“Ooh, I love old clothes,” Lucy said. “Can we go up now and see what’s there?”
Pleased by the girl’s easy acceptance of her budget limitations, Alice agreed, and they immediately went up to the attic to see what they might find. She hadn’t been up there since she was a little girl.
The attic was dusty and contained all kinds of forgotten items—a battered and balding rocking horse, a dollhouse with faded wallpaper and small dusty carpets that she remembered with fondness. There was old-fashioned furniture in need of mending and several large trunks and chests, as well as hatboxes and all kinds of mysterious objects discarded over the years.
“Oh, how sweet,” Lucy exclaimed, finding a box containing dollhouse furniture and other tiny items, all looking well used and in need of repair.
“Let’s not get too distracted,” Alice said, laughing. “We’re after costumes, remember?” Lucy reluctantly put the dollhouse items aside and went back to searching through the trunks.
“Look! A treasure trove,” Lucy exclaimed, opening a box and pulling out a glittering tangle of costume jewelry. “And what’s this?” She lifted out a tissue-wrapped bundle and unwrapped it to reveal a slightly dented papier-mâché headdress in faded gold.
“Oh, it’s my old Cleopatra outfit,” Alice exclaimed. “I’d quite forgotten about it.” It was from very early in her marriage. She’d dressed for her first costume ball, all excited, but when she came down in her outfit, Thaddeus had taken one look at her and ordered her back upstairs: he wasn’t taking her anywhere dressed so outrageously.
She never did go to the ball.
She found the dress that went with the headdress and shook it out. It was a long, floaty garment made of layers of gauzy blue and green fabric, but it wasn’t outrageous—there were too many layers for even the shape of her body to be visible. The neckline was scooped low, but it was not at all immodest. Looking at it with fresh eyes, she was indignant on behalf of her younger self. Thaddeus was just being mean.
Somewhere there was a belt of gold medallions that cinched around her waist—yes, there it was, along with a couple of bangles shaped like snakes that wrapped around her upper arm. She’d worn gold sandals, she recalled. She still had them somewhere.
“It’s perfect,” Lucy exclaimed.
Alice shook her head. The headdress, belt and armbands were sadly tarnished. “I can’t possibly wear these. They’re far too shabby.”
“I can fix them,” Lucy said confidently.
“How?”
“Wait and see. And Mary will be able to freshen up that dress so it will look as good as new. Now, that’s your costume sorted. I thought this might do for me.”
She held up a filmy white muslin dress.
Alice frowned. “But that’s not a costume. It’s just one of my old muslin dresses from years ago. It’s very old-fashioned.”
“Yes, from the days when London ladies dressed a bit like Greek and Roman goddesses,” Lucy agreed. “And that’s who I’m going as—someone from the ancient world. I’ll make a headdress of leaves and add a few draperies. Wait and see—it’ll be perfect.”
Alice gave it a doubtful look. “The muslin is a bit yellowed, isn’t it?”
“Mary will know how to fix that, too. And if she doesn’t, who cares?” Lucy added gaily. “I’ll be an ancient, slightly yellowed Grecian goddess.”
* * *
* * *
The following morning Lucy woke to a world bathed in sunshine. “I’ve received a note from Gerald,” Alice told her at breakfast. “He’s arranged for one of his friends to take you for a drive in the park this afternoon.”
Alice explained that she’d taken her nephew into her confidence and that he’d agreed to help Lucy find a husband. Lucy was feeling rather cynical about Lord Thornton’s miraculous about-face, but she didn’t tell Alice that.
“What friend is this? Will he collect me from here?”
“No, you and I will promenade in the park at the fashionable hour,” Alice said, “and Gerald will drive up with his friend, a Mr. Cornelius Frinton. Gerald will step down and accompany me on my walk, while Mr. Frinton takes you for a circuit of the park in his phaeton.”
Lucy frowned. “Won’t I need some kind of chaperone?”
“Not for a drive in the park in an open carriage in full view of everyone,” Alice assured her. “Besides, I expect Mr. Frinton will have a tiger or a groom in attendance.”
“Do we know anything about this Mr. Frinton?”
“Not really. Just that he’s a friend of Gerald’s from school, and that, according to Gerald, he’s eligible and reasonably well-off.”
“Very well then. What shall I wear? The bronze walking dress?” Lucy was still learning the various kinds of dress suitable for different activities. A dress was not simply a dress. Apparently.
“Perfect. And the olive green pelisse—it’s sunny now, but it’s bound to change. And if it’s still sunny this afternoon, take a parasol—that lovely skin of yours needs protecting. Or if there are clouds building, we’ll take umbrellas.”
* * *
* * *
Hyde Park was full of fashionable people sauntering along, dressed to the nines, seeing and being seen. The sunshine was in intermittent evidence, concealed by fluffy white clouds from time to time, so no parasol was necessary. Lucy’s straw hat tied with a gauze net scarf in bronze was deemed sufficient protection for her complexion.
She strolled along with Alice, feeling rather smart. Alice made a point of stopping to chat with anyone she had the slightest acquaintance with, warmly introducing Lucy each time as her goddaughter.
Alice was a truly generous soul but Lucy had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it was what they’d agreed, but she was beginning to feel guilty about the trouble Alice was going to on her behalf. Not that Lucy could change anything.
How had Papa found anything to blackmail Alice with? She was the nearest thing to perfect that Lucy had ever met: kind, ladylike, moral, modest, careful with money but generous with her possessions—right now Lucy was wearing Alice’s hat, kid gloves and earrings, which went perfectly with her outfit.
And even when Alice was furious—and Lucy was well aware that she had driven Alice’s temper to the limit early on—she’d never yelled or anything. She’d just spoken firmly and made her position very clear.
Above all, she had never once blamed Lucy for what Papa had done. It would have been so easy for her to have taken her temper out on Lucy, but she hadn’t, and for that more than anything, Lucy was enormously grateful. All her life she’d received some blame, if not all, for her father’s actions. But not from Alice, not once.