Chapter 8

"Mama? Are you really sure that red is an appropriate colour for the theater?" Bernadette protested as her mother swept into her bedchamber, shepherding Judy who carried the red gown.

"Of course, my dear! It's something showy. And you don't want to blend in. There'll be so many people at the theater, you'll need a bright gown to stand out."

Bernadette felt her stomach twist with nerves. The dress was scarlet silk, the neck low and square-cut. It was doubtless fashionable, but she'd feel like she was on display constantly, unable to blend in at all and drawing everyone's critical eyes to herself. She felt her hand clench into a fist, steeling herself.

"Well, then!" Mama beamed. "Judy is here to help you to dress. It's almost six o' clock...the viscount will be here soon."

"Mama..." Bernadette gazed at her fearfully. Ever since the earl mentioned the notion of attending the theater, she'd felt frightened. The whole day had passed in a sort of terrified blur, her mind returning each chance it got to the frightening prospect.

I don't even know him.

She took a deep breath. That wasn't exactly true—they had exchanged words twice now. Once at the ball, and once at dinner. She blushed, recalling the way she had caught him staring at her as she played the sonata.

Maybe he just likes music. Or maybe he was listening and silently judging it, she thought a little sadly. That look was impossible to interpret.

"I must go to my chamber," Mama excused herself as Judy came in. "I will greet Lord Blackburne in the entranceway later."

"Yes, Mama," Bernadette said softly. She turned to the doorway where Judy stood waiting.

Judy helped her to button the elaborate scarlet evening dress, and Bernadette stared at herself disbelievingly in the mirror. The dress fairly screamed its presence, and she felt as though she was invisible inside.

"Milady? Can I help you with your hairband?"

"Please do," Bernadette said a little sadly. Her hair was to be styled elaborately, curled at the front as it had been for dinner yesterday, the back rolled into a chignon. A band of red silk was meant to go around her head, holding the chignon in place in front. It was a lovely outfit—it just was not her taste.

As Bernadette stood from the seat to let Judy help her into the new dress, a frantic knocking sounded at the door.

"Daughter! Quick! Quick!"

"Mama?" Bernadette called, astonished. "Whatever is it?"

"Let me in. It's her! In the drawing room. Quickly, now."

"What is it?" Bernadette asked, frightened, as Judy opened the door and her mother hurried inside, her blonde hair a little wild where it had escaped its modest bun.

"It's...it's Lady Lockwood." Mama sounded tense. "She's in the drawing-room."

"Lady Lockwood?" Bernadette's frown deepened and it took her a moment to realize that it was Lord Blackburne's grandmother. "What must I do?" Bernadette asked, a little confused.

"Go down, of course!" Mama said at once, her eyes wide, clearly agitated. "She needs to see you at once. Or so she said."

"What? Me?" Bernadette blinked, her shocked mind working too slowly.

"Yes! Of course! You're the one who's going to wed her grandson. I don't think she came here to tell me that it was raining across town."

Bernadette inclined her head. Her mother's harsh tone was, she knew, coming from sheer fear. She'd never seen her so disconcerted. She glanced at Judy, who shrugged.

"I'll complete your hairstyle when you come upstairs, milady."

"Thank you," Bernadette said softly, looking to Judy for assurance. Judy smiled at her, dark eyes confused and caring, and Bernadette tried to smile back, but her heart was pounding, and she couldn't think of anything as Mama practically dragged her into the hallway.

"Oh! What a to-do!" Mama whispered. "Hurry. Hurry. No. Go slowly...we must comport ourselves like a baroness and her daughter." She drew in a breath, slowing her step.

Bernadette tried to slow down too, but her heart raced, and she wished she could calm down. She followed her mother down the hallway.

"Lady Lockwood!" Mama greeted the woman as they walked into the drawing room. Her voice was higher pitched than usual, her tension clearly obvious. Bernadette dropped a swift curtsey, then looked up.

The woman who stood before them was tall; or she gave the impression of tallness with her excellent posture and her hair in an elegant white up-do. Her oval face was lined but still beautiful, her smile impeccable, her eyes assessing and shrewd.

"Lady Rothendale. Miss Rowland," Lady Lockwood greeted them. Bernadette studied her swiftly, her heart thudding fearfully.

I don't like her.

The feeling was instant, a sense of repulsion, of fear that she couldn't quite explain. She chided herself inwardly as the countess smiled.

"I'm so pleased to be able to meet you at last. Rowell told me a lot about you." She was looking at Bernadette, and Bernadette swallowed hard.

