be. Nothing and nobody was good enough; even her poor husband was bullied into conforming to her ways.
‘Nevertheless, you shall have a new wardrobe. Thank goodness the Season hasn’t started yet and there will be plenty of choice in the shops and dressmakers with little enough to do.’
‘I am sure Papa cannot afford it. He has been lecturing us for years about not being extravagant and it’s got worse since he lost money investing in the Eastern Counties railway.’
‘More fool him for doing it. No doubt he listened to Myles.’
‘It wasn’t Myles’s fault, he advised against it. I believe it was Viscount Gorridge, though his lordship cannot have taken his own advice because he is richer than ever.’
‘Well, whatever it was, you are going to have new clothes. Rowan will pay. He always gives me whatever I ask for.’
‘Aren’t you lucky,’ Esme said, which made her sister look sharply at her, but there was no malice in Esme’s expression.
‘Yes, I am.’ She went to the door to the adjoining room. ‘Miss Bannister, Esme requires your help changing her dress.’ To Esme she said, ‘Hurry up. I’ve lots to tell you. And I want to hear how Mama is.’ And with that she took her leave.
Esme turned to look at the room. It had a large canopied bed, a huge walnut wardrobe, a table and two upright chairs, a little desk with another chair, a chest of drawers and, beside the bed, a bookcase containing several matching books. She went over to the window, which had view of a park, neat gardens and a stretch of water.
‘Did you hear all that?’ she asked Banny, who had joined her.
‘Yes.’
‘She made me feel like a poor relation. I was so pleased when Lucy gave me those clothes; they fit me very well and I do not feel such a schoolgirl in them. I am not a schoolgirl and I do hope that Rosie isn’t going to buy me a lot of silly frilly stuff. I am grateful to her for having me, but I want to be me, not her baby sister.’
Miss Bannister smiled. ‘I think you can stand up to her, my pet, but take my advice, be diplomatic about it. What shall you wear now?’
‘I don’t mind. It’s not important if I am going to be lectured about it.’
Twenty minutes later, washed and dressed in a green-and-yellow striped jaconet with her hair freshly brushed and held back with combs, she went down to the small sitting room to find her sister presiding over the teapot. Myles was standing looking out of the window. He turned to smile at her as she entered and she felt at least here she had an ally.
They drank tea and nibbled little cakes; Myles told Rosemary all the news of Lucy and young Henry and baby Victoria and was regaled in turn with the cleverness of Master John Trent, who had just had his first birthday. Esme sat and appeared to be listening, but her mind was wandering. In spite of her defence of Lucy and her gratitude for the clothes, she was looking forward to having a wardrobe of her own, something bought and made especially for her. Shopping would be a rare treat, but after that…
Mama had told her what her own come-out Season had been like and said all Seasons followed an established pattern. The first and most important event was her presentation to the Queen. Along with a long line of others, she would have to walk sedately into the room without falling over her ten-foot train and on reaching her Majesty make the deepest curtsy, until her knee was almost on the floor, and hold that position while kissing the Queen’s hand and bowing her head. And then she had to get up again without falling over. The trickiest bit was scooping up her train and making her way backwards out of the room.
After that she would be well and truly out and could accept invitations to soirées and routs and balls at which she would meet many new people, including some young men out looking for a wife, who would flatter and cajole. She was not, under any circumstances, to have her head turned by them. Rosie would say who was and who was not suitable and whom she could safely encourage.
She came out of her reverie to hear Rosemary saying, ‘Esme is a hopeless romantic and is unlikely to make a push to find a suitable husband herself, so I will have to take her in hand and point her in the right direction.’
‘Is it like a paper trail, then?’ Esme asked and was gratified to see a smile crease Myles’s face, which he quickly stifled.
‘Don’t be flippant, Esme,’ her sister said. ‘It is a serious business. You have to choose a husband carefully because you have to spend the rest of your life with him.’
‘But the same must be said of him, surely? He has to spend his life with me.’
‘It’s different for a man.’
‘How?’
Rosemary looked discomforted. ‘It just is. A man is looking for a lady to be an asset to his position in life, someone to be a credit to him, someone to manage his household, entertain his friends, be a good mother to his children, look elegant on his arm.’
‘What about being in love?’
Rosemary suddenly found it necessary to fiddle with the tea caddy and it was left to Myles to answer her. ‘He must be in love with his wife and she with him, that goes without saying, otherwise the marriage is doomed to failure.’
‘Well, of course,’ Rosemary said, and rang the bell for the parlour maid to come and remove the tea things. As soon as they had been taken away, she stood up. ‘I always have a half hour with John about this time before he is put to bed. Would you like to come and say hallo to him, Esme? Myles, I am sure you can amuse yourself. There is a newspaper on the side table. There’s little enough news in it, except the plans for the Exhibition. “The Great Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations.” What a title!’
The proposed exhibition was the brain child of Henry Cole, a man of many talents, who had been involved in smaller exhibitions all over the country. He had approached Prince Albert with the idea of combining the art and manufacture of the whole world in one enormous exhibition and his Highness had embraced it enthusiastically and become its principal patron. It was why Myles had come to town, invited to a banquet by his Royal Highness and the Lord Mayor of London aimed at furthering the project among influential people in the provinces.
Esme followed her sister from the room. She wanted to be married, like her sisters, but she was not going to let herself be pushed by Rosemary into marriage with someone she did not love. Myles had said it was important and so had Lucy. Lucy had managed to win Papa round to let her marry Myles who was not at first considered a suitable husband for the daughter of an earl, being a man who liked to work and was not afraid to dirty his hands, though he was rich enough not to have to. Since then he had been a rock for all the family, the man they all turned to for help and advice—all except Rosemary, of course. She had never changed her original opinion of him; he was a labourer, one of the operative classes and far beneath her. Esme would be happy if she could find another Myles, but she did not suppose there could be two such as he.
Having admired her nephew, watched him being petted by his mother until he dribbled all down her gown and was hastily handed back to his nurse, Esme returned to her room to rest before dressing for dinner. At the sound of the first gong, signalling that dinner would be in a half hour, Miss Bannister helped her into one of the gowns Lucy had given her. It was a cerise silk that had suited Lucy, who was darker than she
