Joan Smith: The Barefoot Baroness

When Fanny had left, Laura said, "Do you always let your servants speak so freely, Olivia?"

"I pay no heed to Fanny. She is an old grouch, but she has been with me from the cradle, you know, and I cannot be savage with her. She loves me like a sister."

There was one more hurdle to be got over before they left, and that was to forbid taking the berlin onto the busy streets of London.

"It is much too large. It would clog the street and hold up traffic," Laura explained. "Indeed our own traveling carriage is too large, but as we have nothing else, we must take it."

"But what about my back?" Hettie demanded.

"Our carriage seats are much harder than yours," Mrs. Harwood assured her.

The matter caused a little ill feeling, but in the end they took the Harwood's carriage, with a special padded board for Hettie's back. She called this item her recliner and held it in high esteem. She had brought it from Cornwall, in case Lord Montford's chairs proved uncomfortable.

As they bowled along New Bond Street, with carriages so close you could reach out and touch them, Hettie allowed that the berlin would not do for London. "We must get a city carriage," she said, as calmly as if she spoke of a bonnet.

"Laura's friend will arrange for it," Olivia said. "He is going to buy me a mount at Tattersall's."

"Who is this gentleman, Laura?" Hettie asked. "Will you drop him a note and ask him to call?"

As Laura had no idea whom she might apply to, she said, "I have no one particular friend in mind, Mrs. Traemore. I shall think about it." The only name that occurred to her was their own family groom. In a pinch, Parkins could do it.

"We shall want the carriage right away."

They alighted and spent a delightful hour strolling through the shops, buying a few gewgaws, and ogling the ladies' toilettes.

"The ladies are very skimpy dressers," was Hettie's comment. "I expected more elegance. Why, you see prettier bonnets than this at home in St. Ives' Church on Sunday."

Laura was busily examining an arrangement of silk flowers in a shop window, wondering if the primroses might lend an air of style to last year's bonnet, when she felt a touch on her arm, and a man's voice said, "It is Miss Harwood, is it not?"

She looked up, surprised, and recognized Mr. Meadows. She would not have called him an old friend, exactly-more of an old acquaintance. Although he did not live in her parish, he had relatives there and had been attending the assemblies on and off for some years. A respectable bachelor of some fortune and a fairly pleasing countenance, he was not the sort of gentleman to excite a lady to passion. He was tall and rather heavy. His hair was dark, his features regular, but lacking that dash of liveliness that might have won him the term 'handsome.'

"Mr. Meadows, what a pleasant surprise.”

"Are you in London for the Season?" he asked.

"Yes, with my cousin." She introduced the others, and they stood chatting while the crowds strolled by.

If she had met Mr. Meadows on the street of Whitchurch, they would not have exchanged more than three phrases. Having met in London, however, made them feel closer. Mr. Meadows asked if he could buy the ladies a cup of coffee.

Hettie expressed keen interest in a cup of tea, and before more was said, he had whisked them into a tea shop.

"Where are you staying?" Mr. Meadows asked, and was told.

"I hope you will call on us, if you have a moment free, Mr. Meadows," Laura said. "We do not have many friends in London yet."

"Is Baron Pilmore in town?" he asked Olivia, and had confirmed what he already suspected. The baroness was a deb. "Where are you from?" he asked with growing interest.

"I am from Cornwall," she replied.

"You have had a long trip!" he said, smiling equally at Olivia and her chaperone.

"We could never have done it without the berlin," Hettie told him. "It is an old carriage. It causes a bit of bother on the highways, but it gives a wonderful ride."

A little smile of surprise lit up his face. "A berlin, you say? I believe I… saw it myself. A green, rounded roof?" His eyes met Laura's; she blushed.

"Mrs. Traemore plans to buy a town carriage," she said.

"And I want to buy a mount," Olivia added, looking significantly at Laura.

Laura caught her meaning at once. As Mr. Meadows was being uncommonly friendly, she said, "Perhaps you could advise us, Mr. Meadows. We are four ladies without the benefit of a man in our household."

There is nothing more likely to flatter a gentleman than to be appealed to for advice on horses and carriages. Mr. Meadows knew of half a dozen excellent rigs and mounts that were on the block. The ladies spent the next half hour outlining their needs. Olivia wanted a lively goer for herself, and it was soon made clear that money was no object in the purchase of the carriage. The only stricture was that it must have a good, firm backing for Mrs. Traemore. After two cups of tea, he escorted them to their carriage, promising to devote his afternoon to securing what they wanted and to call on them that same evening to report.

"He seemed very gentlemanly," Hettie said. "I am so thankful that you came with us, Laura, for Livvie and I would have had no notion how to set about finding a carriage and horse."

They returned home for lunch, with Laura in high aroma. She was grateful that Mr. Meadows had come to her rescue, but one gentleman hardly constituted the necessary circle of friends for a successful debut. When she discussed the matter with her mother, they decided that as they were staying at such a fine house, they might screw themselves up to dropping Mrs. Aubrey a note. She was Mr. Meadows's aunt, the relative he visited at Whitchurch. She was toplofty and domineering, but she might open a few doors.

Before the note could be written, Collins came to the door and announced, "Mrs. Aubrey, to see Mrs. Harwood."

In Whitchurch, Mrs. Aubrey only called at Oakdene when an election was in the offing. She was considered very much a grande dame. Her sister was married to Lord Perry; she herself had nabbed a member of Parliament and lived in a fine mansion. In the larger pond of London, she was a much smaller frog, but any ally was welcome. As she had bounced her only daughter off the year before, she would be au courant with the necessary steps to launching a deb. In appearance she was a tall, hatchet-faced lady who turned out stylishly on the slender allowance she had to work with.

She came sailing in, showing no trace of her usual haughtiness, but all covered in smiles and eagerness. Even while she greeted the Harwoods, her eyes skimmed across the room to assess the baroness. This was the reason she was here. She meant for her nephew to nab the Season's prime heiress, and it would be helpful to know what plans the Harwoods had for the baroness. Mrs. Aubrey was a little disappointed to see that the girl, while no tearing beauty, was by no means an antidote. There would be stiff competition. Her being practically a giant was no problem; Robert was tall as a tree himself.

"I came running the instant Robert told me he had met you, Miss Harwood," she said, simpering at Laura. "I know your calendar will soon be full, and I must get you all for dinner one evening before you are booked up. Say, tomorrow?"

The baroness and Hettie looked to Laura for guidance.

Laura said, "As we just arrived yesterday evening, we are not very busy yet. That will be lovely, Mrs. Aubrey." She went on at once to add, "We have just been discussing our toilettes. Perhaps you can suggest the best modiste?"

"They are all so busy this time of year, but I shall ask my woman to look after you. Madame Dupuis-the French do have a certain style, do they not?"

"Oh, indeed," Laura agreed, and mentioned Madame LaRue from Andover.