After tea at No. 37 Park Lane

Author: * Emma Montverre Godwinson - 1 Post on this thread out of 9 Posts sitewide.
Date: Jul 30, 2007 - 00:02

16 December, after 6 of the clock

Sir Tedmund Godwinson and his daughter, Emma, were enjoying a little quiet time before the blazing fire in his study while recovering from ingesting an inordinate number of "heavenly petits fours glacés" forced upon them at tea by The Hon. Elisabeth Montverre Godwinson.

Sir Tedmund was reclining in his favourite leather armchair perusing the latest issue of Yachting World. Emma was curled up on the settle reading a detective story in Beeton's Christmas Annual about a girl of "a certain type and class that instinctively obeys the man she loves." He compels her to blackmail a high ranking politician whom she lures into her bed. Emma was about to learn the judge's ruling, when Elisbeth burst into the room and made one of her own.

"Here is your ballspende, Emma. I pencilled in William."

"Mama! You know I always reserve the first dance for Willie."

"Indeed, you dance so well together and make such a handsome couple, I took the liberty of reserving the third and fifth dances for him as well."

Emma turned several shades of scarlet and cast about for just the right words to express her indignation. Usually a model of propriety, she determined to stand her ground nonetheless. It was a young lady's prerogative to manage her own dance card. Her mother had no right!

"But Mama! However will it look if I dance the entire evening with my cousin!?"

"It is impertinent to exaggerate, Emma. You know full well you have reserved dances with several other young men. You really must give some thought to marriage lest you become a lonely old spinster like Lady Stathaim. I can think of no more suitable match for you than William Montverre. Can you Teddy?"

"Damnable woman," Sir Tedmund muttered into the pages of his periodical an octave below his wife's uncommonly keen hearing.

"Beg pardon, dear?"

"Damnable weather!" he amended, craning his neck to glare out the window at the lightly falling snow for emphasis. "Christmas season can be dreadfully cold. Rather a stroke of luck it did not snow yesterday. Would've prevented us from attending the reception, what?"

Sir Tedmund took a long pull on his meerschaum pipe to compose himself. He thought it wise to avoid marital discordances that inevitably put him in the wrong.

"Had we not already accepted the confounded invitation, I should be inclined to dissuade us from going out at all," he added hopefully.

Emma smiled and would have laughed were she not so terribly perturbed by her mother's presumptuous meddling. Elisabeth was not at all amused; neither was she one to pass up an opportunity to scold her husband like an errant child.

"Nonsense Tedmund!" she chided. "We have adequate cloaks, furs and hot bricks for the considerably short ride to Carlton House Terrace; and I have good word that we are sure of excellent fires and charming company. Our Monsieur de Boeuf, who is acquainted with the Embassy chef, assures me the Germans intend to spare no expense in courting their English guests."

"Then I look forward to sampling the Baron's fine port and imported cigars," Sir Tedmund merrily interjected, hoping to change the conversation to a happier flow of ideas.

Less interested in the pleasures of men than in her plans to arrange a suitable husband for her daughter while she was of marriageable age, Elisabeth fixed her gaze firmly upon Emma.

"My dear child, you spend entirely too many hours with your nose in a book. I fear your eyesight and brain power will become enfeebled. Do please set aside whatever frivolity you are reading and go to Nellie. She is waiting to help you dress and put up your hair."

Perceiving Elisabeth's iron determination, Emma resolved to hold her tongue and be obedient in all things with the exception of marrying William. Her mother could manage her evening's affairs as she wished, but she did not control the cards of fate.