“There is every degree of harlot, just as there is every degree of just about everything else! The more expensive they are, the more elite their custom, the less they look like it, that’s all. You must learn to be a little less simple!”
The thought flashed through her mind, but she forbore from asking him how he knew the woman’s occupation. Obviously there was an entire world about which she had much yet to learn, if she were to thread her way through it successfully, and reach the prize she intended.
“Perhaps you will be good enough to teach me?” she said, with a smile that she hoped hid more than it revealed. Let him read into it what he wished. “It is an area in which I am totally unacquainted.”
He gave her a hard look for a moment or two, then broke into a broad smile. He had extraordinarily fine teeth. Emily made up her mind right then that she would exert her utmost effort to end up as Lady Ashworth-regardless of-certain disadvantages. They would have to be dealt with in due course, but she had no doubt she would be equal to them.
“I’m not sure, Emily, if you are quite as mellow as you seem.” He was still looking at her.
She affected total innocence and met his eyes with a charming smile. She considered inviting him to know her better and decided against it. It was too forward, and anyway, she was quite sure he intended to anyway.
It was the second week in June when George Ashworth actually came to the Ellison house to call. Naturally it had been planned, planned most meticulously. Even Caroline tried unsuccessfully to hide a certain bubble of excitement.
At quarter to four they were all sitting in the withdrawing room, the sun shining in across the floor, the first roses blooming outside. Lord Ashworth and Mr. and Miss Decker were expected at any moment. Sarah sat rather primly on the piano stool, playing something nondescript; Emily was sufficiently practiced herself to know she was playing it badly. Emily was singing inside with anticipation. Caroline sat in the best hardbacked chair, as if already preparing to pour the tea which was not yet served. Charlotte alone seemed unaffected. But then, of course, Charlotte never had had the sense to know what was important.
Emily herself was very composed. She had already done everything she could to prepare; all that remained now was to play each phrase, each glance, as it came.
They arrived precisely on time, and were shown in with a flurry of introductions. They all sat down and began the usual ritual of small talk. Only George Ashworth looked totally comfortable.
A giggling and rather flushed Dora brought in their tea: all Mrs. Dunphy’s most elegant sandwiches, little butterfly cakes, and others that defied category. Everything was served with even more than usual ceremony.
“Emily told us about the race meeting,” Caroline said conversationally, proffering the sandwiches to Ashworth. “It sounds quite fascinating. I have been on only two occasions myself, and they were both some time ago, and in Yorkshire. London races are most fashionable, I hear. Do tell us more about them? Do you go often?”
Emily hoped he would be discreet, partly because she had told her mother very little about the races, and even that little had been definitely slanted, a strong accent on fashion, and nothing whatsoever about the gambling touts, the pickpockets, those who had taken more refreshment than was good for them, and those who she now realized were of the same basic occupation as the lady of the elegant riding habit in Rotten Row. Please heaven, George would have the sense to pick and choose his recollections also.
George smiled.
“I’m afraid there are not so very many race meetings that it would be possible to go more than two or three times a month, Mrs. Ellison. And not all of them are worth bothering with-not the sort of thing I enjoy, and certainly not for ladies.”
“Do ladies not attend all of them?” Sarah asked curiously. “You mean they are for men only?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Corde. I used the term ‘ladies’ to distinguish from the various other females who do attend, for their own reasons.”
Sarah opened her mouth, interest lighting her face, then remembered her propriety and closed it again. Emily caught Charlotte’s eye with amusement. They all knew Sarah’s love of the socially correct. Charlotte said it for her.
“You mean women of no virtue?” she said frankly. “The demimonde, I think they call it?”
George’s smile broadened.
“They do indeed, among other things,” he agreed. “There are the race-goers, and those who follow the race-goers, and those who follow the followers. Horse traders, gamblers, and I’m afraid thieves.”
Caroline frowned.
“Oh dear. It does not sound as pleasant a place as I had imagined.”
“Race meetings vary as much as people, Mrs. Ellison,” George said easily, reaching for another sandwich. “I was explaining why I do not attend certain of them.”
Caroline relaxed.
“Of course. I was concerned about Emily; unnecessarily, it seems. I hope you understand?”
“It would hardly become you to do less. But I assure you, I would not dream of taking Emily anywhere I would not be happy to see my own sister.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister?” Caroline was suddenly interested again; and so, from the looks on their faces, were the Deckers.
“Lady Carson,” George said easily.
“We should be most delighted to meet her. You must bring her to visit us,” Mr. Decker said quickly.
“I’m afraid she lives in Cumberland.” George dismissed his sister with equal ease. “She very seldom comes to London.”
“Carson?” Decker would not let it go. “I don’t think I know him?”
“Do you know Cumberland, Mr. Decker?” Emily asked. She did not like Decker, and resented his curiosity.
Decker looked a little taken aback.
“No, Miss Ellison. Is it-pleasant?”
Emily turned to George, raising her eyebrows.
“Very beautiful, if a little rustic,” he replied. “It lacks a good many of the amenities of civilized living.”
“No gaslights?” Charlotte asked. “Surely they must have hot water, and fires?”
“Certainly, Miss Ellison. I was thinking of gentlemen’s clubs, imported wines, tailors fit to patronize, theatres of anything but the most bucolic-in short, society.”
“It must be most distressing for your sister,” Miss Decker said drily. “I must be sure not to marry a man with the misfortune or the perversity to live in Cumberland.”
“Then if such a gentleman should ask you, you will have to refuse him,” Charlotte said tartly. Emily hid a smile. Apparently Charlotte did not like Miss Decker any more than she did. But, please heaven, she was not going to be rude! “Let us hope you have an offer more to your liking,” Charlotte finished.
Miss Decker flushed in annoyance.
“I don’t doubt I shall, Miss Ellison,” she snapped.
George sat forward, his handsome face darkened, his lip tight.
“I doubt you will get an offer more favourable than Lord Carson’s, Miss Decker. Not for marriage, at least!”
There was a moment’s hot silence. It was inexcusable for him to have embarrassed a woman in such a fashion, whatever the provocation. Caroline was at a loss for words.
Emily had to do something.
“It is as well we do not all have the same tastes,” she said quickly. “But I dare say Lord Carson’s estates are very comfortable. Living in a place is quite different from visiting it. One always finds plenty to do when one is at home. There are responsibilities.”
“How perceptive you are,” George agreed. “Lord Carson’s estates are extremely wide. He breeds bloodstock, and runs a prize herd of cattle; and, of course there is extensive shooting and fishing. There are mills of some sort also-”
He stopped suddenly, realizing he was speaking of possessions, of money, in a manner that was vulgar. “Eugenie has more than enough to do, especially with three children.”
“She must indeed be busy,” Caroline said noncommittally.