"I'm pleased to meet you, my lady," she stammered. She glanced sideways. Mama was smiling at the woman, her own eyes as fearful as Bernadette's were. For a moment, humor and compassion filled Bernadette's heart in equal doses.

She's just as frightened as I am .

She looked at Lady Lockwood neutrally, not letting her expression show her thoughts.

"Why, Lady Rothendale!" Lady Lockwood declared. "You didn't tell me your daughter was shy. No need to be shy, my dear. I'm to be your companion as well as Nicholas'."

"Thank you," Bernadette stammered, not sure what response to make. Beside her, Mama laughed nervously.

"Of course, my lady. Of course," She glanced sideways at Bernadette, then at the bell-rope as if she too didn't know what to do or what to say. Bernadette cleared her throat.

"I trust your ladyship had a pleasant coach-ride across town?" It was the only thing she could think of.

"Shall I call for tea?" Mama asked nervously when her ladyship barely even acknowledged that Bernadette was speaking.

"Thank you, but no." Her voice was firm. "I came merely to drop by and meet Miss Rowland. And to inform you both that I will be organizing the betrothal ball in a fortnight's time."

"Ball?" Bernadette exclaimed, voice high-pitched and tense. She glanced at Mama, heart thudding.

"We didn't know you'd be hosting a ball, my lady," Mama admitted, unsettled.

"That is why I came to inform you," Lady Lockwood said haughtily. "And I trust I will be allowed to organise other things...such as the gown, perhaps? For both occasions?"

"Mama..." Bernadette whispered, glancing sideways at her mother. Would she not even be allowed to choose her dress? Mama smiled.

"Of course, Lady Lockwood! May I say how kind that is? A lovely gesture. Very welcoming of Bernadette into your household." She beamed at Bernadette, who glanced at her toes.

Maybe Lady Lockwood thinks we'll disgrace her.

She swallowed hard. Mama's choice of loud, bold gowns might have been noted, and perhaps was part of the reason why Lady Lockwood chose to intervene. She looked at her mother questioningly, and her mother beamed at Lady Lockwood nervously.

"We're very glad, Lady Lockwood," she repeated.

"I should allow you to have time to ready yourself," Lady Lockwood said to Bernadette. "I believe my grandson is escorting you to the theater this evening?" She smiled at Bernadette. Bernadette shivered. She'd seen insincere smiles before, but this one struck her as worse, the friendly smile singularly different to the expression in the woman's hard eyes.

"Yes, my lady," she replied softly.

"Well, then! I should be off. My grandson moves in very fashionable circles," she added as she turned in the doorway. "Even I have a hard time keeping up with the taste of his group." She smiled as she said it, but Bernadette looked down.

"Good evening, then, Lady Lockwood," Mama breathed. "I'll fetch Mr. Hadley to see you to the stairs."

"Thank you, Lady Rothendale. That would be most kind."

Bernadette watched as Mama made herself walk slowly to the bell-rope, though Bernadette could feel the need to run. She wanted to run away, too—hide in her bedroom and not come out again, especially not to the Haymarket event.

The butler arrived, and Bernadette and her mother both curtseyed to Lady Lockwood as she glided to the door.

"Good evening, Lady Lockwood," Mama murmured. "Thank you for dropping by."

"Good evening, Lady Lockwood," Bernadette added quietly. "I wish you a pleasant ride home."

"Thank you. And I wish you a pleasant night at the theater play this evening." Lady Lockwood smiled the same tight, insincere smile of earlier, and dropped a brisk curtsey.

Bernadette did likewise, her mother doing so at almost the same instant.

Lady Lockwood glided out into the hallway and Mr. Hadley walked with her down to the entranceway. Bernadette breathed deeply and glanced sideways at Mama.

Mama grimaced. "Well. That was a satisfactory visit." She tried to sound pleased.

Bernadette swallowed hard. She inclined her head politely.

"Excuse me, Mama. I need to go and prepare for the outing tonight."

"What? Oh. Yes. Of course, daughter. Do as you see fit." She sounded distracted, likely still in shock from the unexpected and not wholly polite visit.

Bernadette nodded. "I will. Thank you, Mama."

Privately, she had decided to wear something less showy already. The pink gown perhaps. That was bright enough for Mama's liking, but not so showy that it might draw criticism.

She thought about that for a moment, examining that choice. It wasn't because Lady Lockwood might disapprove, she realized slowly. It was because the red gown was not her choice. If the Ton were going to disapprove of her, it might as well be for something she'd chosen herself. Being ridiculed for being herself was worth it.

She walked down the hallway swiftly, her heart thudding as she headed to her chamber to get ready.