Free Carola Dunn by The Fortune-Hunters Page B

money,” Lucy assured her, “only I think I ought not to buy jewellery without consulting Papa. You see, he was a jeweller before he retired, or rather, a wholesale importer of precious stones and gold and silver.”
    “And he does not care for pearls? Come, Lord Alsop is gone. Our next stop is the milliner, and then, I believe, it is time I had a word with Mr. Pearson.”
    The jewel merchant had bought one of the larger houses in the Circus, in a part of the town to which Jessica had not previously penetrated. She admired the three curved terraces encircling a central open space, with their paired pillars between the windows, carved stone frieze, and ornamental ironwork. As befitted the elegance of the building, the Pearsons’ dignified butler was haughtily impassive. Not by so much as a blink did he suggest that he had noticed the change in his young mistress’s appearance.
    Jessica decided she preferred dear old Hayes, with his wrinkled jowls and his devotion to the family.
    Lucy led the way into a comfortable sitting room which smelled faintly of tobacco. In a chair by the table in the window sat a short, lean man, soberly dressed, reading a newspaper. He appeared to be in his sixties, considerably older than Jessica had expected.
    “Papa,” said Lucy.
    “It’s a terrible business, this in Belgium,” he said, still studying his paper. “We must hope Wellington can pull us through.” Then he looked up and sprang to his feet. “Why, I didn’t know you’d brought a friend with you, puss.”
    Lucy performed the introductions, her father rubbing his hands and bowing repeatedly with an air of satisfaction.
    “I take it right kindly in you, miss, to be inviting our Lucy to walk with you and all,” he said, beaming. “I see you’ve been doing some shopping, puss.” He chucked his daughter under the chin.
    “Yes, Papa, do you like it?”
    “It’s well enough, I daresay, but it’s not what I’d choose. I like a bit of colour on a young thing.”
    Lucy’s face fell. “I have ordered several more. Shall I cancel the orders?”
    “Certainly not.” Jessica decided it was time to take a hand. “Lucy, I should like a word in private with your papa.”
    He gave her a hard look, his genial expression becoming noncommittal. Lucy kissed his cheek and pattered out of the room. Not waiting to be invited, Jessica took a seat at the table and waved to him to join her.
    “Sir, I can see that you love your daughter. Surely you cannot be so cruel as to make her wear clothes that are quite unsuited to both her years and the station to which you wish her to aspire. In company, Lucy stands out like a purple thistle among lilies.”
    He gave an involuntary snort of laughter, then glared at her. “I don’t wish my girl to fade into the background. Modern fashions are downright wishy-washy.”
    “Nonetheless, a young lady who wishes to be accepted by Society must follow the modes. What is more, the paler colours suit Miss Pearson much better. Did you not notice her rosy cheeks just now?”
    “Aye,” he said grudgingly, “she looked right pretty, but to my eye she always does.”
    “Let her keep her new gowns, I beg of you. She will be much more comfortable if her clothes do not attract impertinent stares.”
    “You’ve got something there.” He gave a martyred sigh. “I daresay the chit will want a whole new wardrobe.”
    Sensing capitulation, Jessica smiled. “And a string of pearls. They are really the only jewellery proper for a young girl, besides simple beads.”
    “Beads!” Mr. Pearson unexpectedly exploded, thumping the table. “Lucy has some of the finest gems in the country—in the world!”
    “And she shall proudly wear them when she is an established matron. Do you want elderly roués like Lord Alsop gathering about her like flies around a honey-pot?”
    “Pearls?” he asked in a small voice.
    “Pearls. And a single strand, not some elaborate collar such as dowagers wear to hide their scrawny