Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Seven

Constance sat on the edge of the bed in her room at Bunsall Abbey. Lace trimmed shifts, a corset, pink and white stockings and two lovely petticoats surrounded her. Constance fingered the petticoats. One was a pink silk and the other a white cotton lawn. They were finer than any she'd ever owned. The lace on the shifts seemed extravagant, as no one was ever meant to see them. She loved them, despite their impracticality.

"These seem too fine for me," she said, biting her lip. And they did. She couldn't wear them while she was weeding the garden or patching the roof. Maybe she could put the pretty petticoats away until she was married. She shook her head. Marriage was not something that she ever thought about, not really. She had no dowry and she couldn't leave Gran, Mother, and Simon. It seemed unlikely that she'd ever meet anyone who could see beyond all that. Her heart twisted, and she took a deep breath. She had her family, and it was enough.

"I have loads," Mary said, laying an armful of gowns down on the velvet chair.

"I could have come to your room to save you the trouble of moving them."

"Nonsense. I was too eager to wait."

Mary had told her these things were all used, but Constance was sure the underpinnings had never been worn. The gowns, at least, looked like they might have been from last season.

"All right," Mary said, stepping back. "We have all your under things. Are the petticoats alright?"

"They're lovely," Constance said, a lump in her throat. It seemed impossible these things could be hers.

"Pink and white should go with any overdress, but I'm sure I have other colors if you like."

Constance shook her head. Mary smiled.

"Now on to the gowns. Morning dress," she held up a white gown trimmed in green and a matching green Spencer jacket, nicer than the spencers Mrs. Collins had pointed out to her in the haberdashery. She lay the dress aside. "Dinner gown," she picked up the next, holding it against herself for Constance to view. "Riding habit and matching hat."

"I haven't much experience riding," Constance said as she looked at the forest green dress, the skirt pooling on the floor. She folded her hands tightly in her lap.

"Perfect. Men love teaching us things."

"What men?" Constance said with a laugh.

"Perhaps Lord Connor, your dashing rescuer."

"More likely, he'd spook my horse into the next county just to be rid of me. Did you see how fast he got out of the ballroom when he discovered me in it?"

"Mmm," Mary said skeptically. "He's usually quite withdrawn. It's curious you got such a reaction out of him at all, could mean you've gotten under his skin."

"Like a rash he'd rather be rid of."

Mary laughed. "I've seen the way he looks at you. I don't think he wants to be rid of you."

"The way he looks at me?" Constance felt a little thrill. The idea that anyone might be interested in her was such a foreign concept, so completely outrageous, and yet she found she liked the idea that someone might like her. How she felt about Lord Connor was hard to say. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way and he had rescued her from drowning, but he was always so terse. Every interaction she'd had with him since she'd come to stay and help Mary had been stilted and awkward. He couldn't stand to occupy the same space as her. "You must be wrong, Mary. When he talks to me, he seems most put out."

"He would be lucky to have you," Mary said firmly, and Constance found this meant more to her than any looks she may or may not be receiving from Lord Connor. "There will be plenty of men to choose from, if not him; boys from the village and friends from nearby and London." She set the habit down. "And now for the piece d' resistance," she paused dramatically. "The ball gown, ta-da!" She held it up with a smile.

It was the loveliest thing Constance had ever seen. A light pink satin slip with a sheer overdress of gauze. It had short sleeves and a gathered hem.

Constance couldn't help herself. She stood and took it carefully. Her eyes were hot, her throat thick.

"I thought you'd like it," Mary said. "Hugh won't be so quick to dismiss you once he sees you in that."

Constance held the dress up to herself and looked in the mirror. In that moment, she didn't care about Lord Connor or her tiny cottage or all of the work that waited for her when she got home. She felt pretty, and special, like she could be more than she was.

"Thank you, Mary," she whispered.

Mary came up behind her and kissed her on the cheek, then handed her a pair of long white gloves. "What are friends for, if not for this?"