A Sense of Propriety

Chapter 4

"Martha. Martha!" Cordelia hissed quietly as she rushed down the hallway to her bedroom, desperately searching for her old nurse.

"Yes, Miss Cordelia?"

She turned quickly to see the old woman step out of one of the guest rooms, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Quick, I need your help getting dressed."

The woman nodded and followed after her, taking note of the frazzled state of her expression and knowing that there was only one possible reason that could illicit such a reaction. However, she did not voice her observation as they entered the young lady's bedroom.

Cordelia's thoughts were a chaotic muddle as she watched her nurse move to her wardrobe to decide on an appropriate outfit, and she inhaled shakily as she sat down to wait.

For one week she has been in London. For one whole week, she had constantly been looking over her shoulder, waiting for the moment she would have to face the Marquis. But with no word or rumour circulating he was to return, she had fallen into a false sense of relaxation. Only to discover, to her horror, that the next time she would meet him would be in her drawing room. The unexpected sight of him shook her so that she felt cornered and petrified.

"You must calm down, Miss Cordelia," Martha's raspy voice stated soothingly as she approached her with a gown made of silk. "Do not let his appearance unsettle you so."

Cordelia sighed heavily as she stood. "I know, Martha. It is just . . . He—They . . ."

"I know, Miss. I know." Her wise, gentle expression offered her a small comfort as she was assisted from her dress. She stood quietly as the new one was adjusted to fit her petite frame and a matching pair of gloves were adorned.

"There we are. You look beautiful in this dress, and you have nothing to feel ashamed of." Her withered hands offered her shoulders an encouraging squeeze as they looked at Cordelia's reflection in the mirror.

Martha was right. The soft grey fabric accentuated the fairness of her skin and hair and made the blue of her eyes more vibrant. Her tender features and intricately designed ensemble made her look every bit the niece of the wealthy Dowager Countess of Mayfield and nothing like the country girl she had once been.

She exhaled heavily as her shoulders sagged. "It is not my appearance that I am ashamed of."

The old woman offered her a tight smile, remembering that day all too well. "You were a child, Miss Cordelia," she said softly, attempting to encourage her.

"But I should have known better."

A morbid silence ensued between them, and Martha busied herself with the final touches of her appearance before taking her leave. For a few breaths, Cordelia remained in her room, taking the time to compose herself and steel her resolve to face their company downstairs. When she felt she had readied herself enough for the upcoming confrontation, she straightened her shoulders in an attempt of bravery and returned to the drawing room

As expected, the Marquis rose to his feet when she entered the room once more. But she kept her gaze focused on her aunt as she made her way towards them. Trying her best to keep her expression as aloof as possible, she took a seat beside her, vaguely aware of the Marquis resuming his seat once she had done so.

She accepted the tea offered to her by the butler and focused her attention on the cup. The silence in the room was deafening, and it took a considerable amount of concentration for Cordelia to keep her grasp firm yet gentle on the teacup so that it would not begin shaking from the increasingly poor state of her nerves.

"So . . ." the Dowager began at length. "I am assuming that Miss Sutton is now in your care permanently, Lady Mayfield?"

"That is correct," her aunt responded her gaze intent on the lady before her.