Sisterly pain lit Lenore’s expression, and she placed both of her hands on Ellen’s face. “You are acceptable just the way you are, Elle,” she said. “This isn’t like you at all.” She paused, then said, “Well, the mess is very much like you. But these boring clothes, the funny way you’re talking, the way you’re holding yourself, like someone shoved a cattle brand up your behind, those things aren’t you at all.”
“That’s exactly the point, Len,” Ellen said, breaking away from her sister and stomping across the room. “Being the me that I am has only caused people to make fun of me and not invite me to parties.”
Lenore took a few steps after her as Ellen gathered up the clothing strewn across the bed. “Being who you are has won you the attention of a very nice young man from a notable family who everyone believes will ask to marry you any day now.”
“And that’s lovely,” Ellen went on where her sister left off, “but I want to be accepted by the other girls.”
She knew she’d spoken with a bit too much enthusiasm and that Lenore figured out she meant more than just the ladies of London high society by the sad look Lenore gave her.
Ellen decided to face it head on. She sighed, then said, “I’ve never fit in, Len, and you know it. I’ve always been the odd one, the one that the other girls didn’t want sitting with them at lunch or walking home with them after school. I’ve always watched the other girls, watched the way the old biddies of the Ladies Auxiliary praise them, and wanted that to be me too. I ruined my chances for that back home a long time ago, but I have a chance to start over here.
“Only, I’ve been off to a bad start,” she went on, turning to sit on the bed. “I made the horrible mistake of being myself from the moment I got here. Now I have Lady Margaret Grosvenor being mean to me in public and no invitations to any sort of ball anywhere to be seen.”
Lenore’s expression changed, as if she understood. She moved to sit on the bed beside Ellen and took her hand. “Lady Margaret has more airs than graces. She relies on her father’s money and title to pave her way. Trust me. I’ve lived here for years, and most of those dazzling young debutantes you envy are all shine and no substance. You, my dear, are definitely substance.”
“Substance does not get invited to balls,” Ellen said, standing and marching back to the mirror for another look. “Substance gets snubbed on the street and sniggered at in drawing rooms.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt again. “I just want the other girls to be nice to me,” she told her reflection quietly.
Lenore winced as she stood and came to stand by Ellen’s side again. “And you think that whatever Mr. Rathborne-Paxton is doing, the way he’s making you change, will help with that?”
“Yes,” Ellen answered immediately and vehemently. Saying that made her hot and uncomfortable, though, as if the clothes she wore didn’t fit. “Joseph cares about me,” she said in a quieter voice, resting her hands over her roiling stomach. “He saw how unhappy Lady Margaret’s words made me and he wants to make things better for me.”
And he kissed her. There was that too. What a kiss that had been! She hadn’t thought he’d had it in him, but she’d hoped he had. Ellen wasn’t too proud to admit she had experience. More than even Lenore knew. She’d kissed a few of her father’s ranch hands back home, and she’d let one of them go much further than just kissing. It had been nice. It had made her feel good. It hadn’t made her fall in love, though, and strangely, it hadn’t made her want to rush into doing it again. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any lasting consequences to that night, but that was when she’d decided to come to England. The last thing she’d needed was to gain a reputation for being loose on top of everything else people held against her.
Lenore rested a hand on her shoulder, shaking her out of her thoughts. “If you think this will make you happy, then I support you,” she said, even though Ellen could tell she didn’t. “If you think Mr. Rathborne-Paxton is helping you, then I won’t be angry with him. But Elle, just make certain he sees you for who you really are instead of wanting you to be someone you’re not.”
Ellen smiled brittlely at her sister in the mirror, then turned to gather up her things to go. “Joseph sees me for who I am,” she said, hoping it was true. “It’s just a shame I can’t be that woman and also be accepted in society.”
Lenore looked like she wanted to argue the point, so Ellen rushed out of the room, heading downstairs. She’d already informed Phineas’s butler that she would need the carriage to take her to Rathborne House, so it was waiting outside for her when she got to the bottom of the stairs. Lenore had followed her, so Ellen turned back as she reached the door.
“Everything will work out for the best, Len, you’ll see,” she said. “I’ll marry my Englishman, like you did, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”
Ellen didn’t like the way Lenore arched one eyebrow as she hurried out the door and into the carriage. She didn’t like the lump in her stomach that the whole exchanged had given her. She didn’t particularly like sitting ramrod straight as the carriage drove across Mayfair to Rathborne House. She didn’t like how drab she looked.
She didn’t like a lot of things, but it wasn’t about whether she liked them or not, it was about doing what she had to do to fit in.
As soon as the driver helped her down from the carriage and she walked up to the front door of Rathborne House, Ellen sank as deeply into the persona she was trying to create as possible. She held her head up and straightened her back as the butler showed her into the front hall, and when he went to announce her, Ellen checked her expression in the hallway mirror. She raised her hands to pinch a bit of color into her cheeks, but thought twice and decided to leave them as they were. English roses didn’t have color like that.
“Ah, Miss Garrett, you are looking quite lovely today,” Lady Vegas greeted her as the butler showed her into a sunny parlor decorated in a feminine style.
“Good morning, Lady Vegas, Lady Dorrington,” Ellen said, affecting perfect manners and curtsying to them. “You are looking very well yourselves.”
Ellen glanced around, searching for Joseph, though it had been apparent from the start that he was not in the room, and it was ridiculous to think he was hiding behind a settee or some such.
“What a lovely greeting,” Lady Dorrington said, smiling broadly. “Do come and sit with us, dear.” She extended a hand to Ellen.
It was a good sign, Ellen was certain. She sent one last, wistful look over her shoulder, hoping Joseph was just around the corner and would come in join them at any moment, then started forward.
She ended up sitting on the middle of a long sofa, directly between Lady Vegas and Lady Dorrington. Right away, she felt like a fly that had been drawn into the web of sister spiders.
“My son will be along shortly,” Lady Vegas said, guessing what had Ellen so disquieted. “Or perhaps not. He left after breakfast on what he told us was a most important errand.”
“Oh,” Ellen said, fighting not to deflate. In fact, she had to fight to maintain her elegant posture and serene expression. “I do so hope he finds success on his outing and that he is able to join us forthwith.”
Lady Vegas and Lady Dorrington exchanged a look over Ellen’s head that had Ellen’s gut fluttering even more.
“Would you like tea, Miss Garrett?” Lady Dorrington asked politely, getting up and moving to the table to pour.
“Yes, please,” Ellen answered.