then she realised that, fiery and over-excited, they were being superbly handled by the man who was driving, a dark broad-shouldered young man wearing a top hat at a dashing angle on the side of his head and sporting a large red carnation in his buttonhole.
He was good-looking, Cornelia thought, in fact better-looking and more handsome than any man she had ever seen in her life. She had not realised that a man could look so elegant, so exquisitely dressed and yet at the same time seem so utterly at home in a phaeton, driving his tandem with a skill that she instinctively paid homage to.
Cornelia and Lord Bedlington were not the only people staring at the young man whose horses were tossing and plunging about and looked at any moment as if they might upset the fragile vehicle that they were harnessed to.
Passers-by were stopping to watch the age-old battle between horse and man and then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fight was ended, the driver had won.
With a superb bit of horsemanship he drove the horses forward so that they settled again into the correct trot that was expected of them and the phaeton moved swiftly forward and out of sight.
“That was well done!” Cornelia cried a little breathlessly and then, as she glanced at her uncle’s face, she wished that she had not spoken.
There was a frown between his heavy brows and his lips were tight with anger. Cornelia might be inexperienced in many things, but she knew when a man was incensed to the point of explosion and she remembered the oath she had heard him mutter when the phaeton was first sighted. There was something about the driver that had annoyed him, she thought, and as there was tact in her make-up as well as many other qualities, she said quickly,
“Is that the Park ahead? How pretty it is.”
She saw the anger clear from her uncle’s eyes.
“Yes, that is Hyde Park,” he answered. “Our windows overlook it, so you will not feel homesick for the country.”
Cornelia had her own ideas about that, but she answered him politely and a few minutes later they drew up outside a porticoed front door.
The footman sprang from the box and then opened the door. No sooner had the carriage stopped than a butler appeared at the top of the steps leading into the house. There were two liveried and powdered footmen behind him, bowing to her uncle and taking his hat and stick.
“Come to the library, my dear,” Lord Bedlington said. “Your aunt will be down to greet you in a moment or two.”
The room was luxurious and grand beyond anything that Cornelia had imagined a room could be. Heavy velvet curtains were draped across the high windows. There were sofas and chairs of brocade and great gilt mirrors interspersed between bookshelves.
Cornelia wondered if it was correct to express her admiration or to say nothing when Lady Bedlington came into the room.
Cornelia stared at her in astonishment. She had not expected anyone so lovely, so pink and white, so elegantly dressed, so perfectly poised or indeed anyone who looked so young.
“So this is your niece, George. Will you please introduce me?” she heard a sweet rather affected voice ask.
“This is Cornelia, Lily,” Lord Bedlington remarked abruptly.
“How do you do?” Cornelia said quietly as she took her aunt’s hand.
“Well, now I can leave Cornelia with you, Lily,” Lord Bedlington said pompously but with relief as if he was glad to be rid of something exceedingly tiresome.
“Yes, of course, George. You had better go to The Palace, see the Lord Chamberlain and arrange for me to take Cornelia to the next Court. The lists were supposed to be closed months ago, but I am quite sure you can manage to pull strings. If not I can speak to the King myself. I shall see him at Londonderry House on Tuesday night.”
“Better do it officially.”
“Yes, of course, my dear, if it is possible,” Lily agreed.
“Do you mean I am to be presented to the King and Queen?” Cornelia asked in sudden horror. “Must I do that? I would much rather not.”
She had a vision of herself at Court, gauche and inexperienced, doing the wrong thing, being laughed at by hundreds of Courtiers as elegant and as awe-inspiring as her aunt
“But, of course, you must be presented,” Lady Bedlington said emphatically. “It will be a tremendous rush to get you a dress, but I daresay it can be managed. I expect you want lots of new clothes anyway.”
Her eyes flickered over Cornelia’s old-fashioned coat and hat that had been fashionable five years earlier.
“Yes, I am sure I shall want a lot of new clothes. It is not easy to buy things in Ireland, and anyway I never had time to go to Dublin.”
“I don’t think that Dublin fashions would be exactly what you need in London,” Lily said. “You had better order my carriage, George. As soon as Cornelia is rested, we will go to the shops and see what we can find for her.”
Cornelia gave a little sigh.
She hated clothes. There were so many other things she would rather do at this moment than go shopping.
“I expect you would like to wash, Cornelia,” Lady Bedlington said, “and change into something lighter than your travelling clothes.”
She hesitated a moment and then said what was obviously uppermost in her mind,
“Those spectacles, do you have to wear them?”
“Yes,” Cornelia answered firmly, “I injured my eye when out hunting last winter and the oculist said I must keep them on for at least nine months.”
“It is a pity,” Lady Bedlington said, but somehow she did not sound as if she was sorry. “My maid will show you to your room. She is waiting for you in the hall.”
“Thank you – er – Aunt Lily.”
Cornelia walked from the library into the hall where a rather austere-looking woman in a small white apron was waiting.
“Come this way, please, miss,” she began briskly.
In the library Lily sank down on one of the chairs.
“My dear George, what have you produced? Did you ever see such clothes! That coat must have come out of the Ark and, as for the hat, it is a museum piece!”
“Now, Lily, don’t start being difficult,” Lord Bedlington pleaded. “As you know, the poor girl is an orphan and Rosaril is in the depths of the country. What opportunity would she ever have of buying clothes?”
“It is not only her clothes, George. Those spectacles! You heard what she said that she intends to wear them for another three months.”
“Well, you must make what you can of her. There is plenty of money for you to spend at any rate.”
“That is the only possible consolation, but then don’t expect me to perform miracles, I am not a magician.”
“Her
