Clarissa stood a little straighter, determined not to let it affect her mood. She turned back to Rosemary, who smiled and welcomed them into the house.
As she ascended the stairs, a hand wafted into her peripheral vision, and her mother tugged at her dress.
“Stand up straight,” her mother whispered in a low voice. Clarissa felt that if she were any straighter, her spine might snap in two. “You look very well, but your concern is showing on your countenance.”
Clarissa clenched her jaw. She knew perfectly well that her face was a neutral mask—after all, she’d had plenty of time to perfect it over the years. She knew how to look blank and polite; it was as automatic as breathing.
“You are quite beautiful when you smile. Could you attempt to look pleased to be here?” her mother asked in a hiss, and then she bustled away, raising her voice to compliment Lady Eleanor’s splendid entrance hall.
Clarissa tried to muster a smile but only managed a faint tweak of her lips as they entered. Thankfully, she was too distracted by the room to feel the sting of her mother’s words for too long.
In truth, Clarissa was rather astounded by the opulence and beauty on display. Huge golden candelabras adorned every corner, and an enormous chandelier was festooned with endless candles above their heads. Wreaths and sprigs of holly were hung on every wall, and the banister of the staircase had been beautifully decorated. The white and gold ornaments perfectly complimented everything about them.
Many more guests would arrive over the next hour or so, and Clarissa swallowed as she thought of all those strangers scrutinizing the Crompton’s after all this time. Nausea rose in her throat once more, and she looked away. Every step she took felt like a judgment, like a test, and she was overwhelmingly grateful to be given a brief reprieve as they were shown to their rooms.
Emily was a wonderful companion. She chattered happily, finding joy in everything she saw. She was a positive ball of excitement, and Clarissa could not help smiling fondly at her.
But when she closed the door of her private room, she finally allowed herself a moment of reflection and release.
She sank into the bed, her fingers clutching at the red counterpane as she closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she listened to the crackle of the fire. Her lady’s maid, Annie, was bustling about the room and almost as excitable as Emily. She had not been able to prepare Clarissa’s clothes for a dance in years and she was already discussing the styles they might try.
“Did the house not look stunning, Miss Clarissa? I declare I have never seen so much greenery in a hallway before, and there were magnificent candlesticks that cast a warm glow upon the servant's kitchens.”
Clarissa listened with half an ear, keeping a smile on her face and nodding at intervals. Annie, a small girl with a buxom figure, moved about the room hurriedly, telling her how well she looked and that her hair was the most ornate of the other ladies they had seen.
Clarissa let her voice wash over her, allowing her breath to settle, her lungs to ease their aching, and her chest to relax.
Please let this be a success. Please let us all come out of this unscathed.
***
A little later, as Clarissa readied herself for the ball, Annie fussed over her hair for many minutes. Clarissa was happy to let her have free reign, and when she was finished, the result was very pleasing to the eye.
Her hair was a honeyed gold colour and much longer than it had been. Annie had twisted small plaits around the base of her head that moved upward onto the crown. She had posted white flowers through the gaps, making a pleasing flutter of white in the centre. The flowers in her hair complimented her ivory gown. Clarissa was a little astonished to see a lady looking back at her in her reflection. She looked poised and capable—there was no trace of the uncertainty churning through her at the prospect of the ball.
Will a façade of propriety be enough to fool them all? She wondered.
The door to her room opened with a jerk as her mother strode in, shooing Annie away. She stood behind Clarissa for some minutes, looking her over and tweaking different parts of her gown. Clarissa tried her best to stay still, suppressing the urge to waft her mother’s meddling hands away.
“I thought you would wear the burgundy I suggested,” her mother said reprovingly. Clarissa looked at her reflection in themirror.
“I did not feel comfortable in it, mama.”
Lady Crompton scoffed. “You mean you prefer to be a bland girl standing at the side of the room and to be overlooked.”
“On the contrary, Mama, the colour does not suit me.”
Her mother was dressed in deep mauve, her pale blonde locks styled effortlessly on her head with a little colour about her cheeks. She might be an older woman in society, but she had always had immaculate taste.
“Very well, then, that will have to do,” she said irritably. “Nothing can be amiss this evening. We must all do our best and ensure we make a positive impression upon the guests.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And you must accompany Emily as much as possible. Do not allow her dance card to be marked by any man who might have a whiff of scandal about him.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And do not dawdle as you do sometimes. You must be with us; do not hide with your friend Lady Bolton all evening like a wallflower. You are suitable to look at when you stand up straight.”
