Louisa sighed. “Curiosity. I’m sorry, Mrs. Rutley.”
Jenny’s sigh was one of relief. She adored her friend, but Louisa would one day find herself in a kettle of hot water. Either literally, because she was scrubbing pots, or metaphorically because she was restricted from going into the village. Either way, she would be in trouble.
“Learn from this discussion,” Mrs. Rutley said. “Always ask yourself, are you seeking an answer to a question because you wish to gain legitimate knowledge, or are you hoping to gather fodder for the gossipmongers? Your answer will say much about who you are and can decide what others think of you, so choose wisely.”
When they arrived at the village, Mrs. Rutley went one way, and Jenny and Louisa went another.
Jenny glanced at Mrs. Rutley’s back. “I’m still curious about those men. And why is she calling on the solicitor?”
“I pray she’s not going bankrupt,” Louisa replied with a sad nod. “It is possible, you know. Remember when we overheard about the dice game? What if she’s been spending too much time gaming on Rake Street and lost the deed to the school on a single roll of the die? I’ve heard rumors of gentlemen doing just that on more than one occasion!”
Jenny went to reply, then paused as Mrs. Rutley’s warning about gossip entered her mind. “If we are meant to know, she’ll tell us. We mustn’t spend our time speculating. Remember, we don’t want to add ‘fodder for the gossipmongers.’”
“No, you’re right,” Louisa agreed. “I’ll make a better effort. So, where are we going?”
“To the millinery to get a mask, of course.”
Louisa came to a sudden stop. “A mask?” she asked flatly. “I thought you were only giving Mrs. Rutley an excuse for us to come into the village.”
“And it was a good excuse even if it’s true.”
“But you weren’t invited to the ball, Jenny! You don’t mean to sneak in, do you?”
“Of course not.” Jenny glanced around them, but no one was nearby. “Lord Dowding is fighting an attraction to me. Both of us know it’s true, so don’t try to argue. When he calls tomorrow, he’ll invite me. I’m just making sure I’m well prepared.”
During luncheon at Rosling Estate, Jenny had overheard Lord Dowding speaking to his butler about an upcoming masquerade ball. Why did he not mention the gathering to Jenny? They had agreed to a friendship, certainly. But in her estimation, they were becoming closer than mere friends. After all, had he not spoken to her in confidence about his father? Simple acquaintances were not as forthcoming with such personal information. Therefore, it was only right for him to request her attendance.
When the invitation did not come, Jenny had to admit she was disappointed. Perhaps he had forgotten. Well, there was no reason for her to believe it was not forthcoming, so she would make certain she was prepared.
Louisa frowned. “Are you certain he’ll ask?”
“Most definitely,” Jenny said. She tugged at her braid. “Well, that is what I hope, anyway.”
His admittance that he had been pretending to romance her had crushed her heart. Yet when she had offered him friendship rather than romance, and he had accepted, it had refilled her heart with hope.
And still, she received not a single word.
After much deliberation during the night, Jenny had come to the opinion that his true reason for not asking her to attend the ball was because of her status. Who wanted to invite a mere schoolgirl to a party where he hoped to gain new business partners? Yet if she were to prove she was a young woman rather than the girl he believed her to be, she had to change his mind.
And if he offered to court her as a result, she would readily accept!
The millinery was a welcoming shelter from the cold. Jenny had not been a great admirer of hats. She wore them, of course—no decent woman went without one—but she found greater pleasure in comfort rather than the many rigors of fashion. If she were ever given the opportunity, she would have worn men’s breaches. They appeared far less restrictive than the skirts women were forced to wear. Granted, no man would give her a second glance, and any husband would cast her aside if she did, but just once she would have enjoyed a moment of reprieve from the confining clothes of women’s fashion.
She nearly laughed. At least today’s styles did not include the stiff whalebone corsets and wide panniers used in the last century.
In the corner of the shop, a woman in livery stood with a long coat draped over her arm. A lady’s maid if Jenny were to hazard a guess. The only other woman in the shop was likely her employer. The lady wore a yellow dress and stood in front of a counter, fingering a swatch of pink fabric.
“This muffler is lovely,” she was saying as she ran her hand over the silk cloth before her. She had raven-black hair piled high atop her head, a slender upturned nose, sparkling green eyes, and had to be the most beautiful woman Jenny had ever seen. “I believe I’ll purchase a yellow and blue as well.”
Her lady’s maid nodded but said nothing as her mistress walked over to a selection of plumes with every color of the rainbow.
Mrs. Alton, the shop’s proprietor approached. White striped her otherwise dark hair, which she wore in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her nose came to a point, reminding Jenny of the beak of a thrush, but her smile was warm and inviting. “Good morning, Miss Clifton. Miss Dunston. How may I be of service?”
“Mrs. Rutley mentioned you have a selection of masks,” Jenny replied. “I’m looking to purchase one.”
“We most certainly do,” Mrs. Alton replied with a wide smile. She pulled a tray of six styles of simple masks in varying colors from behind the counter. “You may adorn it to match your gown as well. Feathers and paste jewels are the most popular additions.”
“What color is the gown you’ll be wearing?”