Free The Lorimer Line by Anne Melville Page A

with her former teacher, he made it clear at once that Luisa must be dressed in a manner suitable for the company. Margaret and she must go together, he commanded, to order gowns of equal elegance to be made up and charged to his account.
    Margaret suspected that the result might not be quite as he intended. Luisa had spent the months of her absence from Bristol in London. She had visited a new store called Liberty’s in the first week of its opening and was overwhelmed by the new aesthetic style of dress which she saw there - so different from the tightly fitted gowns which had been fashionable until then, with their bustles and trains and the necessity for stiff-backed corseting. At that time she could not afford to indulge herself in the new fashion, but John Junius’s offer gave her an opportunity now which she could not resist.
    While Margaret watched doubtfully, Luisa chose a shimmering Indian silk for her gown and sketched the soft and fluid line in which it should be made up. Because of her tallness and the grace of her movements she would look striking even in a style so unfamiliar to the ladies of Bristol society. But Margaret, lacking her presence and confidence, was not prepared to stray so far from what was expected. She ordered her own gown to be made from a stiff blue silk which rustled so loudly with every movement that Luisa laughingly declared it would be a miracle if any of the singing were heard at all.
    When the evening of the reception came, it was natural that Margaret should feel responsible for putting David Gregson at his ease. He would know none of the wealthy citizens who had been invited, and they might behave coldly to someone who was present only as a servant of the charity’s committee. Margaret faced this prospect on David’s behalf before the guests arrived. Her duty as a hostess, she recognized happily, would force her to make sure that he was never left alone.
    The reality was a little different. She had a more important duty this evening — that of persuading her mother’s richer guests to subscribe to the charitable fund. There was a good deal to say about the insanitary conditions in which so many sick women lived, and the urgency of the need to remove both the women themselves and their children. It had all to be said again and again, to one person at a time, so that everyone would believe her own contribution to be vital. Margaret promised herself that when the time came for the company to remove into the great dining room, where the refreshments had been laid out, she would find the opportunity to apologize to David for treating him so discourteously.
    The moment came. The butler bowed in the doorway, the footmen with their trays of glasses stepped back out of the way, and Georgiana graciously indicated that a small supper was prepared for her guests. Looking round for David, Margaret discovered that after all he was not alone. He was offering his arm to Luisa.
    Margaret stifled her disappointment as best she could. David’s behaviour was perfectly proper. He was recognizing that the daughter of his hostess must necessarily concern herself with guests more important than himself. It had been clever of him to identify the one person present whose status was as low as his own.
    By the time the company returned to the big drawing room, which was used only on occasions such as this, itssofas and chairs had been rearranged to face the piano. David, at the back of the room, remained standing, looking at the two musicians over the seated ladies. Margaret’s throat went dry with nervousness. But she was to start the concert with a piano piece which she had practised to perfection. There was no reason to be apprehensive, she told herself.
    Taking her seat at the piano, she caught the attention of the whispering audience with the dramatic opening chords of
The Maiden’s Prayer
before showing off her agile fingers with the rippling arpeggios and trill-like bird