddeley, usually full of enough lively chatter to fill any silence, was uncharacteristically quiet this afternoon. Five sneezes in quick succession were the most she had offered to the conversation in the last ten minutes as Mary droned on... and on.

Emilia was rather tempted to say something herself, but had little wish to draw attention her way, what with Mary sitting on the sofa directly across from her place on the window seat.

Emilia had taken the spot immediately, needing the light for her work. Gold-upon-yellow, even one so pale as this, was a challenge even with spectacles on. But Mary wanted her dratted dresses embroidered and, really, it was the sort of work she found more relaxing than not... in other company, at least.

Not that the other girls were a bother. They were quite pleasant. They had started by going about the room and introducing themselves more properly than could be done last night. They now all knew where the others hailed from and what hobbies they particularly enjoyed. Miss Poole, from Lincolnshire, enjoyed reading, poetry especially, and often composed her own, but was not prepared to share any at the moment, though Mrs. Baddeley did beg her for a recitation. Lady Adele and her mother lived with relations in Devon and she explained, with the help of Miss Poole, that she enjoyed spending time in the garden and that rain made her déprimée. Miss Marbury, from Kent, enjoyed music and did start to enthusiastically expound upon that when Mary Hartley interrupted her.

"Really, Cecilia. Not everyone wants to hear about some symphony they've never even heard."

It was then Mary began to list her many interests. Emilia had heard more about opera than she had wished to just this morning, but she'd have gladly listened to another hour on the topic rather than suffer through Mary's exhaustive recalling of her accomplishments. Not that Mary had any that she herself could see...

"I'm always certain I'm just dreadful at everything," she was saying, "but everyone always has such remarks that I must concede that I have some talent." Here, she recited what everyone said about everything she did so spectacularly well — from her mastery of languages to her horseback riding to her flower arranging to dancing and singing and playing the harp. Really, it would be better if she were simply a braggart without the pretense at humility.

"...and of course, there is embroidery," Mary was saying, hopefully finished with the list. Then she drew breath, as if to continue...

"Yes, embroidery!" Mrs. Baddeley exclaimed from her chaise by the fire, thankfully. "You've all been working so diligently. I must see what you've accomplished! I confess, I've made very little progress with my own — monogrammed handkerchiefs for my dear nephew — but my eyes are not what they should be today." She put a hand to her temple.

"Are you unwell, Mrs. Baddeley?" Miss Marbury asked, moving from her place next to Mary to sit nearer to the older woman. "You haven't been your lively self today."

"Darling girl." Mrs. Baddeley patted her knee. "I'm sure it's nothing tea will not correct. I should have rung for it a half-hour ago, silly me. I shall—"

"Oh, please don't get up. Allow me." Cecilia rushed to the door.

"Yes, Cecilia's always eager for tea... and cakes." Mary giggled.

"I think her very helpful," Emilia couldn't help saying. "And I'm sure Mrs. Baddeley would say the same." Really, having witnessed the friendship between the two more closely now, Emilia was quite certain it should not exist.