The ball swooped upon Idleworth with a spectacular flourish and renewed anticipation. Mrs. Lambert, donning a bewitching golden gown and a luxurious head of spiralling twists, accompanied her equally debonair husband with his navy tailored waistcoat and golden cravat tied in an elegant knot to get their esteemed guests. Arm in arm, the couple hosted the affair with a respectable, yet impressive air. They welcomed the portly and beaming Mr. and Mrs. Abbott with gracious hospitality, after which the couple expressed their gratefulness for their earlier generosity and introduced all twelve of their children in order of birth, an entertaining process to Mr. Lambert.
Mrs. Lambert, being in the lightest of moods since a week remained before Wade determined his bride, whispered to her husband throughout the evening, "We're this close!" with hushed glee.
Lori was beside herself with joy, as she had floored her tutor with her piano lessons and, having brought her mother to tears through his praise, wore the latest fashion in Curds (without the least bit of scratchy lace!). She flaunted her fairy floss pink gown again after Lisabeth, whom the doctor agreed could watch the party from the bannister, added the last pin and white posy to her hair.
"You'll be the finest belle at the ball tonight, Lori," said the elder Miss Brightley, who watched from her place near the window.
Her sister laughed.
"Yes, and you're fortunate I can't come down. I'd have outshined you, without a doubt."
Lori raised a defiant chin.
"That is unlikely, Lizzy. I'm wearing the latest fashions, in case you've forgotten. Daddy says not a single girl in London has seen anything like it."
Lori twirled once more, enjoying the soft, swirling shades of pink that danced from her waist to her petite satin shoes.
"I'm almost as pretty as Mama! I'll be an angel for her tonight if I can help it."
The elder Miss Brightley smothered a laugh as Lori bounced on her heels. "But first, I simply must see what Ruth's put out for the banquet!"
"Bring me some tarts if you find them! Anne said Ruth had some cooling earlier!" Lisabeth called after the river of pink disappearing around the door.
"How I wish I could go out there and dance with you," she said as Miss Brightley helped her to her chair.
"If you weren't so impatient and reckless, you could've very well had the night of your life. You've always enjoyed social gatherings."
Lisabeth sighed, fluffing her bouncy curls.
"And here I thought you were no longer vexed by me." She gazed at her wrapped foot with a wistful look. "Do you think I'll still be a fine dancer once it's better? I so love to dance, and the possibility of never doing it again is almost as painful as my broken limbs."
Miss Brightley, her shimmering pearly gown rustling as she moved, began sewing pearls into Lizzy's hair.
"Doctor Garin says once it's fully healed and after some regular exercises, you'll be fine. I trust his opinion."
"Hmm... Do you reckon he'll be here this evening? Mrs. Lambert says he's rather unpredictable with anything other than his patients."
Her sister's grey eyes peered at the selection of brooches and decorative hair pieces on the dressing table before discarding a gothic, yet grandmotherish-looking one.
"One cannot be certain, I suppose. Which of these two do you prefer?"
"The cream and lilac one is quite flattering," replied Lizzy, with little attention. "I wonder if he dances, the doctor. It's hard to place him from a societal standpoint. He's certainly well-bred, mannered, and spoken... It's surprising he's still unwedded. I hear the Abbotts' two eldest girls are pining for him—Ouch! Careful, Idrie!
"My apologies, Lizzy, my mind was... wandering. The Abbots you say?"
"Well, yes," she said, caressing the stinging part of her head. "They came to call the day you took Lori to the haberdashery, and the doctor visited to deliver some dusty books to Mr. Lambert—you'd have been interested in those tomes. Anyway, the girls couldn't stop blushing and ate him with their eyes like a pair of innocent-looking predators."
She paused, angling her face in the glass, and admired her complexion, which was further flattered by her gleaming curls.
"I got further details from the younger Abbott girl, Georgina—a chatty but pretty child. It appears Doctor Garin is a regular visitor at the Abbots. He treats their old uncle and often plays bridge there."
Miss Brightley wondered if this explained the doctor's infrequent visits to Idleworth.
"I hear the family is quite fond of him. And really, when you think of it, there's a lot of promise if one should marry him. They aren't very well off and Garin's handsomely situated, I hear—"
"I think we ought to try another pin. How about this one? It compliments your eyes beautifully."
"Yes, the intricate blue one will do nicely. You will dance tonight, won't you?"
Miss Brightley caught her gaze in the mirror.
"I was never much of a dancer, Lizzy."
"Oh, please, Idrie, I cannot dance, so you must promise to do it in my place. There'll be plenty of eligible bachelors to sweep you off your feet; lords, dukes, and viscounts..."
"Lizzy—"
"And one hears the best gossip during a dance, you know."
'Lizzy–"
"Drat! I might as well be out with it. You cannot dance with Mr. Lambert. There! It's done!"
Miss Brightley stared at her sister in the glass, a slow, suspicious look in her cloud-speckled gaze.
"Why not?"
"Well, because I made him promise he'd give Alice Flynn the first dance, and you must see that he does."
"But I—"
"No buts, Idrie. I've already spoken to him about it."
"And he's agreed to such an arrangement?"
"Quite willingly, in fact."
"I see."
Lisabeth bit her lip and twiddled her thumbs, avoiding her sister's intrusive stare.
"Are... are you quite upset?"
Idrielle's placid tone surprised her as she, satisfied with Lisabeth's appearance at last, guided the chair through the door and down the wide hall.
"Of course not. I'm only saddened that you cannot enjoy this evening as much as you ought."
Lisabeth pondered this for a moment.
"Don't mind me, Idrie. I will thoroughly enjoy myself from here. For once, you can't hide in the shadows while I do all the chatting and charming."
And she gave Idrielle a mischievous grin, which was returned with a playful swat on the arm.
____________________________________________
I've never been to a more thrilling event! The candles, the finery, the gowns and tempting edibles are devastatingly beautiful!
But I must focus on the task at hand. Intelligence has it that I'll learn something interesting this evening.
Oops! There goes Lori Lambert. Heaven forbid that chatty little brat notices me behind these columns!
I must smile and remain alert despite the inking to find out from Mrs. Lambert who her dressmaker might be.
I'm thinking Mrs. Donivoise on Peltham Street in London...
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Bride of Choice
Historical Fiction[Cover Design by Angel S.] Wade Lambert was known throughout the enchanting countryside of Harwickshire by friends and relatives alike to be the perfect epitome of trouble. And his handsome features and air of sophistication did not help matters as...
