Intolerable Civility

Chapter Six: Crocodile Smile

There were certain things that well-bred ladies simply did not talk about. Cate was therefore protected from any open discussion about what had happened in Demery's room that night, though Miss Skinner dropped some heavy hints at breakfast the next morning. She wished to know if Cate had slept well. Perhaps Cate was a little fatigued this morning — there were shadows under her eyes? Perhaps the bed had not been warm enough, or perhaps too warm?

Cate answered those questions with enough embarrassment that Miss Skinner seemed satisfied. When later that day, Demery came to visit them in Cate's apartments to ask Cate to attend a ball with him, Miss Skinner seemed to take it as proof of the success of her scheme. She never referred to the matter again, and Cate left her alone to her assumptions.

The ball was an event of great anticipation for Cate — much of it unpleasant. She shivered to imagine the sly looks and whispers she would receive. On the other hand, though she had always been shy and unsure of herself, she used to enjoy balls. If you did not know what to say, you could always pretend to be listening to the music or engaged in the dance, and it was exciting to dress up and know, by the eyes that watched her, that men and women alike thought her beautiful.

Of course, now, her beauty had faded. Her looks were something of a cause of anxiety to her. What little capital she ever had in the world — her family, her position, her wealth, her character, even her good name — had dwindled to nothing more than her face and body. If she were to impress anyone, to have anything she could be proud of in society, she would have to look pretty, or at least prettyish.

Over the two weeks until the ball, she occupied herself chiefly with exploring the potential of her wardrobe and playing with arrangements of her hair. When her parents had sent her away after her disgrace became known, they had taken back most of her good clothes. She would not need them anymore, her mother said, and she did not deserve them. She had no ball gown with her, and no time to commission one before the ball. Cate settled on alterations instead, stealing the transparent lace overskirt from one morning gown and attaching it to the underskirt of a second, then shortening the sleeves halfway to her shoulders. Lace and ribbons, stolen from various bonnets and slippers, added prettiness to the bodice. To her surprise, she found it fun. It had been a long time since she had engaged herself in anything beyond looking after Luke or necessary chores.

Of course, it was not as charming as a professionally fashioned gown would have been, Cate thought, daring to look at herself in the mirror the evening before the ball, but it was a ball gown. Besides, it was only Wales. They could not be accustomed to fine things.

Her hair and face caused her more concern. The hollows under her eyes and weary lines on her brow were not fading. She patted them with pomade and oil, and even risked a little rouge on her pale lips and cheeks, hoping that Demery would not notice. She did not think he would approve.

They rode together to Holywell in the dun-coloured coach, Cate, Miss Skinner, and Demery. Demery was dressed as Cate had known him in London: a black suit, some ten years out of date, and a dark waistcoat with murky embroidery. Miss Skinner wore a claret-coloured evening dress that made her long thin nose look very pink — unless, Cate thought with a silent smile, she had been at the rouge too.

They arrived at the assembly rooms to find that they were already bustling. Cate had not expected such a crowd. Of course the rooms themselves were not very large — the summer parlour in her father's manor was larger than the dance room here — and from the broadness of their shoulders and accents, she suspected that more than a few handsome young men about the room were of a class no higher than well-to-do farmers. Despite that, everyone was very well dressed indeed. It was not London finery. There were no rubies or sapphires glinting at women's throats. But the fabrics shimmered and shone under the candlelight and were cut in graceful lines. Cate felt dowdy by comparison. She hung back next to Miss Skinner. Demery stood near them, looking around the room.