Free Miss Fellingham's Rebellion by Lynn Messina - Miss Fellingham's Rebellion Page A

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    “Mama, I was sure you would still be abed after an exhausting evening like last night’s,” she said, only briefly glancing up from the newspaper.
    “Pooh, don’t be silly, my dear.” She accepted the glass of juice from Hawkins, took a reviving sip and said, “How could I sleep on a glorious morning like this?”
    “Glorious?” Catherine asked, her alarm growing. There was nothing particularly glorious about the day. Outside clouds covered the sun, threatening rain.
    “Yes. Isn’t is exciting?” Lady Fellingham asked.
    “Exciting, Mama?”
    “Yes, exciting. Your triumph last night has made me so happy I could weep.”
    “My triumph?” Catherine squeaked.
    “Really, Catherine, why are you parroting me like that?” her mother asked impatiently as she removed the newspaper from her daughter’s grasp. One could not have a proper coze with a newspaper on the table. She handed it to Hawkins. “You never used to be a stupid child.”
    “I haven’t any triumphs,” she said, watching the paper disappear with a mixture of regret, fear and confusion.
    “Don’t be modest, dear. Deverill is quite the catch. You couldn’t do any better. And I couldn’t be more proud.”
    Appalled at the egregious misunderstanding of the situation, she stammered, “But, Mama, he isn’t…I haven’t…we are not—”
    “Don’t worry about Evelyn,” she said whilst buttering toast. “I know she was horribly upset last night, but she is young. She will recover from this disappointment. Besides, I don’t think she was truly besotted with Deverill. He’s handsome and well-to-do and full of consequence, and she was momentarily dazzled. But he has a certain gravitas that would not suit her. Whereas you, my dear, you are not as flighty as your sister. You don’t jump from one beau to the next. If you have set your cap for Deverill, then by all means, you shall have him. You realize, my dear, that I only want what’s best for you, and there’s none better than Deverill. I imagine his income dwarfs ours several times over. Oh, how lovely, to never have to worry about your father’s gambling debts ever again.” Lady Fellingham reached a hand over and gently patted her stunned daughter’s cheek. “Dear child, you have made me so happy.”
    As her mother stared at her teary-eyed, Catherine wondered what was the best way to deal with this wretched situation. She could not let her mother go on daydreaming in such a fanciful fashion, and yet how could she explain that Evelyn had been right, that Deverill had indeed been put up to it by her very dear friend Lady Courtland, that she herself was nothing but a project for a bored gentlewoman. She was too humiliated to admit the truth, even to her mother, but she knew she must lower her ladyship’s expectation of impossible future events.
    “Really, Mama, you should not get so excited. It was just one dance.”
    Much to Catherine’s surprise, her mother smiled understandingly. “You might not believe this, but I remember what it is like to be young. And despite your advanced years, you are still youngish. I know you are feeling uncertain now. You don’t want to get hurt. Yes, darling, it was just one dance, but oh, what a dance it was. The waltz! I know. I’ve never approved of it before and were Evelyn to start twirling around a dance floor held indecently in the arms of a man, I would box her ears, but you are more mature. And you dance so beautifully.”
    “I do?” she whispered, unable to remember the last time her mother complimented her on anything but her good sense.
    “Indeed,” she said before gobbling down a forkful of ham. “And that’s why you and I are going directly to Bond Street to buy you some new dresses. The one you wore last night was horribly out of fashion. We can’t have the Marquess of Deverill squiring you around in anything that isn’t of the first stare.” Lady Fellingham waved her fork in the air. “Upon consideration, Catherine, it