Toast of the Season

❀ Chapter 8 ❀

❀ Lizzy ❀

We arrive at the Saville home and I am again catching flies. I had no idea of there being homes this large within London. I knew many of England's elite owned country mansions but this giant beautiful mansion is right in the city. Very near Hyde Park. The Savilles must be extremely well off.

My Aunt Tufton was very excited to get the exclusive invitation to the card party. My uncle was not interested in attending so my aunt is chaperoning Beatrice and I by herself. The two of them discussed on the carriage ride over how positively in love with Bea that Lord Westworth must be. They cited examples. He danced with her twice. He always talks to her first. He helped her into the carriage first. He contrived to conspire with her to find me a suitor. They are convinced it is overwhelming evidence of his affection.

Bea did not mention it to her mother, but she reminded me that Lord Westworth addressed me casually because he was so influenced by her calling me Beth. I like it when he calls me Elizabeth. And I like 'Lizzy' even more since no one else has ever called me that. However, I do not see Lord Westworth's partiality to my cousin at all. I was able to control my facial expressions during my aunt and cousin's silly conversation in the carriage so as not to roll my eyes in a disrespectful manner. I was tempted multiple times, but I successfully resisted.

A smartly dressed butler opens the door for us to enter the large grand foyer. The stone columns, the gilded detail around the ceilings, the impressive marble staircase leading to more grandeur on the floors above. I am in awe of this level of wealth. I glance down to be sure the ground won't give way in front of me like It did at the ball. Thankfully this floor is fully flat.

My borrowed pelisse is taken and I sigh as the dress I wear is revealed. It is a striped atrocity today. I am sorry to say, but it is teal and a dark gold, with hand width stripes down the whole dress. Yes, top to bottom. Stripes. Except for the non-matching gold strip tacked around the hem to cover my ankles. With the ruffles on the neck and sleeves, I think I must look like a circus tent. I am planning to work hard to attract a husband today but this dress might undo all my diligence.

Lord and Lady Saville are greeting guests along with two of their daughters, Anne, who I met at the ball and Gwendolyn who is recently married. Introductions are made. Their son, Lord William Saville is there as well, his face brightens as he greets us. He is so welcoming. "Lady Tufton, Miss Tufton, Miss Cavendish, so lovely to see you! I hope you have come ready to play cards?!"

After a few pleasantries, William insists upon introducing us around. Beatrice and I each take one of his arms as he escorts us into a large drawing room. I try to keep from gaping but the room is so impressively grand. There are about eight tables set up at one end of the room, I presume for the card games. Couches and chairs are in cozy sets at the other end of the room. There is a buffet table covered in food pushed against the wall. Elegantly dressed people are sitting and standing, conversing in groups. William leans toward me, "Miss Cavendish, have you fully recovered from your night of dancing at the ball? I'm positive no one attending could boast dancing more than you."

Lord Saville is easy to talk with and I return his genuine smile, "I am glad to say, my Lord, that I am fully recovered. The punch you brought me before our dance, helped immensely. I'm not sure I properly thanked you for it."

His eyes twinkle, "Ahhhh, well, I cannot claim that as an idea of my making. It was Edmund who insisted I bring you the punch. He was quite concerned that you needed a refreshment."

"Lord Westworth has been most kind and attentive. Although he has been quite elusive about his motives. I do so wish he would tell me why he chose me for the first dance."

The alarmed expression that flashes across William's face tells me he knows the answer to my question. But he recovers and declares, "It is best to never question a gentleman's motives, Miss Cavendish." He turns to Beatrice. "Wouldn't you agree, Miss Tufton?"