1 - The Pot Calling the Kettle Black
Mivart's Hotel, London, September 1851
A sister who liked to spy on people could be unbelievably
irksome.
Cecilia Paring glanced up from fastening her leather
dancing boots and caught her fifteen-year-old sister,
Evangeline, peering at her.
Evangeline quickly glanced away, hiding her interest, but
the pinched expression she wore made Cecilia feel as though
Evangeline had been examining her for flaws.
"Can't you content yourself with spying on the guests
instead of me? Mivart's Hotel has plenty of spots where you
can conceal yourself and watch the evening unfold." As soon
as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
After all, she knew exactly what it was like to be excluded
from a ball. She'd been in the same position only a year
ago.
Evangeline rolled her eyes in a way only an adolescent
would. "Do be sensible. What makes you think you're worth
spying on? Besides, this is my room, too." She stewed for a
moment.
Cecilia instinctively knew Evangeline had something more to
say. Three, two, one...
"And I feel compelled to point out," Evangeline continued,
"that accusing me of being a spy is like the pot calling
the kettle black. You're the one who first showed me the
best way to sneak around our house undetected."
Cecilia remembered crouching on the balcony above the
entryway next to her sister as they watched Mother and
Father's guests arrive for one of the many events that used
to take place in their elegant London mansion. She'd loved
seeing each gown revealed as the women shed their cloaks.
Unfortunately, both the mansion and the country estate had
been entailed and upon their father's eventual demise it
would pass to a distant male cousin. For want of a son,
their home would be lost.
"You've far surpassed me as a spy," Cecilia said, grinning
at her sister. "I plan to try to catch you out tonight.
After all, 'it takes a thief to catch a thief,' or in our
case, it takes a spy to know a spy. But I doubt I'll spot
you. You're one of the best spies I've ever seen."
Evangeline cocked an eyebrow in disdain. "Well, if you saw
them, then they weren't very good, were they?"
Cecilia chuckled. "Good point." She sat down to face the
mirror above the dressing table so she could return to
preparing for the evening's ball.
She needed to do something with her hair. Mother's lady's
maid would have been extremely helpful just now, but Mother
needed her at the moment. Cecilia could manage.
"I can help you with that." Evangeline was still watching
her.
"I'm sure I can do it." Cecilia brushed and pinned her
hair, but after a few minutes, she sighed at her
reflection. Her hair was a disaster, and the glittering
floral-design choker she wore of diamonds, pale green
peridots, and pink sapphires made it look laughable in
contrast. Her head looked lopsided, and she could tell that
as soon as she stepped onto the dance floor, the entire
mess would come tumbling down.
"Will you let me help you now?" Evangeline asked. "I can
hardly do worse."
Cecilia grimaced. Evangeline was right. "Go ahead. It has
to be an improvement over this fright."
As Evangeline crossed the room to the dressing table, she
paused to open the doors leading out to the tiny balcony. A
cool breeze swept into the room and caused Evangeline's
pale-green hoopskirts to sway. She looked quite fetching
tonight, and she'd managed to arrange her own light-brown
hair in a simple but fetching style. Cecilia knew
Evangeline thought her nose was too long, but Cecilia had
always believed it made her sister look elegant. She'd been
a pretty child, but at fifteen, it was obvious that she
would become a lovely woman. Much to both sisters'
irritation, Mother had the habit of describing Evangeline
as being a paler, younger version of Cecilia.
Evangeline stepped behind her and then deftly plucked the
hairpins from Cecilia's tresses, placing them all on the
dressing table. She gently brushed out Cecilia's mass of
medium-brown hair.
"Your hair is much thicker than mine," Evangeline murmured.
Her features wore a look of intense concentration. She
pulled a lock of hair from Cecilia's eyes and tucked it
behind her ear. "That's probably why those hairpins looked
as if they were about to fall out."
