a man like Lord Garthdale, now that it had been presented to her.
And so, she decided to allow herself these precious moments in time. She knew they would be fleeting, but she would give herself the pleasure of speaking to a man who valued her opinions and to whom she could speak without fear of censure or contempt. Her aunt had said it best. Time did pass quickly. And in the scheme of things, Diana had no doubt that four weeks, like four years, would pass in little more than the blink of an eye!
‘Come, Phoebe, we shall be late!’ Diana called, stopping by the door of her cousin’s room. ‘The carriage is waiting.’
‘I’m coming, Diana. Just a few more minutes! Marie is finishing my hair!’
Diana silently turned and continued on towards the stairs. They were to attend the Townleys’ soirée this evening, and it seemed as though the entire house was at sixes and sevens. Not only because it would mark Phoebe’s unofficial entrance into society, but because it was also Diana’s first foray into society in over four years.
It was understandable that both ladies were suffering considerable nerves.
It hadn’t helped that Mrs Mitchell had forgotten that it was tonight the reception was to be held. Indeed, it was only thanks to her having run into Mrs Townley and Amanda at Layton and Shears that morning that she had discovered her oversight. Then there had been a positive flurry of last-minute preparations as gowns, gloves and other necessities had been pulled out and made ready.
But equally important were Mrs Mitchell’s repeated assurances that Amanda was longing to see her dear friend again.
Diana wished she could say the same. That is, she wished she could say that the prospect of attending a society event at which Amanda would be present was not overshadowed by the thought that so many other people would be there as well. Still, it was a special night for Amanda, and Diana had no intention of missing it.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said, standing at the foot of the stairs. ‘And looking exceptionally lovely, I must say. Madame Claremont knew what she was talking about when she suggested that gown for you. The simplicity of the design makes it appear very elegant, and I knew the shade would look well on you. You are going to attract a great deal of attention this evening, my dear, and not for the reasons you fear.’
Diana smiled, comfortable in the knowledge that she did at least look well for the evening’s festivities. The soft apricot gown with demi-train was one of the many Mrs Mitchell had ordered for her. The style was highly flattering to the slender lines of her figure, and the colour was a perfect compliment to the fairness of her skin. Her aunt’s petite French maid, Marie, had arranged her dark hair in a cluster of curls atop her head, and had set a dainty gold clip in the back. The rest of her jewellery was simple. Her mother’s pearl earrings, and a necklace of gold and pearls that nestled in the shadowy cleft between her breasts.
Phoebe came down not long after, looking radiant in a gown of white satin trimmed with deep rose. Her blonde hair was arranged in a soft tumble of curls to one side of her face, making her appear very young and appealing. Mrs Mitchell, who was herself gowned in deep blue silk, gave her a brief nod of approval, and then led the way out to the waiting carriage.
‘Courage, my dears,’ she said as they settled in for the short ride to the Townleys’ house. ‘Keep your chins up, your smiles bright, and, like the inimitable Sarah Siddons, you shall have all of London falling at your feet!’
Diana smiled and sat back against the cushions. Encouraging words, she reflected, though only time would tell how helpful they would be. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath, whispered a silent prayer, and waited for the proverbial curtain to rise.
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