Free The Conqueror's Dilemma by Elizabeth Bailey

raptures over such things merely because they are ancient.
But of course one had to go. Essential to keep up.’ Mischief entered her voice.
‘How shocking if one had to admit to not having seen them when everyone else
was raving about them.’
    About to reply, Tiffany was
forestalled.
    ‘I do so agree, Mrs Membury,’ cut
in Lady Drumbeg.
    Her tone was unctuous, and
Tiffany prayed her duenna’s evil genius would not heap up the coals of fire
beneath her.
    ‘It is precisely what I have been
drumming into my little friend’s head. But young ladies so seldom realise how
important it is to be beforehand with the fashion.’
    Ariadne turned towards her. ‘Do
you think so? For my part, I find them all too apt to be avid for anything
modish. Especially when it comes to being noticed by persons who may assist
their ambition to be thought of the first stare.’
    Tiffany felt herself flushing,
and a tattoo started up in her chest. Could such a barb fail to pierce its
mark? She saw no trace of it in Eva’s face. The false smile remained pinned to
her mouth.
    ‘Oh, if we are to talk of modes.
There is no preventing a debutante from wishing to peacock about in the most
unsuitable garments. With the best will in the world to indulge them, however,
one cannot allow them to fly in the face of convention. But there I must praise
Tiffany. She is ever obedient to my advice in the matter of her dress, and I am
persuaded no young lady could be more modest in her taste.’
    It was a masterly deflection,
although Tiffany detected the brittle note underneath. Mrs Membury looked to be
taken aback. Tiffany became conscious as her hostess subjected her ensemble to
inspection. She could not help twitching at the blue spencer over her muslin
gown, and the blue ribbon tying the simple chip hat under her chin felt
suddenly tight.
    ‘Very suitable,’ said her hostess
at last, with a swift little smile that calmed Tiffany a trifle. ‘And the blue
brings out your eyes.’
    ‘Exactly what I told her.’
    Oh, had she indeed? When Tiffany
had been obliged to fight against being decked out in pink or yellow pastels.
    ‘Make use of what assets you have
has always been my motto.’
    ‘Well, I certainly agree with
that,’ said Mrs Membury. ‘All the same, I am glad I have only boys, for I
should imagine the hazards of bringing out a debutante are legion.’
    Tiffany pounced upon this,
anxious to change the subject. ‘Did you never wish for a girl?’
    ‘I yearned for a girl,’ came the
laughing response. ‘I still do, if the truth be told. But my doctors tell me I
am not particularly fertile, and since my youngest is eight already with no sign
of any more, I am inclined to believe them.’
    ‘How many children have you?’
    ‘I have three sons, much to the
delight of my husband.’ The peal of laughter that had so much warmth rang from
her. ‘Dear me, that sounds as if I am not equally delighted. Believe me, I dote
on the boys and miss them a great deal.’
    This was something Tiffany could
appreciate. ‘I know just how you feel. At least, not quite that, for of course
I have not a mother’s devotion. But I have always been excessively fond of my
cousins. They are like my brothers, you know, and it grieved me to be parted
from them.’
    ‘Tiffany, I can’t think Mrs
Membury is in the least interested in your relations,’ snapped Lady Drumbeg.
And to their hostess, ‘I know you will forgive her, but she has an objectionable
habit of running on in this way.’
    Fully aware of the reason for
Eva’s intervention, Tiffany swallowed the instant rise of indignation. How she
hated to be saddled with the relentless do’s and don’ts. This one in
particular. Why had she to act as if she were ashamed of all she knew and
loved?
    ‘For heaven’s sake, girl, keep a
still tongue in your head,’  was the oft-repeated warning, a constant burr
of distress upon her troubled conscience. ‘If anyone should get wind of Mr
Felton’s business