Cecilia watched her sister's movements in the mirror as
Evangeline deftly made a neat bun at the back of Cecilia's
neck and then pulled a few curls free so that they framed
her heart-shaped face.
Evangeline firmly secured the hairpins in place and said,
"You know, if you place a second hairpin over the first one
to form an 'x,' the two hairpins will stay locked in
place." She patted the bun with a satisfied nod. "There.
That should stay put."
A tight-chested sigh escaped from Cecilia. "Thank you."
She'd need to remember how to do that hairpin trick with
the "x."
"Cece, what's wrong?" Evangeline asked, using a pet-name
she hadn't trotted out in months. "I can tell when
something's bothering you."
Cecilia let out a surprised snort as she turned to face her
sister. "What's wrong? Let's see..." She tapped her finger
against her lower lip as she made a show of intense
concentration. "Tonight I'm attending a ball where I'm
supposed to help convince everyone that our family isn't
really low on funds and that we're quite happy with all the
changes we're about to make to our lives. Then tomorrow I'm
obliged to attend an auction where we'll be selling off all
Mother's jewelry to the highest bidder." She touched the
necklace she wore. It would soon be gone. "Father made
certain that everyone knows the proceeds will be used to
fund our dowries. He isn't mentioning that he also intends
to use the money to pay for all that property he purchased
in Cannes. It galls me that he plans to use us to play on
people's sympathies. It's humiliating."
"You must admit, it will probably work."
"Not you, too! How could you approve of that sort of
behavior?"
"Because it will fund my dowry as well. I'm only being
practical."
"Turncoat. Maybe it's good that you're all moving to the
south of France as soon as I'm married. You can deal with
Father's wild schemes and finally leave me out of it. I
can't wait to be alone." She clasped her hands together and
pressed them against her lap. As she listed her problems,
she realized it was the last one that troubled her most.
Losing her family. "You know I didn't mean that. I'll miss
you."
"You won't be alone. You'll have Devin." Evangeline shot
her a reproachful look in the mirror. "How could you forget
about him? Hasn't it been your dream to marry him for
years?" Sometimes Evangeline sounded more like Cecilia's
older sister than her younger one. It could be quite
irritating.
Cecilia looked down at her hands, now folded primly in her
lap. "Nothing seems to take the romance out of a romance
the way marriage does. Honestly, I was much happier pining
away for Devin and dreaming about him. Now that he's about
to become my husband, I find that I'm petrified at the
prospect."
"Don't be foolish."
"Haven't you noticed how much he's changed?" She glanced
out the window at the darkening sky. She'd need to go
downstairs to the ball soon. "Being away at university did
something to him. I'm shocked that he still wants to marry
me." She shifted uncomfortably on her stool. "I think he
regrets making the offer."
"Of course he still wants to marry you." Evangeline stared
at her in astonishment. "Why wouldn't he?"
"Now you're the one being foolish. Don't you realize I'm
not the right kind of wife for him? He's self-contained and
orderly, where I'm disorganized and spontaneous." She waved
her arm toward the dresses piled on one of the beds. "Just
look at the mess in here. How can I expect him to tolerate
such chaos?"
"Now really, Cecilia. That's going too far. If Mother's
lady's maid hadn't been needed elsewhere, the room wouldn't
be in such a state." Still, Evangeline frowned at the mess.
"Our financial situation will improve tremendously once the
auction is over. We'll be wealthy and will be able to
afford a second lady's maid. Even an entire army of lady's
maids." She let out a deep sigh. "I suppose Devin will
adapt to your rather careless manner. After all, I did."
"Will he?" Cecilia stood up, plucked one of her discarded
dresses off the bed, and hung it in one of the wardrobes,
shoving her other dresses aside haphazardly. "He isn't the
type of man to lower his standards. He expects me to raise
mine and conform to what society expects a barrister's wife
to be. And I'm trying. Truly I am. Did I tell you he wants
me to take comportment lessons?"