The old lady gave her a narrow look. “What do you mean ‘oh’?”
“It’s just that Lord Salcott refuses to let Izzy appear in society with me,” Clarissa explained. “So far we haven’tmet anyone in London except for Lord and Lady Tarrant and their daughters.”
“And we only met them because of the garden,” Izzy added,
“But I want to meet people and I want Izzy with me. I need her. She gives me confidence.”
Lady Scattergood frowned. “Is this because of that illegitimacy nonsense?”
Izzy nodded. She didn’t think it was “nonsense”—her whole life had been blighted because of it. But she wasn’t going to give up.
Lady Scattergood snorted. “Don’t know what maggot the boy’s got in his brain. Punishing the child for the sins of the father.” She dug into her pudding, glanced up at Izzy and added, “And a perfectly nice child at that!”
Izzy felt a warm glow at her words. “Thank you, Lady Scattergood,” she said softly.
“Breeding counts, yes indeed,” the old lady continued. “As does blood, but your mother was from a good enough family, wasn’t she? Before that villain seduced her. Your grandparents threw her out, I gather, the moment they learned she was breeding!” She shook her head. “Respectable, undoubtedly, though not what I call the behavior of a good family, mind. She should have been protected from the likes of your father. It was their disgrace, not hers—or yours.”
Izzy was deeply touched by the old lady’s understanding and sympathy. It was rare, and precious.
Lady Scattergood stirred more cream into her pudding and added meditatively, “I expect you weren’t the first child he got on a young innocent, either, the rutting swine.”
“Lord Salcott said no balls or routs or ridottos,” Izzy said, “but we thought perhaps we could attend the literary society with you and meet some people that way.” Lady Tarrant was her second choice to ask, but Lady Scattergoodwas her first. It would establish who they were and that they were living with a respectable—if eccentric—lady.
Izzy leaned forward. “So, will you take us, dear Lady Scattergood?”
Lady Scattergood glanced at her but said nothing. She scowled at her pudding and poked at it with her spoon. The girls waited. Finally, the old lady said in a voice of extreme reluctance, “I suppose we could go in the carriage.”
“Oh, but it’s—ow!” Clarissa broke off as Izzy kicked her on the ankle.
“Thank you, Lady Scattergood, that would be wonderful,” Izzy said. “I really appreciate it—wereally appreciate it.”
“Hmph. We’ll see.”
For the next few minutes there was no conversation, only the clinking of cutlery and crockery. Luckily the old lady was concentrating on her pudding and didn’t see the silent conversation going on between Izzy and Clarissa, a conversation of gestures and looks and eyebrows.
“Lady Scattergood,” Clarissa said, having lost the silent debate.
The old lady looked up with a baleful look. “What is it now?”
“We need new clothes.” Lady Scattergood picked up her lorgnette again and Clarissa hurried on. “The few dresses we have were made by the village dressmaker when we ended our period of mourning. Before that all our clothes were, of course, black, but knowing we were going to London, we didn’t have many new dresses made.”
“The village dressmaker being rather old fashioned and not up with the latest modes,” Izzy added.
“I find shawls and scarves fill the purpose nicely.” Lady Scattergood adjusted the shawl that was currently sliding off her narrow shoulders. “Doesn’t matter what you wear underneath.”
Clarissa gave Izzy a look of silent appeal.
“Your shawls are very beautiful,” Izzy said, “but we really do need to order a whole new wardrobe and—”
“Lord Salcott gave us permission, and told me to have the bills sent to him,” Clarissa said.
“And Lady Tarrant recommended her own dressmaker to us. A Miss Chance, near Piccadilly Circus,” Izzy finished.
Lady Scattergood nodded. “Oh yes, Daisy. Very well, I’ll have Treadwell order the carriage for tomorrow. You won’t need me—I have no interest at all in being à la mode,” she said unnecessarily. “Take your maid and Jeremiah.” She wiped her mouth, burped genteelly into her napkin and tossed it aside. “Now if that’s all, I’m for my bed. Good night, gels.” She toddled off, accompanied by her herd of little dogs, leaving Izzy and Clarissa gazing at each other in bemusement.
“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be,” Izzy said.
Clarissa clapped her hands. “I know. New clothes! I can’t wait.Andshe’s going to take us to that literary society. Whatever made you think of asking her?”
